by J. L. Lyon
The building itself was lined with windows—all shattered. As she slid down from the horse she noticed overturned tables and chairs within, and dark shadows further in that looked like some sort of counter. On the side of the building, etched in old brick, was a solitary symbol: an M, rounded at the top instead of at angles.
“What is this place?” she asked.
Grace hit the ground right behind her and started to lead Barley toward the building, “People used to come here to eat food. Not the kind that we eat now, from what I understand.”
Liz squinted suspiciously at the place as a Grace pulled Barley over the broken doors and into the shadowy darkness. Liz expected the horse to resist, but he went obediently. She was less willing. There was something about Old World ruins that unsettled her greatly…but Grace had lived out here her entire life. If there was anyone she could trust to lead her through it, it was her…maybe.
After a brief hesitation she followed, plants and debris crunching under her feet. She spoke in a low whisper, almost afraid of the sound of her own voice, “What sort of food?” Nothing horrifying, I hope.
“Imagine the saltiest, greasiest food you’ve ever tasted,” Grace turned to her with a grin and began tying Barley to a nearby column. “Then multiply that three or four times. That was how my dad described it.”
Liz crinkled her nose, imagining that much salt. It made her thirsty just thinking about it.
Grace finished with Barley’s reins and patted him affectionately on the neck, “The temperature is already dropping. It will be a cold night. You want to build the fire, or feed him?”
Liz grimaced. Neither option seemed appealing, but she wasn’t very good at fires. There were always others around to take care of that. And how hard could it be to feed a horse?
“I’ll feed him,” she answered. “What does he eat?”
“Feed him those apples,” Grace pointed to the lumpy bag near the animal’s swishing tail. “As many as he will eat, to keep up his strength.” She rummaged through several of the other bags attached to the saddle while Liz stepped forward to unhook the sack of apples.
After a moment Grace came away with a small packet of matches, and Liz cursed her luck. She could have built a fire with that. Now she was stuck with this monster of an animal and a sackload of apples. She huffed a little as she detached the bag and nearly dropped it to the floor. She thought she saw Grace grin slightly, but couldn’t be sure, as she passed by her and walked behind the waist high counter to “build” the fire.
Liz heaved the apples around the column and set them down in front of Barley. He knickered in excited anticipation, and she knelt to open the mouth of the bag. Red apples brought a sudden splash of color to the drab ruin, and—both enticed and reminded of her own hunger—Liz reached for one. She bit into it and sighed in relief as the sweetness hit her tongue. She started to take another bite, and froze.
Barley was watching her, his gaze strangely accusing. She motioned to the apples on the ground, “Those are yours. Eat.”
The horse lowered its head briefly, but quickly raised it to stare at her again.
“What?” she asked incredulously. “You want this apple?”
She held it out slightly and Barley knickered again.
“He likes you,” Grace said from behind the counter. Evidently she had been watching. “He wants you to feed him.”
“I gave him the bag!”
Grace laughed, “No, he wants you to feed him personally. Try it.”
Her eyes narrowed as she stared at the horse, sizing him up. She had survived life as a woman in the Great Army, had escaped the clutches of one of the most powerful men on earth, and had fought off a pride of hungry lions. She hadn’t gone through all that just to have her hand bitten off by a horse.
Still, he seemed harmless enough. She stepped forward and offered the apple. Barley leaned in, sniffed the fruit, and then—before she could even recoil—he gobbled it up straight from her hand. Her heart pounded with the thrill of the moment, and she couldn’t suppress a giggle. Immediately she felt foolish, like a young girl with a new toy.
But it was more than that, she knew. There was a certain innocence in the moment, a break from all the realities of what her life had become, that let her glimpse that piece of herself that she always kept under the surface.
She had not been able to be a child even when she was one. Nothing could change that. But to experience just a little bit of the wonder that girl might have had, had things been different, made all the difference in the world to her. All her life had been about becoming a soldier. A warrior. A killer. Now she could almost believe that she might become something else.
Liz bent to retrieve another apple, and held it out to her new companion.
-X-
They ate well for the first time since the battle at the camp. Grantoro had not exaggerated when he said they would be provided everything they needed for the journey. In truth it was better than Grace had eaten in months, as some of the packs contained beef and pork—meat that was nearly impossible to find in the Wilderness. Grace had survived on deer and rabbit the majority of her life.
On top of that they ate some of Barley’s apples, roasted a few potatoes, and even shared a small pack of strawberries. By the time she leaned back away from the fire, Grace was so stuffed she could barely move. She closed her eyes, tempted to just drift away into a long, satisfied sleep.
“So what do you plan to do with me?” Liz’s voice cut through the quiet. “When we get back to your people, I mean.”
Grace hesitated and kept her eyes shut to avoid eye contact. In the beginning the thought had not crossed her mind, as she was more concerned whether they would make it back at all. But since they had left the cave, it had consumed her thoughts almost endlessly.
