Falling Warriors Series Collection (Books 1, 2 & 1.5) Read online

  “He was,” Tyronian nodded in agreement. “But when my father died, his son took over as chief.”

  He was quiet as he watched her take another spoonful of her soup.

  “Xavier is my cousin.”

  This time Leawyn did spit out her soup.

  Tyronian frowned when she went into a coughing fit. He thumped her on the back a couple of times—which almost knocked her off the bed.

  “I’m fine!” Leawyn coughed out, waving his hand away. She took in a deep breath before she looked up at Tyronian with wide eyes.

  “Xavier is your cousin?” she squeaked out in disbelief.

  Tyronian frowned down at her again, his brows drawing together. “Well, yes. His father was my uncle and chief before Xavier took over. I am third in line, should anything happen to Tristan.” He spoke slowly, as though he was explaining something complicated to a child.

  “I know how it works!” Leawyn snapped, glaring at him. “I’m just surprised. You look nothing like him.”

  “’Tis a fact I’m very proud of!” Tyronian laughed, standing up from his chair. He bent down and placed his hand out to take the bowl back from Leawyn, which she gladly gave over to him. “I am better looking, after all.”

  In a daze, Leawyn watched him walk towards the flap of the tent.

  “’Till next time, my Lady Chief!” Tyronian called over his shoulder. He flashed her one last mischievous grin before he ducked out of the tent.

  She stared after him, waiting for him to come back and laugh at her for falling for his joke. But the longer she stared at the flap in stunned disbelief, the more she knew it wasn’t a joke. Tyronian was Tristan’s cousin, which meant he was Xavier, her husband’s, cousin. Third in line to be chief of the Izayges.

  When she was fully able to process it, only two things remained on her mind.

  If Tyronian was the chief, she imagined she would like the Izayges.

  Why couldn’t she marry him?

  Over the next few days, Tyronian came and brought Leawyn her meals. It was something she was genuinely happy about, for she very much enjoyed his company, and even started to consider him a friend.

  Tyronian made her forget her captivity. If only for a moment in time.

  He was always able to make her laugh, especially when he would tell her stories of his childhood. It seemed Tristan and Tyronian were quite the troublemakers in their youth.

  Leawyn found herself telling Tyronian things she hadn’t told anyone else before. She told him about her village, and how she missed the sound of the waves crashing against the cliff rocks. He told her about his mother, and how she had died when he was just coming into manhood. Leawyn in turn told him how she never knew her mother, and how difficult it was for her father to be around her because of it.

  It wasn’t until Leawyn broached the subject of her husband one night during her evening meal that she saw the more serious side of her friend.

  Leawyn told Tyronian about her wedding night, and how she always seemed to make Xavier angry. How mad she was at her father for making her marry a man who was always so cruel and uncaring. She told him how she felt like she was nothing but a prisoner, married to a man who was a monster. Tyronian’s response surprised her.

  “Do not be so quick to judge my cousin, Leawyn,” he told her seriously, calling her by her name for the first time since she met him. “There are many things you don’t know about him. He’s seen things that, if he were a lesser man, he would have gone mad over.”

  Tyronian’s blue eyes met her own, staring into them deeply. His usual mischievous glint was absent.

  “You’re lucky that’s all the monster he is, Leawyn.”

  After saying that, Tyronian didn’t say any more, and went back to being his usual carefree, playful self.

  But still, Leawyn couldn’t get that conversation out of her head.

  There was something in the way he said it, and how his eyes looked when he did.

  She didn’t know why, but it bothered her.

  Later that night, when she finally succumbed to the heaviness of her eyes and fell into an uneasy sleep, she dreamed of her husband and the horrors of war.

  Xavier and his men had been riding for days, following the trail of the unknown company of men who were swiftly making their way closer and closer to Samaria.

  It was increasingly grating on Xavier’s nerves that the mysterious men always seemed to be a step ahead of them. It was as if they were expecting someone to be looking for them and left different trails to throw them off.

