She propped one hand on her hip, slapping the package against her opposite thigh. "So I guess now that you know who I am, you want to drag me back to Toryn so Devlyn can chop my head off, is that it?"
His brows knitted. "Of course not, Lady Li. We will return to Toryn, as planned. You will have your audience with Lord Devlyn, and we will see what can be done about this war." At her incredulous expression, he couldn't help but look slightly offended. "Don't act so surprised. I knew all along that you had deceived me about your name. There was never any question about that."
"What? Why the heck not?" Personally, she thought she'd done a fantastic job of coming up with a false identity right on the spot.
He rolled his eyes. "Yasu is a samurai clan."
Those five words spoke volumes. Ashlyn suddenly felt immensely stupid. The shinobi and samurai, while not exactly hostile towards each other, had kept their distance for centuries. That was probably why she'd remembered the name Yasu - she had more than likely read somewhere in her studies. At any rate, it didn't matter where she'd heard about it. A ninja claiming to be from a samurai clan was utterly ridiculous.
"Oh." Not the most intelligent reply, but what else was there to say?
When she looked at Kou sheepishly, he grinned, obviously aware - and enjoying - her discomfort. For just a moment there (and yes, it was a brief, never-happen-again, blink-and-you'll-miss-it moment, but still), the sober propriety and heaviness of his attitude disappeared, and he reminded her of herself at the same age.
Ashlyn sighed. She probably owed him some sort of explanation for the deception. "I didn't … think you'd help me if you knew who I was," she said, stepping past him and glaring at Vargo, who was still unabashedly trying his best to eavesdrop. "And knowing my identity might have put you in danger. It might still put you in danger, but it's not like I can shove those words back into Vargo's big ol’ mouth now."
She turned to face Kou, and a flicker of movement over his left shoulder caught her attention. Her eyes narrowed. It wasn't small enough to be a man.
The creature stalked into the light, and she took a step back, automatically shifting her feet shoulder-width apart, bringing one hand up in front of her in a defensive motion - as if that could stop the huge, drooling monster that now stood before her. She recognized it as a draynor, one of the two-legged dinosaur fiends that prowled the Eastern Mountains.
"My shuriken is in my saddlebag," she said calmly, allowing herself a moment of elation at how wonderfully mature she sounded as she stepped to the side, away from Kou. "Bring it to me."
Kou quickly unbuckled the harness that was slung across his chest. "Here," he said, tossing it to her. She caught the leather contraption, noting that the crystal shuriken was securely strapped into it, and realized that he'd taken it into town with him. The nerve!
"We're going to have some serious problems if you can't stay away from my shuriken. Nobody uses them but me," she told the other ninja, but he merely grinned and stepped back, motioning for her to continue on the offensive.
Ashlyn turned back to the draynor. They were big, intimidating fiends, but were on average fairly weak opponents. Two or three good hits with a weapon- maybe just one with her crystal shuriken- and even a full-grown draynor would be down for the count.
She circled the beast slowly, noting the hungry look in its eyes. This would be a good opportunity to prove herself to Kou. He'd seen her in action before, but Ashlyn knew that the younger ninja wasn't completely won over to her side. His loyalty was still with Devlyn.
It didn't take long for the draynor to charge.
Ashlyn waited, bouncing from one foot to the other as she anticipated its attack. She forced herself to stay in one place, focus, focus-
When the draynor was within a foot of her, snarling, jaws dripping with saliva, Ashlyn sprang up. Her feet danced nimbly along the draynor's upper back as she swooped the shuriken sideways, slicing cleanly through the fiend's spine.
The monster dropped to the gray grass, convulsing.
"Damn, I'm good," Ashlyn pronounced, crouching in the grass to wipe her weapon clean. "If I were you, I'd be in love with me." She straightened and grinned cockily at Kou. “You have to admit, I'm handy to have in a battle."
"Unless your adversary happens to be carrying an electric baton," the Toryn man said mildly.
Ashlyn scowled as she stepped around the body of the draynor. He just had to bring that up. "It's not my fault I have an aversion to electricity," she muttered. "Speaking of, what are we going to do with him?"
Kou glanced backwards into the cave, where Vargo was still staring at them, unsubtly craning his neck in an attempt to make out their conversation. "We could leave him here to starve," he suggested, then with a particularly mischievous light in his eyes, continued, "Or to be devoured by another one of those monsters. Are they particularly common around Eastern City?"
As appealing as the thought was, Ashlyn felt a slight pang of apprehension. She didn't want Vargo to die, as despicable as he was sometimes. Besides, he was one of the few guys on the planet who found her somewhat attractive. (Well, he did; even if the way he showed it was entirely disgusting and irritating, Ashlyn was still kind of flattered.) The numbers of that type were meager enough that she wanted to preserve what she could of them.
