How The Warrior Fell (Falling Warriors series Book 1) (40 page)

“Namoriee has someone to show me, and then she’s going back with me to my hut. Don’t expect her again today,” he said curtly, ducking under the hut’s door and stepping outside.

Namoriee’s petulant shout of “No!” was cut off by the door slamming.

It wasn’t until after they left that Leawyn realized a very important detail.

“She never did tell me who it was.”

Three MONTHS LATER . . .

Leawyn groaned when another heave constricted her body, only for nothing to come out of her stomach. She had been feeling sick for an hour now, and it was with the 
worst 
possible timing.

Ever since Hiinex’s assassination, Xavier had been busy with meetings with the elder council members and other warriors of the three main tribes. In fact, the only time she really saw Xavier for long periods of time was late at night when he woke her body up with pleasure.

Today was also the day half the village was to pack up and get ready to travel to the sacred grounds for the warrior games.

The warrior games was when all of the tribes gathered together and fought each other for sport. They were designed for the leaders to pick which child would officially start their training as a warrior. Each tribe hand-selected and volunteered warriors who would compete against each other, and in the final round, fight. Whatever boy was left undefeated from their tribe was to be the warriors who will begin training.

The games were also for the seasoned warriors to compete against each other and show off their skill. All in all, it was a friendly activity for the tribes to unite, and ensure there would be no revolts.

This tradition only happened once every five winters and it was the most treasured tradition of their people. Leawyn 
could not 
afford to be ill, as it was necessary for her to be present with Xavier as the wife of the Chief.

The hut door opening forced Leawyn to push to her feet and straighten out her appearance behind the safety of her screen divider.

“Lady Chief, are you ready? We are to head out now,” Namoriee’s voice called out to her. Despite Leawyn’s best efforts, Namoriee remained tight-lipped about what happened between her and Tyronian. She never gave any details away, and after awhile Leawyn stopped pressing her.

But whatever 
did 
happen between them changed Namoriee. There was a seriousness in her brown eyes that had not been there before. Some promise or understanding had happened, and Leawyn wasn’t quite sure it was shared mutually.

“Yes, go ahead and take my bag to the cart. I’ll be out in a moment,” Leawyn called out.

“You will be riding Tasselfell today. The chief will be riding up ahead with the others.” Since Deydrey was pregnant, Leawyn was unable to ride her. Usually, Leawyn would be stuck riding with her husband atop Killix.

“Thank you, Namoriee, I’ll be out there in a moment.”

Leawyn listened to the sounds of Namoriee gathering her pack before the silence assured her Namoriee left.

Leawyn sighed in relief, pressing a shaky hand to her forehead. She just hoped she would be able to handle the six-day ride well enough to stay on her horse.

It was day two in their journey when Leawyn started to admit something was seriously wrong. It felt like a herd of horses were running on her skull, and her body felt like a dead weight. The newest development: her vision was spinning.

Leawyn gasped, pulling Tasselfell up short with a startled jerk of his reins, which he 
did not 
like, and he showed it as he snorted angrily and kicked out his hind legs.

But Leawyn didn’t care because 
her vision was spinning.

Quickly, and without any finesse, Leawyn slid off of Tasselfell’s back so her feet met the ground. Leawyn stumbled forward, knocking into a Siraces villager.

“Sorry,” Leawyn mumbled, disorientated, stumbling away from the woman she bumped into. Leawyn caught a glimpse of the angered expression of the woman’s face before it morphed into a more alarmed one.

“Lady Leawyn?”

Whispers and words of alarm spread like rapid fire around Leawyn, when more and more of the villagers who were walking alongside and in front of Leawyn became aware of her strange behavior.

Leawyn squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head a bit to get rid of the black dots quickly overcoming her line of sight.

She was going to faint, 
Leawyn realized too late. 
Xavier is going to be upset.

And with that last thought, Leawyn collapsed in a heap on the ground, the various cries of alarm going unheard as she slipped into unconsciousness.

T
HERE WERE HUSHED
voices whispering all around, the tones both urgent and calm, that floated into Leawyn’s consciousness.

“It’s been more than a day . . .”

“Why hasn’t she awoken?”

“We need to move. We’re already behind the other tribes . . .”

“I am not leaving until I know what is wrong. Why isn’t she waking up? You’re the healer; you’re supposed to fix her!”

“Xavier, calm your—”

“Don’t tell me to be calm! Why hasn’t she wakened?”

