by J. L. Lyon
Davian remembered the softness behind those eyes; the honesty of a soul so long in hiding that longed for someone to at last lay it bare.
“Yes,” he replied. “I trust you.”
“Thank you,” she said. “I will radio you when I have convinced Van Dorn’s forces to surrender.”
“How are you planning to do that?”
“By removing their reason for being here,” she said. “I am going to kill Van Dorn.”
- X -
Grace moved forward, heedless of the chaos that surrounded her, using Novus Vita as a tool to weave through the scattered battles waged between the doomed heroes of Silent Thunder and their bloodthirsty foes. She felt something deep in her chest, a flame slowly rising to fill her body with rage. This was the man who had killed her father; the man who had chased her relentlessly across the Wilderness; the man whose army would make an end of hers.
But not before she made an end of him as well.
Blaine did not see her at first, too engaged in a duel with none other than Private Ford, the man who had carried Crenshaw to the alley. But Ford, though he fought well, was not up to the same level as Blaine. The grand admiral cut him down before she could get any closer, and her rage increased tenfold.
“Blaine!” she shouted.
His eyes shifted and landed on her, and instead of rage there was just a cool acceptance. This is the end I hoped for, his expression seemed to say, The end we both want. He stepped forward, matching her pace as she continued to move through the battle. He knocked away several blades as well, but had no stomach for the fight. He only had eyes for her.
When only ten yards remained between them they both picked up speed, and the thrill of adrenaline drove Grace onward. In that moment she felt that if she only spread her arms wide she might fly straight at him. Her grip on Novus Vita tightened, and she braced herself for the first blow.
The Gladius died in her hand. She was so used to the hum of it against her palm that she knew immediately when it was gone, and all the adrenaline pumping through her disappeared, siphoned into an ocean of despair. Without diamond armor Derek Blaine’s weapon would slice right through hers, and end her life one second later.
But then she saw that Blaine’s Gladius had died as well. Odd, she thought. For both of us to lose power at almost the same instant... Come to think of it, she had been at almost 80% power before the first charge. Both she and Blaine drew up short, confused.
And in the same moment they stopped, the hum of all the weapons on the field suddenly went silent. The darkness of the shadowed block deepened. The light of diamond armor on the ground had lit the area more than she had appreciated, so that now she could see only Derek Blaine’s silhouette. Cries of fear and confusion echoed out from the Spectorium ranks, though she was certain those of her men who survived felt the same.
“Grace,” a whisper at her ear made her jump. It was Crenshaw. “You must give the order to withdraw back to the alley. Without our weapons we are defenseless.”
She looked around. Most duels had come to as sudden a halt as hers and Blaine’s. They had come into this fight expecting to die, but there was no reason to succumb to wanton slaughter. And as soon as the Spectorium recovered from their shock and drew their guns, that is precisely what would happen. She nodded, and gave the order.
- X -
“Silent Thunder! Withdraw! Withdraw now!”
“No!” Derek hissed. He would not be cheated out of his revenge, not when he had come so close. He moved toward the place where Grace had last been, though now all he could make out was a mass of bodies. But he would find her...he would make her pay for what she had stolen from him.
His Spectral Gladius might be useless, but he had other weapons that would do the job just as well. A hand grabbed his shoulder and pulled him forcefully backward, “Wait, Grand Admiral.”
Gentry. The man had fought by his side throughout the entire battle and proven himself worthy of the title Derek had bestowed, but at that moment Derek wished he had never taken the man into his confidence. He performed his duties too well at times.
“Let go of me, Specter General,” Derek said. “I am in command here, not you.”
“With respect, sir, Silent Thunder has withdrawn and it would be a good idea for us to do the same.” Derek saw the whites of his eyes grow larger. “You know what this is, sir. We have to go. Now.”
