The Lady of Toryn Anthology (Lady of Toryn trilogy) (5 page)

“Restlyn doesn’t need your protection.”

“
Everyone
needs
protection.”

Ashlyn tilted her head to the side. “Even you?”

Skye met her gaze for several moments before turning
away.

Wordlessly, Ashlyn left the room, not bothering to
pick up her sword and shuriken off the table.

Skye had joined forces with Restlyn to start FLD,
shortly after Restlyn was Scorned by Ashlyn’s father and forced to leave Toryn.
Skye and Restlyn had always been close friends, but somewhere along the way
Restlyn had started feeling something more- something that Skye was clearly
afraid to let himself reciprocate. Although Ashlyn had infinite respect for
Skye as a friend and a leader, she felt like he could use some serious help in
the romance department. Now, however, was not the time.

Ashlyn found Restlyn in the kitchen, deep in thought
with her nose buried in a cookbook.

"Hi," Restlyn said without looking up.
"How goes the training?"

"Good," Ashlyn said quietly. She sat down on
a stool across the counter. "Skye says I need to focus on balancing myself
out. Like, strengthening my weaker side so that my opponent can't catch me
off-guard."

"I can give you some exercises for that," Restlyn
said. She set the book down and rested her chin in the palm of her hand.
"Your dad showed me how to build up the rest of my body to make up for the
weakness in my left side, but also to strengthen that side in particular to
ensure that I wouldn't be caught unawares, no matter how I was attacked."

Ashlyn's eyes were drawn to the thin, barely visible
scar starting at Restlyn's left shoulder and disappearing into the neckline of
her shirt. She knew that the injury had been nearly fatal. The other girl was
lucky to even be alive - Lord Angelo’s legendary sword was so finely crafted
that it could cut through layers of steel in a single slice. A human that was
cut from shoulder to navel should, by all rights, die instantly. But by some
miracle, Restlyn had survived.

Ashlyn hadn't been there to see Restlyn's battle back
when Lord Angelo had first taken over Cosmea. Restlyn didn’t talk about it
much. But Ashlyn knew that her father had rescued the half-Toryn and
successfully healed her before taking her in as his adopted daughter.

"You look so serious," Restlyn said in an
amused tone. "What are you thinking about?"

Ashlyn looked up to see the the other girl's eyes upon
her. In the fluorescent lights of the kitchen Restlyn’s eyes gleamed polished
copper- a stunning mixture of Cosmean bronze and Toryn black.

"I'm just trying to remember the last time we
were all together like this," Ashlyn lied. "Even Jackson is here.
Hey, speaking of Jackson, when did he suddenly get all chummy with the
Spartans? Last I knew we weren't even on speaking terms with them. And I was
so
fine with that."

Restlyn smiled. "The Spartans work for Jackson
now. If it were up to me, we still wouldn't be on speaking terms with them. But
Trace isn't so bad."

Ashlyn made a gagging noise. "Vargo gets on my
last nerve." She stared at her distorted reflection in the metallic finish
of the counter. “What’s up with his cigarettes? He’s always got one. I’ve even
seen him light up, but he never smokes them.”

“Why don’t you ask him yourself?”

“You think I’d get a straight answer?”

Restlyn shrugged playfully. “Maybe.”

Ashlyn rolled her eyes. "Subject change. Why
isn't Jackson dealing with this war on his own? Why is the rest of FLD here?"

"I think Jackson was most worried about becoming
the next Lord Angelo," Restlyn said, shaking her head. "So he
contacted me and Aik to form some kind of...I don't know..."

"War committee?" Ashlyn joked.

"Yeah, something like that. It seems strange to
think of a wolf as the mayor of Cosmea, but I guess Aik
does
kind of
have a say in things now."

"I know what you mean," Ashlyn said,
nodding. "But he loves Cosmea. I bet he's a great mayor."

“I’m sure he is. I’m just a bartender, though- and I
really think they only came to me because they knew I’d be able to find Skye.
We don't see each other much, but he keeps in touch."

