The Fell (The Naetan Lance Saga Book 1)

by Lyndsey Harper

  Have I failed myself?

  He washed his skin and hair without concern for the passage of time. His body moved with independence from his mind, sinking deeper into his own thoughts, including Astrid. The gentle carving of her face and toned thighs flitted through his mind as the water tickled his skin.

  A different kind of heat stirred within his loins. He groaned and shifted, trying to block out the reaction, but it seemed nearly impossible. A cold wave of guilt fought the deep warmth, becoming unbearable.

  Stop, he inwardly pleaded. Stop thinking about her.

  Instead of total absence, though, his thoughts shifted to her words. Was Astrid right? Was his insistence on finding the truth a lost cause by now?

  Was he, himself, a lost cause?

  Dunking his head, Leer rinsed his hair and re-emerged above the lukewarm water with a small gasp. The water dripped from his brow against his eyelashes, sliding down the length of his nose and across his cheeks, falling away as it reached his strong jawline. He stood, stepping over the tub onto the cool floor. Droplets of water coasted down his chest, puddling at his feet.

  Absentmindedly, he yanked the dry fabric from the nearby table and ran it over himself, drying off as he tried to shake away the conflicting thoughts from his mind. He dressed at an unhurried pace, pulling on a pair of extra trousers from his pack, gingerly buttoning them. He grimaced, the fabric far too confining for his current situation. With a groan, he slipped on his woolen socks, and his boots.

  The curtain drew away sharply, and Leer turned to find Astrid wide-eyed behind him, clutching a small pile of clothing to her chest.

  “Leer,” she gasped, taking a step back.

  He found himself staring, his breath heavy. The dim boonwax lighting enhanced her full pink lips, which parted as her gaze hovered in the area of his stomach.

  Leer cleared his throat, turning away, his bare chest prickling with gooseflesh as he realized his appearance both above and below his waist. His trousers suddenly became even more unbearably tight. “I’m nearly finished,” he murmured, snatching up his things as heat rose through his cheeks.

  “I-I assumed you were done by the…length of…the amount of time that’s passed,” she stammered.

  After gathering his tunic and pack, he turned, looking over her in silence. Her hands squeezed her clothing as she shifted her weight, her eyes downcast. His gaze drifted to the neckline of her partially unlaced tunic, trailing down the milky curve of her clavicle and cleavage that was visible in the absence of her willet vest.

  He bit the side of his cheek as the fire ignited again, sparked by the scent of her hair—hewen needles and something else he still couldn’t place, even after the days he had spent with her. Whatever it was, it was oddly sweet and smoky all at once. His throat dried up as he drank in how her chest rose and fell, her thick lashes batting against her cheeks as she kept her eyes down.

  Leer’s heart drummed against his chest with each blink.

  Leave, Boxwell, he ordered himself, his mind becoming clouded rapidly. Go, now.

  He swallowed, more incapable of moving with each passing second. His palms became coated with sweat.

  “I’m terribly sorry. I shall leave,” he mumbled, breaking away for the exit.

  “Leer, wait,” Astrid said. He paused, his back still toward her. “We need to talk.”

  “Aye,” he agreed with a hard swallow, “and we can once you’re settled.”

  “It can’t wait,” he heard her argue.

  “It must,” he insisted, squeezing his eyes shut, beginning to feel powerless.

  “But—”

  “Astrid—” Leer drew a breath, moistening his lips.

  He heard her step closer to him, her steps as light as they had been when she first led him through the woods away from the insurgents.

  Her voice was pained. “I…I can imagine how you’ll take this, but—”

  He reached the curtain, his hand on the fabric when he felt her small hand grip his forearm.

  “Please look at me,” he heard her plea gently. His fingers tightened around the cloth against the searing heat of her touch. “Leer, please…please look at me. I can’t speak to someone’s back comfortably.”

  With reservation, he turned, her hand falling from his arm. The candlelight that flickered behind them illuminated her, a glow surrounding her features like a mystical aura. Leer struggled to ignore her bare skin, his eyes squeezing shut in embarrassment at the temptation to gaze.

