Shadow Fall (The Shadow Saga)

by J. L. Lyon

  “The man,” Grace said at last. “Was the fourth original commander of Silent Thunder, along with your father, mine, and Crenshaw. His name was Patrick Holland.”

  301 let out a long sigh of relief, “I’ve never heard of him.”

  “You have,” she said gravely, and dread fell back upon 301 so quickly that he felt he might vomit. “The world now knows him as Napoleon Alexander.”

  For a moment the breath was stolen from his lungs. No, he thought desperately. That can’t be true. Napoleon Alexander, once of Silent Thunder, and his father’s friend? But as the shock passed and he could again embrace rational thought, he knew it to be true. The clues had been there all along. Napoleon Alexander’s hatred of Silent Thunder, the fact that he owned a Gladius, the Spectral Cross insignia Jacob Sawyer had sent as a warning, and then the one Crenshaw had carved in the floor of the Solithium Plant along with the message to Libertas: you are not the last.

  And then it came, like a slow boil that began in his gut and spread into the furthest corners of his body. He had despised Napoleon Alexander before, had even hated him. But now it went beyond hatred, beyond what words could describe. He thought of his blade making that final blow, and it filled him with elated anticipation. Never before had he been so single-minded. He would kill Napoleon Alexander, even if he must sacrifice himself to do it.

  Grace, seeing the look in his eyes, squeezed the hand that she still held and made him look at her, “Stop, 301. Think about what you’re doing here! You’re not going to make anything better through bloodlust. You will become just like him. Heed my warning, please!”

  “I can end this,” 301 said, hardly hearing her. “I can end it all right here, Grace, tonight.”

  “If you do this, you will die.”

  “And how many more lives will be saved in the process?” he demanded. “With him gone, it will only be a matter of time before the System falls.” But he didn’t care about any of that, he knew. He saw faces swimming before his eyes: his parents’ faces, smiles that he would never know again, stolen from him by the man who had betrayed them.

  “Do you think you’re the only man who has a score to settle with Napoleon Alexander?” Grace asked. “This is not right, Eli. Will you give up everything if it buys your vengeance? Will you cast me aside as well?”

  The question brought him back to reality, and he looked at her fiercely, “No, Grace.” He touched her cheek softly. “Never. If I succeed you will have the kind of life you were meant for. A life free from the oppression of the World System and the constant fear that your loved ones will be stolen from you at any moment. I do this as much for love as for revenge. If with my life I can buy you peace, I give it gladly.”

  “If there is to be a peace, it will not come as a result of your vengeance. Is this what you think your parents would want?”

  “Napoleon Alexander took everything from them…and then he took them from me. I will not save myself and allow him to wreak the same fate upon another. There’s nothing you can say that will change my mind, Grace. I came here tonight to say goodbye…and because it would be my last chance to tell you…” He met her gaze again, suddenly as captivated by her beauty as he had been that night in the palace courtyard. Heart pounding in his chest, he leaned forward and kissed her through the bars. Warmth rushed through him as she kissed him back, and for a moment he dreamt he was back in that night weeks before, when he left her on a doorstep bound for freedom.

  He pulled away from her, and after a moment she whispered softly, “Tell me what?”

  “That I love you. I’ve always loved you.”

  “Then prove it,” she said. “Let me die out there tonight.”

  301 smiled grimly, “I will, if you can look me in the eyes and tell me you do not love me.”

  Her eyes flashed, and he knew she had not forgotten his lie on top of the Communications Tower when she had challenged him to do the same. He had done it to save her life, and it was cruel perhaps to give her the same choice. She was far more honest than he could ever hope to be.

  Still, she struggled. Her face went white and she opened and closed her mouth twice, tears pooling in her eyes as she looked up at him. But she did not say it, as he knew she wouldn’t.

  “It’s time for me to go,” 301 said after the long silence. “I’ve already lingered here too long.” He leaned forward and kissed her lightly on the forehead, giving her one last smile. “Watch for me.”

  And before she could stop him or make him reconsider, he slid his hand from her grip and turned away from her, headed down the hallway to the exit.

  “Wait!” she shouted desperately. “I’m begging you, Eli, please don’t do this!”

  She continued to call out to him, her cries echoing from all sides as he walked down the dungeon tunnel. Each shout was a sword that pierced him through and through. But he could not turn around. He could not go back. If he gave in, he might never find the strength to follow through with what he had to do.

  Grace let out one last cry of desperation—his name—but the echo was lost as the door to the dungeon slammed shut, and silence enveloped him.

  -X-

  Dark clouds came forth to herald the night, and the MWR watched with a grim smile as lightning flashed in the distance, giving birth to a slow rumble of thunder. Rage all you want, he thought. For tonight I slay yet another thorn in my side, and this time Silent Thunder will be broken beyond the point of returning. The anticipation of Grace Sawyer’s execution summoned memories of the last woman he had burned in the Central Square—a woman he wished countless times to forget. But the flames had not extinguished her from his mind, as he had hoped. Those eyes still haunted him when he woke in the mornings, when he went to sleep at night—as did her voice, dripping with self-righteous piety and declaring him damned.