Something clicked in Derek’s mind. Until that second he had never even thought about why every Spectral Gladius on the field had suddenly died. He had been too preoccupied with the result: that his chance to fight and kill Grace Sawyer had been thwarted mere seconds before their blades crossed.
I’m compromised, he admitted. I can no longer make sound decisions when Grace Sawyer is involved. She had done the very same thing to Derek that she had once done to 301, just on a different side of the divide between love and hate. I should step down. Let Gentry take command.
Technology to do something like this, to completely shut down a Spectral army, was like nothing he had ever seen. That suggested it was done by a force they had not yet encountered.
And that force was coming. It would be best if they were far from here when it arrived.
Derek opened his mouth to give the order, but stopped at a flash of blue light in the sky. The Halo he had requested from Van Dorn had finally arrived. Late, but it had come. And in that, he saw his chance. Rage returned to the forefront of his mind, and in the face of vengeance all his reason fled.
“Form up. We still have a job to do.” If he could not slay her with the sword, he would shower her with gunfire and bury her beneath the rubble of her new city.
“Grand Admiral,” Gentry shook his head. “The battle is over.”
Not until she is dead, Derek thought. Not until they are all dead.
“Give the order, Gentry. And do it now, before I regret my decision to promote you. Then patch me through to that Halo. I want them prepared to level that entire alley.”
-X-
Grace heard the missiles before she saw them, and by then it was too late. There were two of them, and they slammed into the building at the back of the alley just as the first of the battle’s survivors reached it. The day lit up suddenly in an explosive ball of flame, and a massive section collapsed. Those ahead of her were buried beneath concrete and debris, and the rest were enveloped by a cloud of gray smoke. She coughed uncontrollably as some of the ash got into her lungs, but it quickly dissipated, and she looked up to see a mountain of gray blocking their path.
She turned back toward the battlefield and saw the oncoming mass of the Spectorium lit by the light of the small fires behind her. There was no time to escape. They were trapped. She looked from side to side and saw that only seven of them had survived. Crenshaw was there, and five others.
They all backed up as the Spectorium approached, the instinct of all Spectral-adepts who feared being surrounded. But without a Gladius there would be no point. This would soon turn into a gunfight, and what a short fight it would be.
Still, there was something comforting about the feel of the concrete at her back. At least she would see the end coming.
“Gentlemen,” she said to the survivors. “Thank you for the sacrifice you have made today. It was an honor to fight beside you.”
“I believe I speak for all of us, Commander,” Crenshaw said. “The honor is ours.”
Grace drew herself up to her full height. Soon, Dad, she thought. I’ll be with you again soon. And I’ll finally get to meet Mom...finally get to tell her how much I have missed her...
She caught sight of Derek Blaine at the front of the Spectorium’s line, and though she wanted to rage at him, to try everything in her power to end him, she couldn’t find it in her to hate anymore. This world and all its cares already seemed to be passing away. She did not want her last moments to be defined by him.
Her thoughts trailed instead to Eli, the man she had loved, whose loss she had never been able to overcome...wh
o she might never see again. My only regret...letting him leave the doorstep that night and go back to the palace. There was more I could have said...more that might have made him stay.
The Spectorium came to a halt a few yards from their position. The moonlight glimmered on their dead blades, which most still held despite their uselessness. Grace realized then that she still held on tightly to her own. She gazed down at it, the weapon in which she had placed so much trust, and let it go.
Novus Vita clattered to the ground, and Grace let out a long sigh of relief. Somehow it felt good to be helpless, to stop fighting and accept her impending fate. The weapons of her companions clattered to the ground after hers, and she smiled. There was something symbolic in that for the Spectorium as well, as if to say they could not claim victory until Silent Thunder chose to lay it down.
Blaine stepped forward out of the line and sneered, “Kill them all.”
Grace watched him reach for his gun and braced for the bullet meant for her, but saw nothing else, for in that moment a shadow fell between her and Blaine. That was the first interpretation of her addled mind, though she quickly realized it was not a shadow, but a man: a man in a black suit.
