The Fell (The Naetan Lance Saga Book 1)

by Lyndsey Harper

  “You’re insane, thinking you can travel at night,” Astrid gasped.

  The way Lieutenant Doyle smiled at Astrid made Leer’s blood boil. “That’s why there will be torch light, my dear.”

  Darkness shrouded the Eyne Wood, save from the bits of moonlight above and the torch Leer carried. He kept his pace steady slightly behind Astrid, putting himself between her and the Lieutenant, who took up the rear.

  Despite every breath of the bitter, thick air, Leer was anything but cold. The blistering blanket of darkness had taken a firm hold on him from the moment they left the inn.

  The light shone in his mind’s eye with each blink, the breathy presence of the voice lingering over his shoulder. He had no other name to give it but darkness—the darkness Finnigan had always managed to avoid. It now seemed easier to accept it passively than to fight, especially since there seemed to be few reasons for him to fight anymore.

  “You’d think all this walking would keep one warm,” Astrid said, snow kicking up around her feet as she hiked in front of him.

  Leer glanced over at her. “We’ll stop. Take my coat.”

  Astrid laughed under her breath. “You surely didn’t come all this way to reach the border and die of frostbite.”

  “No stopping. Keep moving,” the Lieutenant barked. “We’re nearly there.”

  “If you know the way, why make us come? Why not go yourself?” Leer snapped.

  A tremble that vibrated the earth made the three stop, their focus immediately shifting to their feet. Leer’s eyes widened, his heart stopping in his chest.

  “What in the world was that?” Astrid breathed.

  The earth continued to shake, seeming to grow stronger with each passing moment. Astrid screamed when a large cracking noise resonated through a tree trunk. Leer couldn’t see beyond the light of the torch he held. The flame flickered, the wind that grew stronger around them threatened to douse its light.

  “Give me my sword,” Leer called back to Lieutenant Doyle.

  “The hell I will,” Lieutenant Doyle replied.

  “What is happening?” Astrid asked, gripping Leer’s coat sleeve to brace herself against another deep rumble.

  “Stop right there,” a voice shouted in the thick night as the rumble ceased.

  Through the wavering torchlight, Leer saw the vague shadows of men in insurgent red pouring out from behind the trees, swords and bows trained on them.

  “You set me up,” Leer growled, glaring at Astrid.

  “They’re on your side,” she insisted. Leer saw the truthfulness of her expression, the shock visible on her face.

  “You filthy wench,” Lieutenant Doyle sneered, trying to reach for Astrid. Leer blocked her, glaring at him. “So be it,” the Lieutenant said to Leer, spitting to his side.

  “You’re surrounded,” one of the insurgents barked. “Drop your weapons.”

  “He’s with me,” Astrid corrected, gesturing to Leer. “The other you can kill, for all I care.”

  The earth below began to grumble again, vibrating underfoot and shaking the trees. Snow started to rain down from overhead, dusting everyone under the branches. A groan emanated from deep within the ground as it shook.

  The wind picked up, swirling around them at torrential speeds; its howl pierced their ears, mixing with the scurried voices of the insurgents around them. A loud crack of wood echoed in the distance. Leer saw thick trees splitting in two, toppling forward as their impact further shook the earth.

  “What in the hell is doing that?” Astrid demanded, gasping as she shifted her stance to keep her balance.

  Leer’s throat dried up, his pulse rising as he furiously scanned the woods, spreading his arms a bit to steady himself.

  “It can’t be,” he breathed.

  “It can’t be what?” Astrid asked, panicked.

  Unable to keep her balance, Astrid fell, rolling down the incline of the road. Leer dropped his torch and ran after her, the darkness engulfing him. He swooped down, frantically grabbing around until he snatched her arm. He brought her to her feet, bracing her as more tree trunks collided with the frozen earth.

  “Leer!” she gasped. “What is happening?”

  A shrill, angry shriek filled the air, the tone eliciting familiar gooseflesh over Leer’s arms. An invisible source pummeled them with forceful gusts of air.

  Wings.

  A stark light pierced the woods. Against his better judgment, Leer turned toward the source, still clinging to Astrid.

