Shadow Heart (33 page)

But Liz had to acknowledge that all her readings were from men outside the Persian Empire. And there are two sides to every story.

“Study of Persian warfare is a key part of Great Army officer training,” she replied. “They were the most organized, disciplined, and effective warriors in the history of the world. Until Spectral-adepts, of course.”

“They were also merciless murderers who always left a trail of blood in their wake…innocent and soldier alike,” Grace said with distaste. “I’m sure Napoleon Alexander found something of value in that, as well.”

Liz didn’t argue. As terrible as what the Persians had done in those early years was, it was all out of rage. Eventually, rage fades. Anger is quelled. But Alexander created soldiers that were brutal simply for brutality’s sake. There was no emotion in it. Only obedience. An average Great Army soldier was ten times the villain of the most brutal Persian.

Still, that didn’t mean she cared to meet one.

“They’ve gone far enough that I think we can get back to the road,” Grace said. “Once there, we make a break for it. Barley may not be fast, but he can outrun any man on foot.”

By now Liz knew better than to argue with Grace once she had set her mind to something. The woman was stubborn, and if there was any chance of valiance, any opportunity for honor, Grace Sawyer would not pass it up. It was a quality for which Liz felt both admiration and disdain. Admiration, for the sentiment. Disdain, for the practicality.
War is about doing what is necessary, which does not always equal what is honorable
. Winners took risks, yes, but only when it was calculated into the entire picture of the war. Grace Sawyer would take a risk just because it was the right thing to do.

One day the right thing would get them both killed. She just hoped it was not today.

“I saw a back door,” Liz said. “Might be a tight fit for Barley, but the building will shield us from view a good while longer.”

Grace nodded, and Liz led the way around the counter through an area that had once been a kitchen. She paused periodically to look back at Grace, who pulled Barley along slowly. There were a few tight corners where one wrong movement might have led to the sound of crashing metal, but thankfully they made it to the back door with no problems. She twisted the knob and gave it a shove. It wouldn’t open. She pushed against it harder; still nothing.

“The overgrowth was pretty bad on this side,” Grace said. “I saw it when we came in. We’ll have to use a Gladius.”

“They might hear!”

“Then we have to go back, sneak out the front.”

Liz frowned. There was no way that was happening. She unclipped
Ignis
from her belt, surprised with how foreign it felt in her hand. How long had it been now since she had used it? Days? A week? It seemed like an eternity out here in the Wilderness.

She held it out in front of her and slid her thumb over the pad in an ‘L’ shaped pattern. The blade shot out the end with a loud, echoing
shing,
and Liz held her breath. Then on its heels, the diamond armor ignited and filled the building with the sound of its hum. Liz had always thought of it as a gentle sound, but here in this enclosed space it might as well have been thunder.

She worked fast, plunging the blade into the crack of the door and cutting an outline around the frame. Then she deactivated the weapon and froze, listening. Only after several moments of silence did she finally breathe again.

A soldier does not know fear
, Liz’s mind intoned.
A soldier...oh, shut up
! She didn’t have time for her childhood tropes. There was an army of Persians at her heels, and only one thing mattered now: escape.

She pushed open the door and it pulled free of the overgrowth she had been unable to cut, bathing them in the cool night air. She poked her head out first, cautiously watching right, left, and forward, and then mustered up the courage to go outside. She held
Ignis
tightly at her side, despite what little good it would do her. If even half of what she knew about the Persians was true, she was no match for them with a sword.

Suddenly a
clop, clop, clop
filled her ears, and every part of her cringed. She looked back to see Grace, face white, looking at Barley with an expression of pure horror. The animal couldn’t move on concrete without making a racket.

“We don’t have any choice,” Grace whispered. “We have to get on now and make a break for it. If we get far enough ahead, they’ll never catch us. And once we reach Silent Thunder, we will need that time to prepare to meet them in the open field.”

Liz’s eyes went wide, “You can’t be serious. You don’t plan to
fight
them?”

“They have less than a hundred men. The Silent Thunder 2nd battalion has almost two hundred.”

“But...they’re
Persians
.”

“They came for blood, and they will get it,” Grace said darkly. “But they will not get the end they have in mind.” She climbed up on Barley’s back and offered Liz her hand. “Still want to come with me? You might have a chance to escape while I draw their attention.”

“And go where?” Liz asked. “Back to the lions?”

“You’re better equipped to survive out here now,” she replied. “In time you could find a nomadic group, fall in with them. Not the life you are accustomed to, but a life all the same.”

Liz turned to look at the trees. They were foreboding in the dark, but there was promise there as well.
I wouldn’t have to fight anymore. I wouldn’t have to kill. I could be whoever I wanted to be
. And yet... “Is that what you want me to do?” she asked, suppressing the lump in her throat.

Grace hesitated, then smiled as though surprised by her own answer, “Honestly, no. I want you to come with me. I wouldn’t have said it just a few days ago, but I don’t think we’re all that different, you and I. Plus, you’re handy in a fight. So? What’ll it be?”

Melodramatic though it was, Liz sensed the significance of the moment. Her life could go in two completely different directions based on the choice she made in the next three seconds. She had experienced several of those moments in her life, moments she now looked back on wondering if she had made the right choice: when Sullivan had recruited her, when she had chosen not to kill 301, when she left the Imperial Conglomerate...and now this.

But one thing tipped the scale. Out there in the Wilderness, she might be safe, but she would also be alone. And she didn’t want to be alone anymore.