Restlyn looked down at her hands, folded neatly on top
of the book, and Ashlyn felt a tug on her heart. Darn Skye. "What about
Tall, Dark and Angsty? He doesn't exactly seem like the type to get all worked
up about vanishing trade routes." Ashlyn glowered at a lonely potato
sitting on the counter, as if it were somehow responsible for her mixed
emotions regarding Drake.

Restlyn smiled. "Drake owns the weapons shop next
to my tavern, believe it or not. He's changed, Ash. You'd hardly know him now.
You need to give him a chance."

"Yeah, right. I'm sure he's changed a whole heck
of a lot since he got with Trace. That is so gross. But you know what, I tried
to talk to him this morning, and I found out that he hadn't even named his
horse. How can I trust a man who doesn't even name his own horse? I mean, come
on
,
there's anti-social, there's enigmatic and then there's just plain
stupid."

Restlyn shook her head. “Drake’s not with Trace, as
far as I know. He’s still hung up on Loritta.”

Ashlyn’s mind chose that moment to conveniently replay
the scene from North Camp Inn a year ago: Drake ducking through a doorway and
throwing a brilliant smile at Trace, who waved and stood up from the bench
where she was sitting. Ashlyn had shrunk back behind the coat rack, too
startled to greet either of them. Of course, at that point she hadn’t known
that FLD was on speaking terms with the Spartans, either, so she’d been
concerned. Regardless, if Drake wanted to keep his relationship with Trace a
secret, that was his business.

Ashlyn shook her head and changed the subject.
"Catch me up here. When did this whole war start? And how did you guys
manage to keep the Toryn army contained on the island before they did any
damage? Did they send you a memo or something?"

"No...they actually did some significant damage
before we could stop them," Restlyn answered slowly, meeting Ashlyn's
gaze. "They attacked January Harbor, but luckily Jackson's soldiers
managed to hold them off. I don't know if any Toryn survived, but after that
Jackson sent an ambassador to Toryn to ascertain their intentions. The
ambassador returned in a box. That was when the war started - Toryn never
officially declared it, but…" Restlyn trailed off.

"At that point you knew they weren’t playing
around," Ashlyn said glumly. "I can't believe this is
happening."

"Me neither. I can't believe I'm a part of
it," Restlyn answered. “I never thought I’d have anything to do with Toryn
again.”

Ashlyn had never agreed with her father Scorning
Restlyn. The older girl had fought against the conversion of the sacred city
into a tourist attraction, and Lord Li- Ashlyn’s father- hadn’t been in the
mood for any kind of dissention from a half-breed commoner, even a commoner
he’d adopted into his own family.

"When we saved the world from Lord Angelo and
destroyed his regime - or at least reconfigured it so Jackson could take over -
I figured that was it,” Restlyn continued. “I thought I could head to Storim
and try to make some sort of normal life for myself." She shook her head,
sighing. "I should have figured that it wouldn't happen. Some people
aren't meant to lead normal lives."

"Oh, come on. If you led a normal life then you
would never have seen me again after my father flipped out on you," Ashlyn
said with a grin.

"Yes, that revelation inspires such
gratitude," Restlyn said dryly.

A loud crash startled them out of their conversation,
and Ashlyn half-turned to see a pile of tin plates scattered across the floor
behind them. There was a shuffling sound behind the other counter, and a tin
cup rolled out into view.

Ashlyn's eyes narrowed.

"What was that?" Restlyn asked, leaning over
the cutting board to peer around the other girl.

"I don't...LOOK OUT!" Ashlyn cried. She
leaped over the counter, dragging Restlyn down to the floor with her, hearing
and feeling the loud clang and vibration of several throwing knives colliding
with the opposite side of the heavy metal divider.

"What the hell is that?" Restlyn whispered
to Ashlyn as they both struggled into a crouching position.

Shapes, clothes and movements began to register in
Ashlyn's mind. Gray-clad, faces covered with dark green masks bearing a
familiar symbol. "I saw two of them. Toryn ninjas," she whispered
back. "It just figures that they'd be here now!"