  The Grimbarror.

  The intense glow burned his eyes. He groaned, unable to see through it, and turned back toward Astrid. “Don’t look at it,” he warned, drawing her closer when he saw her dumbfounded expression. “Don’t look at its light.”

  Screams of men mixed with the snarling winds, piercing the air. Leer’s stomach sank as he scanned the area for any sort of weapon, relieved to find his sword on the ground a few paces away. He stepped toward it carefully as he tried to determine the location of the wings. “Take hold of my coat,” Leer ordered Astrid.

  “Leer—”

  “Keep your eyes closed!”

  Leer winced as he tried to take in his surroundings through the dense light. The uncontrollable tears that sprang from his eyes further blurred his vision.

  His blood ran cold when he saw the silhouette of an arched figure ahead of himself, massive wings holding impressive span. They embodied as much grace as they did power, as much purity as they did evil. Its outstretched arms ended in terrifying claws that threw the insurgents like wet rags into a heap, fire consuming their flesh after just a glance from the creature. Leer held his breath, watching as one insurgent bravely tried to finish the beast with his sword, but failed.

  “The Lieutenant is gone,” he heard Astrid breathe as he took up his sword from the snow, unsure if she even meant to say it aloud.

  “Close your eyes, Astrid. Do it now,” Leer ordered, turning her away from the light.

  Suddenly, a vice-like something clamped onto his shoulder. Claws dragged down the middle of his broad back, sinking into his flesh, drawing blood. Leer screamed; his arching body tearing him from Astrid’s embrace. He clumsily slashed his sword at the body on top of him. The beast shrieked at the strike, but didn’t falter as it again clamped down on Leer. Leer’s sword fell to the ground like a child’s toy under the Grimbarror’s strength.

  Leer never felt more vulnerable as he looked into the beast’s golden-rimmed eyes. Sticky, hot blood trailed down his body—he wasn’t sure if it was his own or the beast’s. He gasped as another clawed hand latched around his neck, the pressure enough to make him instantly lightheaded.

  As the Grimbarror began to twist its wrist, it took a deliberate pause.

  “Boxwell,” it exclaimed, recognition spreading over its face as it braced for the kill. The ground stopped shaking. Though they didn’t move, Leer saw the color soften in the beast’s eyes. “I suppose he failed to spare you after all. He was a fool. They all were such fools.”

  As its claws tightened around Leer’s throat, throbs pierced Leer’s temples with unforgiving strength. Leer’s flesh burned, as if he could feel the raging current of his own blood. His every sense was lit on fire.

  With suddenness, he heard multiple voices speaking in many different tongues. He understood some of them, while others he had never heard before in his life. The onslaught was nauseating, debilitating. The voices didn’t leave despite his silent, fervent pleadings. They continued to speak, each one layering on top of the next, competing for his attention, fighting for his focus.

  His fear and rage intersected, collided. Time slowed but urgency quickened. With a heavy groan, Leer squeezed his eyes shut and wrenched against the clawed grip that held him, power emanating through his arms as he shoved the beast off of himself and several yards away.

  Once free, a shocked Leer sucked in deep breaths of air.

  What had just happened?

  “Leer!”

  He opened his eyes, his f
ocus flashing to Astrid, who screamed as the beast tossed her into the snow, her body skidding violently across the ground to the side of him. With grace and speed he never experienced, Leer sprinted toward her and wrapped both arms around her, lifting her limp, unconscious frame up and drawing her against himself. A twinge of relief struck him when he heard her shallow breathing.

  “It is mine,” the Grimbarror shrieked across from him. “You will never take it from me.”

  Leer felt the blast of cold air from the wings of the beast on his raw back wounds. He turned toward the beast, whose eyes honed in on him.

  For the first time, Leer could see it clearly. Its body, dress and stance were mostly human, but it had two vast, dark green wings across its back, each detailed in several razor sharp pointed edges. A mass of fiery red hair, like Princess Gresham’s, framed its haunting yellow-rimmed eyes. It wore an elegant deep purple cloak over its tunic and pants. It had a noticeably human face that bore dusty green scales in an irregular pattern. Leer saw the creature’s thick hands constrict by its sides. It balled its fists concealing them. Still, Leer could still see the tips of bloodied claws that finished each of the Grimbarror’s digits.

