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

by Nicole René

  “What are you doing out here?” Tyronian asked, coming into view. He had shaved, his chin and cheeks looked smooth to the touch, and his hair was just a little bit passed his ears now. She hasn’t seen him around in the village for weeks, and she wondered when he had gotten back from his visit to the Sicares tribe.

  He seemed to expect her not to answer, and instead his eyes roved over her. She trembled, a weird feeling coming over at his appraisal. Her hair was short and uneven, and she probably had dirt smudged on her cheek from when Kassia and her friends held her down to cut her hair cruelly. In the process, it made her drop the bowl of healing herbs that Aggod requested, which resulted in her punishment.

  She ducked down, hiding from his eyes that were glued to her. She couldn’t stand to see his pity.

  She heard him move, and she tensed. The air moved, just the slightest bit, and his leather-skinned pants made a sound when he bent his knees so that he crouched. She jerked when he lifted her dress the slightest bit.

  “You have blood on your knees,” he informed her. “I only wish to see what ails you,” he soothed, his tone the same level one would use to calm a wild animal. Her knees were already raw when Kassia pushed her down on the ground. The herbs she had dropped were rare, and it was a gift from the head healer of the Asori. Aggod had dealt her worse punishment yet, making her kneel on grains of rice while she whipped her.

  Namoriee didn’t know that something so small could deliver such pain.

  She hissed when her knees were exposed, the change in warmth startling. She didn’t look up at him, so she couldn’t gage his expression, but his hands twitched on her leg as if he was trying to hold himself back from grabbing her.

  It was quiet for a beat before he said, “The back of your dress is ripped.”

  She shook her head, finally meeting his eyes when he put a hand on her shoulder, like he was going to lean her forward. She begged him with her eyes not to. He paused again, and just when she thought he was going to listen to her unspoken request, he stood, moving behind her. An animalistic sound escaped his throat, and Namoriee suddenly found him in front of her again; liquid fire made his blue eyes dark.

  “Who did this to you?” he said, and she could hear the barely veiled wrath in his tone.

  She couldn’t answer him, equally afraid for Aggod and herself. She’s never had to speak to him before. She stopped speaking to people a long time ago, ever since she realized that her curse upset her tribe-mates.

  She couldn’t begin to understand why, but the thought of making him upset bothered her. After all, he was one of the few who was somewhat nice to her, although they hadn’t had many interactions beside when he came to Aggod for something or the other.

  She flinched back from him when he reached out as if to touch her again. He dropped his hand, but not his gaze. It was heavy enough for her to be unable to look away.

  “I don’t want to command you to answer me,” he said, his tone firm yet somewhat pleading. “But I will.”

  Please, she thought, please don’t make me. I can’t handle your disgust.

  “Namoriee,” he sighed.

  He was going to order her, she could tell. Closing her eyes tightly so that it would shield her from his reaction, she spoke.

  “I-I-I d-dro-p-p-ped the -h-herbs,” she whispered, crying anew in embarrassment. “Ag-g-god was angr-r-r-ry. I d-d-deserved-d to b-be punished-d.”

  He inhaled sharply. “How did she do that?”

  Namoriee shook her head. She didn’t want to tell him.

  “Namoriee,” he warned.

  “Kn-kneel on r-r-rice, a-a-and f-f-five lashes.” It was a small mercy, usually she did anything between ten and fifteen.

  His voice was infinitely darker when he asked, “and how often has she done this?”

  That was a question that she couldn’t answer accurately; she lost count on how many times she’s received lashes as punishment, but the rice was the first and she prayed it would be the last, which she relayed to him. She couldn’t help but start to cry when she had to tell him how the other girls held her down and cut her hair. They told her that it was dull and lifeless—like her—and deserved to be ridden of, but Namoriee had always been proud of her hair. It was the only thing she liked about herself.

