by J. L. Lyon
“I prayed for you tonight, you know,” Alexander mocked. “I challenged your God to show himself to me, to prove his power and deliver you from my hand. So let’s see what he decides.” He made a motion to the guards on either side of them, and the two wooden doors opened. The cool night breeze washed over her as she walked out onto the royal platform, arms held tightly by two strong soldiers.
Thousands upon thousands had come to watch, packed in so closely that no pavement was visible anywhere in the Square. Even the side streets leading out into the city were packed—people so far away they might not even see a flicker of the flames. Great Army soldiers stood in ranks to form an impenetrable wall around the Square’s center, shielding the execution stand and the royal platform from any who would attempt to interfere. She gazed briefly upon the pole set in the center of the crude wooden block, and fought a shudder.
That was when she saw him, standing at the center of an eight-man line just beneath her at the base of the royal platform. Eli wore a silken cape that flapped in the wind behind him, and he gazed up at her fearlessly. He gave her a barely noticeable nod, and she felt strength come alive in her once again.
She was made to pause respectfully before Napoleon Alexander’s throne as he sat down upon it. The look of glee on his face sickened her; she would rather have descended to the execution stand right then and get on with it, but the soldiers holding her gave little choice. She focused instead on the darkness behind the throne, doing her best to seem uninterested in the entire proceeding. He’ll not see one ounce of fear from me.
“You are about to experience pain the likes of which you cannot possibly imagine,” Alexander said. “Whatever you believe your death will mean, it will not change that. I offer you this chance only once, Grace Sawyer: bow to me. Renounce Silent Thunder and their treasonous cause, and I will reward you with a swifter death than the one now before you.”
Grace remained silent, eyes still staring into the distance.
“Very well,” Alexander said, unsurprised. “Take her down. Tie her up and wait for my command.”
The two soldiers pulled her away from the MWR and dragged her down the wide stairs toward the execution stand, while the others in the entourage—Grand Admiral Donalson among them—fanned out in formation across the royal platform. As she reached the bottom, Eli had to step aside to let them pass. Grace turned her head to the side so that their eyes met briefly, and the memory of what had transpired between them made her long to reach out and calm his emotions. But then their gaze was broken, and she could not turn back.
She ascended the three steps to the execution stand, and a hush fell over the crowd that intimidated her more than the loudest clamor. Her breath came in short bursts as they forced her to face the royal platform, pressing her back against the wooden pole and tying her arms securely behind it. Her throat was dry, and she could feel herself shaking visibly now as they gathered the extra wood and brush around her feet. “Be strong and courageous,” she whispered to herself. “For the Lord your God is with you wherever you go. Be strong and courageous…”
Repeating the verse over and over, she caught a glimpse of several faces in the crowd and found herself wondering who the people were and why they had come. For entertainment, as the MWR had claimed? To rejoice in her demise? To mourn over her? She suspected Crenshaw was out there among those faces, perhaps with Davian and her father’s officers as well. “Be strong and courageous…”
One of the soldiers departed back to the royal platform while the other retrieved a flaming torch from someone on the ground. He stepped back over to Grace and looked up towards Alexander’s throne with callous expectation.
“Rebel Grace Sawyer,” Alexander announced. “You stand accused of treasonous acts of sedition against the World System, having brought chaos to our once peaceful order through the wiles of war. For these crimes I, Mighty World Ruler Napoleon Alexander, do convict and condemn you. Let all who witness this see and remember: these are the consequences of defying me. For those who think to do so, the same fate awaits you all.” Lightning flashed suddenly in the sky, a threatening crackle sounding out closely on its heels. Alexander smiled sadistically. “Burn her.”
The silence in the crowd was broken by horrified gasps as the soldier moved to obey, and Grace’s heart throbbed so hard she thought it might burst from her chest. But then a movement caught her eye, and she looked up to see Eli take off at full speed. His cape flapped furiously behind him as he rushed the execution stand, leaping upon it with impressive speed. No one had the presence of mind to stop him, as the entire Square seemed frozen by shock. The soldier next to her didn’t even realize what was happening until Eli was upon him, and by then it was too late.
