Shadow Fall (The Shadow Saga)
Read Shadow Fall (The Shadow Saga) Online
Authors: J. L. Lyon
CONTENTS
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Progeny
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The Path of Shadows
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Pax Aeterna
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For Papaw
a hero in every sense of the word,
but most of all a hero to his family…
1
T
HERE WOULD BE NO DAWN
.
Rain fell in cascades from the black sky, submerging him in an ocean of icy cold. His breath fogged the air in front of him, pushing back a spray of water before rushing back into his face as they fled. His legs were tired, but they could not stop, no more than if the very whips of Hell cracked behind them.
A hand clutched his, slippery and cold but strong and unrelenting. His strength was failing, his will near shattering at the terrible turns of the day, but the hand that held him was sure. His mother would not let go of him. She would not leave him, as his father had.
In the past few hours he had known nothing but peril and loss. His mind was numb with the despair of it, as his body was numb from the icy rain. There had barely been any time for him to think about everything that had happened...everything he had lost.
Fear set in, and his concentration faltered. He slowed, pushed back by the rain, forgetting the danger that lay behind them and the urgency of their flight. But the hand that held him kept on at the same speed, and his mother pulled him forward unexpectedly. Sharp asphalt met his foot and he pitched forward, flailing through the sheets of water as his hand slipped away from hers. He cried out, not from the pain that tore at his knees as he hit the ground, but the fear that his mother might lose him. He could barely see her through this night, though he knew she could only be inches from his outstretched fingertips.
He only had one moment to despair, for her hand grabbed hold of his and lifted him off the ground. Within the span of a few seconds he was moving again, this time in his mother’s arms. Lightning flashed overhead and revealed the ruined city around them, but this time the accompanying roll of thunder did not subside. It remained, constant and strange, and despite his fear he could not quell his curiosity.
The boy twisted his neck around to look at the ground retreating behind his mother’s hurried steps, and immediately wished he hadn’t. It was not thunder he heard, but the crash of boots on concrete. The dark men were coming, like shadows emerging straight from his nightmares.
He turned again to face the way forward, only to see another group of shadows come around the corner. He cried out in warning, but his mother had already seen. She made a sharp turn to the left, and though it had seemed impossible just moments before, this new road grew even darker than the ones they left behind. Lightning flashed and revealed brick walls to the right and left, so close he felt a tinge of claustrophobia.
Then, suddenly, his mother stopped. Nothing but solid brick lay before them: the end of the road.
She screamed in frustration and pounded on the wall, sending a spray of water flying with every impact of her fist. A choked gasp escaped her throat amidst her labored breaths, and when she looked down at him, he knew: it was over.
The end had come.
She sat him down on the road and pushed him behind her, shielding him from view as the thunder of the dark men’s boots grew ever louder. He stole a glance around his mother’s tall form just as the first of them came into view, blocking the mouth of the alley and slowing as they made their victorious approach. He could feel his mother’s tension, like a rubber band about to snap, and saw her reach subconsciously to her right hip in a vain search for the weapon that could have saved them...a weapon that was not there.
When the front line came within a few yards of the place where they stood, the dark men stopped as one. The ensuing silence was louder than the thunder of their march. His ears rang in the absence of it, and if not for the continual patter of rain and the sound of his own breathing, he might have thought himself deaf.
For several long moments the soldiers just stood there, rigid in their lines, with expressionless faces behind guns that dangled across their fronts—all at the same angle: downward left. To his eyes they were more like one mind than many, multiple bodies with a single uniform purpose.
Then there was quick movement. The lines of men seemed to fold in upon one another until they had formed a kind of aisle down their center. And at the end: the road from which they had come. Escape. Freedom. The boy looked up at his mother, wondering if they would make a run for it. They would never get past all those soldiers, surely. So what was going on? Were the soldiers just taunting them?
His answer came as a sleek black vehicle pulled to a stop at the opposite end of the aisle. His mother’s fear intensified, he could tell by the way she gripped him more tightly. But he was smart enough to know she could not protect him, not from this.
One of the soldiers moved forward to open the back door of the vehicle and then stepped aside. There was another pause, and the boy held his breath in anticipation. Even the soldiers seemed to be doing the same.
Black boots touched the wet pavement, and the newcomer emerged from within like a storm of blackness. If the soldiers were dark men, this man was darkness itself. A long black trench coat unfurled as the man straightened and adjusted his clothing. Oblivious to the rain, he advanced slowly, hands behind his back, gazing from side to side at the expressionless soldiers.
When at last he turned his gaze upon them, he wore a sickening smile.
He came to a stop halfway between them and the soldiers, and spoke in a voice barely audible over the rain, “Lovely night, wouldn’t you say?”
“I’ve seen better,” the boy’s mother replied.
“Can’t argue with that,” he grinned. “And yet somehow, despite all you have been through, you still manage to look as beautiful as ever. You were always beautiful, always brilliant, always resourceful. For a moment I thought you might slip through my fingers yet
again
. But all things, eventually, must end. Now you are mine.”
He paced in front of her briefly, watching her out of the corner of eyes alight with excitement, as though waiting for something. When she did not speak, he stopped again and raised his eyebrows in question, “You surprise me, Lauren. You were always so defiant, so full of unsolicited wisdom. I find it hard to believe you have nothing to say.”
“I have no more breath to waste on you.”
“Then again, perhaps the events of today have broken your defiance. Perhaps all that is left is a shattered soul, clinging to what little slivers of life remain. In the last twelve hours you have lost nearly everything. In the next twelve minutes I expect you’ll lose the rest. So if you will not fight, perhaps it is time for you to
plead
.”
“Pleas have no value at the feet of a monster.”
His smile darkened, “You are the one to blame for what I have become, Lauren Charity! You, your traitorous husband, your self-righteous brother! It is because of you that I am what I am.”
“Save the sob stories for someone else, Patrick. You’ll get no pity from me.”
“
Never
speak that name in my presence!” he spat. “The man who bore that name is dead, as is the world that made him. What I have built in its place is grander than any kingdom ever established upon this earth. Soon all will know the lesson you learned too late: the World System is inescapable.”
“Yet with all your soldiers, your lands, and your weapons, still you are nothing but a tyrant. History bears witness to your fate: tyrants always fall, in the end. One day someone will bring your World System crashing down around you.”
“Perhaps,” he flashed a menacing smile. “But not today. That day, if it ever comes, will only be after you have long rotted away in the grave. Like those who have gone before you, who wasted themselves on a cause that never yielded its promised reward. You should have listened to me long ago, Lauren. The only thing worth trusting in this life is
power
.”
“Words from a man who has not known love.”
“I tried love once,” he sneered. “Perhaps you remember.”
A tense silence descended on the alley, interrupted only by a distant crackle of thunder. At length, the dark man went on, “Let us talk honestly now, you and I. Your life in Silent Thunder is over…but it need not be the end of you. You can—”
Lauren broke in immediately, “You know I will never do that.”
“Not for your own sake, no. Your self-righteous sense of purpose runs too deep. But things are not the same as they were then.” He paused, then took a step forward. “I’m curious: how far will you go to save your son?”
Lauren’s muscles tensed and she drew herself up protectively, “You stay away from him.”
The boy shrank back against the wall as the dark man reached out and grabbed his mother by the face. He moved within inches of her and hissed, “You still don’t get it, do you? Look around! No one is coming to save you. You are mine. Your son...is
mine
. Maybe you still believe that there is a power in this world working for your good, that some God will stretch out his hand and intervene. But you are wrong. There is only one god here, and his name is Napoleon Alexander!” He took hold of her arm and flung her back against the line of soldiers, “Hold her!”