He had fallen from directly above her, the ground rippling at the impact of his boots as he landed in a crouched position. He straightened, and the firelight on his armor made the suit itself seem alive. He looked at her through the visor of his helmet, and she felt a chill go straight through her.
Persian.
43
TIME SEEMED TO SLOW down as Grace waited for the Persian to make his next move. Though in the end it was not the black-clad warrior who acted—it was Derek Blaine. She heard his shout echo across the block, “Shoot them! Shoot them now!”
Blaine’s voice woke the Persian from his trance, and he turned his head in time to see the Halo descend between himself and the Spectorium. One strafe with their guns and it would all be over. A high-pitched noise vibrated Grace’s eardrums, forcing her to cover her ears, and the blue lights of the Halo’s engines suddenly went dark.
The vessel itself fell flat to the earth with a sound of crunched metal, smoke rising from its dead engines. Grace reminded herself to breathe. Unfortunately, the Halo had fallen to the side and would provide no protection from the Spectorium, but that sound—some kind of EMP?—had brought it down. It stood to reason that it had been behind the failure of every Spectral Gladius on the battlefield as well.
The Persian paused to stare at her one final time, and then turned his back on her. She started forward, but Crenshaw grabbed her shoulder and pulled her back. His face was ashen as he whispered, “Wait.”
Another shadow fell from above them and landed beside the black-clad warrior, ground rippling beneath him, only this one wore the gold armor that left some of his skin exposed. Then another came, also in black, and another gold, and another, all facing outward and forming a semicircle around the Silent Thunder survivors. Grace looked up and saw that they were coming over the debris of the building, much too far a drop for a normal man to handle. It must be something in their armor, she thought.
Derek Blaine finally recovered from his shock and, though she could no longer see the Spectorium beyond the formation of the Persian force, she heard the sound of weapons being drawn and made ready to fire. And then, Blaine’s voice, “Open fire!”
Gunfire erupted from beyond the Persian line, and Grace crouched down and covered her ears by instinct. She tilted her head upward as she took cover and saw that still more Persians came down out of the ruined building, heedless of the danger.
-X-
Derek gritted his teeth in frustration. He had emptied an entire clip at the Persian line, and each bullet had disintegrated against their armor like water upon a rock. The armor glowed white at the site of each impact, whether it came on the black-clad bodies or on the exposed skin of their golden-armored companions. He had tried several head shots on the latter, to no avail.
“Cease fire!” he ordered. Bullets were useless here, and there was no point in wasting them. Once more the alley descended into silence, and Derek froze. For the first time in a very long time, he had no idea what to do. No Spectral Gladius, a useless sidearm, no air cover...what did that leave him to fight with? His fists?
You’ve lost this one, he heard a voice say in his head...not his own, but his father’s. It was inevitable you would meet your match. You can’t win them all, son.
“Yes I can,” he whispered. He just had to figure out how.
Whispers began to ring out behind him as his men grew uncomfortable. They had never gone this long without an order from him. Shifting boots warned that some were even ready to flee.
“Grand Admiral Blaine.” The voice startled him, mechanical and inhuman. Movement on the Persian line made his muscles tense, but it was only one man who stepped forward. Derek couldn’t be sure, but he thought it was the same black-clad warrior who had stopped him from shooting Grace Sawyer. Something about the way he carried himself seemed familiar, making Derek wonder if he was also the leader Gentry had marked in that recording.
Derek stepped forward, “You know who I am, I see. I would ask you to show me the same courtesy, but I prefer to find out after you are dead.”
“I’m sure,” the warrior said. “But you will not have that chance, not today. You will withdraw your men from this field of battle. Go back to Alexandria and lick your wounds.” To accentuate his threat, the warrior activated a Spectral Gladius at his side. In response, the rest of the Persian force did the same. The battlefield was once again filled with the song of a Spectral army, only now this one was arrayed against him. He had never fully appreciated the fear that a normal armed force must have felt when faced with a Spectral army. The presence of Spectral Scimitars, as well as Gladii, only made that fear more potent.
