by J. L. Lyon
“No, please go on,” Derek said. “Help take my mind off the fact that I lost Grace Sawyer again.”
Gentry shrugged uncomfortably, but continued, “When the Persian Empire fell, the regional governor took absolute control of St. Louis. I was just a kid at the time, but I remember the despair. My parents’ depression. The feeling of inevitable doom. And then we were delivered by the Spectral Army.”
“Silent Thunder,” Derek said.
“Yes,” Gentry said. “They gave us back our freedom and rid the region of Persian rule. But even then it was known that the city would play a vital role in the post-war world. My father wanted to return to farming...wanted to continue old family traditions and leave death and tragedy in the past. But that was not our fate.
“When Alexander returned it was to fortify the city and absorb it into the World System. So I became a citizen of Corridor Prime, and despite my father’s attempts to train me as a farmer, I tested into the Great Army. He was proud for the chances it gave me, but with that his dreams of the family legacy were finally gone. The Persians wounded his dreams, but I was the one to finally put them out of their misery.”
“It’s difficult to live up to the expectations of our parents,” Derek said absently. “I know that better than most.”
“I imagine so,” Gentry said. “Especially since your departure from your father’s legacy was so much more public than mine.” He paused for a moment, “Can I ask you a personal question, sir?”
Derek shrugged, “Ask away.”
“Children of the nobility are exempt from Systemics and the OPE so that the aristocracy can continue down family lines. Yet you opted in despite your exemption and the certainty you would inherit the most powerful noble estate in Alexandria. Why?”
For a moment Derek no longer saw the rain or felt the bitter cold. He was back in that room years ago, his mother’s crumpled body on the floor and his father standing by, helpless in the face of Grand Admiral Spradlen’s execution squad. All the money and power in the world had not been enough for his father to save his mother. He had vowed then to never be so helpless. He would protect what was his, and woe to any who dared try to take it.
“I just wanted to prove myself,” Derek replied, giving the same answer he had given many times over the years. It was the easy answer, a partial truth but a truth nonetheless. “I wanted to be more than what my father was, and to do that I had to step outside his shadow.”
“Quite a large shadow,” Gentry said. “Were you ever able to actually get away?”
“No,” Derek said with a grim smile. “After graduating from officer training I knew that I would have to leave Alexandria if I could ever be given a chance on my own, so I requested a transfer to the front when war broke out in Rome. Transfers were unheard of, but people will pull strings for a Blaine. Over there, I very nearly broke free. But then I was recalled to Alexandria for the Specter reformation. My father’s shadow was still there, waiting for me.”
“But now you are grand admiral,” Gentry said. “Surely that achieves what you set out to do. You command the entire force of the Great Army, Specter, the Spectorium. And one day you will inherit your family estate. You will be the most powerful man in the world. More powerful, maybe, than the MWR.”
Derek stopped walking, and Gentry turned back to him, face white and eyes wide in distress, “I’m sorry, sir. That was over the line.”
It was, and if Gentry had made a comment like that even five minutes ago Derek might have disciplined him harshly. But he had welcomed the conversation and nearly forced the Specter Captain to drop his decorum. Plus, he appreciated the honesty. That very thought had crossed his mind multiple times in the past year, and if Gentry had seen it then it was doubtless Napoleon Alexander did as well. The MWR was a dangerous rival. He would need to be careful.
But that was not why he had stopped. The branches of two large trees covered their heads and blocked the rain, keeping the small patch of ground relatively dry. On the nearest trunk, just below eye level, was a dark red smear. He twisted his head around to survey their surroundings, heart beating very fast.
“Sir, I—” Derek held up a hand to silence Gentry, and then pointed to the tree. The Specter Captain’s expression hardened and he placed a hand on his Gladius, the transgression forgotten. After a moment he whispered, “Cave. About twenty feet on your right.”
Derek’s eyes narrowed in that direction and after a moment he saw it: a dark hole in a nearby outcropping of stone, nearly concealed by bare branches and brush. If not for the red stain he might have wandered right by it none the wiser.
“Recall the others to our position,” Derek ordered, unclipping Exusia. “Proceed with caution.” He stepped forward, the thrill of the chase warming his frozen bones. Disappointment and fatigue dissolved, washed away by the icy rain, and the emerald casing of his Gladius felt alive in his hand. The time had come. He would have her at last.
They knew from their initial search that at least one of them had been wounded. Both, in all likelihood. Dressings within the tent had indicated a broken leg or arm, but the blood they had found on the back of that rock betrayed something much more serious. They would not have been able to run far, which is why Derek kept his search close to this edge of the forest.
Gentry finished relaying his order and then trotted up soundlessly beside him, Gladius ready.
“Remember, Specter Captain,” Derek whispered as they paused behind a tree just a few feet from the mouth of the cave. “Disarm and capture the spare if you can, but leave Grace Sawyer to me.”
“Understood, sir.”
“Cover my advance, then come up behind.” Derek moved forward, ignoring the rain that still pelted his skin, hand tightening around Exusia as he neared the mouth of the cave. He swept the area for any sign of booby traps, but saw nothing. The first inkling of doubt hit him then, as Sawyer would surely have been smarter than that.
