by Ryan Wieser
Jessop threw her arms out with carelessness, unconcerned by how much damage she inflicted and upon whom. The man with the silver eyes watched as his brigands fell at her feet, helpless against her and so many Hunters.
“Jessop, duck!”
At Kohl’s instruction she dropped to her knees, sliding across several feet of silky sand, her body leaning so far back she could feel the trail her braid left in the granules. She saw as Kohl flipped over her, his sword spiraling about him, his blond hair whipping about his face. He landed with grace on her opposite side, cutting down a man with a metal bow and arrow trained on her.
She leapt back to her feet, appearing just before the Hara’agul leader. He reached for his hilt, but Jessop was much faster. She locked her hand around the metal and bone of his wrist and violently twisted it outward, forcing him to release the hilt with a sickening crunching of bone. With a forceful kick to the side of his knee, he fell before her and with all her might, she locked her fingers around his throat, only partially covered in skin. Her fingers were slick around exposed veins, her thumb futilely pushing against a sheet of metal leading up to his jaw. Nonetheless, she squeezed, knowing she could kill him regardless of his metal makings.
“We did not know you traveled with Falco Bane.” He choked out the words, glancing over Jessop’s shoulder. The ruckus had died out; she felt Urdo, Kohl, and Falco take their places at her side.
Jessop ignored his explanation for the attack. “Do you know Hanson Knell? The Hunter—he’s been reported traveling this way with a boy.” She could not control the speed at which her heart beat, the sweat appearing on her lip. She knew whatever information this man had could change her entire life.
His strong, boney hands found her wrist, trying to pry her fingers off of him, to no avail. She forced her fingers tighter into the mess of wires and bloody veins.
“We—argh—we all—cahh—kn—know—”
“He can’t breathe, Jessop.”
She ignored Urdo’s words. “Answer me or die here.”
She could see, in her periphery, some of his Soren army approaching once more. They were hesitant to reengage with the Hunters, but she did not question the depths of their loyalty. If they needed to, they would come to his aid. She refocused, clamping down with her strong fingers.
“Answer me.”
“He came through last night with a boy, a dark-haired, small thing.”
Jessop released her grip on him. He coughed violently at her feet, blood dripping from his throat to the hot sand.
“Was the boy harmed?”
“No, he seemed fine. They didn’t stay long, just refueled their vessel and left.”
“He seemed fine?” Jessop spoke, her heart racing, her fists tensing.
Falco moved closer to her. “Jessop.”
“That boy is our son, you fool. My son. Falco Bane’s son!” Her voice traveled far, ringing about the dunes.
“We didn’t know. I swear it.” His voice was loud and desperate, his silver gaze turning from her to Falco.
“Jessop,” Falco spoke her name once more, but it sounded so faint.
Blood was rushing to her head and she felt dizzy. White spots appeared before his silver eyes, down his metal and bone and flesh, over his red tunic, dancing across the sand all around him.
Mama.
She could hear him. She could hear her son. She spun around but saw no one—Jeco was not there.
Mama!
She blinked, and the Soren leader once again was in her sight, but no Jeco. She fell to her knees and grabbed his tunic.
“Where is he? Where is my son?”
She shook him with all her might. Jessop could see his mouth moving but she heard nothing. She shook him harder, and harder. She could see all of the exposed bones of his hands as he locked them onto hers, trying to push her off him, but she could not feel his touch. She could hear nothing but a distinct ringing. White spots clouded her vision. Blood thumped against her temples. She could taste blood—was she bleeding? She didn’t know.
She closed her eyes and tried to focus. Someone was screaming. Was it her? She could feel the heat. She could smell the burning skin and charring bone. Fire. There was so much fire. Just as there had been when she was a child. The smell of burning flesh ...She had been so young then. She had come home to the small cottage her family had lived in Beyond the Grey to find Hydo Jesuin, Lord Protector of the Blade of Light, leader of the Hunters who patrolled Daharia, attacking her parents. Her father was dead on the floor. There had been so much blood. Falco had saved her. He had fought Hydo and forced her from the home. He had saved her before the flames could take her.
She could never forget the smell of the burning skin.
Strong hands pulled her to her feet, wrenching her back. The ringing was gone. The screaming had stopped. She could no longer hear Jeco. There were no white spots. There was just the Soren leader, his charred remains smoking in the sand. Jessop had burned him alive.
* * * *
The Soren had retreated at the sight of their dead leader, but not disappeared. They waited on the desert periphery, metallic skeletons whispering and watching, staring down at Jessop. She closed her eyes as the winds picked up the sand, forcing the smoke from the crashed Soar-Craft and the smell of the burned Soren into her nostrils. It was enough to make her want to wretch, but she resisted.
As the breeze calmed, she looked down on the charred remains of the Soren leader. She felt Falco’s eyes on her, she could hear Kohl’s unvoiced concerns in his mind, she could sense Urdo’s alarm. She had killed with fire, without control, without true awareness. Slowly, she rose from her knees, her boots pushing softly into the sand. She knew she had scared them all and yet ...she did not care. Soldiers were dead. Brigands were dead. Jeco was still missing.