Liz had saved her life on multiple occasions, had stuck by her when she might have profited more by going it alone, and had proven herself resourceful, determined, and strong. She was a warrior to her core, cold and calculating, always seeking the next opportunity for personal benefit. But every now and then that coldness fell away, and Grace got a glimpse of that same brokenness she had recognized in 301—the sight of a shattered soul.
She knew what the Capital Orphanage had done to him. Had they done something similar to Liz? If she had believed 301 could come back, didn’t she have to give this woman that same chance?
There was still the possibility that this was all part of some game…that Liz needed to get in her good graces, and she merely seized the opportunity when it arose. She had already admitted that Sullivan wanted to use the rebellion for his own ends. How could she invite his former Chief of Command into the ranks of her people and risk that kind of betrayal? But I can’t just imprison her, either. Not after all we’ve been through together.
Plus there was just that something…a feeling deep in her gut that told her she could trust Liz. That to become allies in truth instead of by mere necessity could make both of them stronger for it. Naive, Crenshaw’s voice echoed in her ear. You are too quick to trust, your loyalty too easily won.
Finally she did open her eyes, “What do you think I should do?”
Liz stared at her over the fire, “I would prefer to avoid captivity. I’ve never done well in a cage.”
I could leave her behind, perhaps, Grace thought. But then a vision of the claw marks decorating Liz’s back flashed before her. If she left her out here alone, and Sullivan really had abandoned her, it would be the same as a death sentence.
“Forget about what I plan to do with you, for a moment,” Grace began. “What do you plan to do for yourself? What is it you want?”
Liz’s features shifted to the same picture of consternation she had worn in the tunnels, “You know what I want.”
“And you know that there is a chance you will never get it,” Grace replied. “Sometimes when one dream fails, we must find another.”
“I’m not ready to give up on my dream just yet,” she said. “And yo
u never did answer my question, back in that hole. If our positions were reversed, and it was Eli you were trying to reach, what would you be willing to do?”
Grace hesitated and swallowed hard. She remembered the question vividly, for it had left Liz’s lips and become lodged firmly in her mind. Not just what she would be willing to do, but what she would give up. Who she would betray. It struck straight to the core of her character, and challenged everything she wanted to believe about herself. Because despite knowing the noble answer, that was not the one that screamed from her heart.
I would give up everyone. Everything.
Liz watched her through the silence, her eyes accusing. How could Grace ask her to give up on her own dream, when there was still even the slightest hope? My dream is dead, she thought. Hers is not. That is the only difference.
After a few more moments in silence, the intensity of Liz’s stare softened. She must have seen the pain her question had caused. “There are some things about him that you should probably know.”
“I don’t want to talk about him any more,” Grace snapped, her tone so filled with ice that she surprised even herself. She didn’t know exactly what had gone on between Eli and Liz in the years before she had found him again, though it wasn’t hard to imagine. Liz was beautiful, the kind of woman every man desired. And Eli, well…he had that sullen, quiet allure that drew women to him like a moth to a flame. Neither of them had any reason to say no to the other.
“Despite how close we were, and all we had been through together, I could not touch that part of him that belonged to you,” Liz paused, perhaps waiting for another objection. Grace said nothing, prompting her to continue, “I can’t help but wonder if that was the truest part of him…and if so, whether I ever really knew him at all.”
Grace gritted her teeth in an effort to stave off her emotions. There were pieces of him that they each had, and sharing that grief with someone else could bring her a sense of closure. But closure was not what she wanted. She wanted him, and no amount of old memories or stories would bring him back.
So instead of softening, her heart became even harder. She didn’t want to know the side of him that Liz knew. That was the side she had been trying to pull him away from. It was nothing but a reminder that Liz had experienced things with him…intimate things, both physical and emotional, that she never would. The physical things she could overlook, but the rest was not so easy. Liz had known Eli in the way she had been supposed to. They had grown up together. They had known one another for years. When it came right down to it, despite the fact that she had known him first, she had not known him the longest.
And perhaps she did not know him the best.
“I guess you never appreciate how little you know someone,” Grace said at last. “Until they’re gone.”
Liz nodded, apparently placated. Then she yawned, which afforded Grace the opportunity to end the conversation before it continued.
“I’ll take first watch. You should sleep while you can.”
“Okay,” Liz replied, somewhat sheepishly. “I’m sorry if I pushed a little too hard. I suppose I just don’t know when to quit.”
“You only pushed because I pushed first,” Grace said. “There’s nothing to apologize for.”
Liz shrugged, “Don’t let me sleep for too long. And don’t get into too much trouble without me.”
“I’ll do my best.”
Grace rose and limped back to the front of the old building, passing the post where Barley stood securely tied. He breathed out long and deep, and his eyes were closed. Rest well, buddy. You have your work cut out for you tomorrow. Grace estimated that on their current path it would take them seven or eight days to reach Corridor Prime, and that might be optimistic. Traveling by horse would go faster than on foot, but with two riders even a horse as strong as Barley would need to maintain a slow pace. She had promised Grantoro she would take good care of him, and she meant it.