  Leer pressed Astrid closer to his chest as the Grimbarror shifted its weight. Although the light was beyond brilliant, Leer’s eyes were unaffected. He could see perfectly, better than he had ever before. He blinked. He wasn’t sure he even needed to. The revelation made Leer’s heart jump; he eyed the Grimbarror, lips parted.

  The beast stared intently back at him. Leer swore there was a hint of a smile playing across its thin mouth. Its feet, concealed in tall, strapped boots, moved a confident step toward him.

  “It is mine,” it growled, the timbre jarring, beautiful.

  “I won’t let you harm her,” Leer warned, drawing a wavering breath through his nose. He suppressed a shudder. Am I arguing with a monster?

  “You will not take it from me.”

  Leer’s jaw flexed. “She will not be harmed.”

  “It is mine.” The Grimbarror flapped its wings as it took another step closer.

  Leer’s fingertips dug deeper into Astrid’s arm. “I won’t let you touch her.”

  He rocked backward on his heels, his right leg taking the first step away from the enemy. His left followed, his long stride placing distance between them. Leer’s breath quickened, his chest constricting as he tried to find a weapon of any kind.

  The Grimbarror was clearly angered by his defiance, its face resembling that of a scolding parent’s. It straightened up, a rumbled snarl resonating in its throat. “The amulet is mine.”

  The amulet, Leer repeated to himself, recalling the reference from the night in Junivar. The eyes of stone.

  Through the light that illuminated the wood, he tried to take stock of where Lieutenant Doyle was. So that was his motive all along. The amulet. He’s gone after the amulet, I’ll bet.

  He kept slowly moving away, hoping he would happen upon his discarded sword.

  “I’m fairly certain you acquired it in a rather unjust way,” Leer replied, his brow arched.

  The beast tilted its head back. “I am its Master,” it murmured, a scowl visible on its face. “No one else shall ever be.”

  A foreign, sickening jolt of pain coursed through the crown of Leer’s head to the soles of his feet without mercy or notice. The strange suddenness of it almost made him drop Astrid. He dug his heels into the ground, anchoring himself as he braced against it. His pulse climbed as he felt the searing heat tear through his body. He grimaced, a moan escaping in response to the brutal assault.

  The beast flicked its yellow eyes down toward Astrid, then back up to Leer. “There’s darkness growing in you.”

  “You see nothing,” Leer spat.

  “I see more than you ever will, because you are blind. Soon, though, you won’t be,” the Grimbarror noted, still smirking. “Soon, you’ll see them all just as I do. And you’ll hate them all as much as I do.” It laughed. “The touch of their skin will singe more than the hottest fire, but you will crave the burn. You’ll embrace them before you slaughter them just to feel it. You’ll lust for the satisfaction of their spilt blood.”

  “I’ll never harm anyone,” Leer spat, his fingers sinking tighter around Astrid. He trembled at the suggestion.

  The beast tilted its head to the side. “Haven’t you already?”

  Leer’s nostrils flared under his steely gaze. “I shall never kill to give any man or beast satisfaction,” he spat.

  The Grimbarror halted, its pause highlighted by its blossoming smile. “Never say never,” it whispered.

  Leer lifted Astrid higher against his chest, taking a fleeting glance at her before addressing the Grimbarror. His voice was thick, edged with fear laced under savage anger. “Never.”

  On his simple word, the frozen ground began to tremble once more. Snow skittered as it shifted erratically under the soles of Leer’s boots. Leer was motionless, but the earth moved around him, bending and swaying against his inner turmoil. Naked branches quivered, turbulent winds from an unknown source stirring them, swirling massive drifts of snow on the already covered forest floor.

  Leer felt the ground split below him. He jumped backward in shock, watching the earth open. Astrid’s eyes fluttered open, her expression confused as she witnessed the unfolding chaos—the sickeningly satisfying phenomena he made without explanation.

