The Captive (9 page)

“You want me to do what?” Falkon stared at Ashlynne, unable
to believe what he was hearing.

“I want you to pick me a bouquet of flowers and ferns.”

“I don’t have time for that. Pick them yourself.”

“Do as I say, Number Four, or I shall report your insolence
to my father, and you’ll find yourself back in the mine.” It was an empty
threat, and they both knew it.

“Don’t you have anything better to do than torment me?”

“No.” She looked up at him through wide green eyes. “Life
was really quite dull here until you came along.”

Falkon glared at her. He had the feeling she was laughing at
him, that she was, indeed, telling the truth, and that he had become her greatest
source of amusement.

“A large bouquet.” She picked up a blade of grass and
twirled it between her thumb and forefinger. “‘Twill look lovely on the table
at dinner.”

Muttering an oath, Falkon tossed his shovel aside and
stalked toward the vast flower beds that grew along the south wall. Flowers!

He made his way along the narrow brick-lined paths that
wound through the flowerbeds, randomly plucking the blooms that caught his eye.
He had to admit that whoever had arranged and planted the gardens had an eye
for color and design. He’d never seen anything quite so pretty. He had never
had much time to notice such things, and didn’t know what most of the flowers
were called, but they were beautiful, bright reds and blues and pinks and
yellows. Butterflies large and small and in bright rainbow colors flitted from
bush to bush. Sparrows sang in the tree tops, and he felt his anger dissipate
as he continued on. The sky was blue and clear, the sun was warm, the air was
filled with the sweet fragrance of the flowers, of earth and grass.

“You’re not supposed to pick them all.”

He turned around, surprised to find the girl trailing after
him, a smirk on her face.

“You said you wanted a large bouquet.”He thrust the flowers
he had gathered into her hands. “Damn, girl, you’re harder to get rid of than a
case of the plague,” he muttered irritably.

“Admit it,” she said. “You were having a good time.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I saw the look on your face. I’ll bet it’s the first time
you ever picked a flower in your whole life.”

“You’re imagining things.”

“Why are you so stubborn?”

“Why are you following me?”

She shrugged. “Nothing else to do.”

He took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. “How long did
you say you were you going to be gone?”

“I didn’t say, but if you must know, I’ll probably be gone
the whole summer. I guess that makes you happy, doesn’t it?”

Falkon nodded, but it was a lie. He was going to miss her
when she was gone, he thought. Her every move seemed to tempt him. Her mere
presence was a constant reminder that it had been far too long since he’d had a
woman. Woman, he thought. She was hardly that. She was young, far too young and
far too innocent for the likes of him, yet even now he felt his body hardening,
reacting to her nearness.

He clenched his hands in an effort to keep from reaching for
her. She’d kept quiet about his spying on her in her room, but he doubted even
his threat to tell her father about her sneaking down to the mine would be
enough to guarantee her silence if he kissed her. But he wanted to, by the
stars, he wanted to, even though he knew it would be the biggest mistake he had
ever made.

She looked up at him and licked her lips. In any other
female, it would have been a blatant invitation, but Ashlynne wasn’t
experienced enough to play games. He could teach her, he thought, teach her how
good it could be.

“Damn!” All thoughts of her delectable body fled his mind as
he heard a low rumble.

“What’s that?”

Falkon lifted his head, listening. The noise came again,
louder and closer this time.

He frowned. It sounded like sky cannon.

He glanced over his shoulder, swore under his breath when he
saw a cloud of thick black smoke rising from the direction of the mine. A
moment later, he felt the ground beneath his feet shudder. There was an
explosion, and a hole big enough to ride a horse through appeared in the far
wall.

“What’s happening?” Ashlynne asked.

“We’re under attack.”

She shook her head. “No, that can’t be.”

He heard the low whine of incoming sky cannon. Grabbing
Ashlynne by the arm, he began running toward the opposite end of the yard,
dragging the girl behind him. The flowers tumbled from her hands, leaving a
colorful trail in their wake.

