How The Warrior Fell (Falling Warriors series Book 1)

by Nicole René

  Leawyn whistled for her mare. “Deydrey!” she called desperately, relieved when her horse galloped toward her.

  They met halfway, and Leawyn quickly swung Garnette on Deydrey’s back and handed her the reins. She looked behind her again. She was out of time. Leawyn felt the heat of the oncoming man behind her, and knew what she had to do.

  “Run!” Leawyn shouted. And with a slap on the rump, Deydrey took off, with Garnette screaming for Leawyn as she did.

  Leawyn watched their escape until only seconds later, when several men grabbed her, and hauled her away as she kicked and screamed in protest.

  XAVIER KNEW SOMETHING was wrong the moment he rode into his village. He scanned the faces of his villagers and noticed how none of them would quite meet his eyes.

  “Something’s not right.” Tristan stated what Xavier himself was thinking when he brought his stallion up to walk beside Killix.They both pulled their horses to a stop and fluidly dismounted when they reached the massive stables.Xavier paused in taking off the saddle when Killix looked around, stomping his feet anxiously and snorting in distress.

  He knew only one reason that could cause a reaction like that from his horse. A terrible feeling pooled in his stomach. Xavier rushed around Killix and to the pasture Deydrey would be resting in.

  The mare wasn’t there. Leawyn was gone. Xavier whipped around, fury reflecting in his eyes. She disobeyed him! She ran as soon as Xavier left. He was a fool to trust her.

  “What is it?” Tristan asked in alarm.

  A piercing whinny sounded out seconds before Deydrey burst through the trees at a neck-breaking speed, stalling Xavier’s answer.

  Absent was the body of her owner on her back. Instead, it was a child.

  Xavier stepped in front of Deydrey, intercepting her. He grabbed the mare’s reins when she threw her dapple grey head in distress. Deydrey stomped in place, letting out earsplitting cries of suffering. Xavier looked up into the watery eyes of Garnette.

  “Chief!” Garnette cried in sorrow and desperation. She practically threw herself off Deydrey’s tall back and into Tristan’s arms, who was quick to catch her and save her from hurting herself.

  The little girl impatiently shrugged out of Tristan’s hold and ran to Xavier’s feet, grabbing hold of his shirt at the wrist and pulling him back toward Deydrey, all the while brokenly trying to explain through her sobs.

  “You have to hurry . . . Lady Chief . . . You have to help!”

  Xavier planted his feet and placed his hands on the small girl’s shoulders to still her.

  “Garnette, what has happened?”

  “It’s all my fault!” Garnette wailed, her tears sliding down her cheeks like a waterfall. “Save her, Chief, save her, please!”

  “What happened?” Xavier yelled, shaking Garnette’s shoulders with impatience. “Where is she?”

  “They took her!” Garnette burst out.“The men took her! She tried to save me, and they took her!”

  Garnette sobbed as Xavier quickly released her and climbed onto Deydrey’s back.

  He wasn’t even properly seated in the saddle when Deydrey shot off in a furious gallop, leaving grass and dust in her wake. Only one thing ran through Xavier’s mind.

  Save her.

  Save his wife.

  Leawyn’s head snapped to the side at the sharp slap against her cheek. She licked her already cracked lip before she slowly turned her head back to glare at the man who laid a hand on her.

  “Tell us!”

  Leawyn stubbornly kept her mouth shut, which earned her another slap. The men who had captured her were holding her hostage inside a large tent what was completely bare of furniture. Her hands were bound in front of her, held tightly together by a coarse rope that chafed her skin.The semi-dried blood trailing down from her cut eyebrow plastered her blonde hair to the side of her face.Her five captors had tried to get information from her for quite some time. What tribe is she from? Where is it? Who is she? Does she know where Xavier is?Leawyn refused to answer any of their questions. She didn’t give them the satisfaction of even making a sound as they continued to beat her to try and force the information from her.They didn’t know she was Samaritan, Lady Chief of the Izayges, and married to the most fearsome warrior in history.

  This was child’s play.

  They only thing that kept her from breaking was the satisfaction she would get when Xavier came to save her. Because he would come for her, and when he did, all the men holding her captive would die.

