The Lady of Toryn Anthology (Lady of Toryn trilogy) Read online

  The

  Lady of Toryn

  Anthology

  by Charity Santiago

  charitysantiago.blogspot.com

  edited by Amy Stace Knoll and JaNae Zwan

  Copyright © 2013 by Charity Santiago. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without written permission from the author. Please do your part to discourage piracy, and purchase only authorized editions.

  RETURN

  Book 1 in the Lady of Toryn trilogy

  Prologue

  For thousands of years, mystical beings known as Angels protected the Free Lands of Kresmir, offering their wisdom and guidance to the mortals who shared their world. Under the direction of the ethereal race, Kresmir blossomed. Besides sharing their knowledge of how to conserve Kresmir’s energy rather than squandering its resources, the Angels taught the mortals how to harness Kresmir’s natural magic in precious gems known as stanes. Kresmir was changed forever with this discovery.

  The rise of Lord Angelo and his Spartan assassins, however, was a sudden and unexpected blow to the Angels, and to the people under their tutelage. Lord Angelo’s origins remained a mystery, but one thing was clear- his cruelty was unmatched in the once-peaceful Free Lands. After overthrowing the eastern continent and orchestrating a brutal attack on the Angels’ Heavenly City, Lord Angelo moved quickly towards world domination, even overthrowing the monarchy of the western continent, Toryn, and placing its people under tyrannical rule.

  Lord Angelo’s reign lasted nearly two decades, marked firstly by the genocide of the Angels, and secondly by the crippling drain on the planet’s resources to expand Lord Angelo’s superhuman army, helmed by the Division of Enhanced Military Operations Nano-engineering. The genetically enhanced, magic-wielding DEMON army was virtually unstoppable.

  As Lord Angelo’s power plants continued to sap energy from a wounded Kresmir and its dying sun, a DEMON soldier named Skye Damien joined forces with Restlyn Li, the adopted daughter of the Lord of Toryn. Together, Skye, Restlyn and their ragtag group of insurgents challenged Lord Angelo and ultimately defeated him, overthrowing the dictator and establishing an elected president over the newly-formed Free Lands Democracy.

  After saving the world, their mission complete, the rebels scattered. Among their ranks was fifteen-year old Ashlyn Li, Elder Heir of Toryn and Restlyn’s adoptive sister. Overwhelmed by her newfound celebrity, and feeling ill-prepared to assume Ladyship of her kingdom, Ashlyn retreated into seclusion. For three years she traversed the Free Lands, avoiding all mention of her former life and trying to make some sense of her conflicted feelings towards her birthright as Lady of Toryn.

  Chapter One

  In the Rain

  Ashlyn’s hand tightened on the reins as a bolt of lightning slashed across the sky, briefly illuminating the plains around her. Her horse, Suki, whinnied and danced sideways nervously.

  Ashlyn kept her head down, rainwater running off the hood of her cloak. A few droplets tickled her nose. The brief flash of light had confirmed her suspicions- she was surrounded by perhaps a dozen shadowy figures, with three of them blocking her path towards the nearby city of Storim. The figures were dressed in black and advancing slowly, counting on the darkness to conceal their movements.

  At least this ambush was being conducted by humans instead of dogs. The two attacks that had driven Ashlyn into hiding seven months ago had taken place in the mountains of Landi. She’d walked away from both battles…barely…with the flesh of her right arm shredded to ribbons after the first one, and the twisting labyrinth of Landi’s canyons providing an escape route during the second attack.

  The first attack could have been coincidence, but as she fled the second ambush just a few weeks later, Ashlyn had glimpsed a man standing atop a jagged cliff, watching her. His lean form had been silhouetted against the rising moon behind him, and a huge dog had stood beside him, the moonlight gleaming off its silver fur.

  The dog had strongly resembled a wolf, but Ashlyn knew how impossible that was. Wolves were close to extinction in Kresmir, and any that remained certainly had better things to do than band together with a human to attack a lone traveler. The mysterious man had sent his trained dogs after her, Ashlyn was certain, but she didn’t know why.

