by J. L. Lyon
“It’s not like that,” Davian balked. “I would never allow my feelings for a woman to get in the way of my responsibilities as Lieutenant Commander.”
Crenshaw watched him closely, and then nodded, “I know. But sometimes our minds become clouded, our judgment impaired. You should have come to me with this immediately after the battle. It changes the entire equation.”
“How so?”
“Because if Grace escaped the camp with Aurora’s help, she could be in nearly as much danger as if Derek Blaine had caught her instead.”
“She was hardly in any condition threaten Grace.”
“The evidence says otherwise,” Crenshaw said. “Helpless though she may have been when you found her, it is clear from her participation in the battle that her distress was short-lived. None of those who reported seeing them mentioned Grace being coerced, but what Aurora’s motivation might be for helping her—saving her, perhaps—remains to be seen. We must accept the possibility that she will sell Grace to the Conglomerate, or even to the World System, to buy her way back into Alexander’s favor.”
“I don’t know about that,” Davian replied. “You didn’t see her, Crenshaw. If anyone ever left me alone to die like that, no price would be enough to join them again.”
“You might underestimate the kind of loyalty instilled by men like Alexander and Sullivan. I hope you’re right, Davian, I really do. But if they return, we must be wary. Grace will grow to trust Aurora if they must rely on one another to survive out there. And that trust could be dangerous, for her and for the rest of us.”
“But you do believe that they will. Return, I mean.”
Crenshaw hesitated, as though afraid to commit. “Yes. The only question is if they will find us alive when they do. If the Spectorium continues to harry us as they have been, they will push us against the wall long before we reach the city. I know a way through the fence, but only if we can make it to Corridor Prime. As soon as the men are rested, we must push north with all speed.”
Davian breathed out a long sigh of relief, thankful not to be alone in his hope. “Then we will deal with Aurora when that time comes. For now we must see to ourselves.”
“That includes you, too, Davian,” Crenshaw said. “You can’t work yourself to exhaustion and expect the men not to do the same. You must set the example. We will leave before first light. I suggest you take advantage of every minute until then.”
Painfully aware of the tiredness in every muscle throughout his body, Davian could not argue. He had already made his rounds of the camp and seen to its security. The best thing he could do now was recharge for the journey ahead. It was his best chance to stay alive—to keep his people alive.
“And Davian,” Crenshaw said as he turned to leave. “Don’t give up on Grace just yet. She may be closer than you realize.”
Davian paused, no doubt in his mind to what Crenshaw referred. “I’ve never made my feelings for Grace a secret,” he said. “She has been through a lot, and I have been patient. But she still can’t let go of him. I don’t believe she ever will.”
“She’s just confused, Davian. Give her time.”
“But that’s just it…looking back, I see that she wasn’t interested in my pursuits even before we went to Alexandria.” Davian fought a grimace, voicing the fears he had harbored for so long. It hurt more to say it out loud, to face reality. “And I don’t think any amount of time will change that.” He could have walked away in that moment, but there was something else he needed to know, and now was the first time it seemed appropriate to ask, “Is it true what they say, Crenshaw? That she still believes he is alive?”
The general let out an exasperated sigh, “I wouldn’t put it that way. She’s just not certain he is dead.”
“And you?” Davian asked. “You were right beside her. You saw what she saw.”
For a moment Crenshaw didn’t speak, and again Davian wished he could backtrack. The Shadow Soldier had been more to Crenshaw than just another potential recruit, or the crux of some great plan. He had been the general’s nephew…the last piece of his sister on the earth. Talking of his death as a side issue was perhaps not the best of tact.
“I saw him fall, yes,” Crenshaw said quietly, eyes vacant as he thought of the event. “I saw Grand Admiral Blaine stab him through the shoulder, then watched as the MWR shot him twice in the back. It certainly appeared that he died there, in that Square. But in my business you learn that things are not always as they appear.”
“Surely you’re not saying—”
“No,” Crenshaw said. “It was pretty evident he was gone. I only meant that without a body—without feeling the signs of death in him firsthand—I can understand where she is coming from. The heart believes what it wants, no matter how unlikely.”
Davian avoided Crenshaw’s gaze, “Then he will always be a shadow over her heart. I don’t want a love like that, Crenshaw. Would you?”
The general paused, obviously torn between his loyalty to Grace and his desire to be truthful. In the end, honesty won out. “No. I suppose not.”
Several moments passed between them in silence. Davian wanted to say more, to explain himself in greater depth, but as the seconds stretched he realized there was no need. There was nothing more to say about it.
“You should get some rest, too, General,” Davian said. “We will need you at the top of your game when we reach Corridor Prime. You’re not quite as young as you used to be.”
Crenshaw smiled, a signal that the awkwardness could pass, “I’ll keep that in mind.”
23
THE SUN STOOD HIGH in the sky by the time Grantoro led them back out among the trees. There was a subtle beauty to them now, bare fingers that stretched in supplication to the sky and received only cold sunlight in return. Wind bit at the bare skin of Grace's face, a shock at first, though still preferable to the stale air within Grantoro’s network of tunnels. She surveyed the area and saw nothing familiar. He had not led them back out through the cave where they had come in.