They were nearing the edge of the gardens when there was a
violent explosion. Ashlynne screamed as the house exploded in flames.

“Let me go!” she shrieked. She tried to wrest her arm from
Number Four’s grasp, but he held her tightly.

“You fool! What do you think you’re gonna do?”

“My parents are in there!”

“Then they’re dead.” His words were harsh, deliberately
cruel. “Come on,” he said, tugging on her arm. “We’re getting out of here.”

“I’m not leaving them!” she shrieked. “You can’t make me!
Let me go!”

“Like hell.”

She glared at him, her eyes glittering like chips of cold
green glass as she pointed the controller at his chest. “Let me go.”

He hesitated for the space of a heartbeat, wondering if he
could snatch it from her hand before she could activate it.

“Let me go!”

Her thumb moved to the top of the controller, and he dropped
her arm.

As soon as he released her, she ran toward the blazing
inferno that had once been her home.

Muttering an oath, Falkon turned away. If she wanted to
commit suicide, that was her business but he was getting the hell out of there
while the getting was good. If looking after their own skins to come looking
for one prisoner. With any luck, they would think he had died when the house
exploded.

He continued down the path that led to the section of garden
wall that had been damaged and crawled through the opening. Standing there, he
could see the mine below. A battle cruiser hovered over the mine, the black and
gold shield of Hodore plainly visible on the ship’s underbelly. Several small
hovercraft lined the beach. Hodore. There was no reason for them to attack the
mine, he thought, frowning. They were already getting their fair share of
crystals.

Hatred flooded his soul as he stared at the black-helmeted
men swarming over the mine. The familiar stench of cannon smoke and seared
flesh reached his nostrils, sickening him. For a moment, his mind went back in
time and he saw it all again—the ruins that had once been his home, the charred
remains of his daughter’s favorite doll…

His eyes narrowed as he glanced at the battle cruiser, then
at the figures moving around near the mine’s administration building. Had Drade
persuaded Hodore to attack Tierde? Was he down there, even now, strutting back
and forth while he decided who lived and who died? Drade…

Falkon’s hands clenched and unclenched as he imagined his
hands at Drade’s throat, squeezing, squeezing…

A high-pitched scream scattered his thoughts. Turning, he
peered back through the hole in the wall and saw Ashlynne running across the
yard, her skirts billowing behind her. Taking a step forward, he saw two men
garbed in the black and gold uniforms of Hodore pursuing her.

Rage rose within Falkon, hot and swift and impossible to
ignore. Adrenaline pumping, he stepped through the break in the wall and gave
chase.

Ashlynne screamed as she felt a hand close on her arm. A
moment later, she was jerked to a halt, then shoved to the ground. Before she
could so much as blink, the man was straddling her hips, one of his hands
imprisoning both of hers.

She stared past him to the second man, her eyes widening as
he began to unfasten his pants.

“No!” She screamed the word. “No! No!”

The man holding her down slapped her across the face, hard.

“Shut up.”

Cheek throbbing, she stared at the man straddling her hips.
She had never seen a Hodorian. The skin of his hand was a pale green covered
with fine green hair. He was dressed in the uniform of the Hodorian army. A
black-visored helmet covered his head. It was a nightmare. It had to be. She
closed her eyes. This couldn’t be happening. She was Ashlynne, daughter of the
ruling house of Tierde. No one had ever laid a hand on her in anger or
violence.

She opened her eyes as the man lifted her skirts. She stared
at him in horror. They were going to rape her.

It had to be a nightmare. That was all, just a nightmare.
She rocked her head back and forth, praying that she would awake before it was
too late.

“No!” She screamed as she felt the man’s callused hand on
her thigh. Her nails raked his neck, his arms, as she struggled to free herself
from his grasp. “Let me go!”

She was sobbing now. Tears of anger and fear and revulsion
clogged her throat. And then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw Number
Four. He was creeping up behind the two men like a spring cat, his footsteps
muffled by the thick grass, his blue-gray eyes narrowed to angry slits. He
carried a thick tree branch in his hands.

Was he coming to help her?