But Derek did not have time for fear. How was it that their Spectral weapons worked, while those of both Silent Thunder and the Spectorium did not? Yet another technological advancement? That noise that had destroyed the Halo...he expected a lesser version had done in his Spectral Gladius just a few moments before. It had sounded like an EMP, but that wasn’t possible. The casing of a Spectral Gladius was designed to withstand EMPs.
“This is your last chance, Blaine,” the warrior said. “Order your men to withdraw, or we will stain the ground red with Spectorium blood.”
His mind raced. He had only seconds to figure out how to fight this enemy. Hit an enemy where he believes he is strongest, had always been his mantra. The Persians were strongest in their armor, so that was no good. But then, something clicked. Hit them where they are strongest... Everyone knew the place of the World System’s greatest strength. It was the foundation behind everything: all their weapons, their infrastructure, their travel. And without it a Spectral Gladius would die and a Halo would crash.
Solithium power.
He grinned, “Respectfully, I must decline your offer. I would offer to let you withdraw, but unfortunately for you that’s just not my style.” He unclipped a spare Solithium vial from his belt.
Gentry grabbed his shoulder and whispered vehemently, “Grand Admiral, if you do this it will be a slaughter. We must withdraw.”
“Spectorium!” Derek roared in response. “Reload your swords!”
He pressed the button on the base of Exusia that released the Solithium chamber and let the useless vial fall to the ground. Then he pushed the new vial into the hilt until it clicked into place. There was never a sound more glorious than that of his Gladius returning to life in his hands, the white light playing across the rubble at his feet.
But he did not have long to rejoice. The enemy force, seeing that he had discovered how to reactivate his blade, launched their charge. Hoping that the men behind him had caught on to his discovery, Derek lifted Exusia into the air and commanded his army to do likewise. The thunder of boots behind him was some reassurance, though he knew this would not be anything like the battle with Silent Thunder. That had
been a dance. This would be a full-on brawl: ugly, chaotic...brute force against brute force.
The two armies met with a sickening crunch, and men immediately started to die. Spectral Scimitars were slower than a Gladius, he found, but their reach was longer and the blade wider for better defense. He disarmed his first enemy soldier and swung at the man’s chest. Exusia ricocheted off the black armor, and Derek nearly dropped it from shock.
Power enough to stop bullets, he understood, but a Spectral Gladius? He had grown so used to it being an all-powerful weapon, he had never even considered the possibility it might not pierce their armor. The warrior took advantage of his shock and punched him in the mouth. Derek recoiled, the force of the blow sending him to his knees. He wiped his mouth, now slick with blood, and raised his eyes just before his opponent’s boot collided with his chin. His head snapped back, and for a moment it seemed the kick had launched him into the air. He landed hard on his back, the wind knocked out of him.
His mind grew foggy as his body tried to send him into unconsciousness, but he summoned what rage he could and shook it off. He had only just regained vision when a flash of white light descended straight toward his face. He twisted his wrist and blocked the Gladius, which his opponent had evidently had time to retrieve, with his own. Then he kicked the warrior behind the knee, forcing him down to the ground.
Derek leapt back to his feet and, ignoring the dizziness, swung hard at the warrior’s neck. Normally it would have lopped the man’s head off, but instead his blade met a wall just an inch from the man’s neck. He didn’t pause this time, but swung again at the man’s back. Still no success. It was like steel upon steel.
The warrior attempted to rise, but Derek rammed him with his shoulder and pushed him completely off-balance. Then, abandoning his Gladius altogether, he lunged at the man, grabbed hold of his helmet, and twisted. The man’s neck snapped and his body fell lifeless to the ground. “Block that,” he whispered, and picked up his Gladius in preparation for the next attacker.