“Your pursuers have moved on to the west, the way you came in.” Grantoro said, his breath just visible on the wind. “Something called them away, but you must still be wary. I have brought you to our northern border. I suggest you head north for several miles and turn northwest to approach your people.”
“We won’t be able to move very fast,” Grace said, tapping the cast on her leg. She still needed to wear it for another six hours, if not more, or she could risk doing greater damage. Then there were the wounds on Liz’s back, healing nicely but a liability nonetheless. If the Spectorium decided to come round and make another search, they would certainly be found.
“This is your one window of opportunity,” Grantoro replied. “And I mean to give you an advantage.” He whistled, short but sharp, like a knife cutting through the silence of the forest. Then a different noise sounded from their right, like footsteps but not quite. Her heart thumped hard in her chest, the fear of being taken by the Spectorium still fresh on her mind. But it was not the Spectorium that emerged from the dense set of trees—it wasn’t a man at all—but a large, white horse.
Grantoro took hold of the reins and patted the animal on the nose, “His name is Barley. He’s a thoroughbred stallion, strong enough to carry two riders of your weight a great distance. He’s not the fastest of my horses, but he’s a good deal faster than those soldiers, I’ll wager. Promise to take good care of him, and he’s yours.”
Grace shot Liz a questioning look to gage her reaction to this gift, but she merely shrugged. No help there. The thought of not having to walk all that way was tempting, but there had to be some catch. Her gaze shifted to the massive stallion and then back to their bearded host, “Why are you doing this? If the soldiers were closing in on us, why not just let things take their course?”
A smile appeared beneath his beard, “I said in the cave that we want no part in your wars, and that is true…for now. But the winds are changing. In the last year we have enjoyed mor
e freedom to roam these lands than in the previous two decades, and we know that is in large part due to your army. When we are ready to join the fight, we would rather you still be in it.”
“And who is ‘we’? What is the Homestead?”
“Best if you don’t ask such questions,” Grantoro replied. “The fact that you know so little is the only reason you are being allowed to leave. And even then, it was a fight. Come. I will lead you the rest of the way out of the forest.”
He tugged on the horse's reins and trudged off to the north, giving them little choice but to follow.
“What about our supplies?” Liz asked. “You took or destroyed everything we had at the cave.”
“You won’t be needing any of that,” Grantoro called over his shoulder. “We have provided all you will need for the journey, including better sidearms and packs of ammunition.”
Grace looked at her again and shrugged, then jogged to catch up with the man and horse. Liz came up beside her a moment later, “Who are these people?”
“I don’t know,” Grace whispered. “But I really do think he means to help us. They seem to hate the World System as much as we—er, I—do.”
“I’m no fan of the System, either,” she said. “Or Sullivan, for that matter. He may be the lesser of the two evils, but he will soon match pace. The amount of destruction he is willing to unleash…I couldn’t stomach it, and for that he tried to have me killed.”
“He unleashed Hell and fury upon Rio,” Grantoro said, startling them both. Grace had thought they were out of earshot, but she had underestimated the skill of the Wilderness hunter. When a man’s ears were so attuned to the sounds of the wild, a human voice must not be difficult to discern.
“So it's true, then: the city has fallen?” Liz asked.
“The Conglomerate sacked the city several days ago now, but only after they blew an entire sector of it away with their new Solithium weapons. Estimates are that almost a hundred thousand people perished in that initial strike, and many thousands more in the battle that followed.”
“And Lima?” Liz nearly tripped as she struggled to come up alongside their host, her anxiety plain.
“The Great Army at Lima surrendered without a fight,” Grantoro replied. “Officers that resisted were put to the sword by their own men. The rest went over to Sullivan.”
Grace shook her head in disbelief, “How do you know all this?” She had heard rumors of the Imperial Conglomerate’s advance, but nothing so detailed as this.
“We’re not as isolated here as you might think,” Grantoro said. “A conversation for another day, perhaps. We are nearing the edge of the forest. If you follow my earlier instructions, your path should take you beyond the borders of old Tennessee, up through Kentucky and then to the Corridor. Most of the bridges on the rivers in this region are still intact, though I recommend caution. They have not been repaired in over two decades.”
“What makes you think we are headed for the Corridor?” Grace asked.
“Silent Thunder rarely ventures as far west as they are now,” Grantoro said. “You lead a party of almost two hundred of the world’s best warriors on a trajectory straight for Corridor Prime. Do you mean to enter the city?”
I will do more than enter it, if I have my way. The words hung on the tip of her tongue, but she said nothing, hoping to let the question die on the wind. So far Grantoro had proven himself a friend, but that did not mean he could be trusted with the details of her strategy.
Liz watched her out of the corner of her eye, obviously trying to hide her concern. She could not have guessed until now where Silent Thunder was headed. Would that change whether she wanted to continue on with her? Or was this exactly what she had been waiting for: a chance to predict the rebellion’s next movements and report back to her superiors?
“If that is your intention,” Grantoro said after the awkward silence. “You should know that you will find no underground passages as you did in Alexandria. There are only two ways into the city: to somehow circumvent the Solithium barrier, which you do not have the technology to do, or in the hands of Great Army soldiers. Either way is a fool’s errand.”
