How The Warrior Fell (Falling Warriors series Book 1) (50 page)

As far as fighting went, Leawyn felt she was doing a pretty good job at not getting killed.

She had lost Killix some time ago. It became too difficult for Leawyn to shoot her bow with Killix constantly bowling through any warrior he could reach. Being it Leawyn’s first battle and all, she wasn’t aware of just
why
they were called warhorses. She certainly understood now.

The horse was nuts.

When Leawyn’s fellow Samaritans realized she was amongst their numbers, they had tried their best to protect her. But it became apparent there was just too many enemies, and they couldn’t afford to lose their focus. Leawyn tried to stick to the outskirts as best she could, keeping her eye out for her husband and Tyronian in between arrows.

No sign of them yet.

Leawyn lost herself in the motions; notch, pull, release.

She didn’t notice the man behind her and the arrow he pulled from his quiver until it was too late. She turned at the sound to see his arrow aimed and ready. Her fear made her immobile, her feet refused to move. Her attacker sneered, joy lighting up his eyes at the fact he would be the one to kill her. He raised his bow and pulled the string back. Leawyn’s eyes squeezed shut. This was it. She was going to be responsible for killing herself and the life inside her.

A whinny rang out, and the ground thundered. Leawyn’s eyes snapped open, and she watched, horrified as Killix charged at her attacker—who had turned at the distraction—full force.

Killix slammed into her attacker’s body at the same time he released the arrow.

“KILLIX!”

It was too late.

Her attacker went sailing through the air, and his body making a sickening crunch when it landed dead on impact.

“No, no, no,” Leawyn chanted, falling to her knees beside Killix’s massive body. “Please no,” Leawyn cried, her hand hovering over his beautiful muscled form.

The arrow meant for her was now lodged into his chest, and he wasn’t breathing.

He had saved her life at the cost of his own.

Uncaring that she was in the middle of a battlefield, Leawyn threw herself on top of Killix’s body and sobbed.

L
EAWYN DIDN’T KNOW
how long she lay over Killix and cried. She knew it was dangerous—she was in the middle of a battlefield, but she didn’t care.

He was still warm. His shiny black coat was wet with sweat. It was almost like Leawyn could pretend Killix was sleeping.

But he wasn’t, and that fact broke her heart.

It was the blood that finally made Leawyn move away from Killix’s body. She stood up, refusing to look down and into Killix’s dead eyes. That’s when Leawyn took in her surroundings. She gasped, hope blossoming in her chest. It seemed that the Izayges were no longer outnumbered, and were now driving their opponents back.

They were winning.

A flash of movement from the corner of her got her attention. She turned her head in the opposite direction and looked up at the hill.

Leawyn froze, her heart leaping in her chest. She snatched her bow up from the ground and ran.

Asten’s sword slammed into the dirt where Xavier’s head would have been if he hadn’t rolled away at the last second.

But roll he did, and his boot connected with Asten’s chest and kicked him away, giving himself time to pop up onto his feet.

They had been fighting for what felt like hours. Xavier’s arm had gone numb quite some time ago, and he dripped with sweat and blood. Xavier panted with exertion, physically exhausted. Asten was just as bad.

There was an underlying respect for each other as fighters in their eyes, but it didn’t overshadow their hate.

“Give up,” Xavier panted at Asten. “You have nothing to gain now. Your men are retreating.”

Xavier watched as awareness flashed in Asten’s eyes when he took in his surroundings for the first time and realized Xavier was right. Asten turned and glared at Xavier. He had a desperate look in his eyes now that made Xavier’s body coil with tension. Desperate men were dangerous.

“I found her, you know, when we were kids. She was beautiful, even then.”

Xavier eyes narrowed, not sure where this was going.

“She was clueless. I think that’s why I fell in love with her. She was innocent. It made my mission harder.”

“What are you talking about?”

“We were always destined to meet, Xavier, way before your marriage to Leawyn. I knew about you my whole life,” Asten explained. “Leawyn assumed I was a part of one of the nomad merchants that frequented there.”

“Get to the point!” Xavier barked.

“It was my father’s tribe that attacked your village and killed your parents.”

Xavier’s blood ran cold, stumbling back in shock.

“The Rhoxolani were going to betray you. It wasn’t hard for me to convince Leawyn’s fool of a father to do it, either. But then you had to ruin everything and agree to a marriage,” Asten snarled. “Leawyn was supposed to be mine. She was
my
reward. But you took her away from me, just like you took everything else away from me! You killed my father!”

“Your father deserved to die,” Xavier bellowed. “If I could do it again, I would—but this time I would make sure he suffered more than an arrow to his throat!”

Asten let out a battle cry and slammed into Xavier. He gripped Xavier around his legs, lifting him off his feet as he continued to run forward before he slammed Xavier on the ground.

Xavier landed hard on his back, the breath knocked out of him. Asten took his moment of weakness to pound his fists into Xavier’s face. Xavier grunted in pain. He blocked Asten’s next blow and landed one of his own. They grappled each other for a while, giving in to a much more primal way of fighting. They rolled, both trying to get the upper hand.