  Go. Go now. Steady and balanced. Focus—focus! She’s but a pawn on the board. Move around her. Stay on course.

  The pain and flares of light that haunted him nearly the entire duration of the journey struck him. Leer winced, a prickle of gooseflesh raising over his skin despite the growing warmth surrounding him.

  “Stay the course,” the familiar voice whispered.

  “What?” Leer snapped, bringing his fingertips to his temples.

  “The truth awaits you.”

  “I didn’t say anything,” Astrid breathed, gripping his forearm. “Leer, what’s wrong?”

  “Protect the power.”

  Leer gasped when the pain subsided, lowering his arms to the side. He looked up at Astrid when he felt her grip release and he heard her shift in front of him, the floorboards creaking in response.

  “Leer,” Astrid whispered, taking a deep breath, her face wrought with emotion.

  The room swelled around him, his heart slamming against his chest as smoky trails of black tinted the surrounding frame of his conscious, indiscernible whispers trickling through his mind. He held back a quiver as he tried to fight the dark heat that seemed to want to consume him.

  “Leer, I can’t…” Astrid paused, suppressing a tremble. “I can’t, in good faith, allow you to continue. You’re…You’re not right in your mind. You know not what you do.”

  “I—”

  “No. No, Leer.” She stared at the left side of his chest. “You’re not well. You’re ill.”

  His fingers flexed by his sides. “I’m fine. I just…For a moment, I—”

  “Please,” Astrid interrupted, looking into his eyes. “For a moment, you heard imaginary voices speak.” She shook her head. “And then a moment from now, what—you’ll think me to be this horrid beast you’ve created in your mind?” She held up her hand as he opened his mouth to speak. “You can do what you must for your sake, to destroy yourself, if that’s what you desire. But first, you need to listen to me.”

  Leer clenched his molars together, his hands tightening by his sides as he fought his embarrassment and rage.

  “Leer,” Astrid began, her gaze wavering for a moment. “Leer, all of this…All of this is not what you believe it to be.”

  “I—”

  “Hear me first,” she snapped, silencing him. “Leer, my true surname is Falstad. Astrid Falstad.”

  Leer blinked, wetting his lips as he looked down at her. “Falstad.”

  Vivid images of the night of the averil flooded his mind—the bright light, the sourceless flames, the blood pouring from the mouth of the man in the red tunic.

  Bennett. The insurgent.

  -17-

  “Bennett Falstad,” he breathed. “He was…in the cell when…”

  Astrid nodded, chewing on her lip. “Yes,” she whispered. She tried to conceal her shudder. “He’s my adopted brother.”

  Leer lifted his chin. “An insurgent.”

  Astrid’s face twisted with her anger. “Perhaps for a moment, you’d like to forgive the idea of my dead brother being an insurgent,” she whispered hoarsely.

  “I…I’m sorry,” Leer murmured. She set her jaw; Leer wasn’t sure if she would continue. “Please. Forgive me.”

  She eyed him for a moment, then sighed, looking away. “Six months ago, his brothers from the eastern camp said that some men were captured during a raid. I assumed it included Bennett, too, since he never met me at our post. I kept coming back, every two weeks, as we swore we would. But he never
came.” She paused, in evident pain. “Then, I’d heard there was a sighting of him in Junivar. I crossed the eastern wood to scout the area when I happened upon the likes of you two. I knew you both were guards—that wasn’t hard to see. I didn’t have a plan, really. But I…” She looked into his eyes. “I felt drawn to you.” Leer’s lips parted. “Not in that sense,” she clarified quickly, the apples of her cheeks tinting pink. “Just that…there was something about you. Something I couldn’t place.”

  “So you helped us,” Leer finished.

  Astrid nodded. “Though I often later questioned myself why. Anyway, after I learned the Lieutenant’s name, I knew I had to stay with you.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he’s the one the men spoke of at the camps. I knew he might have some information. And he did, as I found out two nights ago at the inn while you played tafl.”

  Leer recalled the interaction between her and Lieutenant Doyle that nearly cost him the game that night. “Aye, I see that now.”