White fire flashed to life and cut across the soldier’s chest, sending him flying away from her. He died before he landed, and the torch slipped from his hand and rolled to the blackened edge of the stand. She opened her mouth to warn Eli just as the pitch designed to give the crowd a grand finish ignited. In a flash the fire spread along three sides of the platform, forming a wall of flame that shielded them from the Great Army and from the crowd. Only the way to Specter and the MWR remained clear. No pitch had been spread on that side; Alexander had wanted to watch her writhe until the very end.
Eli cut her free, “I told you to be ready.”
“You’ve just killed us both,” she said. “We’ll never make it out of here alive.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” he said, turning toward the royal platform. “Stay behind me.” Shock had faded and the forces on the royal platform were finally registering their Specter Captain’s betrayal. And as the flames blocked the Great Army from reaching them, it would be up to Specter and the meager band of men around the MWR to prevent their escape.
Alexander rose from his throne and barked in seething anger, “Kill them! Kill them both!” But then his anger turned to horror as he watched something they could not see. “No! Do not break the line!”
-X-
Crenshaw threw back his hood as the System soldiers around the execution stand broke ranks and opened up gaps in their human wall. Their tactical edge lost, they had abandoned the royal platform to assault. It was now or never. “Brothers of the sword!” he shouted. “To the commander!”
White flames of light came to life all over the Square, and a great cry rang out as bystanders realized they now stood upon a field of battle. They did their best to flee, while every remaining man from the Silent Thunder 2nd Battalion drove hard toward the center. Crenshaw did not draw his weapon, but weaved his way carefully through the surging crowd with the hope that he might reach the platform in time.
-X-
“Soldiers!” Donalson yelled over the multitude of screams, “Destroy Silent Thunder! Specter, take care of them!” He stabbed a finger at Grace and 301, but despite the direct order no member of Specter made a move.
Grace stepped up to 301’s side, but he set his body in front of her again, “Get back, Grace!”
“I won’t let you fight alone!”
“You have no weapons. All you can do is get in the way.”
301 turned his attention to the Specters on the ground, all of whom drew their weapons and converged on the stairs to the execution stand.
“You don’t have to do this!” 301 warned. “None of you has to die!”
“You know how this works, Captain,” Marcus said dryly. “We have our orders.”
301 let his cape fall to the ground and reached for the second Gladius tucked through his belt at the small of his back. The crystal hilt of Pax Aeterna shimmered in the firelight, and he extended his arm as the blade ignited. His grip tightened on both Calumnior and Pax Aeterna as he faced his former comrades and declared with dark resignation, “So be it.”
Specter came at 301 simultaneously, blades swinging toward him in perfect formation. Had even one of them been evenly matched against him he may not have survived the first charge, but none had ever been his equal. He fen
ded off their blows with both weapons, dodging and parrying their attacks with graceful ease. For a while it seemed simply a game—another training exercise with his comrades. But it was not long before the white spikes of Calumnior and Pax Aeterna found their marks, and one-by-one they fell before his fury, perishing with final cries of agony and defeat.
Out of the corner of his vision 301 saw Grand Admiral Donalson leave the royal platform and make his way toward them, drawing his battle knife with an evil gleam in his eye. Watch your back, the grand admiral had warned him, and he still wore the marks of 301’s beating earlier that day. But Donalson turned at the final moment and headed away from the battle. His target was not 301.
He was headed for Grace.
-X-
Grace backed away as Donalson approached her, wielding his knife threateningly with a cruel smile. “I should have known you had the Specter Captain wrapped around your little finger…the way he so openly challenged me to keep you from harm. But he has now given me what I desire most: the chance to kill you myself.” Grace threw a right hook as he approached, but Donalson caught her wrist and threw her down. She tried to scramble away, but the loud click of Donalson’s sidearm made her pause and look back over her shoulder. His smile widened, “At last, I get to watch you die.”
