Dawn of the Hunters

by Ryan Wieser

  “I will not stay behind.” Kohl’s voice wrenched her back to the moment.

  “You cannot keep up.”

  “If I fall back, leave me.”

  She nodded down to him. Jessop could not deny his strength or tenacity, though neither were qualities that had led to her feeling any love for him. Falco was as strong as he was tenacious, braver and more skilled with a weapon than any in their lands. But he wasn’t trusting, he never had been. It was Kohl’s trust that had won over her reluctant, devious heart. It was destroying that trust that filled her with a guilt she could not escape, a resentment she could not suppress.

  “I’m sorry I have such anger for you. One day we are embracing, and the next I would consider killing you if I had to.”

  He looked her over cautiously. “I feel the same. Though I think we both know I could not bring myself to kill you.”

  She thought of Aranthol and all Kohl had done to punish her. She could still feel the blade in her stomach, placed by his hand.

  “But I also love my brother, Jessop. Despite the years and all we have said and done and been told. I had forgotten what it was like to be amazed by him daily. His power is without compare ...being near Falco is intoxicating.”

  Jessop knew of what Kohl spoke. It was the quality that made Falco a charismatic leader. He was powerful, confident and bold in everything he did. He was singular, and they all knew it. But his skill with a sword had nothing to do with why she married him. She could have married many men who could have defended her; Kohl could have been one of them. She married the man who taught her how to defend herself, at all costs.

  “Kohl—”

  “It’s fine, Jessop. I see what you two have and it is not what we had. It’s not something we could have ever had.”

  “No. It’s not.”

  Slowly, he got to his feet. He faced her and placed a hand firmly on her shoulder. “Let’s go get your son.”

  As Kohl walked past her when a pain seized his body, forcing him to his knees. He threw his hands to his head, hissing loudly, his eyes squeezed shut.

  “Falco!”

  He appeared from the shadows and knelt before his brother, supporting his shoulders. “What is it, Kohl?”

  Slowly, Kohl lowered his hand, though his face remained contorted. “Urdo—It’s Urdo. He is trying to push a thought to me.”

  Jessop felt her heart quicken—news from Urdo meant that he was alive. He had survived the Soren and would be looking to join her side soon. Kohl rested his shoulders, his face relaxing as he allowed Urdo to enter his mind and speak with him.

  She knew that Urdo would not have been able to so much as prod hers or Falco’s minds, let alone enter them, and it made her instantly thankful that Kohl had insisted on following.

  Falco squeezed Kohl’s shoulders. “Speak to me, brother? Do they come to us—did the vessel return for Azgul?”

  Slowly, Kohl blinked. He was crying. Jessop thought of Urdo, of Dezane, of their warriors, of the Hunters they had left behind. She knew many things could happen in battle, no matter how expert the warriors.

  She sucked in air sharply, preparing to hear the worst. “What did he tell you?”

  He glanced up to her, blinking away the tears. “Many died ...Mar’e is near death. If they do not get to Falco soon, she will die.”

  Jessop exhaled deeply. She tried to imagine Mar’e, injured in battle. Jessop had nearly killed the woman herself. Falco had already healed her once before from a mortal wound. Jessop felt ...at odds.

  “We need to stay where we are so they can reach us sooner and Falco can heal her before it’s too late.”

  Jessop rested her hand on Falco’s shoulder. If Mar’e had been wounded in battle in their presence, she knew she would not intervene if Falco healed her. She knew Kohl did not deserve to suffer the further agony of losing a woman who so clearly cared for him. But she hadn’t been wounded in their presence. She looked from her husband, to Kohl, and sighed. “We aren’t waiting here for anyone.”

  Chapter 6

  Azgul

  Twenty-five years ago

  Hydo tapped his foot against the white stone floor, keenly aware of the sweat trailing down the back of his neck, and of how hard he was working just to control his breath. She had kept such a great secret from him, and when his eyes were on the floor he felt anger, but the moment they looked upon her face ...His love for her was consuming.

  “How can this be true? To enter Daharia would mean facing Soren, Ophidia, desert creatures which have no name—you would have needed an army for safety.”

  “I was helped in gaining access to a portal from Bakoran into Daharia. From there, I manned a Soar-Craft through Haren’dul Daku—”

  “You crossed Haren’dul Daku—the Golden Death Valley—on your own?”

  “My abilities—and coin—go a long way with the Soren and Ophidia and unnamed beasts of the Shimmering Death sands. Indeed, the no-man’s land between Daharia and Bakoran is a dangerous place, and I did not pass unscarred, but pass through I did.”

  “Hunters have been bringing in Void-Voyagers for decades, for this reason exactly—to prevent the opening of portal walls between our territories. How did you find one?”

  “When was the last time you were in Haren’dul Daku? Who was the last Void-Voyager you brought in?”