“Chief Xavier, I assure you—”

“You assure me nothing! Do your job, or I’ll find someone else who can!”

Heavy footsteps faded away, then a crashing sound followed as if something had fallen or been knocked over, before the room was silent once more for a few moments. The whispering continued.

“Why 
hasn’t 
she woken up yet?”

“Why are we whispering? Don’t we 
want 
her to wake up?”

A soft smacking sounded and a yelp of “Hey!” quickly followed. She heard a grumbling that sounded like, “It’s a valid question.”

“As I’ve told the chief, with Leawyn unconscious, it is hard for me to determine anything substantial. But it is my belief Lady Leawyn needs rest, and her body made it so.”

“So, basically, she’s been having too much sex?”

There was a feminine gasp before a soft 
thump 
could be heard
 
with a muffled “
ompf,” 
followed by a drawn-out groan.

“Be as it may, we must leave the lady to her rest. I will linger until nightfall and until my chief retires, should she awaken before then.”

There were murmured agreements before the sounds of shuffling feet as they walked away. The sound of a chair being dragged on the floor met Leawyn’s ears, before a soft, withered hand rested on her forehead and whispered softly to her. “Rest, Lady Leawyn. You shall get respite for another day.”

Sighing, Leawyn slipped back into peaceful unconsciousness.

Xavier sat across the room, his elbows resting on his knees and hands clasped in front of him. His eyes were fixed on his wife sleeping on the pallet of furs. When word reached him that Leawyn had fallen off her horse and was swept with a dark spirit, Xavier immediately left the council of chiefs and rushed off to see to his wife.

A healer was already seeing to Leawyn when he arrived at the tent that had been hastily put together for them. Unfortunately, as Leawyn was still unconscious, the healer wasn’t able to inform him of much.

That was midday, and the sun had long past set. Yet Leawyn still did not wake.

Xavier’s brows furrowed, the only significant sign of his worry. He already lingered too long. The other tribes long since had a two-day start, and they were due to participate in the warrior games
 
in a day’s time. Xavier couldn’t afford for the Izayges to stay any longer.

Sighing, he pushed himself to his feet, walked over to the small table positioned off to the side, and went about removing his armor until he stood in only his breeches. His sword and daggers made soft thuds onto the wood as he placed them onto the tabletop. He made sure almost everything was off his person before he made his way to the bed his wife slept in.

Xavier never took his eyes off her as he bent, placing the unsheathed dagger on the floor beside him before he slowly sat down, so as to not jostle Leawyn.

Xavier lay on his side, gathering Leawyn to cradle her against his chest with one arm while he lifted the fur pallets to cover them both with the other. Once settled, Xavier reached over to the side of the bed and grabbed the dagger once again to place it under his pillow.

He fell asleep like that, wrapped around his wife protectively as he gripped the hilt of the deadly dagger under his pillow with his fist.

Protective.

Dangerous.

Ready.

“Are you certain this will work?”

Xavier looked over at Yoro, his eyes shooting around to the other men that surrounded him. The men consisted of the Asori and Siraces tribe leaders and their high-ranked and best warriors. Tyronian and Tristan stood to the side of him with Xavier’s own high-ranking warriors standing behind them. They were all looking at him with tense expressions. Their eyes were hard and focused, their attention completely on him.

“Yes,” Xavier said confidently. “If not tonight, then soon.”

“What makes you so sure, Chief Xavier?”

Xavier turned his attention to the Siraces warrior that spoke, stepping forward a bit with his question.

“This is the perfect time,” Xavier explained. “We’re all converted into one space. All the tribe’s best warriors are here, leaving the unseasoned warriors to guard our villages. Not to mention all the women, children, and elderly. But more than that, it’s our 
sons 
that are the prime target,” Xavier said, meeting the eyes of every man. “Our future generation of warriors, of all tribes, all here in one spot. Tell me, what were to happen if they were killed?” Xavier paused, seeing the comprehension dawn on the hardened faces around him.

“We would be the only warriors left,” Yoro said gravely, his tone matching his expression.

Xavier nodded slowly. “It’s the perfect plan, and the perfect time to strike. It’s what I would do,” Xavier admitted, and all around him mummers broke out.

“But if you know this, then why did we come? We gave them exactly what they wanted!”

Murmurs of agreement sounded around Xavier, and he felt the air around his warriors tense and shift closer to him. Their loyalty clear. They did not appreciate their leader being questioned.