Shadow Heart

by J. L. Lyon

  “What's done is done,” Grace said. “But we cannot run the risk that the Persians gained the fragment for themselves. Once this is settled with Van Dorn, we will swing east to engage and destroy the Persians, eliminating the threat and gaining justice for our fallen friends.”

  Crenshaw again looked perturbed, his eyes vacant as he intoned, “Yes, I suppose that is our only choice.”

  Grace watched him for a moment, trying to discern what was going on behind that secretive stare. He had worn that same look when she had first told him about the Persians. Not fear or anger or sadness, as she had expected. More like...curiosity.

  “General, is there something you wish to tell me?”

  Crenshaw hesitated, obviously trying to decide. But in the end, he merely smiled, “No. Nothing I am yet prepared to say.”

  Grace forced down her frustration. This was just one of the general's personality quirks, and she had decided some time ago to just get used to it. She had to trust that he would not keep his secrets if hiding them would place her in any kind of danger.”

  “So what will you do? About Van Dorn?”

  “I'm not sure yet. But in the meantime I want Prime prepared for battle. Integrate our warriors as much as you can with the Great Army. If it comes to a fight, I want to make sure we win, and win fast. Don't give our generals time to think about changing sides.”

  “We will want to choose a field somewhere outside the city to minimize civilian casualties.”

  “And we must be prepared if the Spectorium joins the battle. By now Derek Blaine will have heard of my accession and will be even more motivated to see me dead. We will eventually have to deal with him as well.”

  “And he will not be the last,” Crenshaw said. “The road to victory is long, but we have a chance now, Grace. A slim chance still, perhaps, but a better one than we could have ever hoped for. Some will come to you on their own now.”

  “But not all. It may not be enough to hold when Sullivan's armies get here, or if Alexander comes to take his fortress back.”

  “It will have to be enough,” Crenshaw said. “Before we can have peace, all of your enemies must lay dead at your feet.”

  “I know,” Grace said sadly. “I used to have romantic notions about the fight for freedom, but no longer. Experience has taught me what war truly is, and it brings only one certainty: that there will be no clean hands in the end.”

  35

  DAVIAN FOUND LIZ OUTSIDE the Stone Hall speaking with a Great Army soldier. His heart jumped at the sight of the dark green uniform, but as the soldier walked away unconcerned, he relaxed. It was going to take some time to get used to seeing his former enemies without reaching for his Spectral Gladius.

  But is that what they were—former enemies? Or was this just a break in the everlasting struggle against the World System: a temporary truce while it served both their interests? He actually preferred to think of it as the latter. All the people the Great Army had killed…how could Grace even suggest they team up with them?

  “Something bothering you, Soldier?”

  Davian made eye contact with Liz, who had turned at his arrival, and immediately forgot all about the Great Army soldier. Pulled into those pools of deep sapphire blue, intoxicated by her beauty in a way he had never experienced before, all he could do was stare. Her clothing at the moment was neutral, neither Silent Thunder nor World System, and accentuated her curves in the most subtle ways. She had been beautiful even when he saw her under the pallor of death. The woman who stood before him now was vivacious and alluring, radiant with the glow of life.

  “I, uh—no,” he stammered and cleared his throat.

  She grinned at him, eyes alight with amusement, “It will take some time to get used to, but you'll manage.”

  Davian felt red creeping up his neck. He must be gawking at her like an idiot! “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to stare.”

  She cocked her eyebrows, “I was talking about the Great Army soldier. I assumed his presence put you on edge.”

  The floor seemed to be falling away from him, and it took Davian a moment to regain his balance. Luckily, she didn't seem to notice, though that wouldn't matter if he couldn't somehow recover from this embarrassment.

  “The soldier? Yes, I—”

  “Oh, relax, Soldier,” she laughed musically. “I am just messing with you. I've seen worse stares than yours. Plus, it's not every day you meet a person who has saved your life. Davian, was it?”

  “It was—is.”

  “That a first name or a last name?”

  “First,” he replied, swallowing to cure his dry throat. “No last name. Parents didn't much care about teaching me what ours was, and they died before I could ask.”

  Her lips turned down in a frown, “I'm sorry.”

  “Don't be. They escaped Hell on Earth and I managed to land on my feet. More or less.”

  “Lieutenant Commander of an elite fighting force, trusted confidante of a World System magistrate, rescuer of dying women in the Wilderness...I'd say so.”

  Davian's heart thumped loudly at the look she gave him every time she mentioned him saving her. It both thrilled and made him uncomfortable at the same time. He averted his eyes and attempted to divert the conversation, “So what did he want? The Great Army soldier.”

  Her smile returned, “To bring me a bit of good news. I could tell you, but it would probably be easier to show you.” She stepped forward and took his arm, and before he could object she was dragging him down the hall toward the elevator—not that he would have objected.

  “You don't like this deal, do you?” she said quietly. “Having to be here, working with the very people who have been your enemies all your life.”

  “Am I that obvious?”

  “Yes.”