  Show yourself to me, you coward, he challenged the sky. Show me you are more than the fleeting dream of the desperate and the weak. Lightning struck across the horizon, a brief flash of white that reminded him of a Spectral Gladius clashing against another. Thunder crackled as if in threat, and Alexander’s smile widened. “You are weak. As she was weak. As all those who trust in you are weak. I will exterminate them all—every last one—and still you will not challenge me. They cry out to you as children to a father…what a cruel, cosmic joke.”

  A knock sounded at his door, and he turned from the window, “Enter!”

  The golden doors parted to admit Grand Admiral Donalson, dressed in an elegant style of black uniform once worn only by the Ruling Council. The MWR had insisted that all the officers appropriate the Council’s colors for their own, but that was not what held the MWR’s attention. It was the colors on the grand admiral’s face, a mess of cuts and bruises.

  “What happened to you?”

  Donalson grimaced, “Nothing I can’t handle on my own.” He held a single paper in his hand, and despite his usual regard for decorum he did not bother with a bow or formal greeting. “Please, sir, tell me this report is not true.”

  Alexander glanced at the paper and saw the grand admiral struggle not to crumple it in his fist. He is angry, good. Angry men are easy to control. “What report is that?”

  “Apparently Chief Advisor Gordon Drake has been assassinated, and we are responsible.”

  “Gordon Drake was a traitor,” Alexander snapped. “And I would think you of all people would rejoice at one less enemy to worry about. What you should be asking is how we can lay his compatriots alongside him.”

  “Sir,” Donalson said. “I bear no love for any of the former Council members, but if you had consulted me on this I would have advised against it. You have crossed a line that Sullivan would not have thought to cross on his own, but now you can be assured that he will. You have placed yourself in danger by ordering this.”

  “And I have struck fear into our enemies,” Alexander sneered. “When those shots were fired and Drake went down, Sullivan stood right next to him. They could have killed him instead, but their orders were
to leave him alive.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I want him to live with the fear,” the MWR replied. “I want him to feel that same helplessness that he felt when he ran from me like a dog with his tail between his legs. And I want him to know, as long as possible, that one day I will come for him. Only after I have destroyed everything he desires, everything he has built, will I allow him to die. This is what happens to the enemies of Napoleon Alexander, Grand Admiral. No heroic deaths. Only tragedy.” He stepped around his desk and snatched the report out of the grand admiral’s hand. He ripped it to shreds and cast the pieces on his desk.

  “We will speak of this no more today. Another event must claim our attention. Everything is prepared, I presume?”

  Donalson’s lips were thin, but he knew better than to press Alexander when he declared a subject closed. “The soldiers are in place, sir, and Specter should be arriving shortly.”

  “And the girl?”

  “In transit soon enough.”

  “Excellent,” Alexander’s voice was calm and chilling. “Make sure she is well guarded. I’ll not have her escape before our moment of triumph.” Not like last time, with that foolish little boy.

  “You should know, sir, that there is still a chance the rebellion could override our systems the same way they did this morning.”

  Alexander tasted bile in his throat. It had taken hours for the soldiers to find the device McCall had been carrying, and even longer to discover that it was keeping the power off. No doubt he had intended it to cause chaos and prevent Alexander from calling for assistance. If not for Donalson’s timely arrival, it might have worked.

  One flip of the switch on the small cylinder’s side, and the power came back on immediately. Alexander had never seen such technology, and preferred to keep its existence a secret. Only he and the soldiers who found it were aware, and those soldiers might meet unfortunate ends before the week was over. For now, the device was safe in his desk drawer. Such power might be useful one day.

  There was always the possibility that a second device was out there somewhere, but for now he had to take that chance.

  “Make sure whoever is in charge at Communications knows,” he began coldly, “if they allow anything to ruin this night for me, there are worse ways to die than burning.”

  “Yes, sir. But I must reiterate my concern at your presence in the Square. There was an attack in the city this morning...an entire squad lost. It would have taken at least ten to take them out, maybe more. The rebellion is still here, and they will come for her.”

  “I hope they do,” Alexander said. “We will have some surprises to throw their way. See to the final preparations.”

  Donalson departed, and Alexander turned back to the window and the approaching storm. “The sun may rise tomorrow,” he whispered menacingly. “But Grace Sawyer shall not.”

  -X-

  Derek waited patiently for the Specter Captain in the docking bay of the Specter Spire while the remainder of his teammates boarded the Halo-4 that would take them all to their posts in the Central Square. The men amazed him with their perseverance. Faced with the perceived betrayal of their captain and then the loss of their mentor, it was a wonder that they held together at all.

  But they were strong soldiers, else they would not have been chosen for Specter in the first place. Commanding officers come and go—they had all been forced to learn that over the years—but the mission remained. Still, even Derek had to admit he had doubts about 301’s ability to step into the admiral’s role as head of the Specter Spire. He cared deeply for the man, the only true friend he had ever known, but his encounters with the rebellion and his erratic behavior when it came to Grace Sawyer made Derek suspicious of him. It was the last thing he wanted to feel, but his duty as a soldier demanded nothing less.

