Shadow Fall (The Shadow Saga) (32 page)

She noticed Crenshaw watching her, and turned toward him, “So many memories.”

“Yes,” he nodded. “Even amidst the violence of war, this was a happy place. Hopeful. And then in a moment, everything changed.”

Grace remembered the day. She was only a little girl then, but she had felt the weight of loss descend upon them as surely as anyone else. And then came the chaos of the evacuation, during which she and her father had been separated from Lauren and Eli... She swallowed hard to avoid shedding any tears. “Why did you bring me here?”

“Because every now and then it is essential to acknowledge what we have lost, so that we can remember what we're fighting for. Let’s go...it’s just a bit farther.”

Grace followed Crenshaw deeper into the dome, and went against her better judgment to descend a decaying stairwell to the floors underground. Her sadness only increased as they walked past the horrible destruction. This had been her home...the last place she had truly felt safe.
No
, she caught herself.
That’s no longer true. I felt safe in the palace. Safe with Eli.

She saw hallways where they had played together as children, completely blown away. Ash and dust covered the floor, and every now and then she heard the clink of a shell casing beneath her boot. This was the first time she had been in the dome since their flight, and she felt as though she could hear the whispers of the dead calling to her from the scorched remains. What did they demand? Peace? Vengeance? Or perhaps they only spoke to be remembered.

They came into a large open room with several tables. Those that had not been overturned were covered with the same dust and ash that littered the floor. A tattered and half-burned viewscreen hung lopsided at the front of the room, and it looked as though the tables had originally been set up to face toward it.

“What room is this?” she asked.

“This was the briefing room,” Crenshaw replied, gazing around with a sigh. “This is where we handed out assignments for our missions. Used to be a lively place. We were like family then, you know. Me, your father, Jonathan and Lauren. We had seen things, experienced loss and hardships none of us ever dreamed we might face...but we faced them together. Now,” he paused and looked down at the floor, “I am the last.”

Grace walked over to the general and placed a hand on his shoulder, “I'm sorry, Crenshaw. I know you have lost so much...more than anyone should ever have to lose.”

He gave her a fatherly smile, “Perhaps that is true. But I have only lost much because I was first blessed with much, and I would be a fool to say otherwise. Luckily we serve the God of reconciliation, who will set all things right in the end.” He motioned to a door in the corner of the room, “Follow me. What I want to show you is in here.” Crenshaw stepped up to the huge security door and pulled out an old-fashioned key. “Too bad there's no power left in this place. I used to just enter a code in that keypad over there and some machine did my work for me.” He turned the key to unlock the door, and the two of them worked together to pry it open.

The general disappeared through the crack and Grace followed a moment later, only to find him standing in the glow of a light rod within a small, empty room. She looked around to make sure she wasn't missing anything and asked, “What happened, Crenshaw? Did someone take whatever was in here?”

He smiled at her, “Understand, Grace, that several of the people I loved most in this life could never be buried in a cemetery. They perished in war, by heinous execution, and sometimes far outside my ability to claim their bodies for burial. But, I still wanted to give them a place of honor where I could come visit from time to time and pay my respects. So I set aside this place, in our old home.” He moved the rod to light the wall opposite her, and she saw names—many, many names, only a few of which she recognized—inscribed upon the walls. With only a cursory glance she saw
Jonathan Charity, beloved husband, father, and friend
;
Lauren Charity, beloved wife, mother, sister, and friend
;
Gloria Sawyer, beloved wife, mother, and friend
.

Grace moved across the room, her feet leaving imprints in the soft ground, and ran her fingertips lovingly over her mother’s name. Immediately she understood why Crenshaw had felt the need to create such a place. Her mother died long ago in the Wilderness, and though her grave was marked it was far beyond the regions in which Silent Thunder roamed. But to be here where her name had been inscribed with remembrance, it was almost as though she could feel her. And for Grace, who had never gotten the opportunity to know her mother, it was a very special thing.

Crenshaw came up beside her, his eyes fixed on
Lori Crenshaw, beloved wife and friend
;
Charles and Jacqueline Crenshaw, beloved parents and mentors.
“When it comes down to it, it's just a bunch of names on a wall. But when I stand here, it helps me to remember that though they’ve gone on, they never really left us at all.” He took a small laser inscriber from his pocket and handed it to Grace. “I think you should do the honors on this one.”

Grace swallowed as she took the inscriber, holding it like a pen as she pressed its tip to the stone wall just beneath her mother’s name. She wrote in flowing script:
Jacob Sawyer, beloved father, friend, and commander.
Smoke still rose from the new letters as she handed the inscriber back to Crenshaw and looked upon her work with satisfaction. It wasn't much, but it was enough to bring a smile back to her face.

“Do you have
Glorificus
?” Crenshaw asked.

She turned to see Crenshaw on his knees in the center of the room, raking away the cold earth with his bare hands. Now she understood why he asked her to bring the weapon, and she wasn’t certain she was okay with it. “You don’t mean to bury it?”

Crenshaw stopped digging and looked up at her, “The thought had crossed my mind. But that’s your decision, Grace. As his daughter, ownership of his Gladius should rightfully fall to you.” He returned his attention to the ground and kept digging. She felt awkward standing over him while he worked, so she knelt down and helped him.

“This might have been easier with a shovel.”

Crenshaw smiled and shook his head. “Easier, maybe, but not as meaningful. At least not to me.”

They spent a couple of minutes in silence digging, until Grace's fingers felt cold and raw from moving so much of the hard soil. Digging by hand
was
more time consuming, that was certain. For every handful of dirt she managed to dig away, another half seemed to fall back in her way. But when the hole became much deeper than what would be necessary to bury the hilt of a Gladius, she asked quietly, “You think I should?”