  Hydo was silenced at her question. He had never been to the no-man’s land at the edge of Daharian territory. He knew his comrades hadn’t either. The portal walls had been built by desert mages, on Hunter authority, to prevent easy access to Daharia. There were a handful of those who knew how to use the portal wall to travel to Bakoran—Void-Voyagers. Hydo didn’t think he’d even seen a Void-Voyager since childhood. Anyone who was caught planning to open a portal, anyone who so much as spoke of leaving Daharia, was brought in for interrogation. And it had been years since he had so much as heard a whisper of Bakoran. He had believed Void-Voyagers were a nuisance long since corrected. Apparently, there were still those who wished to open the portals.

  She ran her fingers over his; the sensation of her smooth skin brushing over his calloused hands calmed him. He had wondered more than once since meeting Octayn if this was an ability of hers—to simply calm another with her touch.

  “I came here, to Azgul, first, though I kept a low profile. Like you, I searched for another of my kind, who was not of my kin and also a Daharian. I traveled Beyond the Grey and through the Oren desert mages’ territory. I traveled far before I found my way back to the Red City. It was here that I heard several of your Hunter brethren in a tavern, speaking about the Hunter who was also a Fire-Wielder, searching for other Fire-Wielders. They spoke your name and it did not take me long to find Haycith.”

  He stared at her long, beautiful fingers, and the way they expertly caressed his tense hands. “I can’t believe this. And yet it makes perfect sense. You’re from Bakoran.”

  “Before I met you, I found many in these lands with extraordinary abilities. I had thought twice that I might have found a good match—two men of different tribes who each possessed the power to contain my fire. Clearly, neither situation worked out. But while they had great powers, they were not Fire-Wielders. There are no true Daharian Fire-Wielders, Hydo. It is a gift of the Bakora people.”

  He let her hand fall from him. He knew what she insinuated. It would be a lie to claim he had never thought it himself, but he would never admit it, never voice it. “I am a true Daharian. I am a Hunter of Daharia. The Hunters were designed to keep your kind out of our territory—I am a Daharian.”

  She dug her nails into his hands, reminding him to remain calm. “Do not deny your true nature out of love for your Hunter status. You possess a bloodline that traces you back to Bakoran—to our kind.”

  “This is treason. Bakora are not permitted to enter Daharia. If I am of Bakora bloodlines, I am an enemy to my Lord Protector
.”

  Octayn scoffed loudly. “Trust me, your Lord Protector Gredoria Vane already knows that all Fire-Wielders originate from Bakoran. He knew it when he picked you to be a Hunter.”

  “Why would he do such a thing?”

  She cocked her head at him. “Isn’t it obvious? He chose you and trained you and kept you in the dark in order to have an elite Hunter who possesses the powers of his greatest enemy.”

  Hydo thought of Gredoria. The man was more than his Lord Protector—he was his mentor. He was the closest thing he’d had to family since the accident. He thought of his mother—of her abilities. Had she known what Octayn claimed? That Fire-Wielding was a gift of the Bakora bloodline alone?

  The Bakora were Daharians’ natural enemy. A lifetime ago it had been the battle between the Bakora and the Daharians that won the territory the Hunters now patrolled. The Prince of Daharia had forged a weapon to combat the Fire of the enemy. Of course, Hydo had thought of the fact that Bakora had fire abilities. But he had thought if they had it, others did too; he hadn’t assumed what Octayn now told him. If Gredoria had known all these years, how could he have not told him?

  “I have spent my entire life studying Gredoria Vane, Hydo. I am not just any Bakora. I am Octayn Oredan, daughter of Mei and the late Ore Oredan, niece of Ozea Oredan.”

  He stared into her shining eyes, wondering if he had even heard her correctly. She spoke the admission so simply, and yet the meaning behind her words gave explanation to her natural authoritative tone and regal airs.

  “No. You’re not an Oredan.”

  She sighed. “I know. It’s difficult to—”

  “This is not possible. The Fire-Wielding, and the secrecy, the breaking into my home, and wanting everything you want ...But this? You’re claiming to be an Oredan?”

  She straightened her stance as a wall of fire erupted from her sides, flying out and climbing the walls. “I claim nothing—I am Octayn Oredan, niece of an Emperor, second in line to the throne of Bakoran after the untimely passing of my father.”

  He stepped towards her, unafraid, his own fire igniting around his frame. “Your family is the sworn enemy of the Blade and of my Lord and Protector.”

  “Look at your flames—you are Bakora and that makes me your sovereign, not Gredoria Vane.”

  He knew she was right. If all she said was true—and he knew, somehow, that it was—she was his rightful leader. He wondered if it somehow explained his natural submission to her, if through their blood and heritage, he sensed her authority.

  As they fell silent, their respective flames died out. He held her gaze as he processed all he had come to learn. “He is a father to me, Octayn.”

  She reached for his hand. “Would you rather have a father who could give you a Blade, or a wife who could give you a galaxy?”

  He knew he loved them both. But however short their time together had been, he knew he could not live without Octayn.

  “You see Gredoria’s intentions so clearly for they mirror your own. He wants a Hunter with the Fire. You want a Bakora with the destiny and skill of a Hunter.”

  She took a step closer to him and raised her hand to rest on his cheek. “As Empress, I will rule Bakoran one day, and who better to live at my side than he who is destined to also rule Daharia?”