  Perhaps in time he could come to trust his partner implicitly again, as he had in the aftermath of Jacob Sawyer’s death. But until then he could not deny that 301 had fallen victim to the wiles of the Elect, whose allure was powerful enough to overcome even the greatest loyalties. His own family proved that. But when 301 at last entered the docking bay he let it all go and greeted his partner with a smile, “Captain. You’re late.”

  301 returned the smile, though it turned grim as he looked toward the Halo. Several of the Specters outside had stopped conversing to stare at them, their looks a mixture of distrust and open hostility. “The men are ready, I see. But will they follow my lead with the old man gone?”

  “They will follow my lead,” Derek assured.

  A tense silence stretched between them, and for a moment Derek considered amending his statement. He decided not to, however, as he realized that he meant what he said. A slow resignation spread over 301’s expression and he nodded, “So the question is: will you follow my lead?”

  “So long as you lead in the direction that benefits the World System, Captain,” Derek said. “I will follow wherever you go. Stray from that, and you’re on your own.”

  “I suppose I can’t ask for anything more,” 301 replied.

  “We await your order to depart.”

  “Then give it,” 301 said. “We must arrive in time to make our final preparations.”

  Derek grabbed 301’s arm as he tried to turn toward the Halo, stopping him in his tracks, “Before we go there’s something I need to hear from you. I need to know that if the rebellion tries anything tonight, I can count on you to do the right thing.”

  Fire shone in the Specter Captain’s eyes, but Derek was not sure it was the kind he wanted to see. “I know things have been strained between us since the Communications Tower, Derek. Few have ever sacrificed as much for me as you have—and I know what it has cost you. If it is any consolation, you would have made an excellent Specter Captain—perhaps a better one than me.”

  “I appreciate that,” Derek said. “But it still doesn’t answer my question.”

  “I will make everything right,” 301 said with conviction. “I swear to you I will.”

  “Then why do I get the feeling you’re telling me goodbye?”

  301 hesitated, and Derek couldn’t help but notice his partner’s reluctance to look him in the eye, “After this Specter will begin to grow beyond us. We will take command of our own troops and go our separate ways, to wherever this new war with the Ruling Council takes us. But before that happens, I want you to know that serving with you has been a great honor—perhaps one of the greatest of my life.”

  Derek felt sick. He had seen this sentiment in many men before and knew beyond doubt what it meant. The Specter Captain did not intend to return from the Central Square that night. The look in his eyes was the look of a man prepared to die. What that said about his intentions, Derek could not guess. He placed a hand on his partner’s shoulder. “No, Specter Captain. The honor has been mine. And I like to think our paths will cross again one day, no matter where fate takes us.”

  “Watch your back out there tonight, Derek.”

  “I’ll have an eye for mine and an eye for yours,” he promised. And with that same eye I’ll be watching to make sure you don’t do anything stupid.

  “Alright,” 301 nodded. “Let’s go.”

  43

  THEY CAME FOR HER not long after 301’s departure, a procession of shadows that moved along the walls. She dried her cheeks, stained with the tears of her shame and regret, and rose to her feet. Why couldn’t I have just said it? she asked herself for the hundredth time. I do not love you, words that if spoken might have saved 301’s life. It was so simple now in hindsight, but at the time it had seemed earth shattering.

  The journey from the palace dungeon to the Central Square was short. They shackled her arms and her feet before herding her out of the dark tunnel and into an armored military vehicle. A small part of her hoped for rescue while in transit, but had she been in command she would not have risked it. The better part of her—the courageous part—hoped that Davian and Crenshaw came to the same conclusion. They took he
r in a back way to avoid the mass of people already gathered in the Square. She did not see them, but she could hear them—a constant rumble that drowned out the thunder from the approaching storm.

  When they took her from the car and removed her shackles, she knew her time had come. Her limbs felt weak, and they shook slightly from fear. She had never been afraid of death itself…it was more the act of dying that terrified her, especially the cruel end Napoleon Alexander had planned.

  She stepped up to the makeshift doors, the last barrier between her and the crowd—the last door she would ever pass through. Moonlight played across her features through the cracks in the wood, and beyond she could hear the crushing clamor of all those who had come to bear witness to her death. The noise was so incredibly loud that she could feel vibrations coursing through her body—though it was difficult to separate from the shaking.

  “You hear that, Miss Sawyer?” Alexander came up behind her, hissing like a snake. “That is the sound of the people you have given up everything to save. So much precious blood wasted in the fight for their freedom, and how are you repaid? They have come to watch you die. But not to honor you—no. You may think to die a martyr’s death, that somehow you are sacrificing your life for all those people out there. But the truth is, Miss Sawyer: all you really are to them is…entertainment.”

  Grace gritted her teeth, but did not respond. She had no more breath to waste on Napoleon Alexander, and did not wish to die fighting off hatred in her heart. Soon it would all be over. Her part in the grand narrative would end, and she would pass into a world where the MWR could never hurt her again. Where my father is, she reminded herself longingly. And my mother. She couldn’t help but smile at the thought of being with them again, of getting to know her mother as she had never been able to on Earth. That might just give her the strength to get through this.