  They were playing a game Xavier did not understand, and it pissed him off.

  “Xavier!”

  Xavier snapped his head to the right when one of his most trusted scouts came rushing up to him. Xavier pushed himself to his feet as Crellio came to a skidding halt, bracing his hands on his knees as he panted, trying to catch his breath.

  “What is it?” Xavier asked sharply, trying to hold in his growing ire as Crellio gasped for air, tilting his head to look up into his commander’s eyes from his bent position.

  “We found them.”

  “Where?” Xavier barked, already signaling the men around him to get ready to head out.

  Crellio pushed himself up after finally getting a hold on his breathing.

  “They’re over by—”

  Whatever Crellio was about to say was instantly cut off as an arrow lodged its way into his back and protruded out of his chest. Crellio jerked, staring down at the arrow in shock. He slowly looked up at Xavier before he fell forward.

  “Ambush!” Xavier yelled, stepping away from Crellio’s fallen form and ripping his sword out of the sheath on his back as all hell broke loose.

  All around him arrows flew as men burst out of the trees, surrounding them. They shouted war cries, their swords raised in the air.

  Xavier raised his sword to block the one coming down at him. He snarled as he pushed it away and spun his body around, cutting his attacker’s head clean from his shoulders.

  Not pausing in his stride, Xavier ducked under another sword coming from the man beside him. He kicked him away while stabbing his own sword behind him, killing the coward who was just about to strike while his back was turned.

  Xavier quickly lost himself in the battle as the cries of his men dying and steel clashing against steel echoed around him. He was already covered in blood from his own stack of bodies laid out on the ground around him when he looked around. They were clearly outnumbered.

  For every man he struck down, two more seemed to take his place. Though he and his men were strong, they were quickly losing this battle.

  Xavier gave an angry shout and swung his bloody sword in a high arc, cutting off the arm of another attacker. He quickly grabbed the dagger on his hip and speared the man through the eye.

  His enemy gave a pained cry and was instantly silenced when Xavier slit his throat.

  Disgusted, he kicked the body away from him. “Fall back!” he shouted at the few men he had left as he fought his way towards his horse. “Fall back!”

  Xavier paused to swiftly dispatch two attackers before raising his bloody fingers to his mouth and letting out a piercing whistle. He ducked under yet another sword as Killix came barreling out of the trees, kicking and bucking at anyone who got in his way. He stopped in front of him, throwing his head and pawing the ground.

  Xavier reached up, grabbed the saddle horn, and quickly flipped himself up as Killix started running off in the direction he came.

  “Fall back! Go back!” He yelled as he passed his men, who were all fighting desperately to make it to their horses so they could escape, too.

  He gritted his teeth as he ducked against an arrow that shot past his shoulder and landed in a tree in front of him. He reached down for his bow, quickly notching two arrows before he turned his body to release it. The arrow soared through the air and landed in its mark, killing two men. He turned back around in his seat and ducked low against Killix’s neck as arrows continued to fall around
him.

  Killix’s hooves flew over the ground as he tried to bring his master to safety. Xavier knew Killix’s speed could not be matched by any horse, and in a few short moments, they outran their pursuers.

  He only hoped some of his men got out.

  The sound of loud shouts woke Leawyn up. She quickly threw the thick furs off her and marched to the opening of her tent to see what the commotion was.

  She stopped in shock, taking in the men who’d rushed the front of the camp. Stepping out fully, she saw Tyronian run past her.

  “Tyronian!” Leawyn called, grabbing onto his arm to stop him. “What’s going on?”

  Tyronian grabbed her and started to push her back towards her tent. “Get back inside, Leawyn!”

  “What is it? What’s wrong?” she asked, alarmed.

  “Get inside, Leawyn!” he yelled at her, pushing her one last time towards her tent. She stopped her struggling at his raised voice.

  “Tyronian!”

  His head shot up to look over his shoulder before he turned back to Leawyn. “Go to the tent and don’t come out until I get you!”

  Leawyn could only nod before he ran off.