  Clutching the reins in one hand, Ashlyn moved her other hand inside her cloak, drawing a small bo shuriken from the pouch on her belt. She preferred her sword or her larger hira shuriken, but both were strapped to her back, beneath her cloak, and there was no way to reach for them inconspicuously.

  The thunder rumbled around her, and Ashlyn held her breath, waiting for the next flash of lightning. When it came, she saw with some alarm that her attackers were even closer than she expected- mere strides away.

  Her heart pounding, Ashlyn flung the first shuriken at one of the three figures in front of her, and was reaching back into her pouch for another before the first reached its mark. As she spurred Suki, the first shuriken landed with a distinct thunk, and the man cried out. Suki leaped forward, colliding with a second attacker, and Ashlyn threw the second bo shuriken before pulling a knife from its sheath on her thigh. She crouched low over Suki’s neck and stabbed blindly in the darkness, aiming for whatever she could get, but the knife sliced only air.

  One of her assailants caught hold of Ashlyn’s cloak, yanking backwards and nearly choking her. At that same moment, Suki whinnied in fear and reared up, and Ashlyn realized that there would be no outrunning this attack.

  Kicking her feet out of the stirrups, she vaulted backwards, executing a flip before landing on the slippery grass. Ashlyn spun furiously, collecting her cloak in one hand to drag her attacker closer. She could barely make out his silhouette, black on black in the thick onslaught of rain. She dropped to one knee, quickly unlatching the throat clasp on her cloak to free herself, and stabbed the man in the leg. He went down.

  With the cloak gone, Ashlyn yanked the hira shuriken off her back, barely getting a chance to wrap her fingers around the weapon before she was tackled from behind. She hit the ground hard, slipping and sliding on the wet grass. There was a sharp stab of pain in her right side, and she gasped, her cry cut short as her assailant hooked an arm around her throat.

  Suddenly fire flared up around her, flames billowing and hissing in the rain, and Ashlyn panicked, realizing that her opponents were equipped with stanes.

  Ignoring the agonizing pain in her side, she rolled over onto her back and struggled furiously to loosen her attacker’s grip around her neck, but he only clung more fiercely. Ashlyn’s eyes began to water. She shifted her grip on the shuriken and brought it down behind her, stabbing the man with the pronged spikes of the weapon as he lay between her and the ground.

  He cried out and released her immediately. Ashlyn leaped to her feet, whirling and slicing down at his throat before ducking underneath a punch from another black-clad figure. She danced backwards and drew her sword, sheathing the shuriken on her back in the same smooth movement. There was a crackling behind her, the telltale sounds of a fire stane sputtering to life, and Ashlyn tensed, mentally cataloguing her collection of stanes and trying to figure out how best to retaliate. She turned, throwing up an arm as she prepared to cast a spell to defend herself.

  What she saw stopped her cold.

  Drake Lockhart stood before her, his long coat skimming the grass. His eyes flashed red in the semi-darkness, the reflection of the firelight dancing wildly in their crimson depths.

  Before Ashlyn could find her voice, Drake flung his arm out and cast the magic, sending a ball of fire roaring towards the man who had attacked her. The man
screamed as he was instantly consumed in flames, and crumpled to the ground.

  Ashlyn was still dumbfounded at seeing Drake for the first time in over a year, and as she swayed dizzily, she tried to think of what she should say to the enigmatic vampire. Nice to see you, Drake. You look as young as ever. Although she knew he’d been almost thirty years old when he was turned more than two decades ago, his face was as youthful as ever, untouched by time. He didn’t look much older than Ashlyn.

  The body of the last attacker landed at her feet in a heap, and Skye Damien emerged from the darkness. Around him, the writhing flames died down, eventually dissipating until the only illumination was the faint glow of red from the stane in Skye’s wristband.

  “Boy, am I glad to see you,” Ashlyn said, wincing as she sank to her knees in the wet grass. She touched her hand to the wound in her side and looked down. In the faint light it came away covered in a dark liquid.

  “Hang on,” Skye said, kneeling beside her and putting an arm around her shoulders to stop her from swaying. “Is it deep?”

  She was so light-headed that she knew she must have already lost a significant amount of blood. “I think so.”