  That thought alone caused a smirk to cover her face. It infuriated the man and earned her another hit, this time with his beefy fists.

  That hurt.

  Leawyn closed her eyes against the black dots that controlled her vision, shaking her head to try and clear them away.

  She grunted in pain when the man grabbed her hair and yanked her head back. Her blue eyes stared down at the blade he trailed across her cheek, barely flinching when it dipped into her skin to make a shallow cut.

  “Yer awful pretty,” the man leered in his strange accent, his rotten breath making Leawyn gag. “It would be a shame ta cut ya an’ mark that smile.”

  Leawyn’s captor chuckled and looked over his shoulder to the other men, who were also laughing. All of the men looked unfamiliar, which made Leawyn confused. Were they the men who had ambushed Xavier? Their chests were bare, and they wore dark breeches made of a material Leawyn wasn’t familiar with. They had incredibly poor hygiene, as if they never soaked in oils, and their facial hair was ragged and untamed.

  The laughter instantly ceased when bloody spittle landed on his face and slowly trailed down his cheek and chin.He turned murderous eyes to Leawyn as he wiped the spit away with the back of his hand.“You’ll pay for that, ya bitch.”

  Before Leawyn could prepare herself, she was thrown roughly on the ground. She screamed in pain when she landed hard on her shoulder. It made a horrible popping sound as it disconnected.

  Leawyn had no time to recuperate; she was roughly turned over onto her back and straddled by the man who was abusing her.

  Leawyn struggled violently, kicking and clawing at the man’s face. She tried to throw him off her by bucking her hips and kicking out with her feet.

  The powerful punch he landed to her face disoriented her enough so he was able to gain an advantage and grab both her wrists to hold them above her head. Leawyn shrieked at the agony the action caused her dislocated shoulder.

  “Grab ‘er!”

  Another pair of hands held Leawyn’s wrists down so the man on top of her could shimmy down her body. He grabbed her thighs and spread them open, resting his body between them.

  “Now you fight and I’ll actually enjoy it!” the man leered, reaching down with one hand to unbuckle his belt and pull down his pants.

  “No!” Leawyn’s heart seized in horror at the realization of what he intended to do to her. She renewed her struggle.

  “I want a turn afta’ ya!” the man holding her wrists down said. Her soon-to-be rapist laughed his agreement as he positioned himself. Leawyn felt sick when his arousal brushed her inner thigh.

  She squeezed her eyes shut—refusing to look into his eyes and give him any kind of enjoyment of his deed. She felt the stiffness of him brush against her opening. Leawyn bit her lip hard enough to draw blood, determined not to make a sound. The tip started to push inside her.

  Shouts of alarm rang out. Suddenly, the man on top of her was roughly yanked off her and thrown across the room.

  Leawyn’s eyes flew open, and she stared in shock at the man before her.

  “ASTEN!” LEAWYN YELLED, sprinting through the trees as tears clouded her eyes.

  “Asten!” she called again, her voice cloaked with fear and desperation.

  “Lea? What is it? What’s wrong?” Asten asked in concern. He stumbled back a step when Leawyn flung herself into his arms, clinging to him desperately and soaking his tunic quickly with her sobs.

  “Lea?” Asten asked in alarm, though hi
s voice was as gentle as his arms when he wrapped them around her and rubbed her back.

  “What’s wrong?” Asten whispered in her ear. His only answer was for her to clench her hands tighter around his tunic, making her knuckles turn white.

  “I-I—” Leawyn tried, but couldn’t seem to speak around her gut-wrenching sobs.

  “Shh, calm down,” Asten whispered soothingly. He continued to rub her back. “It’s okay, you’re okay.”

  “No!” Leawyn croaked, tilting her face up so she could meet his eyes.

  “I-I’m not okay! Everything isn’t okay!” Leawyn sobbed brokenly, her eyes shining as they overflowed with tears that made her eyelashes clump together.

  “What happened?”

  Leawyn’s lip trembled, and Asten caught a tear with his thumb, only for it to miss another. “My father he—” Leawyn sobbed, bowing her head.