  She burst into her tent, her heart beating wildly in her chest. She could still hear the men running all around the camp, seemingly in a panic. She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself down. She would be safe. Nothing would happen to her, she was surrounded by Izayges warriors.

  Yes, but, what if something happens to them?

  Leawyn blinked.

  Her head whipped to the side at the sound of feet coming towards her. She backed up slightly, looking around for anything sharp she could use to protect herself. Before she could even grab something, the tent flap flipped open and Tristan burst in. Her breath rushed out, relieved. Smiling, she walked towards him, only to freeze in her tracks, her smile dropping.

  Tyronian came in next, his arms around a slumped form.

  “Oh Gods!” she gasped out, her hands flying to cover her mouth.

  Leawyn stared in shock at the arrow sticking out of her husband’s shoulder, dangerously close to his heart.

  Tyronian and Tristan carried Xavier’s slumped form over to the bed quickly and sat him down, sliding his arms off their shoulders. He slumped to the side, and only due to Tyronian’s quick reflexes did he not fall sideways off the bed.

  “We need to get the arrow out,” Tristan told Tyronian grimly, who nodded in agreement.

  She watched, still in shock, as Tristan took out a small knife and started to cut away Xavier’s bloody clothes until his chest was bare. Her head snapped up to look at Tyronian when he said her name.

  “We’ll need someone to put pressure on the wound to stop the bleeding when we cut the arrow out,” Tyronian said softly but sternly, looking her in the eyes. She could only nod, swallowing against the bile that rose in her throat. She walked over to the bed.

  “We’ll have to push the arrow forward. It looks like it went all the way through,” Tristan said, looking at Xavier’s back where the point of the arrow was visible. Tristan brought his knife up, and Leawyn had to look away when he started to cut the flesh around the arrow wound, trying to ensure it wasn’t attached to bone.

  “Get ready.”

  It was her only warning as Tristan snapped off the fletching before shoving the arrow forward, where Tyronian then grabbed onto it from the other side and yanked it out in one fluid motion. Xavier gave a coarse shout of pain before he slumped forward again.

  She had to quickly swallow down the urge to vomit as blood gushed from Xavier’s wound, and she caught him, pressing the cloth she held in her shaking hands against him firmly. The blue cloth quickly became red, soaked with Xavier’s blood.

  “Poison!” Tristan spat, throwing the arrow head to the floor in disgust.

  “We have to get it out of him, before it spreads.”

  “How do we know it didn’t already? Who knows how long he’s had that arrow in.”

  “We don’t have a choice!”

  Leawyn looked up as a set of hands rested on her shoulders. Her eyes, full of helpless tears, met Tristan’s as he looked down at her.

  “Go outside, Leawyn,” he told her softly, helping her rise to her feet and gently taking the soaked cloth away from her bloody hands.

  “We’ll get you when you can come back.”

  She nodded stiffly, still in shock as she ducked under his arm and out into the cold night air. She took a couple steps before she tensed and whipped around to look at the tent. She stared at it in wide-eyed horror as her husband’s deep voice echoed out in a pained scream. A tear made its way down her cheek as she squeezed her eyes shut, and she flinched when another pained scream assaulted her ears.

  A distressed whinny from a solid black stallion caught her attention as he paced from side to side, rearing up when some of the men tried to grab the reins to hold him. Before Leawyn could comprehend what she was doing, she rushed over to the horse.

  “Stop!” she cried, grabbing a man’s arm who was holding onto one of the reins. “Stop, let go!” she said desperately as the horse reared up in distress.

  “My lady, he’s too dangerous for you to—”

  “Drop the reins!” Leawyn yelled, interrupting him. “Drop them now!”

  The men slowly did as she asked, having no choice but to follow her orders as the Lady Chief. The stallion reared again, landing on his feet and pawing the ground while he paced sideways.

  “Easy!” Leawyn soothed, putting her arms out in front of her as the stallion snorted angrily, throwing his head in agitation.