Exusia came to life as he crossed the threshold, blood pumping in anticipation of battle. But he had barely taken three steps inside when his adrenaline fled, washed away in disappointment.
Empty.
His Spectral Gladius hung limp at his side as he inspected the cave. He had been so sure they had found her, and now he felt like a fool. Hope had driven him to error. But the blood on that tree...a human had to have made it. And they couldn’t have gone far.
Gentry entered the cave a few seconds behind, expression grim.
“You probably think I’m crazy to keep us out here this long.”
“She is a very valuable target,” Gentry replied.
“But?”
“Sorry, sir,” Gentry averted his gaze. “It is not my place to say.”
“It is if I request it of you.” Derek said, a bit more forcefully than he had intended. Now that they were out of the rain and no longer moving through the forest, he had no distraction from the cold. It was difficult to keep control of his body and his emotions at the same time. Hypothermia? No, not yet. “Out with it, Specter Captain. Speak your mind.”
Gentry shivered, obviously in the same physical and mental state as Derek. The man probably didn’t trust himself to speak, but could hardly disobey a direct order. “We had little to track even in the beginning, sir. And whatever there might have been will now have been washed away by the rain.”
“You saw that blood on the tree.”
“Anything could have left that, sir,” Gentry said. “This region is crawling with predators: a mountain lion or bear could have made that mark.”
Could have, Derek thought, gritting his teeth in frustration. But didn’t. It was almost the exact same type of mark they had found on that rock. Made by the same person. A person who quite likely had stopped there to catch a breath, only to see this cave and decide to take shelter.
He looked around again with the nagging suspicion that he was missing something.
“No one has been in this cave recently,” Gentry said. “And Silent Thunder is off to the west.
Even if Grace Sawyer is out here, if we destroy Silent Thunder the end result will be the same. What will she be without them?”
“Alive,” Derek said bitterly. “The Spectorium is still outmatched by Silent Thunder. To be able to take Grace Sawyer now, when she is separated from them in the Wilderness...we may not get such a chance again.” But, a voice echoed in his head, too similar to his father’s, a true hunter knows when to change his tactics.
He released a long sigh, “Call for a Halo to meet us at the edge of the forest. We will continue to harry Silent Thunder westward toward the wall of the Corridor. Eventually Sawyer will attempt to make her way back to them. We will take her then.” He strode from the cave back out into the rain, which oddly seemed more comfortable to him now than standing sopping wet in the dry air. He noted the way Gentry’s shoulders slumped with relief as he passed. Perhaps if the man had felt free to speak up earlier, they could all have avoided hours in the cold.
I can’t see clearly when it comes to her. I know it, and yet I do not care. Perhaps it would be wise to have someone close by who did not share his vendetta.
Two of the Specters he had sent off to search other parts of the forest emerged from the trees as he came out, weapons blazing at their sides. He simply shook his head at them, and they deactivated their blades. Gentry came up behind him, and Derek spoke, “We’re still one short. Once he arrives we will make for the edge of the forest, where a Halo will carry us back to the main force. Thank you all for your efforts here.”
They all settled back beneath whatever shelter they could find while they waited. Ten minutes passed, and then twenty, with no sign of their fifth member. The rain had slowed to a slow sprinkle, and would finally end soon. Derek walked over to where Gentry paced in the shadow of a large oak, trying to stay warm with movement. He stopped at Derek’s approach.
“Something is wrong,” Derek said. “He should have returned by now.”
“I agree, sir,” Gentry said. “Should we search for him?”
Derek hesitated. Anything could have happened out there. This forest was supposedly crawling with predators, though he had not seen many. It was possible the Specter had been caught off-guard. But then, it was also possible he had found something, and had been stopped from calling for backup.
“You and I will go,” Derek replied. “I’ll send the others to await the Halo’s arrival.”
-X-
They followed the path the Specter was instructed to travel, a grid of forest that looked no different than the one he and Gentry had searched for hours. It did not take them long to find him. Something fled as they approached, too small to be a fully grown lion...an adolescent, perhaps?
The Specter lay flat on his back at the base of the tree, eyes staring unfocused at a sky as white as his face. Scavenging animals had already gotten to parts of him, which Derek did his best to ignore. But that was not what had killed him. A thin line of red decorated his neck from ear to ear, skin still inflamed but most of the blood washed away.
Gentry knelt beside him, “Garroted. One hour ago, maybe two.”
“He saw something, but did not realize the danger until it was too late,” Derek noted the man’s Gladius discarded nearby. He had taken the time to remove it from his belt, but did not activate it.
“Sawyer, do you think?” Gentry asked.
“No,” Derek shook his head. “She’s a soldier, not an assassin. This is not her style.” But even as he said it, he wondered...perhaps he no longer dealt with Grace Sawyer. Shadow Heart had a separate reputation. Cold. Ruthless. Bent on the World System’s destruction. Still, he had a difficult time believing her capable of this.