"I could get a message to Skye, let him know where Vargo is," she said. "That would make me feel better about leaving him here …tied up and alone." Even as she spoke the words, she knew it wouldn't work. Skye would know their position and where they were heading. As of now he was probably only guessing that she and Kou were traveling to Toryn, but he didn't know at what point they were planning to cross the ocean separating the two continents. If she clued him into their position now, there was a good chance he could stop them.
"Never mind that," she added before Kou could say anything. "Dumb idea. But I can't leave him here to die. He's … well … not my friend, really, but …" At a loss, she glanced over at the redheaded Spartan, remembering the sudden flash of insight she'd had when he was binding up her scraped hand. He wasn't her friend, but she did care about him. Sort of.
Kou sighed. "We could take him with us," he said wearily, rubbing his hand across his forehead.
"You'd do that?" Ashlyn asked, surprised.
"What other option do we have? We cannot leave him for dead. Enough people have suffered in this war. I have no wish to contribute to the demise of another."
She liked that answer. "We need a boat. Maybe we could find a captain here who’d be willing to sell."
"Do you have credits?"
"Yeah." She didn't mind parting with the credits, but it was a good thing he hadn't suggested pawning her stanes.
Kou returned from town an hour later with a docile old gelding. "No ship owners here," he said tersely at Ashlyn's questioning look. "We'll have to try again at Industry."
He looked at Vargo. The Spartan was now leaning back against the cave wall and humming languidly to himself through his gag.
"I'm assuming you wanted him quiet for a reason," Kou said.
"He wouldn't shut up," Ashlyn answered, and that was all the explanation she offered.
They left at first light, Ashlyn riding with Vargo on Suki. She made sure to adjust the crystal shuriken lower on her back so that it would cut Vargo if he tried to move too close.
He kept a respectable distance all day.
Chapter 9
Deliberation Face
Industry.
Ashlyn didn't frequent the place. Years ago, she'd made the decision to avoid it because the people of Industry (hmm…Industrians? Industrialists? What was the correct term? And what exactly were the villagers called before Lord Angelo built the power plant here? And why was it still called Industry even though the power plant was long gone?) were exceptionally star-struck, or maybe just FLD-struck, because every time Ashlyn set foot in the place, she was immediately swamped by old men wanting to recount their own moments of bravery, little kids requesting
autographs, and rolly-polly grandmother types who always pinched her arm and demanded that she "put some meat on your bones! I could see through you if I had a mind to!"
Ashlyn highly doubted that. She was by no means a large person, but what there was of her was pretty darn dense. She didn't think she was in any danger of becoming transparent.
The last time, less than a year after the sun was saved, Ashlyn had sworn that she would never return to Industry. At least not without some kind of disguise to avoid the chaos that came with being billed as a savior of the world.
They were just outside the town now- more of a village, really, barely big enough to earn a dot on the map- hidden behind a large outcropping of rock about fifty feet out. Ashlyn was staring at the brown-shingled houses and debating how she was going to get inside without being recognized.
Kou had already gotten himself a room at the inn, returning for only a few brief moments to inform them that no one of FLD fame was in the town and also that the only boat available for sale was large enough for two.
Ashlyn leaned against the boulder behind her and pulled her tank top over her head, debating what to do with it before she finally just dropped it on the ground.
"Anybody coming?" she asked Vargo, who was sitting with his back to her, still bound at his wrists but minus the gag.
"I can't see a damn thing," he said cheerfully. "Not that I would tell you if I could."
His mood had improved considerably since she'd removed the gag. He now seemed to be regarding this whole kidnapping scenario with childish delight rather than irritation- a big switch from his attitude when she'd first come to after their short-lived battle.
Of course, it could have something to do with the fact that he was trying to ogle her out of the corner of his eye, but Ashlyn didn't mind…too much. Her underwear covered almost as much of her as her regular clothes did anyway. But she wasn't about to let him know that.
She kicked her shorts off in his direction. One of her sneakers went with them. "Pervert."
The sneaker hit him in the shoulder. "OW! Give me a break here! I'm not the one stripping in plain view. You could always walk around the other side of the rock."
She didn't want to admit that he was right. "But then I'd be letting you out of my sight, and I still don't buy that you're as helpless with those knots as you seem to be."
He raised his hands above his head, still soundly tied together with the frayed rope. "I'm completely at your mercy, I swear."
"Don't sound so happy about it. I've got to figure out a disguise to get into this damn town without anybody noticing me."
"Let's hope he brought a burlap sack for you to wear, then," said Vargo. "That's the only way you're going to be able to hide."
"Thanks for the advice, but I'm fresh out of burlap sacks." She held up the outfit that Kou had bought for her the day before. Yeah, she expected something like this to come out of Eastern City. "I thought about cutting off my hair, but I had short hair before, so that probably wouldn't help at all."
"Nothin's gonna help, babe. Believe me."
She chose to ignore the babe comment, and pulled the white cotton petticoat over her head. "Don't be such a pessimist."
"Hey, I'm the hostage here. I'm allowed to be a buzzkill if I want to."
"Gag," she threatened.