She automatically reached to yank her sword off her
back, and realized with a sinking feeling that she had left both the sword and
the shuriken with Skye.

She scanned the shelf in front of them, looking for
something that could be used as a weapon. Soup spoons, a few tin saucers, and a
bag of flour that looked suspiciously out of place. The last item, a heavy
cast-iron skillet, would be good for bludgeoning someone into oblivion, but
Ashlyn was reasonably sure that she couldn't lift the thing.

She grabbed the flour before she could rethink, and
then snatched up a spoon for good measure.

Restlyn looked at her like she was crazy. "What
are you doing?"

"Would you stop asking stupid questions and find
something to fight with?" Ashlyn said furiously, her voice low enough that
even she had to strain to hear herself. "If those are Devlyn's spies and
they get back to him with word that I'm with you, then we are so screwed! We
have to stop them!"

"With a spoon and a sack of flour?" Restlyn
shot back. "The odds aren’t exactly in our favor!"

"Look, they're not going to wait around for us to
finish arguing. You're supposed to be some big hoity-toity martial artist, you
figure something out!" Ashlyn edged around to the corner of the counter.
She moved to peer around the end of it, and quickly jerked her head back as
another throwing knife sailed by.

She looked down at the flour bag in her hands, and
sighed. She hadn't killed Lord Angelo, saved the sun, survived three years
traversing the continents and single-handedly fended off
two
attacks from a pack of dogs to get dusted by some stupid ninja
wannabes in an airship's
kitchen
, for crying out loud.

Hopping onto her toes, Ashlyn pressed her back against
the cool metal side of the counter, counting slowly in her mind. One, two...she
really hoped that this would work and she wouldn't end up lying on the floor
like a stuck pig...five, six, seven...she used the end of the spoon to gouge
three holes in the bag of flour...eight...she braced herself, tensing her
muscles...nine, ten.

Grabbing onto the flour sack with both hands, Ashlyn
hefted it up and over her head, flinging it as hard as she could in the general
direction of the two ninjas. Almost in the same instant, she scooted out to the
side of the counter, landing nimbly in a crouch and pushing off with her toes.

There was an explosion of white as the flour hit, like
a snow-filled volcano erupting before her eyes. Ashlyn ignored it, grabbed onto
the edge of the second counter and swung herself around, her instep connecting
solidly with the side of the first ninja's head. He stumbled backwards and
sputtered something that Ashlyn was grateful to not quite understand, but she
allowed him no recovery time as she shot her left hand forward, striking him
flat against the chest. He gasped and doubled over, choking.

The second ninja slid his arm around her neck, but
Ashlyn pinned her chin to her chest and ducked out of it, her elbow coming back
to strike him in the stomach. He sidestepped awkwardly and she caught a corner
of his ribs instead. There was a loud
crack
.

He yelped and cursed her in Toryn before leaping over
the counter and backing away - still running his mouth, ironically, even as
Restlyn stood and hit him hard in the head with the skillet. His eyes bulged
and he crumpled to the floor instantly.

Ashlyn froze, realizing that her friend had probably
just killed one of their two most likely information sources. "Rest-
lyn
!"
she exclaimed. "Grossness! How could you just-"

Her tirade was cut short as the first ninja bolted by
her, slamming painfully into her right arm before he beat a rather ungraceful
exit (particularly for a ninja; Ashlyn felt insulted), slipping and sliding as
he threw himself out the door.

Ashlyn scrambled in the flour for only a second before
running after him. There wasn’t really anywhere he could go, considering they
were on an airship, but she knew that he was still dangerous, regardless of how
comically flour-caked he was.

Puffs of white powder flew up from his feet with every
step. Ashlyn's heart began to thump as she realized he was heading for the exit
to the top deck. How long had he been on this ship to know his way around?

"Stop him!" she yelled at the top of her
lungs as she came barreling through the doorway to the control room.

The masked ninja vaulted over one of the panels and
came face-to-face with Vargo. The red-haired Spartan smirked as he twirled an
electric baton in his hands.