  “Let’s get you to Storim. We can heal you there.” Skye put his arm around Ashlyn and stood, pulling her up with him. She bit back a groan at the pain that came with the movement.

  Drake approached her then, leading Suki by the reins. “Can you mount up?” he asked Ashlyn, holding out a hand to her. Ashlyn nodded and took his hand, climbing slowly to her feet. With some effort she managed to get her foot in the stirrup and hopped once before pulling herself up. In spite of the pain in her side, she was acutely aware of Drake’s hands on her hip and her leg as he helped her settle into the saddle.

  “How did you know I was here?” she asked, trying to stay focused as Drake began leading the horse.

  “We didn’t,” Skye said from beside her. “We’ve been tracking the ninjas who attacked you.”

  “Ninjas?” she repeated drowsily, hunching forward and wrapping her arms around herself. “Those weren’t Toryn ninjas.”

  “They were,” Drake said. He glanced back at her as they reached the top of the hill and the lights of Storim washed over them. “They were trying to kill you.”

  “I can’t argue that,” she admitted, and bit her lip. “Why would Toryn ninjas want to kill me?”

  Drake didn’t respond.

  Suki’s hooves clicked on the cobblestones at the outskirts of the city, and soon they were walking through the town square, where Ashlyn slid down onto the ground, standing unsteadily.

  Skye caught her. With his hands on her shoulders, he turned her towards the tavern on the far corner of the square.

  “My horse,” she protested, looking over her shoulder.

  “Drake is taking care of it.”

  Even in her semi-dazed state, Ashlyn knew that Skye was acting strangely. It had been more than three years since they’d seen each other, and he hadn’t bothered to greet her or ask about her father. She kept silent, wanting only to get her wound healed as quickly as possible. She knew where they were going- Restlyn Place, the tavern that Ashlyn’s adopted sister had started after their adventures three years ago. Ashlyn had only been in the tavern once, about a year after Lord Angelo’s defeat, but before she’d found Restlyn, a thief had swiped her oversized bo shuriken and she’d tried to chase him down. The little brat had somehow managed to lose her in the grasslands, and two years later, Ashlyn was still peeved about losing her favorite shuriken.

  The sight that greeted her when Skye opened the door to Restlyn Place was unexpected, if a little nostalgic, and Ashlyn stepped uncertainly through the doorway, one hand pressed to her side, the other one keeping a firm grip on Skye’s arm.

  Six pairs of eyes stared at her in obvious shock, and Ashlyn cracked a smile, a little unsure as to why her friends were gathered in Storim. They were all seated around a circular table in the center of the room, except for the wolf, Aik, who was sprawled across the top of the bar, staring at her with unnerving yellow eyes.

  “Hey,” Ashlyn said finally, when no one made any move to greet her. “Gang’s all here. I guess I picked the right time to stop by.”

  It was Restlyn who spoke first. “Ash?” she said, arching one perfect brow as she turned towards Ashlyn and Skye.

  Ashlyn’s knees suddenly went weak, and she clutched at Skye as she stumbled forward. He caught her again with his hands beneath her shoulders, pulling her to him. If Ashlyn hadn’t been in so much pain, she might have appreciated standing toe to toe with Skye Damien, the man she’d practically swooned over at age fifteen. But at this particular moment, she didn’t care who was holding her up- she just wanted someone to help heal the knife wound in her side.

  “Here, sit down,” Skye muttered, directing her into a chair at a small table. He knelt beside her and pulled up her shirt to examine the knife wound just below her ribs, not bothering to ask for permission. Ashlyn’s breath hissed through her teeth as the fabric of her blood-soaked shirt stuck to her raw flesh.

  “Aaron,” Skye said over his shoulder. “Come here and help with this. Do you have your heal stane?”

  Ashlyn gripped the edge of the table determinedly as dark spots crowded her vision. Through the haze she could see the hulking blond pilot rise from his seat and make his way towards her.

  As Aaron knelt beside Skye, the expression on his face was anything but thrilled. “Back from the dead, are ya?” he growled at Ashlyn as he pulled a heal stane from one of the slots on his belt.