  Somehow, she could bear his touch when he had gathered her in his arms. The way he cradled her, so gently, made her feel safe and she greedily ate up his acceptance. Tomorrow, she will feel ashamed at her weakness, at allowing him to witness as she wasted her tears against his chest. But for right now, she simply let herself be comforted by him. He left her only long enough to fetch one of his cloaks, and she was grateful that he had covered her with it as he carried her to his hut so that he could help her with cleansing her scrapes and cuts. She fell asleep in his bed, while he slept on the floor.

  The next day, Aggod officially made Namoriee her apprentice, and her punishments ceased. A few months after, she was informed by her chief that she would be his wife’s handmaiden who he would marry next summer.

  Namoriee wasn’t sure what woke her, but she blinked, trying to clear the grogginess out of her vision. It was still dark out, but the start of the glowing light across the sky assured her that dawn was approaching. The fire was nothing but a few smoldering embers now, some still carrying the red glow of heat. Her back felt warm, the hard body pressed tight against it a barrier to the chill. Tyronian was holding her from behind, his arm wrapped tightly around her waist, while the other was beneath her, providing a pillow of muscled flesh. She tilted her head, just slightly, not wanting to wake him. He was pressed so close to her that his nose was buried into her hair, and she could feel his even breaths wisping atop her head. His sword was just a few inches from his hand, easily accessible should the need arise. A shadow of moment caught the corner of her eye, and she turned back to look, and gasped at the floating eyes that hugged the darkness stared straight at her.

  “Do no move,” Tyronian whispered, barely above a breath, into her ear. She didn’t know that he had woken. A low growl emerged from the beast throat once it caught sight that she was awake. She stiffened, terror clogging her throat. Tyronian squeezed around her middle, a move meant to comfort, but it didn’t.

  “Calm down,” he whispered to her.

  She tried, she really did, but she couldn’t. Her breathing started to become erratic, try as she might to calm her racing heart. Panic and fear were starting to overcome her. She knew that leopards and lions roamed their lands, as there were often hunting parties for them. There were a few times that they had attacked their cattle and goats, but never, has she seen one up close alive. Another growl penetrated the air, and a paw became visible as it took another threatening step toward them. The beast’s eyes kept flashing from them, to beyond their heads, and Namoriee felt sudden fear for Tyronian’s horse, who was trapped and which the beast considered its meal.

  Suddenly, it crouched, lowering itself down low to the ground. She felt Tyronian tense, his muscles coiling as he prepared himself. From her peripherals, she saw that he now had his sword clutched in his hand.

  It happened quick.

  With a growl, so ferocious and terrifying, the cat leaped, its claws out and stretched toward them. Namoriee screamed, and just as quickly, Tyronian rolled them backwards, dragging Namoriee up and over him. She stared horrified when the cat landed precisely where their heads would have been. Tyronian rolled to his feet quickly, and Namoriee found herself launched across the grass, landing hard on her back.

  She watched wide-eyed and terrified as the hunter, and prey circled each other. The spotted tail whipping back and forth in agitation as it faced Tyronian. She was helpless but to watch as the cat swiped its mighty paw toward Tyronian’s stomach, then lunged forward again, claws trying to find purchase to his abdomen. Another angry snarl escaped the beast, and Tyronian matched it with one of his own.

  “Tyronian!” Namoriee screamed in horror when the beast lunged at him again, this time knocking him down
on his back. Fear paralyzed her as she could only watch in terrified, morbid, slow motion as the leopard tried to bite Tyronian, going for his jugular.

  Fur, and blond hair, and tanned skin mixed together in a clash of color. Tyronian cried out in pain, and she sobbed when blood went flying.

  She heard, as if distant, the thundering of hooves as Jidu stomped angrily behind them, distraught by his master’s cry. It served as a distraction, for the leopard looked toward him.

  A horrible screeching sound split the air and echoed in the darkness. It was a sound that Namoriee knew she would never forget. Another wail sounded, slow, pained, and almost…sad. The leopard fell just a few moments later, covering Tyronian with his body.

