Shadow Fallen Read online

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  For my fans for faithfully standing by me during the darkest hours of my life. I cannot express to any of you how much you mean to me and how much I deeply appreciate that support.

  For my true friends who made themselves known: Sheri, Tish, Kim, Carol, Debbie, Sam, Erin, Nancy, Jacs, Loretta, Ruth, Jordan, Carl, Pam, Shelli, Jim, and Maria. God bless and keep you, always. I would never have made it through this hell without you.

  And for my sons and daughter who stood strong by my side and for being fearless in the face of a madman and his minions as they sought to destroy us. You are ever my strength and my heart. Thank you for knowing the truth from the lies.

  And lastly, to my grand turtle. You are my newfound joy. I hope your life is always as precious and sweet as you are!

  PROLOGUE

  Since the hour of his birth, Death had stalked him.

  But never had it taken so fair a form as the lady who came for him now.

  Dressed in a white flowing gown, Lady Death drifted through the billowing smoke, between the slain and wounded. Her pale flaxen hair blew in the strong breeze with spiraling tendrils like a battle standard. With a slow, determined stride, she picked her way through the fallen, heading straight for him as if he were the target she sought.

  Valteri, so-called the Godless by all who knew and feared his brutal war skills, blinked at the sight, his eyes burning from the smoke and sweat, and the familiar stench of blood and spilled entrails that surrounded him.

  A shadow from the right caught his attention. He turned in his saddle with his sword raised, just in time to prevent the Saxon’s seax from slicing his thigh.

  With two swift, clean strokes he finished his attacker and dared a quick look back at the eerie form that was so out of place in this battle.

  A vision of purity among death.

  Not for one heartbeat did he mistake her for an angel. He’d abandoned such foolish stupidity long ago. Along with the reckless faith that had led his brothers-in-arms to pledge their service and souls to a feckless God he knew didn’t exist.

  So why was she here? What man would allow his daughter or wife near such grisly horrors?

  All Saxon males who remained able-bodied drew around her as if they would protect her. Baffled by their flagrant stupidity, Valteri shook his head. Their number would scarce frighten a babe, let alone the Norman army that had cut through them with little difficulty.

  Fools all.

  The sounds of battle settled into a raspy silence, broken only by the occasional neigh of a horse, or moan of the dying as they begged for mercy or cried out for their mother or wife.

  “Milady, why do you come?”

  Valteri curled his lip at the coarseness of that most hated Saxon language that had been used to ridicule and mock him the whole of his childhood.

  She lifted her chin with a courage to rival even the bravest of men among them and turned away from the Saxon who’d questioned her.

  “Who leads this army?” She spoke in Norman French. Her tone, a silken caress to his ears.

  She met his gaze and her look burned through him.

  “Milord!”

  Something grabbed Valteri’s arm.

  The face of the angel dissipated as the tugging continued.

  With a curse, he swatted at the pest, but contacted only with air. Angered over the interruption of his dream, he blinked open his eyes to see his irritating dark-haired squire standing next to his cot. “’Tis a messenger from your brother, the king!” Wace’s youthful face beamed in the cheerful manner that always annoyed Valteri first thing in the morning.

  Or at any other time, if the truth were told.

  Gah! It figured.

  No beautiful woman to wake him. Only a pestering, gangly man-child.

  How could anyone be so damned cheery in the morn? Especially when the sun shined so brightly at this unholy, early hour?

  What was wrong with the lad?

  You don’t beat him enough.

  That would certainly have been Wace’s old master’s answer for it.

  And it was why Valteri tolerated Wace with a patience that didn’t come naturally to him.

  Anyone else, he’d gut for being an ass and daring to wake him before he was ready. Growling in protest, Valteri pushed back the blanket and rose. “I’ll be there whenever I arrive. Let the bastard wait.” He reached for his breeches and tunic and shrugged them on without any great care or hurry.

  What the devil could William want with him? He’d quelled the Saxons, and now all he sought was freedom to return to the Continent, where he intended to search until he found another army or cause to fight for. William had his land and kingdom. It was time he kept his word and gave Valteri the coin he’d been promised.

  He was done with this fetid country that held nothing save bad memories for him, as well as William’s lunatic cause. Why wouldn’t his brother let him go already? A promise was a promise, and he’d more than met his.

  At least when it came to his word to William.

  His word to himself …

  He was an idiot.

  I should have never returned to this cursed place. That had been the promise he’d made to himself as a boy. If by some miracle they don’t kill me … if I survive to adulthood, I shall never again step foot on English soil.

  But life had a way of taking him places he never intended to go. And against all sanity, he’d allowed his brother to talk him into this quest for a crown that no one needed.