Xavier brought his leg between them and wrapped it around Asten’s neck, giving his torso a sharp twist that sent Asten tumbling sideways. Asten choked as Xavier squeezed tight, cutting off his air supply.

“How’s it feel to know you’re going to die by the same man who killed your father?” Xavier snarled hatefully. “Oh wait,” Xavier said sarcastically, dark humor lighting his eyes. “I wasn’t a man yet when I killed them.”

Asten was furious. Xavier realized he shouldn’t have gotten cocky. Asten reached behind him and pulled out the dagger from a holster hidden inside his pant leg and rammed it down into Xavier’s leg.

The pain made his grip on Asten’s neck loosen enough for Asten to take advantage of that weakness and pull away, yanking the dagger out of Xavier’s leg as he did. Xavier stumbled to his feet, blood seeped through his fingers as he limped away from Asten. He breathed through his pain.

They realized at the same time they were without their swords, having been too enraged with each other to keep them in their grip. Xavier eyed the ground; their swords had landed right next to each other. He looked up, exchanging a glare with Asten.

There was a split second of hesitation before they both dove.

Xavier knew the moment his feet left the ground, arm stretched out ahead of him, he wasn’t going to be the one to reach a sword first. It all boiled down to luck. Asten was closer.

Asten fell to the ground. His hand gripped the hilt, and he turned.

Xavier couldn’t stop him.

His body heaved as Asten’s sword pierced through his flesh as easily as lightning sliced through rain clouds.

Asten’s eyes flashed with victory when Xavier slowly looked up, dazed. For the first time since he was seven years old, he had been bested. Asten’s eyes slanted, and with great zeal he wrenched the blade free.

Xavier jerked, pain compressing his face. Asten stood and looked down at Xavier when he toppled over sideways.

Asten pointed his blood-tipped sword down at Xavier, his expression filled with sadistic pleasure.

“How’s it feel to know you’re going to die by the son of the man who killed your parents?” Asten questioned, throwing Xavier’s words back at him.

Xavier didn’t give him the satisfaction of replying. Asten’s face twisted into a snarl. He raised his sword above him to deliver the finishing blow.

“Stop!”

Asten froze. His sword still held high above him as his eyes stared in front of him, shocked.

For there, in front of them, stood Leawyn. An arrow notched in her bow, and it was pointing straight at Asten.

“Don’t make me do it,” Leawyn pleaded with Asten, her voice desperate.

Asten studied her. Taking in Leawyn’s white knuckled grip around her bow, the notched arrow had the slightest quake as her hands trembled.

“Drop your sword, Asten.”

When Asten didn’t move, Leawyn pulled the bow string back tighter, the sound of the string going taut seemed to echo around them. “Do it!”

Slowly, Asten lowered his sword. “You won’t shoot me, Lea,” Asten told her, his tone confident.

“I can’t let you kill him.” Leawyn’s bottom lip quivered with her tears as she spoke.

“Everything will be okay, Lea. I’m going to take care of you,” Asten reassured her, his face softening when he looked upon her glassy eyes.

“But this?” He looked down to Xavier, who, despite being mortally wounded, met Asten’s eyes fearlessly. The nerve of that action caused Asten’s eyes to harden.

“This
thing
needs to die. He needs to pay. Don’t you see, Leawyn?” Asten glanced back to Leawyn, and she couldn’t fight the sob that escaped her lips at the maniacal glint in his eyes. “This is the only way.”

“What about you, Asten?” Leawyn challenged. “What about what you’ve done?”

Asten frowned. “I haven’t done anything wrong, Lea.”

“You annihilated my tribe! Women and children!” Leawyn cried. “You killed innocent people!”

“The Rhoxolani were weak. They didn’t belong.”

Leawyn recoiled, shocked. She couldn’t believe these hateful words were coming from her childhood friend. From Asten. The boy who made her smile even when she felt her world was falling apart. Who once looked upon her with love. Her best friend. She thought she knew everything there was about him. But looking at him now . . . Leawyn realized she never really knew him at all.

“What about me?” Leawyn said softly. Her voice barely carrying over the sounds of battle around them. “I was Rhoxolani. Do I not belong?”

“Of course you belong, Lea.” Asten said, his hard expression softening. And for a moment, Leawyn saw the boy she grew up with in that look as he took a step towards her.

“You belong with me. Which is why I had to kill them. Which is why I’ll enjoy killing him. They took you away from me.”

The moment was broken, and Leawyn’s heart broke all over again.

“I said I’d save you. We’ll finally be together,” Asten continued fervently as he took another step towards her. “It will be a fresh start, with the rightful people. I’ll not harm your friend, Namree?”

“Namoriee,” Leawyn’s whispered, sorrow overcoming her as she watched Asten step closer.

“Yes, her. I’ll spare her because she’s important to you. We’ll rule our people together.”

Leawyn shook her head slowly, one solitary tear escaping her eyelashes to trail down her cheek.

“These are not my people.”

Asten stopped, his face dawning with understanding, and then rage.