  She didn’t comprehend what he was saying, but then his hand warmed against her skin, and she sucked in a breath as her wound began to close.

  Restlyn appeared beside her then, and reached down to pry one of Ashlynn’s hands free of the table and cradle it with her own. “Where have you been?” she asked. “No one’s heard from you for years.”

  Ashlyn took a deep breath, trying to gauge her management of the pain. “I’ve been…all over,” she said slowly. “Everything was fine until about seven months ago. I think someone’s got a price on my head. I was attacked by dogs twice. I holed up in Endro, thinking maybe it would blow over. I just left yesterday for Storim- and then this happened.”

  “It was the Toryn ninjas,” Skye said to Restlyn. “I don’t know how they knew she was here, but they did. She was almost to the city when they attacked her.”

  “I could have taken them,” Ashlyn told Restlyn wryly, and the other girl grinned.

  At that moment the door opened, and Drake stepped inside, carrying Ashlyn’s saddlebags with him. Ashlyn’s heartbeat quickened.

  Three years ago she might have carried a torch for Skye, but her feelings for Drake were an all-consuming wildfire. The vampire could be infuriatingly gentle one-moment, and heartbreakingly cold the next, but Ashlyn had been captivated by him nonetheless.

  All that had changed when she’d glimpsed him at North Camp Inn last year, smiling at Trace, one of the female Spartan assassins.

  Aaron stood, grabbing a rag from the table and wiping the blood from his hands. “She’ll be fine,” he said gruffly to Skye. “It was deep, but the knife didn’t hit nothin’ vital.”

  Ashlyn was still staring at Drake, and finally tore her gaze away from him when Restlyn pressed a glass of water into her hand. Ashlyn drank, glad for something to distract herself with.

  “We should get you into dry clothes,” Restlyn said, and stood, wiping her hands on her apron.

  “Not just yet,” Skye said, and Ashlyn looked up at the former DEMON soldier, swallowing the last of her water. He returned the stare solemnly, and she could tell that there was something he wasn’t saying.

  “What is it?” she asked, putting her glass on the table and shaking her head to clear it. Even if her wound was healed, she would be feeling the effects of blood loss for some time.

  “We thought you were dead,” Jackson said from the table at the center of the room, and Ashlyn’s curious gaze drifted to her
friend. Three years ago, when they were establishing the democracy, Jackson was elected as President of the Free Lands. He looked every bit the regal politician now, his dark hair slicked back and his suit immaculate.

  “Dead?” Ashlyn repeated, frowning. “I’m not dead.”

  “We now that now,” Aaron muttered, and she glared up at the pilot. Undeterred, he continued, “Yer father thought ya were murdered. Some seer or somethin’ told him as much.”

  “My father is notorious for overreacting,” she responded, and shifted uncomfortably in her chair. “Somebody tell me what’s going on here. I’m obviously not dead, so I don’t see what the big deal is. And- wait a minute- why the heck are the Spartans here?”

  She eyed the two Spartans seated beside Jackson suspiciously. Trace and Vargo were just two of the ten Spartans who had challenged FLD three years ago. They had been Lord Angelo’s most trusted assassins, second only to the prestigious DEMON army. Maybe the Spartans had struck some kind of treaty with her friends in her absence, but that didn’t mean she trusted them, knowing the sordid things the Spartans had done under Lord Angelo’s reign.

  "They’re here to help us. I told ya. We all been thinkin’ you was dead," Aaron growled. "So did yer father, and he gave up leadership to his son."

  Ashlyn was suddenly alert again, her dizziness forgotten. "What? My father would never...wait a minute, his son? I don't have any-"

  "His adopted son," Aik spoke up. "Your father assumed you were dead, and abdicated leadership of the kingdom to a man named Devlyn, who he had been training for the role since news of your death."

  “News of my death?” Ashlyn shook her head, staring at her sopping sneakers. “I don’t understand this at all. Who told my father I was dead?”

  “Who cares?" Aaron burst out, making them all jump- except for Drake, who might as well have been a lump of mud for all the response he gave. "This Devlyn guy’s a maniac who's set on takin’ over the Free Lands now that Lord Angelo’s outta the way!"