Shadow Heart (20 page)

“She was definitely here,” Derek intoned. He straightened and studied the ground. His tracking skills were sub-par, but even he could tell there had been a battle here. “Three Specters died in this tent, yes?”

“That’s correct. Spectral Gladius wounds, all three.”

“And the soldiers who sighted Sawyer, they said the injury was to her leg.”

“Also correct,” Marcus said. “With all due respect, sir, where are you going with this?”

“You expect me to believe a woman with her leg in a cast managed to kill three Specters? No. Whoever did this had full mobility.”

“There is the other person, the one who helped her escape north,” Marcus offered. “Perhaps she was the one who fought.”

Derek walked over to the line of beds, where a pile of rags that might once have been clothes sat half-folded. He flipped them over, grimacing at the blood stains and the gashes that suggested an attack by some animal. Surely whoever had been in these had not survived.

“She?”

“Sir?” Marcus asked.

“You said ‘perhaps
she
was the one who fought.’ Her companion was a woman?”

“That is my understanding, sir.”

Derek felt a deep sense of foreboding. There had to be female Spectral-adepts in Silent Thunder, but he doubted any of them had the skill to overcome three of the best that had been trained in the World System. If so, there would have been rumors among the prisoners they had captured over the last year. That left him with only one theory: illogical, but sound.

“What color was her hair?”

“Blonde, I think.”

At that moment Derek saw letters on the shredded clothes—not an official uniform insignia, so it was subtle, more like a logo sometimes imprinted on civilian clothing.

ICC
.

Liz. She was here, and she was with Grace Sawyer…had helped her escape him, no less. That woman had always been a thorn in his side. But what could she possibly be doing here? Had Sullivan sent his Chief of Command to treat with the rebels? It was a bold risk, especially considering that there were no Imperial boots on the entire continent.

Sullivan has moved his queen to the front lines. Looks like I might get two enemies for the price of one.

“What about the main Silent Thunder force?” Derek asked. “What direction are they headed?”

“West,” Marcus replied. “Their trajectory suggests they will eventually turn north. If I didn’t think it would be suicidal for them, I would say they are making for Corridor Prime.”

“Prime is still a long way from here,” Derek said. “And like you say, going there would be suicide. More likely they intend to eventually come around, head back east.”
Unless there is something there they need
, he thought. Why had they risked so much to go into that library? Had what they found there proved so valuable they were willing to take an even greater risk? If they only wanted to cross the Corridor there were easier ways than straight through its most fortified point.

“As you say, Grand Admiral,” Marcus said. “They are nomads, after all.”

Derek paused. Two targets, two different directions. A prudent leader would perhaps go after the more dangerous, larger force. But he did not care for prudence at the moment. He wanted Grace Sawyer. And if Liz was with her, so much the better.

“I’m placing you in command of the Spectorium,” he said, though after the shrewd smile on the other man’s face he quickly amended, “Temporarily, Specter General, don’t get any ideas. I will empower you to one end only: to pursue the main force of Silent Thunder.”

“And then what, sir?”

“Harry their forces west,” Derek ordered. “If they try to turn back, block their path. As much as possible, keep them moving west. Eventually we will crush them against the wall of the Corridor.”

“We have no way to counter the tactics we saw on the ridge,” Marcus said. “If we catch up to them, or if they decide to turn and fight…”

“Never let them gain the high ground,” Derek replied. “Without that, the tactic is useless.”

Marcus nodded, though Derek could tell he was not satisfied. “And you, sir? Where will you be?”

“Here, with four of our best trackers. I’m going to find her, Marcus. I need to end this.”

“Sir, I feel compelled to remind you of our orders concerning the Persians—”

“Don’t,” Derek spat. “Just do as I have asked. Every moment you waste here is more distance between us and Silent Thunder.”

“Yes, Grand Admiral,” the Specter General made to exit the tent.

“And Marcus? If I hear even a rumor of you attempting to take the Spectorium back east, I will not give you a chance to explain yourself. Do we understand one another?”

“Yes, sir,” Marcus swallowed hard. “We do.”

L
IZ SETTLED DOWN ONTO
the cold ground, thankful to have escaped the biting wind. Her heart palpitations continued to sound like a drum in her ears, and she knew it was not only because of the adrenaline. The clock was ticking on her life again, just as it had when she had been out here alone. Now, at least, she had some help.

The adrenaline had made her strong enough to complete the trek across the open plain into the nearby forest, and partway in they had discovered this cave. It would protect them from the elements, though the Spectorium would eventually find them if they stayed too long. All the more reason to heal up as soon as possible.

She rose to her knees and removed the shirt she had taken, the back now soaked with blood, and tried to turn back to examine her bandages. The dim light of the commander’s Spectral Gladius was only enough to see shapes and silhouettes, yet still she could tell it did not look good.

“What happened to you?”

Liz turned to see that Grace had paused in her attempt to build them a small fire and was now staring at her bandaged back. She averted her eyes quickly at Liz’s uncovered chest, which made her smile, “Sorry, I didn’t have time to find more underwear.” She crossed her arms to cover herself. “There. Better?”

“It’s only us here,” Grace said. “I just wasn’t ready for it, is all.”

“You still have your modesty, then,” Liz said. “I’ve known plenty of girls like you: just as modest with other people’s bodies as you are with your own. I didn’t grow up with the luxury of that choice, unfortunately.”

“It’s not just modesty,” Grace said. “It’s respect; respect for your privacy; respect I wish I had been given in that slaver’s cell, or when they paraded me into that courtyard with barely anything on but a rag.”

“At least it was a pretty rag,” Liz said with mild condescension. “Imagine being one of the only girls in an orphanage full of boys taught to take whatever they wanted. Trust me, I have sob stories, too.”