“Jessop.”
She felt Falco’s strong fingers coil around her elbow, willing her closer to him. She knew his thoughts. She was not controlling the fire—it was controlling her. It was true. The flames were unstoppable. She could not control the newfound ability and she did not care to. She was more powerful than ever, and power was what she needed in order to get Jeco back.
If it brings down any who stand between my son and me, what does it matter?
She pushed the thought not just to Falco—but to all of them. To Kohl and Urdo, to Teck and Hode Avay, who had since exited their Soar-Craft, joined by their surviving soldiers, to stare at her in shock, to all of the Kuroi and all of Falco’s army. She forced her thoughts into their minds without hesitation or apology.
She had horrified them—she could see it in their faces. None spoke. She jerked her arm free from Falco. She studied their expressions, the fear in their eyes, the uncertainty as they looked between her and Falco.
“Tell me! What does it matter?”
Several startled at her anger—obviously fearful of the flames she could reignite.
“We don’t kill indiscriminately, Jessop.”
The soft words were spoken by Kohl. She locked her green gaze on his hazel eyes, large and filled with concern.
She took a step towards him. “Any who stand between my son and me—any who align with Hydo Jesuin—I will kill.”
“I know…” he began, taking a cautious step towards her. “We’ll get your son back. But we can’t kill everyone. We aren’t monsters.”
He held his hand out to her, as though offering peace, or companionship. She stared at his fingers—at his sword-wielding hand. It was the same hand he had used to cut down her enemies, the same hand he had once wrapped around hers in affection. He had fallen in love with her the instant they had met. She was never supposed to feel anything for him, he had merely been a part of a greater plan. It would be a lie to insist that things had played out that way. She had cared. She had cared so much she’d thought of killing him, to hide their bond, and she had cared so
much she had also thought of saving him from Falco’s wrath.
She thought of the day she let Falco into the Blade. She thought of all Kohl had said to her then. She had offered him the opportunity to return to his family, and he had spat it back in her face. How could they ever be safe when a monster like you knows where they are? His words had hurt. As most honest words tended to. She pushed the memory into Kohl’s mind, letting him recall his own sentiment.
She looked away from his hand, returning her gaze to his big, dark eyes. “Speak for yourself.”
Chapter 2
Haycith
Twenty-five years ago
He watched her with narrowed eyes, his arms crossed tightly over his chest, leaning against the onyx wall of his family home. She walked about the room, admiring the books and artwork his parents had collected during their lifetime. She seemed enamored by his family’s books. He wondered if she had almost forgotten he was standing there. “Where are you from, Octayn?”
“All of these tomes, sitting here, gathering dust. It’s such a waste.”
He flicked his dark hair out of his eyes, trying to hide his annoyance. She was truly stunning. Beautiful in a way that made him feel like he needed to be near her. She seemed familiar to him and he wondered if it were simply their shared ability that made him feel that way.
“What about your family? Who are they?”
She turned from the bookshelf. “You ask a lot of questions, Hydo Jesuin.”
“I feel like this is a rather pleasant interrogation for an intruder.”
She crossed the large room quickly. He studied her step, her movements, her voice—her imperious nature let him know that a family with substantial means had raised her. She held her shoulders back tightly, her chin just slightly higher than necessary. But it wasn’t just her confident stride that struck him. It was her stare. She had such clear green eyes, unblinking, and they held him with such a seizing force—as though by look alone she could make him do anything. She stopped just short of him, her body grazing his forearms. “I’ve heard all about you, Hydo. The strongest, the fastest, the keenest mind ...People fear you in many parts of Daharia. You Hunters. You know what makes you lot different than those you hunt and drag back to Azgul?”
He bit the inside of his cheek. “What’s that?”
“You’ve just been trained to fight better. It’s that training that makes everyone fear you.”
He uncrossed his arms. He knew his own reputation. He knew the reputation of his brethren. The Hunters weren’t necessarily there for the greater good of all. They were there for the greater good of Azgul. They were there to guard the Blade of Light. They kept the Soren, the mercenaries, the Bakora, the Kuroi, and the Oren mages all in check because at any moment, if any of them got too strong, they could take the Blade. Daharia feared the Hunters. Daharia feared him.
“You clearly don’t fear me.”
She kept her piercing stare on him. “Do you want me to?”
He stared back at her. Her beauty was captivating, her eyes mesmerizing, but it was more than aesthetics. She had shown him what mattered most—she, too, had the fire. He knew that if she feared him, she might leave. If she left, would he ever find another?
“No. Of course not.”
She offered him the faintest smile. “You don’t seem as bad as they say you are.”
“You don’t know me that well.”