A Spectral Gladius flew from the side and struck Donalson through the chest. He had only a moment to look down in confusion as the gun dropped from his hand, and then he fell to the ground dead. Grace looked over at Eli, who now confronted the remaining members of Specter with only Pax Aeterna.
The back of the execution stand collapsed as the flames ate away its supports, exposing the massive battle in the Square to her vision. A chaotic mixture of flashing white blades and sporadic gunfire filled the entire area. They came for me, she thought with gratitude and pride. They came for me, and yet here I stand doing nothing. I should be out there, fighting alongside them. To her immense surprise, General Crenshaw appeared in the opening, beckoning her, “Time to go, Commander.”
Grace turned to the battle on the execution stand, “Eli! Come on!”
“Go!” he yelled back, still grappling with multiple foes, “I won’t let him survive this night!”
“No, Eli! You’ll be killed!”
“Grace,” Crenshaw said, holding out his hand. “We have to go—now. You’re in an exposed position.” Casting one last look at Eli, she jumped off the execution stand into the general’s arms. “Here,” he handed her Novus Vita, and as the deep sapphire hilt fell into her hand she felt the warmth of greeting an old friend. “We’re going to have to fight our way out of this.”
“What about Eli?” she demanded. “I won’t leave him!”
Crenshaw looked up at the execution stand with grim determination. For a moment she thought he might leap up and join him in the fight, but he seemed to make some decision and relented. “We can’t force him to come with us, Grace. Eli’s fate is now his own.”
44
THE LAST SPECTER FELL lifeless to the ground, and 301 stood over their bodies, breathing heavily, adrenaline rushing through his veins. He counted only six navy uniforms, and knew from the ease of the battle which Specter was missing. Derek Blaine was nowhere to be found, almost as though he had vanished into thin air.
A flash of lighting lit the royal platform and outlined the composed form of Napoleon Alexander, who stood completely exposed and alone in front of the throne upon which he had sat a moment before. Casting aside thoughts of his partner’s whereabouts, 301 came down from the execution stand and slowly ascended the royal platform. As he drew nearer his goal he began to feel it: euphoria. His hatred spread through him and intoxicated his every thought, impairing both his judgment and his self-control.
Alexander’s eyes followed him as he advanced, and 301 gave the man credit for his courage. He did not try to run or escape. Instead he waited calmly with his hands behind his back, a look of cool amusement playing across his features.
301 came level with him, Pax Aeterna gleaming white at his side, “Surprised?”
“I’m never surprised by betrayal, Specter Captain.”
“I’d suspect not,” 301 said. “After all, you betrayed everyone you ever loved or cared about…and became a monster.”
“Monsters are made, not born,” Alexander retorted. “I am what those people made me…as you are what others have made you. Tell me, Specter Captain: what were you promised in exchange for my assassination? Surely you must know that even if you succeed, you will never make it out of the Square alive. What is worth the ultimate sacrifice?”
“Vengeance,” 301 replied. “You took everything from me…you killed the people I loved and forced me into a life of solitude. Now I’m here to settle the score.”
“I’ve overseen the deaths of countless traitors and undesirables, so you’ll have to forgive me if I’m a bit lost on the specifics,” Alexander sneered. “What story has Silent Thunder fed you now?”
“The tale of Patrick Holland.”
“A story from Grace Sawyer, no doubt.”
“All this time I believed that the rebels of Silent Thunder were the traitors,” 301 said as he moved closer. “But it was you all along. You forsook all you had sworn to protect and defend, and then tried to kill the very people who would gladly have given their lives for you. You betrayed your country, you betrayed your friends, and you betrayed your honor. You betrayed Silent Thunder and then buried it beneath the lie of Napoleon Alexander and the World System.”
“She has educated you, I see,” Alexander said. “But what does any of that have to do with you?”