  Asten moved his hands so they were holding each of her cheeks, forcing her head up so he could stare down at her.

  “He what?” Asten prompted.

  “He’s making me marry him,” Leawyn whispered.

  Asten froze, his grip on her cheeks tightening in his shock.

  “He’s making me marry the chief of the Izayges!” Leawyn crumbled around him, and he stiffly but gently tugged her back into his chest and held her as she cried.

  They both stood there, Leawyn sobbing into the arms of her childhood friend, knowing this would soon be the last time they would ever be together.

  THE MAN IN front of her was tall and fit. His thick arms were curled around the man who was just moments before on top of her, holding him by his neck so high her attacker’s feet skimmed the ground.

  Her rescuer’s hair was cut short, except for the mop of curly hair on top.

  “Asten?” Leawyn breathed when the man in question glanced at her, and she looked into the hazel eyes that haunted her dreams.

  Asten tilted his head in slight acknowledgment before his furious eyes turned to her attacker. His gaze narrowed, and he snarled as he dug his fingers into the man’s throat, causing him to choke.

  “The lady said no,” Asten told him calmly, but his voice was thick with malice. Leawyn’s attacker’s eyes widened, his face flushed from the lack of oxygen. “I-I-I’m s-so—”

  “I’m not interested in excuses,” Asten snarled, and without a second thought, he quickly crushed the man’s windpipe with a sickening crunch.

  Leawyn let out a strangled scream when Asten dropped the dead body to the ground, his eyes forever frozen wide with shock and fear.

  Leawyn looked away from the corpse and back up to her childhood friend as he positioned himself in front of her. He pulled out his wickedly curved sword, pointing it to the men still gathered around.

  Asten looked over his shoulder down at her, his eyes flashing.

  “Run,” he ordered before he swung his blade up and cut off the arm of the closest man standing next to him.

  Leawyn screamed again as the men all around her charged at Asten, who quickly matched their attacks with a viciousness she’d never seen from him before.

  Leawyn quickly stood to follow his advice when she saw one come at Asten from behind.

  “Asten!” Leawyn yelled out in warning and, without thinking, swiped a dagger from a recent corpse and threw it forward.

  Asten swung around with his sword poised above him, but faltered when a knife suddenly protruded through the throat of his potential attacker, who then fell at his feet.

  He looked at Leawyn, bewildered. She felt just as shocked as he looked. “I thought I told you to run?” Asten quipped.

  “I . . .” Leawyn trailed off when more shouts sounded out behind her—shouts of pain and fear.

  Since Asten was here with her, Leawyn knew only one other man who could cause a reaction like that.

  “Xavier,” she sighed in relief. Turning her head, she addressed her first savior. “Asten, my husband is—”

  Leawyn choked on her words, eyes taking in the space where Asten had been standing.

  He was gone.

  Xavier snarled when he saw the blurs of men in front of him. His vision turned red in his rage. He didn’t feel when he threw himself off his wife’s mare and tackled the first man he saw. Xavier pulled his arm back and sent his fist sailing into the man’s face. The blow instantly killed him by breaking the nose and pushing the fractured bone into his brain. It was less than a second before he was on to the next man and swiftly cut the head off his body.

  Xavier was a flurry of motion, his sword stained red with blood as he ruthlessly cut down every man who came between him and his wife. He didn’t flinch or feel the blood that splattered on his face and armor. His rage was all-consuming, and it was no time at all until he stood outside of a crudely made tent.

  Xavier felt his gut clench. His instinct told him his prize was inside that tent.

  Six pairs of eyes met Xavier when he walked inside. They all had their swords and daggers pointed at him, but Xavier paid them no mind. His sole focus was on his wife and the man holding a sword to her throat.

  “Put yer sword down or I’ll cut ‘er!” the man holding Leawyn hostage ordered crudely, tightening his grip on his wife.

  Xavier glanced over Leawyn. He took in her split lip, every cut and bruise on her beautiful body and face, and the fact that her hair was matted to her cheek by her blood. Her shoulder was hanging at an odd angle, and he knew it was dislocated. He was instantly filled with more rage.

  “Release her.” His growl was almost inhuman.