"Panties?" he returned hopefully.
"Oh, GROSSNESS! You're…disgusting!" She threw her other shoe at him. "That's the grossest thing I've ever heard. Ever. Okay, you are officially the most revolting-"
"Geez, relax," he said, raising his hands to rub at his sore shoulder. "I was just trying to rile you up. I wouldn't let you gag me with your underwear if you were the last virgin princess on the planet."
"I am not-"
"A princess?"
He was thoroughly enjoying this, she could see.
Ashlyn gritted her teeth as she struggled to fasten her corset. Vargo had annoyed her eight years ago, but at least then she could justify beating him up. Now that they were kind of on the same side, it was more difficult to figure out how to channel her aggravation.
She shoved her feet into the plain brown boots, grimaced as she stared down at them. "I look like an old housewife," she muttered.
Vargo squirmed around until he could see her, swinging his feet around for balance and propping himself against the rock as he looked her over. "No, you don't," he said. "You look like Ashlyn Li in a dress."
"Coming from you, I imagine that's an insult. I hate long skirts."
"That's probably why your friend bought it," he said. "Nobody thought you'd ever wear one. Lose the headband."
"What?" Was he helping her?
"Your bandanna. Off," Vargo said impatiently. "And let your hair down. Everyone's expecting to see you with your hair like you always wear it."
She opened her mouth to protest, but realized he was right. She never wore her hair down. Pulling the bandanna off her head, she flipped her braid over her shoulder and untied the cord that secured the end.
Vargo nodded with approval as she unbraided and finger combed the waist-length mass of waves. "Nice."
She couldn't stop the instinctive warmth that spread within her, but she covered it up quickly, and scoffed. "Good to know I meet the Vargo standards for passable women. Walking? Check. Talking? Check. Gee, that was hard."
Vargo's face darkened. "I'm beginning to rethink that talking qualifier," he growled.
"You know…" she began, and stopped. He wasn't worth it. She picked up his electric baton from the grass. "Go away."
He rolled his eyes. "Do I even have to dignify that with a response?"
"Here's the deal," she said, plopping down cross-legged in front of him, only moderately hindered by her skirt. "You're going to be carrying the clothes and stuff. Keep your hands hidden the entire time that we're in town, and don't even think about escaping. I've got your baton."
"I quiver in fear," he said sarcastically.
"Well, don't quiver too much. You'll give yourself rope burns." Ashlyn paused. "I wish you'd believe me. We're on the same side here. I'm just trying to keep anyone from getting hurt."
"Yes, I can see that," he said, raising his hands to massage his sore shoulder pointedly. "Poor little ninja princess, all alone for eight years, and now no one will believe that she's trying to save the world." His eyes narrowed. The change in him was astounding, from playful and teasing to cruel and accusing in a few short moments. "I should believe you. You've only slipped up once or twice- the first time with your assassin friends, the second with Lockhart. Was that your plan? To take us out one by one?"
Ashlyn slapped him. Hard.
"OW!" he squawked, rubbing his cheek. "What the hell?" An imprint of her hand was already rising on his cheek, cherry-red in the lantern-light.
"I would never hurt Drake," Ashlyn spat, furious. "I tried to save him. Do you hear me, you heartless bastard? I tried to save Drake. I would have jumped in front of the sword if I could have. I would have stayed if Kou had let me. I would have…" She stopped short, the words dying on her lips as she realized what he'd said.
Take us out one by one.
She was suddenly scared.
Ashlyn grabbed Vargo by the rope around his wrists and hauled him upright, finding a bizarre strength inside her she hadn't known was possible. "He's alive," she hissed, slamming the Spartan up against the rock and pinning his hands against his chest. The electric baton was at his throat. "Tell me Drake is alive." She'd seen the vampire suffer worse wounds than the one he'd sustained; she'd seen him walk away from certain death a dozen times. He was Drake, after all.
Vargo's face was an unreadable mask. "What do you care?"
Fury welled up within her. "You son of a bitch, don't you dare-"
Lightning split the sky. Ashlyn stopped.
No fury. Calm. Calm was good.
She took a deep, calming breath, clutching Vargo’s hands earnestly to her collarbone, the tan of her fingers splayed across the whiteness of hi
s. She let the hand with the baton fall to her side. "Don't play with me, Vargo. That sword would have hit Drake in his heart, but it didn't. I deflected it. A shoulder wound is nothing to him. Nothing." Her voice broke, and she looked down, defeated. "Just tell me," she whispered, tears choking her voice. "Tell me if he's all right."
There was a long silence, punctuated by Ashlyn's gulping breaths and the steady hum of Vargo‘s baton.
Vargo finally sighed. "I don't know if he's all right," he admitted. "When I left, the Cosmea healers were with him. He'd lost a lot of blood."
Ashlyn drew in a shuddering breath. Then another. A tear dripped down her cheek and landed on their joined hands.
Return (Lady of Toryn trilogy) Page 12