  Indeed, such power came at an unbearable cost. In terms of life and the noose it placed around the victor’s neck. William might rule England, but there was never any peace for a man in royal robes.

  “Help me, Val.” Valteri grimaced at the memory of Will’s words and his older brother’s pleading eyes when William had come to him at the tourney in Ressons-sur-Matz. “We’re family.”

  He’d scoffed at his half brother’s sentimentality. “I’m a bastard by birth and temperament, Will. I’ve no need of any family, even you. Take your titles and shove them up your arse.”

  Unlike his sibling, his parents and grandparents had cast him off at the moment of his birth and judged him cursed, as he’d survived while his older twin brother had been stillborn. Refusing to even look after him, they’d sent him to England so that none of them would ever have to suffer the embarrassment of seeing his despised countenance again.

  As if his twin’s death had been his fault.

  Not one word from any of them for the whole of his life.

  Only William had ever laid any claim and then, only when he needed something …

  It had infuriated him. Had William not been such a high-ranking noble and had they not been s
tanding in France, surrounded by Will’s allies, he’d have run him through just for uttering those stupid words.

  Brother …

  But while he was suicidal, he had no desire to be tortured another second before his enemies finally ended his miserable life. He’d suffered more than enough abuse. There was no need to purposefully add more.

  Rather than be offended by his hostility, Will had smirked at him. “You owe me.”

  Valteri had scoffed. “What I owed, I paid back long ago with my sword arm.”

  “Then do this for the only thing you seem to love. Money. Win my kingdom for me and I shall reward you with enough coin that you’ll never again want for anything. Your reputation is such that I know half the country will surrender the minute they see your banner among my army.”

  That, too, had galled him.

  But his brother was right. Men were terrified of him and money was all Valteri cared about. Unlike people, coin didn’t turn against the one who held it. It didn’t plot or lie.

  Or abandon those who depended on it.

  While it could be stolen, given, or taken, it didn’t voluntarily leave.

  It was the only thing he put his faith in. The only thing on this earth that he could trust.

  Aside from his sword arm.

  And his horse.

  In thirty-three years, those were the only things in his life that had never once betrayed him. Though to be honest, his horse had thrown him a time or two.

  But he preferred to think it was due to his own incompetence and not any intentional malice on his horse’s part. Otherwise, he’d have to hold a few of his sword breaks in battle against his sword, and that just seemed a bit paranoid, even for him.

  Maybe William is finally going to pay you.

  “He better damn well do it. And soon.” His patience was thin and Will had taken it to a breaking point.

  Tossing his blond hair from his eyes, he reached for the tent flap.

  William’s messenger stood outside, waiting. A frightened man, who paled considerably more when he faced him.

  At least this one didn’t wet himself. He should be grateful he wouldn’t have to traverse a despicable puddle to speak with the runt. They were getting better forewarned about his appearance, he supposed.

  Or better trained, at least.

  Still disgusted by the lack of backbone, Valteri growled as bitterness burned raw in his gullet. He was used to people’s reactions to him—used to the stark terror shimmering in their eyes as if they feared for their immortal souls whenever they met his gaze.

  Like he ever had any use for anyone’s soul, including his own.

  “I pray that, unlike your predecessor who was here two days ago, you’ve come to tell me my brother sends my pay.” His voice was gruff even to his own ears.

  One would think his bastard brother would have more important things to occupy himself with, such as torturing other lords and nobles, and taking over this godforsaken country, than harassing him all the time. He still couldn’t understand why William had wanted this hellhole to begin with. It was colder than shit and forever gray and dull.

  Rained all the bloody damn time.

  Personally, he’d be glad to never see it again. Made no sense to him that William would fight tooth and nail to conquer and keep it.

  The messenger actually gasped aloud as he glanced up and noted Valteri’s mismatched eyes—as did most who first saw them and thought it a mark of the devil.

  Which had served Valteri well on the field of battle.

  Off the field, not so much.

  The youth crossed himself, frantically.

  Valteri smirked. “Trust me, your God can’t help you. Nor will He save your soul. Or spare your life from me if you continue trying my patience.” He made his voice as ominous and evil as possible.

  Thankfully, the bastard held his bowels, but he did wet himself after all, which caused Valteri to have to step back two paces.

  Panting and nervous, the man gulped audibly. “H-H-His M-M-M…”

  “Majesty,” Valteri finished for him before they both grew old waiting for the man to get his words out.

  “Majesty, the king, sends t-t-this for you, m-m-milord.” He extended a bound piece of parchment.

  It shook so badly, he was surprised the messenger kept his grip.

  Well, that’s certainly not the gold Will promised me.