She sat down on the cracked floor in front of the wide outer windows, which gave her a great vantage point to watch their surroundings. The stars shone bright in a clear winter sky, a sight she had never quite gotten used to. She noticed them all the more after her time in Alexandria. There was something stifling about the city, and it went far beyond the oppressive nature of the World System. The air out here was different, easier to breathe. The cities represented a sort of confinement, while in the Wilderness she felt freedom in her very skin. Not for the first time, she wondered why the cities were so valuable...why people like Elena Wilson, the woman who had betrayed them in Alexandria, clung so tightly to the establishment. There was so much more value in the open country...so much more life.
But there were also great dangers.
She looked down at the cast on her right leg. The time had come at last to remove it. She pulled a knife from the supplies Grantoro had provided and went to work cutting her leg free. She went slowly, mindful of both Barley and Liz sleeping close by, but also out of respect for the doctors who had made it. It had been their last act, one that cost their lives. She always wanted to remember that.
The cut complete, she peeled the dried plaster away from her leg, overwhelmed with relief as the cool air hit her oxygen-starved skin once again. She inspected her leg and noticed a new mark: a long, shallow scar where the doctor had made his cut. Over time, she doubted it would even be visible.
Eager to test her newfound freedom, she stood and paced the outer wall of the building, smiling broadly as she did so. The pain and discomfort were gone. Except for the scar, it was as though the fracture had never happened. Congratulations, Doctor. Your experiment worked.
She paced for a while longer, for the simple reason that she could, and then settled back down to watch the main thoroughfare through the abandoned town. As happened often when she found herself in moments of quiet, her mind turned to Eli. She tried to stay focused on those memories she cherished most: the kiss in the doorway, their reunion in the tunnels, their hands intertwined through the bars of her dungeon cell. But every memory was tainted...spoiled by the devastation of his death.
Her thoughts turned instead to her father, whom she missed terribly. He had always been her rock, the fortress where she felt safe. Despite all the uncertainty of her childhood, he had made certain to teach her joy. That the true treasures of life where not to be found in the comforts of earthly wealth. They were in the simple things. The sound of waves crashing into the sand. The smell of a fresh rain falling upon the ground. The sight of stars in the sky...
She sat there contemplating for hours while Liz slept, aware of time but heedless of it, content to wander through memories with greater promise than any future she could hope for. She should have died with them, perhaps. At least then she would not feel so alone. She had Crenshaw, yes, and Davian, but they were not her father. They were not Eli. They could not rid her of the sense that she just barely hung on by a thread, one that might break at any moment.
And yet...strange as it was to her, she had felt more herself in the last few days than at any time in the past year. There was something about Liz that drew out the best in her, and that was a result wholly unexpected. Liz was more than what she believed herself to be, just as Eli had been.
Midnight came on swiftly, the time for her to wake Liz and get some rest herself. But as she prepared to rise, she heard something that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up straight: a distant rumble, like thunder but distinctly not. She hunkered down, still and silent as a statue.
The distant pounding grew louder, less like thunder and more like boots on concrete, and Grace suppressed a shudder. She had feared that noise all through childhood, as it normally preceded an attack from the Great Army. She had only ever experienced it once first hand, but that had been enough. More recently, it reminded her of being chased through the streets of Alexandria just before she was captured and sold into slavery.
But the world was a different place now, and the chances of so small a force of the Great
Army venturing this deep into the Wilderness were slim. Grace didn’t know whether that made her more afraid or less. From what Grantoro had said, there were far worse enemies in the Wilderness these days. With luck, whoever it was would pass on by.
Luck, it seemed, was not on her side. The glint of metal reflected in starlight appeared from the main road, coming down onto the main thoroughfare where she and Liz were hidden. It would be too late to run now, but what to do? And who were they dealing with?
The Great Army still hid behind the walls of its cities, the Imperials were busy razing South America, and the Spectorium was off to the west, hunting the remnant of Silent Thunder. That left only one group, and the worst one at that.
In the starlight she could finally make out the shape of their weapons: curved, wide, and sinister.
Persian scimitars.
26
LIZ WOKE TO THE sensation of being shaken, disappointed once again to find that her time in the Wilderness was not, in fact, a dream. She drew in a breath to protest being awoken, only to have a hand clamp over her mouth. Panic rose in her chest and her eyes snapped wide, thoughts already filled with Grace lying dead nearby and herself soon to follow.
But as her gaze focused it was Grace’s blue-green eyes that stared back at her, imploring and fearful. She placed a single finger to her lips, and Liz nodded to indicate she understood.
Grace removed her hand and whispered low, “We have company. At least fifty Persians, maybe more. They are right outside.”
Fear that had temporarily fled came crashing back at the news. When Grantoro first mentioned them it had been a cause for concern, but only distant. The Wilderness was expansive, and the chances of crossing paths with the one enemy that Silent Thunder, the Conglomerate, and the World System all shared were slim. But she should have trusted in Murphy’s Law rather than basic probability: if something can go wrong, it will go wrong.
