Shadow Fall (The Shadow Saga) (51 page)

Grace was huddled in a corner with her head resting on her knees when 301 first caught sight of her. She didn’t move or acknowledge their presence, and 301 hesitated. He knew why he had come, despite the risk of exposure it posed, but he needed to talk to someone about what had happened...someone who could understand.

But Grace had a way of seeing directly into his soul that made him vulnerable, and if she suspected what he was planning she might try to stop him. Best, perhaps, if he left his questions unanswered.

Just as he was about to turn and go back down the tunnel, she caught sight of him and jumped to her feet. “I knew you would be here…but you should not have come.”

301 turned to the guard, “Give me a few minutes alone with her.”

The guard balked, “Napoleon Alexander ordered that no one should be alone with her, not after—”

“Get out!” 301’s shout echoed off the walls, and the guard departed without another word. As soon as he had gone 301 stepped up to the bars and spoke softly, “We don’t have much time, so I’ll not waste it. I can’t face tonight without you knowing that I…I remember.”

“Remember?” she asked. “Remember what?”

“All of it,” he replied. “My parents, Crenshaw, the Silent Thunder base…and you. I remember it all. I
am
Elijah Charity, Grace—that boy you mourned all those years ago—and I need you to remember me that way…as Eli, not as 301-14-A.”

“However I see you it will not last long,” Grace said. “I have only hours left to live.”

“I will come for you, when you are on the execution stand,” 301 promised. “You must be ready to fight your way to safety while I create a diversion to cover your escape.”

Grace’s eyes widened with fear, “You can’t, Eli. You’ll be killed. We both will be.”

“Perhaps,” he conceded. “But you gave your life for mine when you should never have had to, so now it’s time to put things back they way they should be. I made a mistake, and I won’t let you die for it.”

“What about your life?” she asked. “Do you think it is worth any less than mine?”

“No one ever need know that Elijah Charity survived,” he said. “Let them remember the System soldier who gave all he had to save a rebel slave. You will know the truth, and that is more than enough for me.”

“You can’t do this, Eli,” she said, tears pooling in her eyes. “I won’t let you.”

“I didn’t come here to give you a choice,” he said. “I just came so you would understand.”

“This isn’t just about who lives and who dies,” she shook her head. “If that was the case I would gladly have taken our chances and fought Specter down in the underground. But I didn’t give myself up simply to save your life, Eli.”

“Then why?” he asked. “What stake could possibly be higher?”

She stepped forward and slid her hand between the bars to touch his arm. The warmth of her touch spread through his body in an instant, but as he looked into her eyes—brimming with a passionate fire—he knew it was her words she wanted him to focus on now. “You are more than this,” her hand slid down his arm and her fingers entwined with his. “We are both more than this. More than flesh, more than bone, more than the blood that flows through our veins. These bodies are ours, but they are not
us
. They will die, but we will go on…to eternal glory or eternal ruin.”

Something tugged at the edge of his memory, “You’re talking about the religion of the Elect.”

“I’m talking about you,” she said. “And about me. Whatever happens, whatever you
think
you can accomplish tonight, I am likely to die. You have to let me go, 301, and live to discover the truth of what awaits us on the other side of death. Do that, and though we are separated for a time, we will be reunited one day. But if you die tonight, we might never be together.
Ever
.”

“There is no life after death, Grace,” he insisted, though his old memories filled that statement with doubt. “There is only right now. There is only this one chance to save you, and if you think I won’t take it because of some superstitious belief you learned in the Wilderness then you can forget it.”

“It was your father’s belief,” Grace said. “Your mother’s…
my
father’s.”

“And a load of good it did all of them,” he said bitterly. “Turned to ash while the man responsible sits high upon a throne. You tell me, Grace—if that story about the King and his Kingdom is true, if there really
is
a prince who died to save the unrepentant rebels and cares about justice and mercy—why does he allow a man like Napoleon Alexander so much power? Why does he not strike the man down where he stands?” 301 shook with anger as he thought of the injustice, the horror of that moment when his mother faced her death in the flames. Now history was to repeat itself, and he knew that if this King—this God—did not save his mother, then he could not be counted upon to save Grace either.

“You have embraced your identity and recovered your memories,” Grace said. “And yet I see that you are still as lost as you ever were.”

“That man who warred against himself is gone. I have a part to play here, I understand that now. I hope one day you understand, too.”

“Yet you still try to hold both hatred and love in your heart. You hate Alexander for what he has done to you…for what he has forced you to become. And in that same breath you claim to love me.”

“I do,” he nodded. “Why else would I do this?”

“You can hold both for a time,” Grace said. “But they can’t coexist forever. Eventually one will win out, and when it does there may be no going back.”

“My hate will only last as long as its object.”

Grace surveyed him with a cool gaze, and when she spoke she did so quietly, as though speaking of sacred things. “There was once a woman loved by two men. They were friends, partners of a sort, and they all three met in a time of great turmoil and pain. Both men bore hatred for the cause of their pain and sought to avenge themselves with the blood of those responsible. Because of this, the woman rebuffed the affections of both. In time, however, one of the men came to know the King, and his desire for revenge slowly subsided in favor of justice. He rid his heart of hatred and as a result found it left more room for love, love which he lavished upon the woman. Eventually they were married. The second man, however, did not give up his hatred. And when the time came and he had his vengeance, his hatred did not die. You see, he had lived off his hate. Without it he was nothing; he
lived
for nothing. So he found a new hatred, a new path of vengeance.”

301’s heart sank, “The woman and his friend.”

“Yes,” she said. “He turned upon them, made war against their friends and allies, and went against everything he had once believed in to destroy their love, which became a reminder of his failure. In the end, after her husband had died, he oversaw the brutal murder of the woman he had once professed to love. Hate is a poison, 301, and love will not even the balance. Your love for me is made weaker by your hatred of him.”

“That story,” 301 said, almost afraid to ask. “Is it true?”

“It is your parents’ story,” she replied. “Their tragedy.”

“And the man?” 301 asked in a whisper, barely audible enough to hear.

Grace hesitated for several seconds, obviously considering whether to tell him. 301 felt as though he was standing on the edge of a cliff preparing to jump, not knowing if he could survive the fall.

“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.