  Nothing.

  Not a sound after that and Namoriee thought she would choke from her fear. Her heart was beating a rapid crescendo, her breaths heavy.

  “T-t-tyron-n-nian?” Namoriee whimpered, shaking. Jidu let out a distressed whinny, pacing anxiously.

  The cat moved, its shoulders twitching just the slightest bit, and Namoriee shot to her feet and backed up. Had Tyronian not survived? Had the cat killed him? Her heart screamed at that idea, tears prickling the back of her eyes. It was a strong emotion, and it startled her. A low groan came from underneath the beast, and Namoriee practically fell in relief at the noise. She rushed over to him, helping him push the beast off him.

  She fell to her knees, tears streaming down her cheeks. She paled when she saw his bloody arm. He followed her gaze.

  “The little bastard got lucky,” he grimaced, as he sat up, using only his abdomen muscles.

  “We need to go b-b-back to the tribe. Aggod, she—”

  “Shh,” he cooed softly, placing a single, non-bloodied finger over her lips. She was completely rattled, and she knew she must look a fright from the way that Tyronian was gazing at her. He was the one injured, and here he was trying to comfort her. How much more pathetic can she be?

  You’re despicable, her mind screamed at her. Weak, as always.

  “It’s merely a flesh wound. No need to travel back for sutures that I can perform myself.”

  Another troubled sound came from behind them, and Namoriee quickly went to Jidu to release him. He came to Tyronian immediately, snuffling along his hair line to ensure himself that he was okay. Tyronian spent a few minutes petting Jidu and Namoriee had taken that time to heat up some water and rummaged through their pack until she found the supplies for aid, which she had ready for Tyronian. He gave Jidu one last affectionate pat before he sent him on his way, looking up at Namoriee when she crouched in front of him.

  “Your w-w-wounds needs t-to be cleansed,” she said, proffering him the heated cup of water.

  She watched as the water mixed with his bloody, running a trail down the corded muscles in his arm and revealing the deep grooves embedded in his skin from the cat’s claws. He handed the cup back to her, and she traded it out with the bottle of whiskey that she found and handed it to him. He paused when he saw it, and she rolled her eyes when he lifted the bottle to his lips, taking a few pulls before he poured it over his wound. He didn’t flinch, even though she knew the alcohol must’ve stung. Once he was done drying and wiping off the blood, Namoriee tilted, reaching around behind her and took the needle that she had rested against the fire to sterilize it, and handed it to Tyronian who quickly strung the tough, thin, twine through it and silently started to stitch himself up. It was a practiced move, his hands as steady as her own would have been. It was silent between them, Tyronian focusing on sewing his wound up, and Namoriee watching, in slight awe at how effortless it was for him. She had administrated many stitches, but she couldn’t imagine giving them to herself. It was a skill that Tyronian had no doubt honed from the many battles he had fought.

  He looked up at her after he had finished tying off the sutures, cutting the excess string off. He grinned at the worried look that she knew she still wore.

  “I’m fine, Namoriee. But it warms my heart to know you’re so concerned. Perhaps I should find another cat to wrestle with, if this is result,” he joked.

  “You could have died,” Namoriee said softly, still highly emotional. “This isn’t funny.”

  What would become of her should he die?

  His expression smoothed out into a more serious one, and Namoriee felt something pang in her chest at the slightly haunted look that entered his eyes. He trailed a knuckle down her cheek.

  “There have been many times in my life that I have been close to death. Though times are peaceful, now, I have no doubt that there will be many more. As my wife, you need to harden your heart to that impending future. But, should the day that I meet the Gods happen, you will not be not taken care of. You have my word.”