She renewed her struggles, kicking and screaming with all
her might. She felt a sense of exhilaration as her knee caught one of the men
full in the groin. He dropped to the ground, gasping for air.

And then Number Four was there. The branch in his hands came
down hard across the back of the man straddling her hips. With a grunt, the
Hodorian rolled off her.

Ashlynne scrambled to her knees, screamed “look out!” as she
saw the second Hodorian reach for his blaster.

Number Four pivoted on his heel and swung the branch at the
man’s head. There was a loud
smack
as the wood hit the man’s helmet,
knocking him over backward.

Falkon was reaching for the man’s weapon when he felt the
searing heat of a laser blast scorch his right arm near the shoulder.

The man’s second shot went wide.

Muttering an oath, Falkon grabbed Ashlynne by the arm and
sprinted for cover behind a flowering vine tree.

“No, this way!” Ashlynne cried, tugging on his hand.
“Hurry!”

He followed her through a maze of greenery, stood panting
for breath while she searched for the hidden panel that opened a door in the
wall.

“Where does this come out?” Falkon asked as he followed her
through the opening into a dark tunnel.

“I’m not sure, exactly. All I know is that it comes out in
the jungle somewhere. My father…my father told my…my mother and I we should use
it if we were ever attacked.” She closed the door, plunging them into total
darkness. “I’ve never been in here before.”

“Give me your hand.”

“Why?” He heard the suspicion in her voice.

“So we don’t get separated. You want to go first, or should
I?”

“You,” she said. She felt his hand slide over her shoulder,
down her arm, then close around her hand.

She followed behind him, her free hand wrapped firmly around
the controller in her skirt pocket.

Step by careful step, she followed him blindly through the
tunnel. She tried not to think of what might be living in the tunnel, but
visions of spiders burrowing into her hair and snakes crawling up her legs
flooded her mind.

She breathed a sigh of relief when a faint gray light
appeared at the end of the shaft.

Minutes later, Number Four came to a stop.

Ashlynne peered around him. The tunnel opening was
camouflaged behind a twisted mass of snowberry bushes. Beyond them stretched
miles and miles of uncharted jungle.

“Do you see anyone?” she whispered.

“No. Apparently they concentrated their attack on the house
and the mine.” He swore under his breath, cursing himself for having mentioned
the house.

A small sob rose in the girl’s throat. Her parents were
dead, her home had been destroyed. He knew how she felt, and a brief, unwanted
flicker of compassion swept through him.

“What are we going to do now?” she asked, her voice
quivering.

“I think we should spend the night in here.”

“In here?” She glanced over her shoulder, unable to stifle a
shudder of revulsion.

“You got any better ideas?” he asked curtly.

Ashlynne shook her head, hating him because he was alive and
her parents were dead. She peered through the vines. The sky was turning dark.
It would be night soon.

“I’m gonna try to get some sleep,” Falkon said.

Turning away from the opening, he walked back a few feet
from the entrance and sat down, his back to the wall of the tunnel. He winced
as he explored the laser wound on his arm. The numbness was wearing away and
now it throbbed relentlessly. But he could live with the pain. Better that than
losing his arm entirely.

He looked up at the girl, who was still standing near the
tunnel’s opening. “You’d better get some rest while you can,” he suggested
wearily.

Ashlynne shook her head. “Surely you don’t expect me to
sleep on the ground?” She looked at him as if he had just asked her to eat a
slab of raw meat.

Falkon lifted one inquisitive brow. “Why not?”

“Because…because I can’t. It’s dirty.”

Falkon snorted. “Suit yourself.”

Slowly, she pulled her hand from her pocket, revealing the
controller.

“What are you gonna do with that?” he asked suspiciously.

“Secure your hands and feet, of course.”

He glared at her as she activated the controls. The manacles
on his wrists and ankles made a dull clanking sound as they locked together. He
swore as the movement sent a fresh wave of pain through his arm.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured.

“Are you?”

“Sorry, but not stupid,” she retorted. “You’re a prisoner,
after all.”