She took Grace’s hand and used it to pull herself up onto Barley’s back, settling in behind the rebel commander on the saddle. She clipped
Ignis
back in place and drew the pistol instead. There was a good chance she would need it in the coming moments.

Grace turned to look at her, and Liz appreciated the satisfaction in the woman’s eyes. Something had changed between them. It was more than simple necessity that bound them to one another. This was not about survival, not anymore. It was about friendship.

“You ready?” Grace asked.

Liz nodded, and at her motion Grace kicked Barley into gear. The sounds of his hooves—mere drops of rain in a forest of sound just moments before—now rose like a peal of thunder as they emerged around the side of the building and made a break for the road.

She could almost feel the change in the air as the Persians became aware of them. In the armies she had been in or commanded there would have been a moment of confusion, and by the time the confusion passed they would already be gone. Not so with the Persians. Their reaction was instant, like a bolt of lightning setting fire to the wind. Their cries rang out, terrifying in their strange language, and they leapt into action. Liz looked back long enough to see that they weren’t chasing directly after them. They had already anticipated that the road was their goal, and were getting in position to cut them off. With the curve in the road that Barley would have to follow, they just might succeed.

“Doesn’t look like we’re going to get away clean,” Liz spoke into Grace’s ear, “Better get ready to shoot our way through.”

-X-

The black-clad warrior lifted his head at the commotion, instantly forgetting the task of raising his tent, and stood with one hand on the Spectral Gladius at his side. The tension in the air was palpable, as his companions lived in constant anticipation of an ambush. This was enemy territory, and they were uncomfortable here...afraid, even.

But they had learned to ignore fear, to channel it into fuel that could be burned for battle. This gave them an edge, one that alarmed him. Those that acted too quickly could sometimes come out on the wrong side.

One of the Persians came up to him, the same one who had met the Silent Thunder commander with him just days before. He was calm and collected on the outside, but just as tense as the others within. To him, this Wilderness was a predator just waiting for the chance to swallow them all.

“What is it?” The black-clad warrior asked.

“Riders,” his companion replied, words thick with a Persian accent. “Two of them. They must have been here before us, otherwise our scouts would have spotted them.”

At that moment the black-clad warrior caught sight of them some distance away, a dark silhouette fleeing into the night. He couldn’t be certain at this distance, but he thought he saw the shimmer of long blonde hair flowing out behind the second rider.

“One of the rear scouts just reported in,” the Persian said, pressing a finger to his ear. “He believes that one of the riders fits the description of Commander Grace Sawyer.”

The black-clad warrior froze, eyes still trained on the horse and its burdens, “Are you sure?”

“That is what he says. What would you like to do?”

The man hesitated for a moment, obviously torn between competing desires. Then, “Pull your men back. Tell them to let the riders pass.”

“Are you certain?” the Persian asked, barely able to contain his shock. “This is what we came for, and you want to just let it slip through our fingers?”

“We came for much more than this,” the black-clad warrior replied. “Let them escape, and she will lead us to the rest of Silent Thunder. We have invested too much to let it all go awry because of impatience.”

“I owe you a debt,” the Persian said. “And because of that I will defer to your decision. But I must advise against it. If we bring her into the camp—”

“Timing is everything, my friend. If we don’t do this right, we might as well have stayed in Persepolis. This is not a battle that can be won by swift action. We need to choose the field carefully.”

After a moment, the Persian nodded, “There is wisdom in what you say. And I hope, for all our sakes, that you lead us to success here. But you are up against forces much stronger than a man, on both sides. I hope you know what you are getting us all into.”

“So do I, Captain,” the warrior said, less than confident. “So do I.”

-X-

Barley ran as fast as they could make him, ascending the concrete ramp that led back up to the main road. Liz kept her eyes peeled for the Persians who had gone through the trees to cut them off, but so far saw nothing. Perhaps they had gone all the way up to the main road?

Her hand tightened around the handle of her sidearm, and her heartbeat thrummed to the rhythm of Barley’s hooves. It would come any moment now. An ambush out of those trees, from behind that rock, from below that ridge.

Except that it didn’t. No attack came. She didn’t so much as glimpse another Persian, and by the time she felt safe enough to look back all she saw was the orange glow of their campfires against the calm black sky.

But they had us
, Liz thought, confused. All they needed was to get close enough. To shoot Barley out from under them, to form a blockade on the road, anything. But they hadn’t fired a single shot.

“They let us go!” Liz said over the thunder of hooves.

“I know!” Grace yelled back.

“Then what should we do?”

“What we planned to do,” the commander replied. “Maybe they just didn’t want to bother chasing down two women in the Wilderness.”

“Or maybe they want to follow us.”

“Let them,” Grace said with confidence. “By the time they catch up, we’ll be ready.”

T
HREE DAYS ON THE
road and there had been no signs of a Persian pursuit. Still, that did not mean that Grace could drop her guard. The way they had simply been allowed to slip through the net just as it closed in upon them unsettled her. The Persians were moving almost recklessly fast toward the center of the continent, toward either Silent Thunder or Corridor Prime, but to what end? Vengeance? Was it possible they knew about the clue that Crenshaw thought lay hidden there? If so that was almost more frightening than the thought of vengeance. If the Persians got their hands on the kind of weapon Crenshaw believed was hidden somewhere in the old United States, it would not bode well for the world.

Barley carried them at a slow trot, enough to keep them ahead of anyone pursuing on foot but still slower-going than Grace would have liked. At this rate it would take them five or six more days to reach the city, precious time that Silent Thunder could use to prepare wasted. Her only consolation was that the Persians had the same problem.