“Thank you for the advice,” Grace replied in a measured tone. “Should we attempt it, I will keep that in mind.” Crenshaw had assured her that he could get a small team inside the city, but had neglected to say how. Hopefully his was a third way, unknown even to this surprisingly well-informed wanderer.
Within a few moments Grantoro brought them to a stop. They had reached the edge of the forest. He turned and handed Barley’s reins to her, then patted the animal gently on the head. “Treat him well, Commander. He has always been a good stout horse.”
“I will, sir,” she said with a slight nod of her head. “Thank you, for everything. Perhaps one day I will return the favor.”
“Oh, I doubt we’ll be seeing one another again,” he grinned. “But then again, it is a crazy world we live in. You never know.” His grin faded and he leaned in close, overwhelming her in the sudden smells of the wind and trees. “Keep a careful eye on that one, though.” He jerked his head toward Liz, who stood waiting a few paces away. “No one can yet guess what her part in this tale will be. So young to have changed her cloak so many times.”
Grace’s eyes widened. She should have guessed that if they had recognized her, they would recognize Liz as well. “Like you said, it’s a crazy world right now.” The argument was weak, but Grace could think of nothing better to say. She wanted to defend Liz, to stand up for the woman who had saved her back in the camp. Neither of them would be alive now if not for the actions of the other, but there was still that nagging possibility that the woman Grace had seen in the last few days was a facade, and her true nature had yet to reveal itself. Still, she couldn’t help but feel guilty at her own suspicions.
Grantoro nodded, “Just make sure that when her cloak changes again, it isn’t to a color you don’t like.” At that moment Liz came up beside them and he pulled back. Grace held the reins as he helped Liz get up on the horse. She tried to hide her pain, but Grace saw her wince as she exerted herself. It would be days yet before her wounds were fully healed.
He helped Grace up next, a bit more challenging with her cast, but she swung up with her good leg and used Grantoro for leverage. It was less graceful than she would have liked, but the important thing was that she made it. She sat in front on the massive animal, and the horse barely seemed to notice the weight of two women on his back.
Liz held on to her lightly, and she raised the reins. Grantoro stepped back, already beginning to vanish into the shadows of the trees, “Remember. North, at least until you camp at sunset, then northwest to your people. And there is something else you should know, the both of you. It will not be easy for you to hear.”
Grace heard the foreboding in his voice, a mood only amplified among the skeletal forest, “Tell me.”
“The force you sent north has been destroyed,” Grantoro said. “Overtaken, by Persians. The Great Army is no longer the only threat that wanders the Wilderness…nor the worst.”
Grace’s stomach clenched with both grief and fear. Grief, for Commander Aiken and his men, yet another loss in the long string of tragedies since her failure at Alexandria. But in that moment the fear took center stage, like the terror of a child who learns that her nightmares are real after all.
She had grown up on stories of the Persians, tales of dark armies and evil men who had devoured the peaceful world in their greed. They were like phantoms to her…the monsters under her bed.
But now they were here, on this continent.
“How far…?” Grace’s voice trailed off as she focused again on the trees. Grantoro was gone.
After a moment of eerie silence, Liz whispered in her ear, as breathless as Grace felt, “Why would there be Persians here? I thought Alexander wiped them out more than a decade ago.”
Liz wanted to believe it, and Grace honestly did, too. But she could not blind herself to reality,
no matter how dark or terrifying. “We did send a team north. If he was right about that, he is probably right about this as well. Come on,” she tugged on the reins and urged Barley north. “We have a long road ahead.”
24
DEREK BLAINE STEPPED OFF the Halo, struck by just how much this part of the Wilderness looked like the part he had left behind. The details might be different, but in general it was all the same: trees here, rock there, tall grass that could hide any amount of dangerous wildlife, and then—of course—the quiet. Like the calm before a storm that never came.
The sight of the Corridor looming on the Western horizon was the most promising thing he had seen in days. Civilization. Order. This was the longest he had spent away from the cities in his entire life, and he would not be sorry to see it end...so long as it ended the way he planned.
His three companions emerged from the Halo behind him, each walking a little taller than they had the day before. After his conversation with Specter Captain Gentry, Derek had decided to expand the experiment to the others as well. He was astonished with his success, so much that it made him regret not being able to learn more from Admiral McCall. Traitor though he was, he knew people. Derek had only shown a passing interest in the lives of these men as they waited for the Halo to pick them up, but it had been enough. They were loyal to him in a way they hadn’t been before, and would follow him out of pride instead of fear.
But for Gentry it went even beyond that. Since their time in the forest he could sense a respect from the Specter Captain unlike any he'd ever had from a subordinate before. It wasn’t difficult to explain. No commanding officer ever showed interest in his subordinates. They were tools to be used without consideration. Derek had shown that he was different than that. That he could be trusted. That he wasn’t just entitled to obedience, but deserved to be followed.
Gentry came up beside him, almost protective as Specter General Marcus came forward with an entourage to meet them. Good, Derek thought. He knows Marcus is not to be trusted.