The rebel commander looked at the ground, and through the eerie white light Liz saw her embarrassment. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“Don’t be,” Liz said. “I’m not…at least, not anymore. Those experiences made me who I am. Plus, you can bet that those boys are all now a great deal sorrier than I am. In some cases, I made sure of it.” A spike of pain pulsed in her back, and she breathed in sharply. “I could use your help, Commander…if you’re up to it.”

“You saved my life out there,” Grace replied. “I’ll do whatever I can.”

“There’s a needle and thread in the pack.” Liz laid out the shirt she had just removed—clean side up—and laid down on her stomach. “I need you to stitch me back up and replace the bandages. I think I broke the wounds back open in the fighting.”

“Let me finish the fire. I’ll need light, and we both need heat.”

Liz remained still as Grace returned to her task, hoping not to inflame her wounds any further. In the rush of battle they had hurt, but then there had been more pressing concerns. Now, however, in the dark and quiet of the cave, there was little else to think about.

Thankfully she did not have to wait long. In true Wilderness-born fashion, Grace had a decent fire going within minutes despite the lack of materials. Warmth spread across her skin, the first time she had felt the sensation while awake since her departure from Rome. Since then she had spent half her time unconscious, the other half freezing to death.

Grace knelt over her and searched through the pack, pulling out the supplies she would need to tend Liz’s wounds. Once she had everything organized on the ground, she reached for the bandages and paused, “Ready?”

“Yes,” Liz sighed, and braced herself. “Just get it over with.”

Grace pulled on the bandages, and fire ignited Liz’s entire backside. Wounds had broken open and bled, then dried in the cold to her skin, acting as a sort of glue that ripped away as the bandages came off. She bit down, attempting to stay strong, but couldn’t stop the groan from escaping her lips. Grace did not slow or stop peeling them away. Apparently this was not her first time.

The fire had not yet completely banished the cold, and the air bit into her wounds and added an extra level to the pain. Grace paused to examine them, and Liz heard her sharp intake of breath, “Are these…claw wounds?”

“Unfortunately,” she said. “I had a run-in with a pack of starving lions before I got to your camp.” Liz heard Grace getting the materials ready to do her work, but she kept her eyes forward. Somehow seeing the instruments made the anticipation of pain even worse.

“How did that happen, exactly?” Grace asked, obviously measuring her words.

“I was hoping you could tell me,” Liz said. “After my fight with the lions I wandered, wounded and cold and alone, until I could go no more.” She winced as Grace removed the torn stitches from her skin, but her mind was elsewhere. For as long as she lived, she would never forget the encroaching darkness of those final moments…ones that she believed, at the time, were her last. She went on quietly, “The last thing I remember was a shadow…then I woke up in your camp just moments before the attack.”

She felt a subtle pull as the needle punched through her skin, and ground her teeth while Grace went through the motions of sewing up her wounds, “Whoever brought you in, they did not tell me.”

“Maybe they didn’t know me,” Liz said.

Grace hesitated, “Maybe. But that doesn’t answer the question of why you were wandering the Wilderness alone so close to our location. Where is your army?”

Liz understood the underlying question: is the Conglomerate here, and has the civil war come back to the north at last?

“They are not my army,” Liz replied. “Not anymore.”

“What happened?”

“I had a deal with the emperor: one year of service in exchange for passage to Domination Crisis Eleven. He went back on his word, tried to force me to stay…so I fought my way out of the Hall of the Citadel, got to a Halo, and made a break for it. We were shot down, and next I knew I was over your Wilderness. They pushed me out with a parachute and meager supplies.”

Grace’s motions were rhythmic now, and despite occasional sharp pains Liz could sense tension leaving her muscles, as though her body recognized it was out of danger. But the commander continued her soft interrogation, “Why bring you here, of all places?”

To let me die slowly
, she wanted to say. The words hung on the tip of her tongue, the introduction to the story she had been thinking up ever since waking in the camp. But for some reason she hesitated. Gavin had given her one opportunity for redemption:
insert yourself into Silent Thunder as if you were one of them. We will contact you when the time comes
.

Assuming a Conglomerate victory, she would no longer be an outlaw, but she doubted Sullivan would ever give her what she truly wanted. Everything that man told her was a lie, and all he ever did was use her. In the short time she had been with Grace, the woman had proven far more trustworthy than any Conglomerate official. That meant she had to make a choice. Gavin had sent her here as a spy, not expecting her to make it. But she had, straight to Sawyer herself. He would not pass up the opportunity to use her, and though as a soldier trained by the World System she understood it, she grew tired of all the positioning and lies.

The truest thing she had seen in a long time—a sight she would probably never forget—was the vision of Grace, wounded beyond the ability to actually fight, marching straight into the line of fire to protect her people. She had never seen any leader do that.
Ever
. The leaders she had known sent their people to die. They would not shed a single drop of their own blood for those they deemed beneath them.

If she had to follow someone, it seemed clear who the better choice would be. And it was her last honest option.

“I was succeeded by General Bryan Gavin,” she said. “He offered me forgiveness for my actions in Rome if I would find you, and use our shared grief to gain your trust. They want to use the rebellion to distract the World System while they come up from the south.”

“What ‘shared grief’?”

Liz paused. For some reason she had expected Grace to know about her history with 301, but now that seemed foolish. 301 would have been the only one to tell her, and that was unlikely. Still, it left her in a predicament. So far she had not seen the rumored coldness of Shadow Heart, but once she admitted the truth of her relationship she expected that to change. Unfortunately, she had backed into a corner with no way out. This was her only connection to the commander, her only chance at gaining her full trust.