  It was as if he had reached inside of her and grasped one of her fears that she had buried deep. She did not want this marriage, nor appreciate having her free-will taken from her, but the thought of waking up to behold the morrow and knowing that she will never see his smiling face again around the village, robbed her of breath. It made her heart ache and swirled all kind of emotions inside of her. But, he was right. Whether she liked it or not, his lifestyle ensured that the breath in his lungs weren’t promised, and that sooner, rather than later, his death will come. Because he was a warrior, and warriors rarely lived out their days with white hair and withered skin. It was one of the reasons, she knew deep down, that made her so unwilling to marry him. Being a warrior’s wife meant that they were doomed to be their widow. How would she be able to live if he was killed?

  Day four into their journey, Namoriee was starting to get an idea of where they were going. The landscape changed, instead of forest and mountains, there were rolling hills with tall grass. Trees, tall and beautiful, but not clustered together to count as a forest were scattered about. There was more of a breeze, and the air felt crisper. They haven’t been riding hard, instead Tyronian seemed to like to take his time, content to hold her tight to his chest as he let Jidu set his own pace. She started to hear weird sounds, like rushing water and the squawking of a bird she had never heard before. It was nearing twilight, and when they crested the final incline, and Namoriee saw the most breathtaking sight.

  “Wow,” she breathed, memorized.

  They were standing on a cliff, and it overlooked the vast ocean, reflecting sleepy sun whose last rays lit up the sky in brilliant oranges and shocking colors on pink so that it sparkled so beautifully, it was like the Goddesses smile.

  “Beautiful, isn’t it?” Tyronian said from behind her, his voice wistful and content. “Leawyn was spoiled having this view every day.”

  Namoriee snapped her head toward him. “Where in the Rhoxolani?” Namoriee asked, shocked.

  Tyronian nodded, his expression belaying sadness but also humor at her disbelief. “You mustn’t tell Leawyn, but Xavier has been working hard to restore her village. He plans to make it another Izayges settlement.” He looked farther right, and for the first time Namoriee noticed the outlines of buildings atop the mightiest cliff.

  “It’s one of the reasons I’m here. Xavier wanted an update.” He glanced back down at her, an endearing grin on his face. “I figured I’d show you the ocean. You’ve never seen it before, yes?”

  Namoriee shook her head, gazing back at the amazing sight. “No,” she said softly, still in awe at the vast beauty.

  “Never.”

  It was a sight that she would never forget.

  By the time they reached their destination, the sun had set. Tyronian pulled his horse to a stop and hopped off, reaching back to pluck Namoriee off and set her on the ground.

  “The stables are over there,” Tyronian said, nudging his chin straight ahead to a tall brown building.

  It was one of the first things they have built. It housed five stalls on each side, that had a lard fenced in barrier so that the horses could go outside yet find shelter should they choose it, with a wide-open space inside for storage. The stables were to house only the horses of import
ant guests, like the chiefs of the other tribes and esteemed guests, while the divided fifty acres fenced in the fields that housed the rest of the herd.

  “I have some business to attend to first, but I will send someone to show you where we’ll be staying,” he told her. Namoriee looked over to the stables, before looking over his shoulder, and then back at him, nodding. He watched her for a moment, before he turned around to head in his destination. He stopped when he noticed the female form making her way toward him. They ended up meeting half way and Tyronian recognized her immediately.

  “Samanthia,” he greeted politely. His gaze unwittingly was drawn to her bust that was on the verge of spilling out of her tight corset.

  “Tyronian,” she purred, “what a pleasant surprise. Missed me so much you decided to visit?” He snapped his gaze up, noticing the sultry satisfied spark in her eyes. He stepped back out of her reach when she trailed a finger down his chest.

  “I wasn’t aware that you were here,’ he cleared his throat, glancing at anything beside her.

  “Chief Xavier thought it would be beneficial to the men if they had some womanly company for motivation.”

  Her tone implied just what kind of motivation she meant.

  “Well, good for you,” Tyronian said in mock-enthusiasm. “If you excuse me, I need to…yeah” Tyronian pointed over her shoulder and then set to make his quick escape. A slim hand on his forearm stopped him.