Shadow Heart (9 page)

“I would offer you a chair,” his master said with amusement. “But it seems the only one is taken.”

Rowan’s eyes shifted involuntarily to the silhouette of the man in the chair as his eyes began to adjust to the low light. He still could discern little more than shadows, but it was clear that the man had been knocked unconscious. He slumped forward in the chair, long hair hanging down over his brow, with only the ropes that bound him keeping him anchored.

Those ropes, likely the same ones that he himself had worn, brought an unpleasant tingle to Rowan’s wrists.

“Who is he?”

“You of all people should know better than to ask that question, Rowan,” his master chided. “Better to ask who he
will be
. But, that is none of your concern. I need you to do something for me.”

Rowan’s stomach turned with dread. He had known this day would come again, but had hoped it to be much farther off. “What do you wish of me?”

“You have heard these rumors from the Wilderness, I take it?”

“The Wilderness is full of rumors, sir. Rebels. The Imperial Guard. Strange happenings in the ghost cities left by the Old World’s fall.”

“Yes, all troubling in their own way,” his master said. “Though one troubles me more than the rest. Shadow Heart.”

“Commander Grace Sawyer,” Rowan nodded. “She is the subject of many Great Army mess hall conversations.”

“Truly,” his master said dryly. “What do they say about her?”

For the first time since darkening the door of the building, a grin found its way to his face, “Lonely soldiers and a legendary warrior goddess? I’m sure you can imagine what they say.”

“Yes,” he replied. “I can. But the fantasies of enlisted men don’t concern me. What does is that Sawyer has become a very great threat to our future endeavors. She must be eliminated.”

“The top brass of the Great Army agree with you, sir,” Rowan said. “Grand Admiral Blaine is out there now with his Spectorium, hunting her. The problem is finding her, and getting through her men.”

“Blaine is a hammer. You are a scalpel. As for finding her, I dare say you’ll manage.”

“Sir, what you are talking about is a long, protracted mission. I could slip away from my duties with the Ninth for one, maybe two days, but this could take months or more.”
And so much the better. Find someone else to do your dirty work.

“It’s all been arranged,” his master said, turning from him to study the still form of the man in the chair. Rowan couldn’t see the look in his master’s eye, but he remembered it all the same: the cruel fascination, like a human being was a puzzle to be solved.

“Arranged, sir?”

“General Dryfus owes me a favor. He has agreed to...lend you to me.” He chuckled. “As if you were not already mine.”

Rowan’s throat felt suddenly dry. Months outside the city walls, in the dead of winter, tracking a woman who had become somewhat of a legend...there was a very real chance he would not survive this. “Why the sudden need to see her dead? Blaine will get her, eventually.”

“Perhaps,” his master nodded. “But Blaine is a soldier. I need an assassin. I taught you skills that no one in the World System possesses, Rowan. I know you have used them to advance your own cause: rivals mysteriously dead or missing; a difficult commanding officer who died in a training exercise. You are good, better than I ever hoped you would be. But you owe me a debt. It’s time you paid it.”

He felt a spark of hope, “So if I do this for you...”

“So eager to be free of me, boy?” His master laughed. “You know that will never happen. Even if I were to release you, you would return. We are connected by more than obligation. You would return to me, even if you didn’t want to. Like a son to his father.”

Rowan gritted his teeth in anger, for he knew it was true. He was bonded to his master. Dependent upon him. And he would be until the master’s death. He had thought of killing him many times, but could never get past the initial strategy of how he would do it. As his master said, it was like plotting the murder of his father. He just couldn’t do it.

“So that is the what,” his master said, growing suddenly somber. “Now for the why. Silent Thunder has been searching for something this past year, roaming the Wilderness from ruin to ruin in search of clues to unlock one of the most dangerous of all Old World secrets. They must never find it. Kill her, and let Derek Blaine’s hammer fall on the rest of them.”

“And what of the secret?” Rowan asked. “If I come across evidence...”

“Destroy it,” his master said. “Some things were never meant to see the light of day. Let it die a rumor in the histories.”

A groan sounded throughout the small room, and Rowan recoiled. He did not want to be there when the man awoke, did not want to witness the horrors that would be inflicted upon him.

“And that is our cue,” his master said. “The guards at the west gate of Alexandria have been informed of your departure. From there I suggest you head southwest and track the Spectorium. Eventually, they will lead you to Sawyer.”

The man in the chair stirred, his groans becoming more pronounced. Soon they would be full on screams of terror and pain. Rowan took a step toward the door.

“There is one more thing,” his master said. “This time I want proof of your kill. There is a small token Shadow Heart carries on her person at all times: a ring with a round blue stone. Bring it to me, and I promise you will be greatly rewarded.”

“Where am I?” The man in the chair sobbed. “Why are you doing this to me?”

“Our time is up, Rowan. Best of luck in your mission.”

Rowan was already on the threshold, and took that as his leave to go. He shut the door quickly behind him as his master descended toward the poor fool, and was halfway down the hall before the screams began again in earnest.

Suddenly putting a few hundred miles between himself and his master didn’t seem like such a bad idea. He would accomplish his mission or die trying, there was no doubt about that. His master had given him a direct order. But once it was done—once Shadow Heart was dead—who was to say? Perhaps he would be free to choose his own fate. The world outside Alexandria was wide, and there were plenty of places he could go.

He emerged back out into the fresh cold air and immediately vomited on the steps, coughing back laughter at the mere notion of disappearing. He knew what kind of man his master was. No matter where he went, or what he did, he could only ever count on one thing:

There was nowhere to hide.