“Haven’t you worked it out yet?” 301 held his arms out, presenting himself. “Look at me, and see his face!”
Lightning flashed and lit up the MWR’s features, and 301 was shocked to see a knowing smile there on the tyrant’s face. He had expected horror or disbelief—anything but those calm, laughing eyes. Silence stretched between them for several moments, until the MWR actually did laugh—a low, hearty guffaw that infuriated him.
Had Alexander not gotten the message? Had he not understood?
“I’m sorry, I just can’t keep up this farce any longer,” the MWR said, laughter slowing. “You poor, naïve fool. Did you really think a boy of your renown could have grown up a stone’s throw from the palace without me knowing about it?”
A pit of dread opened up in 301’s stomach. He knew...but how much? And for how long?.
“I was upset when you escaped me,” Alexander went on. “I really had intended for you to die that night in front of your mother. But when you made your way to the Capital Orphanage, it gave me time to…reconsider. A boy like you might be of some use to me, one day.”
“You…knew? All this time, you knew who I was?” 301 felt his world slowly slipping away, his rage melting into a pool of molasses that threatened his tether to this climactic moment. This was not how he had imagined it…not at all.
“And what a valuable tool you have been,” Alexander laughed again. “I needed some way to flush out my enemies, and what better way than to let slip that Elijah Charity is alive and well, a soldier of the evil World System? And now look.” He motioned to the Square, filled with gunfire and flashing white blades, a cesspool of blood and death. Then, as 301 looked beyond it, he saw tanks that blocked off the exits.
“You have brought me the rebellion,” Alexander said. “Silent Thunder will die tonight, and it is all thanks to you, Elijah. You know on that night, you swore never to serve me…but you turned out to be one of the most valuable servants I have ever had. What a great game we played, you and I! When you first walked into my office I thought only to make a sport of killing you, since Sawyer had revealed himself. But you still had so much more to give. It was even worth suffering through seeing Jonathan in you…even worth enduring those eyes—her eyes—it was like seeing her staring at me all over again, just like old times.”
“You took her from me,” 301 said, attempting to summon back his anger. “
I was only a child and you stole her away because you couldn’t have her for your own! Just as you were about to steal Grace from me! How many other mothers and lovers have you taken? How many fathers and sons and daughters and brothers and sisters? How many friends and family members have you separated with your insatiable hunger for power? You deserve to die for all you have done!” Thunder rumbled long and loud at his last cry, and his anger burned so hot he thought it a wonder that Alexander didn’t burst into flame.
But Alexander just gave him a shrewd smile, “What is it you really hate, Shadow Soldier? Is it what I have done to the world? What I have taken from you? Or is the truth that you hate what I have put back in? Perhaps you see the same qualities in me that you see in yourself, and hate the monster that I have made you.”
301 raised Pax Aeterna high above his head, “Then let this be the night that both monsters perish together.” He brought the blade down with crushing force upon the MWR, and for a moment dared to think that it was all over. The oppressor of the world would fall, and his parents’ deaths would be avenged.
But something moved between him and the MWR at the last second and blocked the killing stroke of his Spectral Gladius with the edge of another. No, not something…someone. White sparks flew in all directions, and the lost momentum of the blow sent a shock up 301’s arm.
The world seemed suspended in a fixed state as his gaze traveled down his assailant’s blade and up the arm that wielded it, where he met the cold stare of Derek Blaine.
“But now, Elijah,” Alexander said. “I believe you have outlived your usefulness. Consider our game at an end.”
-X-
Grace and Crenshaw fought back to back, Novus Vita and Renovatio cutting a wide path through the soldiers that had formed up around the blazing execution stand. She ducked and cut down a soldier coming at her with a long dagger, and then turned to look back up to the royal platform the moment they had a reprieve. Eli stood at the top with Derek Blaine and Napoleon Alexander, mere shadows through the flames. She looked at Crenshaw, “This isn’t right. We can’t leave him!”
