by J. L. Lyon
“I saw you cut through the Great Army without losing a man,” Aiken replied. “I do not understand the technology you have brought, and to fight without understanding is foolish.”
“You are lucky, Westerner. We thought you were of this force that prowls the lands…this Spectorium. My men wished to swing around and catch you in a pincer attack. Had we done so, you would have been destroyed.”
“Perhaps,” Aiken grinned. “But we would have made you pay for your victory, and pay dearly.”
“As it so happens we captured your man,” the warrior motioned to the scout, barely smirking at Aiken’s taunt. “When we learned who you were we came at once to treat with you.”
Aiken turned his gaze on the scout, who was more at ease with his commander’s presence but still terrified. “Then perhaps, as a sign of good faith, you will release him to return to his comrades. I should prove an efficient replacement, I think.”
The two warriors exchanged a look, and after a brief hesitation the dark one nodded. The scout, seeing his chance, stepped forward, “Thank you, sir.” Aiken clapped the young man on the shoulder and then bid him move on down the hill.
He turned his attention back to the Persians, “What brings the Persians to these lands?”
Again the golden warrior looked to his dark companion—not out of deference, it seemed, but merely out of respect.
“I asked them to come,” the dark warrior spoke, and Aiken’s mouth dropped open. The man spoke in perfect English, with no trace of an accent. He couldn’t be sure, as he couldn’t see the man’s face, but he guessed that the man was not a Persian at all. That changed things considerably, and not necessarily for the better.
“Why have you come?”
“I seek Shadow Heart,” the dark warrior replied. “She leads her people into the uncovering of secrets that jeopardize the future of our world. You will lead us to her, and there all will be explained.”
18
GRACE STEPPED UP TO the mouth of the cave, once again using Novus Vita as a cane, her expression grim as she surveyed the world outside. Rain shrouded the trees and blocked the meager light of dawn, making the forest feel even more ominous to her than it had since their arrival. It was the second morning after their flight from the Silent Thunder camp, nearly twelve hours past when she had planned to depart.
But the downpour had begun in earnest the night before, and with their injuries it was plain they could not stick to the plan. They decided to weather the storm and leave as soon as it passed, hoping that the rain would destroy whatever trail they had left during their flight from the camp. She had no doubt the Spectorium was still out there somewhere, hunting her.
Grace was suddenly aware of Liz’s presence beside her, though her approach had not made a sound. It had rankled her the first few times it had happened, but now she took it in stride. Liz had spent the first decade and a half of her life trying to become invisible to the people around her, in order to avoid the pain they might inflict upon her. Even after she became safe from them—a person to be feared in her own right—some habits just never quite went away.
“Another day in this awful cave,” she said quietly. “The longer we stay here, the tighter the Spectorium’s noose becomes.”
Grace nodded. Their trail might be gone, but that would not stop Derek Blaine from combing every inch of this forest to find her. The rain bought them hours, not days. It was a blessing, in a way, for Liz was not quite up for fleeing across Wilderness terrain...not yet. On that first night, after the adrenaline wore off, she had descended back into the pitiful state she had been in behind the rock. At several points Grace had wondered if she would survive the night.
But she pulled through, in no small part because of the supplies she had grabbed from the camp and Grace’s attentive care. Grace had checked her wounds many times, and they were healing, but they had been deep. She was lucky to be alive.
Liz had been able to get up and move around for about twelve hours, now, but the pale pallor of her skin proved she had not fully recovered. If they ran into the Spectorium, Grace could cut away her cast and take her chances, but Aurora would not be so lucky. And despite how short a time they had been together, Grace could not leave her behind. Aurora had saved her back at the camp, multiple times, and at great risk to her own life.
There was still the chance that Silent Thunder might come back for them, though deep down she knew it was unlikely. Davian would want to, no doubt, but Crenshaw would insist that they press on to Corridor Prime…and with the Spectorium still on their tail, the general was probably right.
For all intents and purposes, they were on their own.
“You should rest while you can,” Grace said. “You’ll need your strength for what’s ahead.”
“I’m ready for whatever Blaine throws at us,” Liz replied. “How many men do you think he left behind?”
“Enough,” Grace said grimly. She had taken multiple runs to the nearby stream before the rains came in order to fetch water and to wash their clothing. During that time she had caught sight of at least three navy uniforms among the trees. Hours of worry that they might pick up her trail followed, but in the end they must have moved on to search a different part of the forest. They would double back when they did not find her there.
“We should get back inside,” Grace said, rubbing her arms as a light spray of water blew in on them. “Best not to push our luck.”
She started to turn back, but froze at the sound of crunched dirt and rock—distinct, as it was the noise their boots had been making while pacing the ground. But it came from behind them, inside the cave.
Liz had heard it, too, and she reached for the Spectral Gladius that had never once left her side. Grace’s grip on Novus Vita tightened, and she prepared to spring as soon as Liz made her move.
“Don’t,” a deep voice sounded out behind them, resonating from the walls of the cave. Grace waited, silently berating herself for this colossal mistake. She had been so concerned about threats from outside the cave, she had neglected to secure it. Somehow the Spectorium had found their way through from some other entrance, and now they would take her back to Derek Blaine and whatever horrific fate he had planned for her.