* * * *
Her’ay was the woman who took care of the family home. Hydo had known the older woman all his life. Returning from his training at the Blade whenever Gredoria allowed, he would spend the days with Her’ay and the evenings with his parents. When they had died, he spent the evenings with Her’ay too. In his mind, she had always been the oldest woman he had ever known. A mute, with a fiery temper and long silver hair. He knew she had been a soldier for her own people many years before, which was why she could fly his Soar-Craft better than him. She had been the one to tell him about his parents. She had commandeered their vessel, knowing she needed to get to Azgul to break the news to him before any other could. She had written a note and ensured it reached Gredoria, instructing the Lord Protector himself to let her see Hydo. She had communicated it the way she had communicated everything else all his life—with her hands and a somber expression.
She hugged him tightly, eyeing Octayn with a critical stare. Who is she? she signed. Hydo shrugged. I don’t really know. He pushed his answer into her mind. Suddenly, Octayn lowered the book she had been reading and crossed the large room, offering Her’ay a warm smile. She bowed her head slightly to the older woman, and then began to sign a greeting. Hydo watched with shock as the young woman perfectly signed her name and a warm salutation, then an explanation that she had been told to find Hydo to discuss Hunter business. Her’ay signed back that she would want to know more soon.
Octayn’s ability to communicate with Her’ay seemed to instantly put the older woman at ease, and as Her’ay communicated that she would be back soon with supper, Hydo felt once again completely taken aback by the young woman who had broken into his home.
He shook his head at her, baffled. “Where did you learn to sign that well?”
“I believe it’s important to be able to communicate to as many people as you can.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“Don’t take that tone with me.”
Her voice was sharp and her eyes instantly narrowed on him. It was an order. Everything the young, beautiful woman said was said as an order.
“I’m sorry. It’s just, you’ve been here all day, and you’ve yet to answer any of my questions directly—aside from telling me your name. If you were even being honest.”
“We both know you can find all the answers you wish, all on your own.”
“Why does it seem like you want me to search your mind?”
“Maybe I do.”
“Nobody wants their secrets forced from them.”
“Maybe I don’t have any secrets.”
He studied her perfect, pale face by the light of the fire burning in the hearth, a pang of anger striking him. “Don’t lie. Secrets are one thing. But never lie to me.”
She wasn’t the only one with a sharp tongue for orders. She wasn’t the only one with any power. Hydo would not tolerate lying.
“You don’t know if it’s a lie. You don’t know me, Hunter.”
She began to turn from him when he grabbed her quickly. He didn’t want to hurt her, but he knew his grip was firm. “But I want to.”
She looked up to him, her green eyes wild. “Want to what?”
Hydo could see the fire from the hearth reflected in them, the red flames dancing in her gaze. “Know you.”
* * * *
He tried to refrain from rushing his goodbye with Her’ay, but he felt nervous. He knew how he had been with women in the past; he had, at times, been told he was too invested too early. He didn’t like to be alone. He didn’t want to scare her. He couldn’t risk the only Fire-Wielder he had ever found leaving him.
She had asked to bathe and he had acquiesced. He told himself over and over that she was upstairs bathing. He could still hear the water running and he could still sense her presence. But he knew that at any minute, she could pry open a window, duck out into the night, and leave him behind to once again wonder if he would ever find another like him.
He felt odd for fearing that she may “escape.” She was free to leave of course ...escaping implied he was keeping her there. He suppressed the thought, always critical of his own words, and hugged Her’ay once more. Octayn wouldn’t leave; she had come to him. She had broken into his home just to find him and show him how they shared the same Fire-Wielding abilities. Leaving simply made no sense. She wanted to be with him.
I’ll return home soon. He pushed the thought into Her’ay’s mind as she waved to him once more before disapp
earing from the room. He paced. He drummed his fingertips against one another. It really had nothing to do with her beauty, even though her beauty was abundant. It was what they shared. Of course, they barely knew one another, but they were both Fire-Wielders. Their bond was instantaneous, and she surely felt it too?
He knew he should speak to her about it. She would likely be done bathing. He ran up the black staircase, rounding the corners tightly, until he stood outside the chamber door. His hand froze over the handle as he heard the splash of water. He retracted, crossing his arms and leaning against the corridor wall. He would simply wait. He could wait for her to finish. They would speak when she was done.
He resumed his pacing, his heart quickening minute by minute. He wondered what he would do if she had left—if she had leapt out a window. Perhaps he had pressed her too hard with his questions and she would search for another. He needed to know if she had gone. As he turned for the door, it suddenly opened. Octayn leapt back, clearly startled to find him there.
“What are you doing, Hydo?”
He lowered his outstretched hand. “I—err—I was waiting for you.”
“Outside the door? The whole time?”
“I thought you might have left.”
Her long hair was wet and brushed back severely. He knew she must have used his mother’s comb. She wore the same clothes she had been wearing before.
“Am I not allowed to leave?”
He forced himself to look into her pale green eyes. “I don’t want you to.”
At his words, her face softened, and she offered him her wide smile. “I would never just leave without saying goodbye.”
“Promise?”
“What?”
“I need you to promise. Promise you won’t just leave. I know how I sound ...it’s just I’ve never found another Fire-Wielder. I need you to stay with me.”