  The man holding his wife trembled with fear. Rightfully so. Xavier knew he was a sight to see covered in blood from head to toe. His shiny gold and black armor was now completely red, and his long hair stuck together with both sweat and blood. One strand was literally dripping with it. His face was specked with blood, but none of it his. He felt every bit the scary warrior the stories made him out to be.

  “I said drop it!” her captor yelled again. He jerked Leawyn by her hair and arched her throat so that it was right on top of the blade; a thin trail of blood pooled and slid off the gleaming steel.

  Xavier stiffened, his eyes zeroing in on his wife’s dripping blood. He looked back up.

  “Wrong move,” Xavier growled, and in a blink of an eye, Leawyn found Xavier’s sword through her attacker’s head, pinning him to the post behind him so he was still standing.

  She screamed when brain matter and blood coated her locks and splashed in her face.

  It was her reaction that spurred all the men to attack Xavier at once, thinking they had the advantage since he was without a weapon.

  They could not have been more wrong.

  It seemed like only moments before Leawyn found herself wrapped in her husband’s arms after he disposed of the men who had snuck up on her from behind after Asten disappeared. Did he already know Xavier was outside taking care of the other men, and that was why he left her alone? When she thought about Asten and Xavier meeting and having to explain to her husband how she knew him . . . it caused a shiver to go down her spine. Xavier was over-the-top possessive of her. He would kill Asten.

  Xavier crushed her to his chest, effectively snapping Leawyn out of her thoughts.

  “Leawyn,” Xavier breathed out in relief. His muscles instantly relaxed as soon as she was safe in his arms.

  “Are you badly hurt?” Xavier asked gruffly, but even Leawyn could hear the concern in his voice.

  Mutely, she shook her head but didn’t resist when he traveled his hands over her to check and reassure himself.

  “I knew you’d come for me.”

  Xavier froze, slowly raising his eyes to look into hers. She met his stare evenly, even with her black eye, her eyes shone beautifully.

  “I knew you would save me,” Leawyn whispered.

  She kept eye contact when his calloused hand rested on her cheek, gently moving his thump to wipe away blood.

  “Always,” Xavier promised, his voice low and rough. “I’ll always come a
nd save you, Leawyn.”

  Leawyn’s smile immediately turned into a wince when the action caused her split lip to stretch and reopen.

  Xavier scowled at the sight. He dipped down and swung her into his arms with ease and carried her out of the tent and over to her horse.Leawyn let out a tired sigh and rested her head against his chest as he walked. They were almost to her horse, who whinnied loudly when she saw Xavier carrying her.She stared over Xavier’s massive shoulders, thinking about the man who had saved her first.

  Asten . . .

  Xavier and Deydrey burst into the village. He held a motionless Leawyn close to his chest.

  “Get the healer immediately,” Xavier ordered.

  “She’s already waiting inside,” Tristan assured Xavier, glancing down at the beaten body of his sister.

  “Lady Chief!” a small voice cried out, running up to Xavier. Garnette slipped out of Tyronian’s grasp when he tried to grab her to stop her.

  “Lady Chief! I’m so sorry!” Garnette cried when she looked up to see how hurt Leawyn was.

  Xavier stopped and looked down at the child, a bit surprised at her reaction, but more annoyed she was slowing him down to take Leawyn to the healer.

  “Garnette, let go,” Castic said, his voice calm, even though it was clear he was trying his best not to cry at the sight of his lady chief, too. The young boy gently pulled Garnette way from Leawyn before picking the small girl up as she cried into his chest.

  Xavier gave the boy a nod as he quickly resumed his pace to his hut.

  “Lay her down here,” the old healer ordered when Xavier, Tristan, and Tyronian walked in. She pushed them aside impatiently, bending down to examine Leawyn, frowning in concentration.

  “Her head is badly cut,” the healer murmured.

  “Namoriee, bring me my mixing bowl.” Namoriee quickly did as the healer bid, handing the bowl and herbs to her. She gasped when she saw Leawyn’s face, her eyes pooling with tears.Her face was much more swollen than when Xavier first found her. Her left eye was a dark blue and purple, looking close to swelling shut, and her split lip was puffy.