“Keep your hands where they are, and turn,” the voice ordered. “Slowly.”
Grace obeyed, her mind going through scenarios that might see them delivered from this, but it all slipped away from her when she beheld their would-be captors. She had expected sidearms and pristine Specter uniforms, but instead saw a picture straight out of the Stone Age.
Before them stood three men, taller than most she had met, dressed in furs and wearing beards of varying browns and grays that stretched all the way down to their stomachs. All wore their hair long as well...so long that Grace could barely tell where it ended and the furs began. Their feet were also covered in fur, thinned and stitched together to form primitive shoes. Each man wore a quiver of arrows strapped to his back, three of which were nocked on strongbows and pointed in their direction: one for her, two for Liz.
Liz let out a derisive snicker, “Arrows? Seriously?”
“They kill just as well as a bullet at this range,” the man in the center spoke again. “And you won’t have time to draw your weapons.”
Grace released her grip on Novus Vita and held her hands up casually to show she had no ill intentions. Their weapons might be old and inferior, but they were enough. Liz gave her a sidelong look, sighed with exasperation, and followed suit.
“Who are you,” the man went on, “and what is your business in this forest?”
“We were separated from our people,” Grace said quickly, hoping to keep Liz from provoking them further. “My friend was wounded, so we took shelter here so she can heal.” She was surprised at her use of the word friend for Aurora...and even more surprised with how right it felt. Had their relationship already progressed that far? It normally took Grace much longer to trust someone these days, but there was something about Liz th
at drew her—more than the fact that she had known Eli. Liz was so different than her, and yet in so many ways they were the same. Two women, warriors in a world ruled by men, who had risen to command at a very young age. And Liz had done it with harsh competition in one of the most dangerous armies in the world. It was hard not to admire her.
But though trust was near, she had to remind herself of who Liz was. Grace might only be a companion of convenience, ripe for betrayal at the opportune moment. She needed to stay on her guard.
“You are being hunted,” the man went on. “Men with white swords.”
“The Spectorium,” Grace replied, though she had no idea if the word would mean anything to these men.
The man on the right moved suddenly closer to the leader, eyes never leaving her as he whispered something low in his ear. They played over her features, her shoulders, her chest. But it was not a look of lust—she had learned to recognize that growing up in the Wilderness. No, this was something else. Wariness. Awe, perhaps.
After the man finished speaking the leader followed the same trail with his gaze, and Grace understood. They know me.
“My name is Grace Sawyer,” she announced, and ignored Liz’s look of incredulity as she went on, “I am the Commander of the 2nd Battalion of Silent Thunder in place of my father, Jacob Sawyer, who was killed in Alexandria one year ago. I am being hunted by the same man who killed him, and I am in need of aid.”
The men continued to eye her warily in silence, and then, “They say Shadow Heart still wears the mark from her time as the World System’s slave.”
Grace slowly reached for her sleeve and pulled it back to reveal the tattoo on her left forearm. The man who had recognized her narrowed his eyes as he inspected it, and then nodded to the leader in affirmation.
All three arrows lowered at once, and most of the tension went out of the cave. Most, for Liz still kept her hand close to her Gladius. The men still held her in suspicion, though Grace’s presence must have been enough for them to relent. The leader returned his bow to his back, but the other two kept theirs ready at their sides.
“Commander Sawyer,” the leader stepped forward. “I am Juan Grantoro, Guardian of Cedars Forest and Protector of the Free Peoples of the Homestead. We have been watching you since your arrival, hoping you would move on. But your enemies close in even as we speak, and that is no longer an option.” He turned to his men. “Erase all traces.”
Grace tensed at the command, at first believing she might be among those things erased. But the men put away their bows and turned their attention to their makeshift camp. She held back a cry of protest as they doused the fire, disbursed the brush, and buried the remains. It had been meager, as they couldn’t risk the smoke giving the Spectorium a lock on their position, but it had kept them alive. She felt a little less secure in its absence.
The men continued to comb the cave, getting rid of footprints and other clear indications of human habitation, then gathered up their supplies.
“Hey!” Liz said, stepping forward. Grace put out a hand to stop her, and she growled in frustration. No doubt she also saw the means of their survival being stolen away.
“Your things will be returned to you,” Grantoro assured. “But first we must know that you can be trusted with the secrets of our realm. You may keep your Spectral weapons, only because I know what an offense it would be to take them. However, you must surrender your firearms.”
Grace narrowed her eyes. If he knew enough to recognize a Spectral Gladius then he should know to never leave one in the hands of someone he didn’t fully trust. A Gladius was ten times the threat of a sidearm, if not more. Unless he knows that we are both too wounded to use them as effectively.
“You said you’ve been watching us,” she said. “Then why haven’t you helped us?”
“As I said, because I hoped you would move on,” Grantoro replied, gaze shifting uncomfortably to his men as they finished up, and then back to the two women. “We want no part in your wars. But if those hunters find you, as they would have within the hour without our intervention, they might have cause for a closer examination of this cave. And that could lead them to us.”