  “As you played, I managed to learn that he had Bennett locked away. He…offered me a deal. Bennett’s and my own freedom.”

  “For what?”

  Astrid looked at him, hesitating. “For seeing you to the Fell.”

  Leer stepped closer to her. “Me?”

  “Yes.”

  “But…I don’t understand—”

  “Listen to me,” she interrupted, her voice soft. “That man is not on your side.”

  Leer shook his head. “I know he’s a bit of an arse, but—”

  “No, listen,” she snapped. “He’s not who you believe he is.”

  “He’s the king’s highest ranking guard.”

  “And that doesn’t concern you?”

  “Why would it?”

  “The man outright lied to me since the moment I met him,” Astrid said, exasperated. “You told me the imprisoned insurgent died the night of the averil. He knew all along Bennett was dead, yet continued to try to deceive me.”

  Silence hung between them while Leer mulled over Astrid’s information. After all, Lieutenant Doyle’s motive already seemed pretty clear—save the princess, and ensure him the crown.

  “He’s motivated by politics, Astrid,” Leer said quietly.

  What else could it be?

  “Leer,” Astrid pleaded. “You’ve no understanding of what it is you’re involved in. You’re nothing more than a pawn on a board.”

  The searing dark heat that had previously left him began to seep back into his consciousness. It teased at his conscious, flowed over his skin and around his chest like an expensive fabric trap.

  Then the flares of light split into his mind’s eye, as if trying to slice through and reach him.

  “The truth awaits you.”

  With a growl against the voice he heard, he snapped at Astrid: “In whose game? Yours?”

  Her mouth dropped open. “I’m not—”

  “Who are you?” Leer demanded, grabbing her wrists and clamping down on her as she winced in pain.

  “You must listen—”

  “Why should I? Everything you’ve ever said and done is a lie.”

  “No,” she argued, remaining still under his grip. “No, it isn’t.”

  “At the inn that night, when you came to me with a knife…You intended to kill me.”

  “I didn’t want to. I—”

  “And where did you take off to with Finnigan’s journal?”

  “I didn’t remember I had it,” she hissed. “And I left last eve to see if I could meet with Bennett’s brothers on the western borders. For help against Doyle. For you.”

  “Tell me what the truth is, Astrid.”

  “It is the truth,” she pleaded. “I made a terrible mistake, one which I have tried to correct without success.” She shuddered. “Leer, I made a deal with a man I didn’t know.” The pain filled her eyes. “You must understand that—”

  “A deal to kill me,” Leer continued. “My life for what, Astrid? Money?”

  “No,” she insisted. “Never to kill you. I never agreed to that. Just to seeing you to the Fell.”

  “All lies, only to make me weak,” Leer spat.

  “He was all the family I had left,” she snarled, “and I was ready to do what I needed to in order to save him.”

  Leer stared vacantly at Astrid, releasing her wrists with the tiniest bit of sympathy. He knew the feeling all too well.

  “He tricked us both, Leer,” she whispered.

  Leer shut his eyes, trying to control his anger. Steady and balanced. “What do you mean?” he asked, his voice rigid.

  “He surely is keeping secret his real reason for going to the Fell,” Astrid explained as she rubbed her sore wrists. “He somehow knew you’d be useful and made it his business to be with you. I know you don’t know whether to believe me or not, but I vow on my brother’s life that all I have said to you is the entirety of truth that I know.” There was a terrible hurt in her eyes as he stared at them, one that made his heart soften. “Doyle hasn’t told me as such, but it’s all that makes sense for why he should care to bring you to the Fell.”

  “What would he need there?” Leer asked in a low growl.

  “I don’t know,” Astrid replied firmly. She paused for a moment, her eyes locked on Leer’s. “Whatever his reason, it’s for certainly no one’s benefit but his own. And he won’t be concerned about what happens to you after he gets what he wants.”

  The journal, Leer realized. Finnigan’s knowledge.

  Does he actually believe?

  Leer felt his pulse rising; he shut his eyes as he tried to calm himself. “How do you expect me to trust you?” he asked, strained.