F
OOTSTEPS ECHOED DOWN THE
decaying hall, a welcome respite from the oppressive silence of the ruin. All of the Wilderness was quiet, but there was something more complete—more melancholy—about those places that humans had abandoned. Perhaps it was the knowledge of all the feet that had traversed them, the voices and laughter that had once filled them…the lives, free and happy, that had once been commonplace.

Now all was darkness, and only their ghosts remained. She found comfort there in her solitude, at home among those ghosts of happier times. The world was a better place in the memories of those long dead…and of those gone for not so long. She permitted herself only these brief periods of peace to think of them, to regret their loss, and to remember them with honor.

But the footsteps meant that her moment of mourning was at an end.

Grace Sawyer—Shadow Heart, as she was now commonly known—rose to her feet from the place where she had been sitting at the end of the hall. A figure emerged from the darkness, one she had come to know well in the past several months. During her childhood she had referred to him affectionately as “Uncle T.,” but now that she was commander and not her father, Colonel Traughber had become one of her most trusted officers. Perhaps
the
most trusted, depending on Crenshaw’s secrets and Davian’s mood.

She met him halfway, where he greeted her with a smile and a respectful nod. Before the men he was all ceremony, but when they were alone he took on a more fatherly air, “All is prepared. We await only your word.”

“The scouts?”

“We believe the Spectorium is nearby,” Traughber replied. “But we haven’t been able to nail down their location. The sooner we’re in, the sooner we’re out. Let’s just hope we leave those assassins none the wiser.”

She nodded, and the two walked side-by-side toward the exit, “They say Derek Blaine is hunting me. That he believes I’m responsible for Elijah’s death.”

Traughber kept his gaze forward and said quietly, “You did everything you could for that boy, Grace. In the end he chose to face Napoleon Alexander, and that choice killed him. That was not your failure.”

“Some days I wish I could forget him,” she admitted. “Some days I wish that the little boy I knew had actually died sixteen years ago. If he had…maybe things would have gone differently.”

“Maybe they would,” Traughber said. “But you should keep in mind that it was not the boy you loved. It was the man. The man just happened to have been the boy, once.”

They plunged into the darkness of the hall, but Grace was not afraid. She had grown accustomed to night and shadow, and had learned to make them serve her purposes. If you
became
the monster in the night, there was no longer need to fear one.

“And that love became my destroyer,” she whispered. “It fled from me, but only after ripping away everything I cared about. Never again, Colonel. I will never make that mistake again.”

“That’s news that several young men will be devastated to hear.”

Grace smiled, “Oh, yes, I’ve heard about the bets. But it’s Shadow Heart that intrigues them, not Grace Sawyer.”

Traughber sighed, “I really wish you would have put a stop to that nonsense when it first began. You never liked being called that when you were a teenager, if memory serves.”

“What teenage girl wants to be labeled with a term that implies she does not have the ability to love?” Grace asked.

“What young woman does?”

“That’s not what the name means now, Colonel. Back then it was a cruel taunt. Now it is a title of honor. A rallying cry for the rebellion.”

“Yet it is still this persona of the cold-hearted warrior that you embrace. I understand that you have lost, Grace. I understand the tragedies. But I don’t understand losing yourself in them.”

“My father led with passion, Colonel,” Grace said. “I lead with poise. His Silent Thunder was fire; mine is ice. We were a breath away from extermination when I became commander of the 2
nd
Battalion. Now we are the shadows they fear in the night. ‘Napoleon Alexander controls the cities,’ they say, ‘but Shadow Heart rules the Wilderness.’”

“I have heard what they say,” a bit of sternness entered into the colonel’s tone. “The foolishness of young men.”

“Not foolishness,” Grace insisted. “Hope. And if I must sacrifice my personal happiness to give them that, I won’t hesitate.”

They reached the end of the hall, and Traughber stopped. He turned to face her with a grave expression, “I would be remiss, in this moment, if I didn’t mention that this is not what your father would have wanted.”

“My father wanted many things he never received, Colonel,” Grace said, her features tight. Elijah’s face appeared briefly in her mind. “And so did I.” She sidestepped Traughber and rounded the corner, where her team waited in the foyer. They saluted at her approach.

“At ease,” she said. “Gentlemen, get ready to move. We have an estimated window of three minutes to pass from here to the target without being seen by the infrared sensors. Lieutenant, report: the Spectorium?”

As the six soldiers prepared their weapons the young officer replied, “Their last known location was just over twenty miles north of here. We lost track about an hour ago. Lieutenant Commander Davian attempted to lead them on a path north and away from the target, but we have had no word of him and know nothing of his success. Truthfully, Commander: they could be out there waiting for us, right now.”

“Then that just means we need to be prepared for anything. Form up. We move as soon as the infrared blind spot opens.” They made their way to the doors and waited in silence.

Traughber stepped up beside her after a few seconds had passed, his hands holding nervously onto the rails. Grace refused to acknowledge him at first, but soon felt guilty. He was only trying to help, after all.

“Okay, Colonel,” she said. “Out with it.”

He sighed heavily and whispered so that the others couldn’t hear, “I think that sometimes you forget that, despite the state of the world, you are still a beautiful young woman who deserves happiness. My greatest fear for you is that you will expend every last ounce of your strength in battle…and forget to live. Isn’t that the reason we’re doing this? To live?”

“I fight not that I might live, but that others might live
free
.”

“How can you give hope if you keep none for yourself?”

“Commander,” the lieutenant’s voice cut in. “The blind spot is open. We’re in the clear.”

Grace nodded. She spared a look for Colonel Traughber, who watched her with concerned eyes—the same look she had seen many times from her father. She touched his arm affectionately, “I hear you, Colonel. Later, okay?”