  He shrugged, “I make no apologies for it. I've seen many die at the hands of men in green uniforms over the years. My parents were not the first, but they are still the ones that haunt me most. As far as I'm concerned, there is no redemption for the Great Army.”

  “I was once a soldier in the Great Army, you know. Does that make me beyond redemption?”

  “No. You left on your own accord. And it was not individuals I was speaking of, but the institution. We will not have peace until it is stripped away.”

  They reached the elevator at the end of the hall and stepped inside. Liz maintained her hold on his arm as she leaned forward and pressed the button for the ground floor.

  “We going out into the city?”

  “I'm sick of this building. All the talk of war and politics gives me a headache after a while. I need some fresh air.”

  “Weren't you the leader of Premier Sullivan's armies?”

  “That didn't make me like war any better.”

  “Of course not, but,” Davian shrugged. “Being around it, day in, day out...you get desensitized after a while.”

  “That was always my problem,” Liz replied. “I could never move past the emotions of it all. The senseless killing, advancing myself over the dead bodies of those with less power than me. For years I thought there was something wrong with me...but now I understand that there was something right.”

  Davian went silent for a moment, listening to the quiet hum of the elevator as it descended through the building. In all his years hating the Great Army, never had he imagined that there might be some people within it that hated themselves for what the World System forced them to do.

  “What made you join Sullivan, then?” he asked. “Why not just run away?”

  “And go where, exactly?” she looked up at him with a wry smile. “The Wilderness looks like a death trap to anyone raised in the cities. That left only two options. Stay in the World System, or go with Sullivan. I thought Sullivan would build a better world...but I was wrong about that, too.”

  The elevator doors opened to a bustling lobby, and Liz again pulled him forward despite his hesitation. His eyes shifted nervously among the moving sea of green and black, soldiers and rulers goin
g about their daily routines and making preparations for the battle to come. It was surreal for Davian, to say the least, to wade through that crowd and not be challenged. And it was not that they were too busy to notice him—quite the opposite. Most they passed acknowledged them with a respectful nod. Some even bowed with something similar to awe.

  He caught Liz watching him, amused, “I see this is something you are not used to.”

  There were any number of things she could be referring to. Strolling leisurely through a World System compound. Seeing his enemies bow to him with respect. Having a beautiful woman hanging onto his arm... Liz's side pressed against his, far closer than she needed to be, her warmth a welcome presence after so long in the cold.

  “You're a Spectral-adept, Davian,” Liz went on. “That makes you almost royalty in the World System.”

  “My allegiance is to Silent Thunder, not the World System.”

  “Silent Thunder means very little to people here, similar to how you probably feel when someone mentions the revolt in the Triad or the Roman Rebellion. Stories from far away, that have little to do with your life. All these people care about is that you serve the magistrate, same as they do.”

  “I don't serve Grace,” he said, not wishing to be lumped in the same category with these people. “I follow her.”

  “Semantics,” Liz squeezed his arm affectionately. “You're going to have to get used to the order of things here if you are to remain. Citizens of the World System believe very strongly in their hierarchies. You will have to become a part of that hierarchy to survive.”

  “Don't hold your breath on that one.”

  The guards nodded at them as they approached the exit, and they stepped aside without even a word. The doors slid open automatically, and they walked out into the cool air of Corridor Prime.

  “So where exactly are we going?” Davian asked.

  “You'll see. It's not far.”

  They descended some stairs and emerged out from the shadow of the wide balcony that jutted out over the city square. Liz craned her neck to look up at the structure as they passed, “That is where Grace was presented to the city. If you had been here to see it then maybe you would understand. They don’t see her elevation to magistrate as some kind of mistake, or a temporary anomaly. They love her. Many even among the soldiers and rulers see her as some kind of savior that will deliver them into the utopia that the World System promised it would be.”

  Davian followed her gaze and felt his mouth tilt into an involuntary frown, “I’m afraid they will be disappointed again.” He again focused on the way forward. “Grace’s entire life, and her father’s life before her, has been dedicated to bringing down the World System. Whatever she is planning now is just a smokescreen, I’m sure of it. She would never willingly join the enemy.”

  “Maybe she doesn’t see them as the enemy,” Liz replied. “These people were willing to defy the MWR because his interventions were a threat to the traditions of the city. They are willing to accept the leadership of a woman who has, as you point out, fought the World System for the majority of her life. That doesn’t sound like the actions of enemies to me.”

  “Yet you were the one who counseled Grace not to trust them,” he said. “That even her second-in-command might turn on her if it seemed possible to save his own skin.”

  “Yes, well,” Liz smiled. “I don’t trust anyone. Not even you.”

  “Good thing. You don’t even know me. But what about Grace? You trust her, I’d bet.”

  Liz hesitated, apparently troubled. “Yes, I suppose I do trust her.”

  “You don’t seem thrilled to realize that.”

  “Distrust is what has kept me alive all these years,” she answered. “Trusting others is terrifying and dangerous. Well, trusting humans. Oh, there it is!”

  “Wha—?”

  Liz broke her hold on his arm and raced toward a building on the left side of the square, a well-kept but suspicious structure that stood out from the ones around it. Two wide doors took up the entire front, and there was an odd smell radiating toward them that he suspected came from within.