  Sighing heavily, Valteri took it from his hands before the messenger dropped it in his piss, and broke the seal. Curiosity riding him hard about his brother’s lunatic mind, he scanned the contents.

  And with every word he read, his mood darkened.

  What the hell was this shite? William had given him lordship of Ravenswood Hall, the demesne lands, and all outlying territories?

  His brother wanted to reward him for his service with lands?

  And titles?

  Was Will out of his fucking gourd?

  By hell’s thorny toes, I’ll kill the bastard for this! How dare he!

  Grinding his teeth, Valteri tightened his grip on the letter. He looked at the messenger, his breathing ragged. “Tell William I’ll take care of his rebellion as requested, but I want him to find a permanent castellan for the hall and lands. I have no use for such. He was to pay me in coin, not land, and I expect gold.” The last thing he needed or wanted was a bunch of hysterical peasants and others running about, trying to tie him to something and set fire to it again because they thought him possessed.

  Fuck that.

  The messenger nodded furiously. “Aye, milord. I shall tell him forthwith.”

  “Do that.” Valteri ground his teeth at his brother’s lunacy. What was the man thinking? He’d served him well. Given him unquestioning loyalty. Why then would William curse him so?

  Make him a lord?

  How dare he!

  “Bloody bastard,” he snarled as he entered the tent, unsure of whom he intended the insult for, himself or William. Especially since it applied to them both from birth and bearing.

  Give me lands …

  He’d like to give his brother a slap to his face.

  As if Will didn’t know those lands came with an idiot priest and other imbeciles who would decry his godless nature and a birth defect caused by his whoring mother’s sins.

  Valteri ground his teeth at the bloody memories that tore through him of a childhood no one should suffer. He’d never again be bound to one place.

  Bound to any person.

  Not for anything or for anyone.

  He reached for his sword.

  “Who leads this army?”

  Valteri whirled at the sound of his dream’s voice coming as a whisper in the corner.

  No one was there.

  Yet it had been real. Not in his mind.

  Had it not?

  “Mayhap I’m the one going mad, after all.” Who could blame him when old memories constantly assaulted him here?

  Valteri loosened his hold on the sword and took a deep breath as he tried to put it from his mind. Though it was getting harder and harder to do so.

  Ever since he’d landed at Hastings with William, he’d been haunted by the dream of a fair maiden coming for his soul.

  Not that he had one. He was sure it’d been kicked out of him long ago by the monks who’d been hell-bent on saving it.

  Still, he could feel her, even now, as if she were here beside him.

  Grunting at the stupidity, he realized it was more than likely a warning of his imminent demise. Maybe she was the shadow of death finally come to take him from this rotten earth. His portent, as it were.

  Good.

  Because if it were true, then he would welcome the moment and the peace it brought with open arms.

  CHAPTER 1

  “I curse you for what you’ve done! For your inability to feel pity or remorse, I curse you to know unfathomable pain. Without mercy! Without cessation! You will suffer as no creature has ever suffered!”

  Ariel screamed in bitter agony. Th
ose words twisted in her mind like a serpent, twining about her arms and legs, making them heavy. Unbearable. A foreign weight dragged her from the heavens in a violent whirlwind, down toward the mortal plane.

  It felt like the hand of a god, tearing her from the skies.

  She reached out, trying to stop her fall, but only contacted with rushing air that bathed her body in a strange pelting storm. The savage winds whipped at her hair, her wings, and howled in her ears like vicious hellhounds, ripping the souls of the damned from her side.

  What was happening?

  None of this made sense. Every part of her ached and pulsed in waves of crashing sensation. She was a Naşāru—an elite Arel who was born into her position. A resolute warrior whose calling was to stay far from the mortal realm, where their licentiousness could tempt her, except for those brief moments when she was commanded to find dead warriors to return to life so that they could fight in earthly battles that were denied to her species.

  Her job was to protect the order of the universe. To defend the primal forces. She was not to know pain.

  That was for mortals to bear.

  Yet pain ripped down her spine, and took the breath from a body that needed no breath, made a chest heave that should not heave, a stomach churn that had never churned before.

  Blackness surrounded her in a swirling funnel. Deprived of her sight and hearing, Ariel reached out with her other senses, trying to find some kind of answer for this. A mixture of odors assailed her—the charred stench of fear, the sulfur of hell, and worse, the bittersweet smell of human flesh.

  Before, all these had been muted to her. Now they assaulted her in a pungent bouquet that almost overwhelmed her with a primitive vitality that didn’t belong to her world, or understanding.

  For good reason. To expose a Naşāru to such could taint them, and should they turn …

  There was no power to stop them. They were the fiercest of warriors, who were virtually invincible.

  It made them a prize for the dark powers and it was why they were never to venture to this realm.