“Should what?”

“Bury it,” she said. “Should I bury
Glorificus
?”

“Not my choice.”

“I heard you the first time,” she said. “I’m asking for your opinion.”

Crenshaw used his sleeve to wipe sweat from his brow and then continued digging. “Well, what reason do you have for keeping it?”

“It was his,” she said simply. “It was a part of him...and I don’t want to forget.”

“You’ll never forget him, Grace, I can promise you that. And you certainly don’t need a Gladius to remind you what a great father Jacob Sawyer was to you. If I were you, I’d bury it.”

“Why?”

“Because you have to
let go
,” Crenshaw answered. “In a perfect world, you would have as much time as you needed to mourn your father properly. But we don’t live in that world. Command of Silent Thunder has fallen to you, and you can’t lead us to the future while holding on to the past. This is your command now, not your father’s. So if you think holding on to that Gladius is going to keep you from doing your job, I suggest you bury it. There’s no rule that says you can’t come back for it, when you’re ready.” Crenshaw’s hand struck something besides dirt, and he sighed, “Finally.” He lifted a medium-sized box from the soil and set it down between them so Grace could see. He raised a small metal covering on the top to reveal a keypad and entered the code
0-8-3-7
. The locks released with a click, and he opened the lid.

Grace stared inside, awestruck. It was filled with objects—items that she guessed had once belonged to the people whose names Crenshaw had inscribed upon the wall. Some were simple: photographs and sheets of paper written by hand; but at the sight of others, she nearly gasped.

Three objects in particular caught her eye: two Spectral Gladii and a book inscribed with the name
Charles Conway Crenshaw.
She looked up at General Crenshaw with wide eyes, “Your father’s?”

Crenshaw nodded, “The journal, including the last will and testament, of my father the last president of the United States. He left it in the care of a friend before he died...a friend who later became our foe.”

As Crenshaw didn’t elaborate, Grace motioned to the other two objects, though she already knew to whom they had belonged. “And these...wow. I didn’t know they still existed.”

The general lifted the first Spectral Gladius from the box, and in the light Grace could see that the casing was unlike anything she had ever seen. Instead of one solid color it was made of many stones, all blended together so that while it began in black at the base of the hilt, the color blended to purple, red, orange, and at last yellow. The weapon’s inscription sparkled in the glow of the light:
Diluculo
.
Lauren Charity’s Spectral Gladius.

“How did you find that?” Grace asked. “I thought she was captured with it.”

“No,” Crenshaw said sadly. “If she’d had this with her she could not have been captured except by a force of hundreds. When Jonathan destroyed the Specter Spire and thwarted their attempt to just blow us away with a missile, the soldiers came. There was a great battle while the last groups evacuated—the signs of which you can still see. I wasn’t here for it, but I came after and found this in the rubble. My only guess is that in the shock of learning of Jonathan’s death and the chaos of the evacuation, she must have accidentally left it behind.”

“
Diluculo
,” Grace said. “What does it mean?”

“Dawn,” Crenshaw smiled. “My father used to have a saying: ‘No matter how deep the darkness of tonight—’“

“The sun will still rise tomorrow,” Grace finished. “Lauren used to tell me that all the time.”

“Yes, she loved that saying. The two of them were very close.” He studied the Gladius for one moment more before setting it back in the box with his father’s journal.

Grace unclipped
Glorificus
from her weapons belt and caressed the smooth stone with her thumb. “I suppose it is foolish to think I can hang onto it forever. But at least it will be in good company...that is, if there’s room.”

“There will be,” Crenshaw’s hand closed on the second Gladius in the box and he drew it out. Light caught in the translucent crystal casing and refracted, making the hilt appear to sparkle. “For as we lay one to rest, another must be resurrected whose deeds are not yet done.”

Grace did not ask about this Gladius, for she knew without a doubt whose it was. Every Silent Thunder operative alive knew its name.

“Alright then,” Crenshaw said. “If you want to set
Glorificus
inside, I’ll rebury the box and we can return to the Command Center.”

Grace’s gaze shifted between Crenshaw and her father’s weapon, “Actually, I was hoping that I might have a few minutes alone. I’d like to bury the box myself.”

The general nodded with understanding, “Okay.” He stood and made for the door, leaving the light rod on the ground next to the box. “I’ll be waiting for you right outside, whenever you’re ready.”

“Thank you, Crenshaw.”

He smiled and disappeared though the doorway, leaving her alone in the quiet room. She placed
Glorificus
in the box of relics and closed her eyes, thankful for this moment of peace to finally bid her father farewell. Once all the dirt had been replaced over the box’s resting place, she ran a hand lovingly over the earth, “Goodbye, Dad. I will see you again.”

She rose to rejoin Crenshaw, but stopped when another name on the wall caught her eye:
Elijah Charity, beloved son, nephew, and friend
.

She saw a vision of the boy, standing beside her on the day they had been forced to leave this place, and remembered the way he had been so protective of her—not so different from the way 301 had been on the day when she had been marked with his designation.

And then, suddenly, she saw the entire thing clearly. It hadn’t been her mere presence that had resurrected Elijah Charity within the husk of his former self…it had been his need to
protect
her. And now that her need was gone, the System soldier had again become dominant. But if that need returned, would Elijah Charity return as well?

Her gut clenched with dread as she realized that path could have only one end. If this was the only way to reach her old friend, the only way to succeed in bringing him back, she had no choice but to do it. But there would be a price…a price that only she could pay.

She would have to die.

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