  He continued to step away from the widening gap in the ground, his eyes flicking upward to the beast. The earth groaned; it resonated with a deep, feral ache. A swarming heat flooded through Leer’s bloodstream. His veins pulsated with energy as he noted a thinly veiled emotion in the Grimbarror’s eyes. Leer had seen it many times before, especially when seated across from a tafl opponent:

  Shock. Anger. Confusion.

  Fear.

  He hadn’t expected to see it in the golden-rimmed irises of his fearsome sworn enemy, though.

  No sooner than it came, it changed. It flickered into one of praise and haughty approval.

  “I knew I saw it in you,” the Grimbarror confirmed, shifting its stance as the earth split apart between its legs.

  “You see nothing,” Leer growled.

  The Grimbarror’s smile made Leer’s stomach sick. “I see the beginning of an army. I suppose I just hadn’t expected it so…soon.”

  “Expected what?”

  It smiled; its tongue flicked the air. “Your ascension, Naetan.”

  Wooden limbs overhead snapped, bent under the unreasonable demand of the turbulence surrounding them. Leer ducked to his knees, sheltering Astrid with his own back and shoulders as a knotted bough of hewen whirled down from above. It crashed just left of them, evergreen needles colliding with fresh powder as it pulverized rocks hidden under the snow.

  Leer felt the cold snow melt quickly against the rising heat of his neck as he hunched over Astrid, his nose buried in her hair. His chest constricted as his mouth sank against the tender flesh of her neck. As his lips inadvertently moved against her satiny skin, he felt himself becoming aroused, a physical and inner awakening stirring him.

  Lust. Crave.

  Push. Pull.

  Kiss. Tear.

  Kill.

  It took every ounce of his strength to tear away from her. He pulled his face up, his eyes seeing through the thick darkness with no effort. It was as if it was dusk instead of the very early morning.

  He searched for the Grimbarror, but it was gone.

  Standing with Astrid in his arms, he scanned the empty road, accepting the silence he encountered. No creature made a sound. The trees halted, the ground stilled. Leer finally spotted his sword, along with several others, lying in the blood soaked, crimson colored snow. Erratic jagged lines tore through the earth. He picked up his sword, squelching the rumble in his stomach as he took in the gruesome collection of bodies.

  Lieutenant Doyle’s body wasn’t among them.

  The amulet.

  He needed to find it first.r />
  He had to get to the Fell.

  -19—

  Leer’s senses assaulted him as he raced north on the path he imagined the beast had taken. The snapping of brush underfoot became like daggers to his ears, the brightness of the snow maximized in his heightened vision. He could taste the odd ash of the fire the Grimbarror made, even though they were long gone from where they encountered the beast.

  Astrid’s complex pheromones burned his nose. Aching heat rose through his body at an unbearable speed. He gripped her tighter in his arms, and a soft moan caught in his throat in response to how much more sensual she became to his touch.

  He kept running, blind to any other course of action. He glided, soared, leaped. The pain he once felt had somehow vanished, a foreign thickness taking residence where the agony of torn skin and tissue once had.

  Astrid’s bloodcurdling scream stopped Leer in his tracks, his gait broken as he looked down into her eyes. Their hue reminded him of clear summer skies from the top of every mountain he ever climbed, of crystalline river waters glinting in the sun.

  “Stop,” Astrid begged, her voice strained. She was weightless in his arms, a feather cradled in his embrace. “Stop this instant!”

  Leer swallowed against his raw, dry throat, clutching Astrid tightly. She locked her eyes on his, her bottom lip quivering ever so slightly.

  “You’re frightening me,” she whispered.

  It didn’t make sense. “I’m frightening you?” Leer asked, stunned. “Shouldn’t the large fire wielding beast with wings have given you more of a scare than me?”

  She blinked a few times. With a raw, animalistic lust that struck him at his core, he noticed her dense lashes. He felt the inner current of her heart build, her doubt barely concealed.

  “You broke the ground,” she breathed, her expression unchanged as he tried to fight against himself.

  “Aye,” Leer breathed, watching her mouth move with fascination.

  He wanted to touch it.

  “You split the earth and…flung the beast like it was a bebbet.”

  “And that is more alarming than the Grimbarror you didn’t believe in appearing within a few strides of yourself?”