  “Leer—”

  “You orchestrated a plan with that fobbing whoreson!” Leer snapped, peering down at Astrid. “You lied to me. And you pretended like everything was fine downstairs.”

  Astrid took Leer’s hands into her own; he winced at the contact. She was pleasure and pain, heat and ice, energizing life and consuming death. “Nothing I said has been a lie,” she insisted. “I may have not told you about my brother, but everything else I have is the truth.” She swallowed. “I don’t know anything of Doyle’s motivations. I never meant to harm you, which is why I came to you in this manner. And whether you believe it to be true or not, whether or not you wish to accept what I have to give, I vow to do all I can for you because…I believe in you.”

  Leer withdrew his hands from Astrid’s, his jaw clenched as he wrestled with what to do.

  Walk away, Leer told himself. Walk away and don’t look back. You shan’t be weak now.

  He quietly drank in the sight of Astrid in front of him, confused by her conviction. “What is it about me that you believe in, Astrid?” he asked, a thick brow arching.

  “Your uniqueness,” Astrid explained. “The part of you I’m drawn to but can’t explain. As if by a power, or something.”

  The headaches, the visions, the voices.

  Could it be…?

  He shook his head to himself. “Even if I bore such power, why should you care about it?”

  She seemed confused. “Why wouldn’t I?”

  “You abhorred the possibility of the Grimbarror last night in the cave, and at the table a short time ago,” he scoffed.

  “What I abhor is the way in which you continually seek the Fell with such zeal,” Astrid corrected. “I was trying to deter you, hoping you’d come to your senses, but I quickly learned that you aren’t a man easily persuaded.”

  “Aye,” Leer said softly. “On that we both can agree.”

  His palm moved over his face, his fingers digging into his temples. He was convinced he might leave permanent indentations in his head from the harsh pressure he inflicted on himself.

  What to do? he thought as he squeezed his eyes shut. Believe in the liar, or lie regarding my desire to believe? Why must I wish to believe her so much? His stomach knotted. What if she speaks the truth? What if what she says about me is true?

&n
bsp; Withdrawing his hand from his face, Leer peered down at Astrid with a deep sigh, as her sparkling eyes seemed to pierce his hardened heart further. A twinge of remorse crept inside of him, rippling outward until it made him more vulnerable than he cared to admit. Astrid’s face was illuminated, her skin still bared. Leer’s eyes fell on it momentarily, noting how the tone reminded him of ivory parchment, delicate and pure. The sight of her reddened wrists from the twisted grip he’d held on them made Leer’s stomach lurch.

  What have I done?

  He swallowed back his self hatred and shut his eyes in prayer.

  Perhaps it’s a trick of my mind. Perhaps when I look again, she will appear unharmed.

  Yet, he was wrong—the marks remained after he opened his eyes.

  He was no better than his parents were.

  Selfish like my mother. And a monster like my father.

  Convinced he would be sick, he swept his belongings up from the floor and ripped the curtain away, only to find Lieutenant Doyle pointing a sword at them.

  -18—

  Leer swallowed, his bare skin chilled with the cool air and the knowledge of Lieutenant Doyle’s deceit. His own sword was tucked in the Lieutenant’s sheath.

  “You,” he breathed, taking a step back toward Astrid.

  “Fancy seeing you again, Miss Browne,” Lieutenant Doyle said with a smile. “Oh, pardon me. Miss Falstad.”

  “Burn in the underworld, you olis,” Astrid spat.

  The Lieutenant ignored her. “Put your clothes on, Boxwell,” he ordered, gesturing with the sword. “I was hoping we’d at least get some sleep before Miss Falstad tried to save the day, but no matter.”

  “I won’t take another step with you,” Leer said, grinding his teeth together.

  “Oh, but you will.” Lieutenant Doyle took a step toward Astrid; Leer moved backward in an attempt to shield her, one arm stretched behind him. “See, I won’t hesitate to cut ties with her, so to speak. If you don’t care about her life, then by all means, ignore my orders.”

  “Bloody scoundrel,” Leer growled.

  “We’ll have plenty of time for name calling on our way to the Fell.”