  He trotted swiftly after her, eyes still peeled in case one of these people tried to attack him, and caught up just as she had pulled open one of the doors.

  “What exactly are you doing?” he wrinkled his nose, no longer in doubt about the source of the smell. “You can’t just walk in there.”

  “Why not?” she asked. “I’ve been invited. Come on.” She slipped inside and pulled him after her. He expected darkness given the appearance of the building from the outside, but light streamed down from thin windows near the top of the wall to provide just enough illumination to see the way forward.

  His boots crunched as he walked, and he looked down to see a floor covered with straw. Stalls lined the left and right walls all the way to the back of the building, each occupied by varying sizes and breeds of horses. Liz made her way to the center and the largest animal of all, an enormous cream-colored beast that seemed to recognize her as she approached.

  She reached out her hand and touched the animal’s nose, and it snorted affectionately. “Hey, buddy,” she said softly. “Didn’t think I would let you go that easy, now did you?”

  Davian advanced slowly, enjoying the sight of her wide smile and bright eyes, revealing a joy and childlike spirit that he would never have thought to see from her. She was all the more beautiful for them, and it tugged on his heartstrings to see that glimpse, however brief, of the person she might have been if not for the cruel realities of their present world.

  “This is Barley,” she said. “He carried Grace and me from the forest where we escaped the Spectorium to that outpost where Bruce’s men found us. We would never have made it without him.”

  “How did he get here?”

  “Soldiers took him at the same time they captured us,” Liz replied. “Horses are becoming more valuable as time goes on and the roads in the Wilderness become less safe to navigate on wheels. Back to the old days, I suppose. I had to threaten a few people to tell me where he was.”

  “Must be some horse.”

  “He's my horse,” Liz smiled. “And I always find a way to reward those who help me...though some rewards are more fun to give than others.” She turned her gaze on him, and in an instant she changed. Gone was the childlike playfulness and innocent smile; and in their place, the fiery light of desire and the allure of feminine beauty. She stepped toward him, every movement of her body an enticement, and breathed rather than simply speaking, “I was dead out there in the Wilderness, Davian. Wounded, frozen, alone...with no hope that I would ever see daylight again. But you saved me. I have to figure out some way to repay you.”

  She drew even closer to him, until her lips were only inches from his. The smell of her enveloped him, a mixture of some subtle floral scent and the fresh air of the open Wilderness. He was intoxicated by her, from the sparkle in her eyes to the luscious curve of her mouth, and as she slipped her arms around his neck he heard blood pumping in his ears.

  “Any ideas?” she asked.

  Maybe I shouldn't, he suddenly thought. What did he really know about her? She had spent her life in the World System, betrayed them to leave with Sullivan, and now had betrayed Sullivan for Silent Thunder. There was a pattern, and its next sequence didn't bode well for him.

  But then her lips closed over his, soft and inviting, tasting of spice and fruit, and he knew this was exactly what he wanted. He held her close to him and kissed her fiercely, as he had always dreamed of kissing Grace. But Grace had become the furthest thing from his mind. All that mattered to him in that moment was the fire Liz brought out in him, a passion he had kept hidden for years and now was free to be unleashed.

  And so he overcame his misgivings with that age-old rationale:

  Why not?

  - X -

  “I’m afraid I cannot help you.”

  Derek stared incredulously at the three-dimensional image of General Radcliffe that
sat on the opposite side of his table. Only Gentry was with him, which turned out to be a wise decision. He had commanded that his tent be hastily raised upon their return so that he would have some privacy, though he had not expected to remain outside the walls of the Corridor for long.

  Now he was not so sure. Radcliffe was not the first to refuse him.

  “Perhaps you can explain your reasoning in not following the orders of your Grand Admiral, General,” he said coolly.

  “You are asking me to take sides in an internal matter of the Corridor. Alexandria has no business interfering. If the MWR had stayed out of it to begin with—”

  “Then Grace Sawyer would be the unopposed magistrate of Corridor Prime.”

  “Perhaps she should be,” Radcliffe shrugged. “The central computer selected her, Grand Admiral. The issue is not as cut and dry as you wish it to be.”

  “She is a rebel against the World System,” Derek said. “How long do you think it will be before she starts to dismantle your city and turn it into a base for Silent Thunder?”

  Radcliffe grinned, “Why do you think I’m still in Corridor North?”

  Derek shook his head, “So you’re waiting to see what she will do before you decide whether or not you are going to support her.”

  “I am waiting to see if she will uphold the law or cast it aside,” Radcliffe corrected. “But whether or not I support her is not necessarily linked to that.”

  “You can’t be serious. This is treason, General.”

  “Treason is a matter of the moment, Grand Admiral. The Imperial Conglomerate has taken Europe, Australia, and the Tripartite. They march through Central America even as we speak. Now Grace Sawyer rules from the Stone Hall of Corridor Prime, which—if she can hold on—makes her the de facto leader of the entire Corridor. Her domain splits what remains of the MWR’s in half. There are those who would say that Alexandria’s rule is dead in all but name.”