“How?”
“You have been hiding in one of the only entrances to our domain,” Grantoro said.
“All finished, sir,” one of the other bearded men announced. Grace studied the area with astonishment. It was as if she and Liz had never been there.
Grantoro nodded, “Then come. You will be relieved of your firearms once we are inside. Please do not resist.” He turned back to the inside wall of the cave and ran his fingers over the rock, searching. It didn’t take long. Grace couldn’t tell what the man had done, but a doorway suddenly appeared within the rock. Grantoro pushed it open and stepped back, motioning to the dark entrance, “After you.”
Grace exchanged a quick glance with Liz, who during the entire exchange had merely watched with questioning eyes. She didn’t trust these men; that was plain to Grace just from the short time she had known the former Chief of Command. At Grace’s word she would fight, and there was a very good chance that—despite their handicap—they would prevail.
But if what Grantoro said about the Spectorium was true, they could be here in moments. And the outcome of that fight was much less clear. Yet still, another thought anchored itself in Grace’s mind: that of a people living free of the World System’s cities, resisting Napoleon Alexander with the mere fact of their existence. For years she had clung to the belief that if given the chance the System’s own citizens would rise to overthrow the regime, until Crenshaw had dashed those hopes with harsh realities. She had experienced the dependency on the System firsthand when Elena Wilson had betrayed Silent Thunder’s hospitality and her own children in the name of loyalty last year.
The citizens of Alexandria, at least, could not be counted upon. But if there were others...
Settlements in the Wilderness were unheard of, as it was nearly impossible for large groups to remain hidden from the Great Army for long. But here in this forest, in a region supposedly overrun with dangerous wildlife...it just might be possible.
She had to know, regardless of the risk. If one such place existed, there could be more. And if she could convince them to unite behind Silent Thunder...
After only one moment more of hesitation, she nodded in assurance to Liz and limped forward, ready to fight her way out of this at the first sign of betrayal. She crossed over the threshold of the doorway and entered utter darkness.
19
DEREK SLIPPED ON A rock and cursed just before he caught hold of the tree branch overhead, preventing his fall. He gritted his teeth in frustration. It would not have been the first fall of the day, but he doubted he would have come away from that one unscathed given the steep incline.
He hated the Wilderness in moments like these. Water fell in cascades, soaking his clothes and hair to the point where the trek seemed more like swimming than walking. He could endure that without complaint if not for the cold, which even now sank deep into his bones. Soon he would have to call off the search and seek shelter or risk hypothermia. The trail had disappeared, washed away with the onset of rain, but he had refused to give up. Sawyer was out there, somewhere, in that forest, and he was determined to find her.
As he contemplated the moment of his success, fuel for his waning resolve, his foot slipped again and caught under a raised root. Visions of glory shattered and were replaced instead with images of himself pitching forward, tumbling down the debris-laden slope until he landed at the bottom in a grotesque display.
A hand reached out and grabbed his arm, steadying him before that nightmare could begin. He drew in a deep breath of water and oxygen and exhaled slowly to calm his nerves. Then he nodded appreciatively to his companion, “Good catch, Specter Captain.”
“Of course, Grand Admiral,” the Specter replied. He moved on down the slope as if nothing had happened, and Derek was struck not for the first time with the notion that this ma
n was different than most of the Spectorium. They were the best of the best that the System had to offer, but only when it came to physical ability. Their people skills were often lacking. In that same situation, Specter General Marcus would have wasted no time in turning it to his advantage somehow. He would, perhaps, have even allowed Derek to fall.
But this man had saved Derek’s life and asked for nothing in return. When Derek ordered his four companions to split up and look for the fugitives, the Specter Captain had insisted he remain by Derek’s side. At first Derek had taken it for posturing, but now he was not so certain.
They reached the bottom of the slope and Derek breathed a little easier on level ground. Yet still, this part of the forest looked no different than any other. Same bare trees, same soaked earth, still no sign of Grace Sawyer. For all he knew, they had been here multiple times before.
“What’s your name, Specter?” Derek asked, wishing for anything to distract from the frustrations of the search.
The Specter Captain stopped and turned, trepidation clear on his face. Derek couldn’t blame him. In the Great Army it had always been best to be ignored by superiors. If they started to ask personal, probing questions it normally meant they wanted something...something that might not turn out well in the end.
This is my army now, Derek thought. And I will make it greater than it has ever been.
“My name is Gentry, Grand Admiral,” the Specter Captain said after his brief hesitation.
“I can see that on your uniform,” Derek smiled. “What is your first name?”
Another hesitation. “Benjamin, sir. After my grandfather.”
“I imagine you had a legacy to live up to, then,” Derek said, motioning that they could continue walking.
Gentry fell into step beside him, “You could say that, sir.”
“And did you?”
“No, but not by choice,” Gentry replied, a note of bitterness thinly concealed in his tone. “My grandfather was a farmer, as was my father in his early years. Then the Persians came, and everyone became soldiers. My grandfather died in the fighting, and the rest of them became slaves until...” Gentry caught himself and suddenly stopped. “I apologize, sir. That was probably more than you cared to know.”
