Shadow Heart (28 page)

A tense hush settled over all those present. “And the commander?”

“Gone. Three Specters were also in the tent, killed by a Spectral Gladius. There were signs of a struggle, as well as others that do not make sense to us.”

“Such as?”

“It seems that a woman entered the back of the tent barefoot. The tracks in the ground point to her being the one who killed the Specters. The Spectorium must have come afterward, for much of the evidence is confused. We were not able to tell how many people left the tent alive in the course of the battle.”

“I have canvassed the survivors who were in that area of the camp during the time of the attack,” Crenshaw said. “They swear they saw the commander standing alone in the middle of the path, firing upon the enemy and giving them the chance to escape. Others have mentioned seeing a blonde woman with her.”

Davian’s heart pounded in his chest, suddenly home to both hope and fear. Was it possible? When last he saw Aurora she did not look well enough to walk, much less flee in the face of the Spectorium. He had assumed the worst for her. But if she was alive—if she had been in that tent with Grace and the two of them had gotten out together—what did that mean?

He realized that the conversation had continued without him: “...knocked out with anesthetic. She would have been helpless during the attack.”

“There were syringes on the ground,” the younger scout said. “Epinephrine. Administered by the doctor, perhaps, or by this mysterious woman.”

“Yes, but where did she obtain a Gladius?”

“Perhaps she took the commander’s. It would have been close—”

“Thank you, gentlemen,” Davian broke in suddenly. “Have you anything else to report?”

“No, sir, I’m afraid not. I’m sorry.”

“Thank you for your diligence, men,” Davian nodded. “Now, if you will please clear the tent, there is something I must discuss with the general.”

The scouts saluted and left the makeshift command center, followed by the rest of the soldiers. General Crenshaw avoided Davian’s gaze until the others were out of earshot, and then looked at him with misty eyes, “You were right, Davian. We should have gone back for her.”

“No,” Davian said. “I was foolish. Knowing what we do now, it would have been a waste of time. We will continue with the plan she originally intended, and hope that she finds her way back to us.”

Crenshaw frowned, “You don’t think it’s time to talk about succession?”

“You heard what they said,” Davian replied. “No body. With what they found and what the witnesses told you, it seems pretty clear that she made it out. We will not speak of succession, not until it is absolutely necessary or we receive proof she is dead.”

Crenshaw studied something on the ground near his feet, arms crossed over his chest.
I’ve never seen him like this,
he realized.
Nice to know he is subject to doubt just like the rest of us…but also, terrifying.
They were depending on him for their very survival. He couldn’t give up now.

“She
is
alive, Crenshaw,” Davian said forcefully. “I refuse to believe anything else.”

The general nodded, obviously unconvinced. “So if not succession, what did you wish to discuss?”

“I know who the blonde woman is.”

His eyes narrowed, “Go on.”

“I found her in the Wilderness. We came across her on the way back from our mission in the north, leading the Spectorium astray. She was cowering in the shadow of an old ruin: wounded, delirious from loss of blood and hypothermia…nearly dead. We were less than a mile from the camp at the time, and that alone saved her. I placed her in the care of a doctor who had recently defected to Silent Thunder from the Imperial Conglomerate of Cities. He recognized her immediately.” Davian put his hands in his pockets and looked away sheepishly. “I don’t know what I would have done differently had I known beforehand, but…”

“Spit it out, Davian. Who was she?”

“Elizabeth Aurora, Chief of Command of Sullivan’s Imperial Guard.”

Crenshaw pressed his lips into a thin line and for several moments said nothing, though Davian could clearly see the storm brewing behind the general’s eyes. Crenshaw hated it when people kept things from him—appropriate, since he routinely kept important information from others in the name of “protection.”

“Did Grace know of this?”

“No,” Davian replied. “I had only known for a few hours myself by the time the Spectorium attacked. I thought it best to wait until Grace was done with her surgery.”

“So it was your intention to tell her.”

Davian hesitated. He was not the worst liar, but Crenshaw—in addition to being a legendary soldier—was a dangerous spy as well. He had an uncanny ability to spot untruths, even well-concealed. And the answer was not a simple
yes
or
no
. He had wanted to tell Grace, but then there had been something else. He had felt something for Aurora—attraction, sympathy, protectiveness…he still wasn’t quite sure. What if Grace had learned her identity and cast her out? The thought had pained him, and he couldn’t have allowed that to happen so long as she was not proven their enemy.

“Elizabeth Aurora is known for turning the heads of young men all around the world,” Crenshaw read into his silence. “But I never figured yours so easy to turn.”

“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.”

T
HE 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 more 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.”