  “Easy now! Easy!” Leawyn said again gently, keeping her hands out in front of her and bending her body inward in a nonthreatening manner. The horse began to calm down at her gentle ministrations. Gradually, his agitated pacing slowed until it came to a complete stop with one last throw of his head.

  “There, see? All better,” Leawyn whispered to the horse as she pets his huge nose. The horse snorted, nudging her in the shoulder. She laughed.

  “He usually doesn’t let anyone touch him.”

  Leawyn looked up at the sound of Tristan’s voice, zeroing in on his bloody tunic. His shoulders were slumped, and she could see the distress in his brown eyes.

  Leawyn swallowed as her throat suddenly became uncomfortably dry. She looked away from him and back down to the stallion’s nose that was currently resting against her breast.

  “How come?”

  Tristan took a step towards her, eying her curiously.

  “My brother is the only one Killix bestowed with that honor. Until now, at least.”

  “Killix,” she smiled, running her hands down the horse’s velvety nose. “I knew he was Xavier’s horse, but I never knew his name.” Killix let out another contented snort as she ran her fingers through his mane. “It suits him.”

  Leawyn patted Killix’s muscled neck before stepping away and meeting Tristan’s gaze once again.

  “You can go see him now.”

  She hesitated. She was afraid of what she would find inside her tent. She stumbled forward when a nudge was given to her back.

  Leawyn turned to see Killix’s big form behind her.

  “That wasn’t very nice.” She glared at Killix, who only snorted at her, before she made her way back to the tent.

  The heavy hoof-falls assured her Killix was right behind her.

  “Is he…?” Leawyn trailed off, staring at the still, sweating form of her husband.

  Tyronian sighed as he pushed himself from his kneeling position by the bed to stand next to Leawyn.

  “He’s weak. The arrow was poisoned. We got out as much as we could, but only time will tell if we got it all,” Tyronian said grimly, staring at the form of his cousin and leader sadly.

  He sighed and rested his massive hand on Leawyn’s shoulder, making her jump. “I’ll take my leave now.”

  She could only nod, her eyes never leaving her husband’s form.

  “Leawyn?”

 
; She looked to Tyronian, who was staring at her, one hand holding the flap of the tent.

  “He needs you now,” he told her softly. He looked at Xavier’s form lying on the bed before looking back at Leawyn one last time and disappearing outside.

  She stood staring at the space Tyronian occupied a moment ago before she slowly turned around so that she was facing her husband.

  She took a slow, measured step towards the bed.

  Then another.

  Then another.

  And another.

  Before she knew it, she was looking down at her husband with a blank expression on her face.

  His bare chest was covered in sweat. His breathing was shallow, his chest rising and falling in uneven pants. Dried blood covered him from his hair to his waist. His shoulder was already turning an angry red against the crude bandages covering the wound.

  Her hands brushed his forehead, feeling that it was warm. Fever was already starting to set in. She pulled her hand away, and it was then she noticed the bloody dagger at her feet.

  As if in a trance, Leawyn picked it up, holding it in front of her face. She glanced back down to her husband. Her eyes narrowed, brows creased together. Her lips thinned into a tight line. Her breast rose and fell with ragged pants as she held her shaking hand out, the dagger glistening off the firelight as she held it against his throat.

  It would be so easy…

  So easy to end his life and make her escape. Leawyn would be free from his terrible treatment. She could run away. She could save herself. Take Deydrey, and run.

  She pressed the dagger into Xavier’s skin, watching in fascination as beads of blood slowly swelled and dripped off the blade.

  Do it, her mind whispered. Save yourself. He deserves it.

  All she had to do was move her wrist, and she’d slit his throat.

  Leawyn exhaled shakily and pulled her hand away, the dagger clattering to the floor. With a deep, mournful sigh, she sat down heavily beside Xavier on the bed, her shoulders sagging as the tension left her.

  She picked up the wet rag from the basin of water beside the bed and lightly wiped the beads of blood away from her husband’s throat, then started to dab it all over his head and body, trying to relieve his fever.