And then there was that prickling along his spine...the sense of being watched. He looked around self-consciously, but saw nothing. The eeriness of the forest suddenly became much more potent, as did his desire to be out from under the claws of the trees
“Come on, Specter Captain,” he said after a time. “We’re done here.” He turned from the violent sight and tried to brush off his feeling of alarm. Before long he would be out of this nightmarish place, and back in the warmth of his command tent.
This round goes to you, Shadow Heart. Next time.
-X-
He watched the two men go from his hiding place above and let out a quiet sigh of relief. Not that he couldn’t have handled them, but that was not his mission. Somehow he doubted his master would approve of his leaving several Specters dead in his wake. It might attract too much attention.
The one had been a mistake. Somehow the Specter had caught on to his trail, believing he had in fact found the two women. Rowan had to respect him for that. It was almost a shame to kill him. Almost.
Once the men were out of sight he climbed down from his tree and hit the ground with a wet thud. The rain had stopped, now, but water would continue to fall from the branches of the trees for hours. He returned to the body of the man he had killed—it was no surprise that the Specters had not even thought to pay respect to their compatriot's body with a burial or a return home. Those were sentiments from earlier days, stamped out with cold notions of practicality in System soldiers. He did, however, expect them to seek out and take the Gladius, which is why he had left it.
He bent to retrieve it, the silvery metal glistening beneath droplets of water. Interesting. Most Spectral weapons he’d seen had hilts decorated in some precious stone: ruby, sapphire, some color of tourmaline, or the like. This one was plain, unassuming: a tool of the one who wielded it, nothing more. He found it surprisingly light in his hand, and as he examined it he saw the black engraving on the side: Legend.
So, the Specter had not just been a good tracker, he’d been blessed with a sense of humor as well. Rowan smiled. It would be a shame to let such a weapon rot on the forest floor. It was said men untrained with the Gladius were as likely to kill themselves as their opponents, but he would find some use for it. He hid it within his robe, and then turned his attention to the ground alongside the Specter’s body.
He had heard the call from the Specter’s superiors, not long after he had killed him. It sounded as though they had found something. What, Rowan did not know, but he had to find out if they had gotten to his prey before he could. Their tracks weren’t difficult to find. World System soldiers were trained as apex predators. By their very nature, they never accounted for the possibility that someone might hunt them.
The cave was not far. The tracks of the two men he had seen mixed with those of two others who wore the same style of boot—more Specters, without a doubt. He saw no signs of anyone else. No sign of his quarry in the cave, either. He followed the tracks further to a small clearing, where a dark red stain decorated the trunk of one of the trees.
Human, perhaps? Or animal?
Rowan pulled a square device from his belt and withdrew a short chisel from the side. With the edge of the blade he scraped away a sample of the blood, then slid the chisel with the sample back into the device. He shook his head. Even those Specters would not have this technology, as it was kept closely guarded in the System’s archives. Sometimes he marveled at the foolishness of politicians who wanted to hoard everything to themselves...especially knowledge. Well, Rowan’s master had his contacts, and so much the better for him.
The device beeped a few times as it examined the sample, followed by a single longer beep as it finished. The results appeared on the screen, and he smiled.
Elizabeth Aurora.
He had been hoping only to confirm that it was human, but this was far better. Now the mission was personal.
He tucked the device away and bent low to the ground, hoping he might see something the Specters missed. Unfortunately their tracks had tainted the area, so he wasn’t hopeful. But then he saw it, at the very edge of the clearing, so slight it was almost unnoticeable: a woman’s footprint, ball only, nearly washed away by the rain.
Rowan bent to inspect it, attempting to discern the direction she had been walking. He found the toe of the mark and
looked up, frustrated. The cave. He had just come from there, and seen nothing. But then it hit him. Nothing was itself a clue. No animal tracks, no sign of any Undocumented humans who might have taken shelter in a perfectly good cave...in a place like that, signs should remain for weeks...months even.
It had been cleaned, and recently.
He returned to the shelter and looked more closely, again forced to ignore the prints of clumsy Specters. If I were her, where would I build the fire?
Rowan knelt in the selected place and touched his fingers to the ground several times, searching. For a time there was nothing, but then: heat. He grinned. They had been here, and not long ago. They had simply covered their tracks extraordinarily well. But where had they gone? Back into the forest?
He stepped back to the mouth of the cave and surveyed the area, thinking. They could not have left very far in advance of Specter’s arrival, and the chances they would not have been seen...
He strode back inside and ran his hands over the walls, unsure what he was looking for but determined to be thorough. When he reached the back he heard a click, distinctive and familiar—and it was not the sound of rock and dirt. He grinned again, fighting the urge to turn. Rowan had a feeling there was something strange about this forest. So quiet, so eerie. It should have been crawling with mountain lions, the same as every other region in this part of the Wilderness. Here was the answer as to why.
Rowan could not take action now. There were eyes on him. Best if, for the moment, they believed he had discovered nothing. That he knew nothing. He sighed in feigned exasperation, then turned and slunk out of the cave.
But the hunt was not over. Snakes that slither underground must always come out again.