  He cupped her hand with his, feeling his heart tear. He loved her, but he knew what that love meant. He had spent his entire life preparing to fight an enemy he had never known. An enemy who they all believed would never return to their territory. He shared blood with the enemy ...he felt like a fool. Gredoria had known for all these years. He had been using him. And Octayn had sought him out the instant she’d heard there was a gifted Hunter with the Fire. He couldn’t help but suspect that she was more like his mentor than he ever wished to believe.

  He rubbed his cheek against his shoulder to wipe away the tears. “Do you want me at your side because you love me, or because you love this?” He asked, igniting a small flame across his hand.

  “You must realize that the flame is not like your mind reading—it is not some well-practiced ability. The flame is you—it is an extension of your very being. You are the Fire. The Fire is you. And I am in love with your Fire.”

  For Hunters, Sentio and skill with the blade were the most important of abilities—but they were just that, abilities. Skills you could hone. They were not who you were. The Fire was something different, it was not something that he could always control, it appeared often in anger, especially in his youth, and it had grown as he had. He did not know as much about the flames as Octayn did, or as much about Sentio as Gredoria did, but he did know one thing. He loved her more than his brothers.

  * * * *

  Hydo had spent weeks traveling between his home in the city and the Blade. He did not seek permission to leave the Blade and had avoided speaking to Gredoria whenever he could. He intentionally filled his mind with thoughts of his parents, so that if his mentor sought to discover the true meaning behind his recent broody absences, he would believe that his mentee struggled over hardships from long before.

  “You think of your parents now, more than ever, perhaps because of your failed mission to find other Fire-Wielders,” Gredoria had said.

  He had told Hydo to sit and speak with him, but Hydo had resisted. “It is helpful to me to be in spaces that were once theirs, amongst things they handled, possessions they loved.”

  “Of course,” he had said, his beard catching the light as he raised his hand to Hydo’s shoulder. “Just remember, you have a family still.”

  Hydo had nodded to him, forcing a faint smile to acknowledge the sentiment. He could not deny that speaking with him, lying to him, despite knowing he had been lied to by him, was not easy. He loved him still.

  Octayn turned in his arms, drawing Hydo back to the moment. “You should be as forthcoming with him as possible. Do not distance yourself and risk your rightful spot in the Blade.”

  They had remained in bed late that morning. He rested on her abdomen as she ran her fingers through his dark hair. He simply couldn’t bring himself to return to training that day. “If I cannot have him find out about you then how exactly can I be forthcoming?”

  “If he grows worried about you, he will find out about me. Your friends already present a great risk to us.”

  He thought of Urdo and Hanson. He had spent no significant period of time with them since returning to Azgul with Octayn. He knew he needed to remedy that, but being away from her was a pain he could barely endure long enough to train and make the necessary appearances in the Blade. “They would never betray me.” Even as he spoke the words, he questioned their truthfulness. He was betraying them, by keeping Octayn’s true identity a secret, by forcing them to lie for him, by neglecting to tell them of his and her plans.

  “Once we are wed, you will have the entire Bakoran army at your disposal and none will betray us,” she reminded him.

  Hydo knew that even though what she said was true, their futures would not go entirely as Octayn envisioned. They would have to wait a long time to ensure the opportune moment of reuniting Daharia and Bakoran under one leadership. That would mean living apart, ruling apart, and keeping their marriage a secret for many years. He wondered how they would make such a relationship work once children were involved.

  He turned over to face her. “What will we do when you are pregnant?”

  “I could be pregnant now. It has no bearing on our immediate plans.”

  “Your family would not be angered to know you’d had a child before marriage?”

  She cocked her head at him and sat up straighter, forcing him to sit up as well. “Hydo, things for the Bakora are not as they are for Daharians. Having children, extending our lineage, it means everything to us.”

  “I understand that. I just think given the chance, if we were wed before you had any children, it would seem mo
re appropriate, I suppose.”

  “Those are Daharian ideals. There is still much about me that you do not know.”

  He felt his jaw clenching uncontrollably. She angered him like no other, and yet, he could not help but love her. “Then tell me.”

  She stood from the bed and wrapped a robe around herself. “I already have children, Hydo.”

  He stared at her blankly. His initial reaction was surprise, but he didn’t know why, considering that every day seemed like a new opportunity for her to tell him something astounding.

  “With who? Where are they?”

  She sat at the edge of the bed. “You must understand ...they are Bakora royalty born in Daharia. Until such a time that I can test their abilities and cross them over Haren’dul Daku to gain access to a portal, I must take extreme measures to ensure their safety.”

  “You won’t tell me where they are?”

  “Where they are does not matter half as much as who they are. The children were had with gifted men I once knew and cared for. But, of course, they were no Fire-Wielders. It could be several years before I learn if the children inherited my fire.”

  Hydo felt light-headed. She had two children. He didn’t care that she had already bore children. He cared that she had been with any other long enough to have children.

  “I have higher hopes for the boy. He just showed such great potential before I had to leave. His father had many abilities—that tribe is very gifted.”

  Hydo leaned forward as he caught her words. “The father had many abilities?”

  Octayn looked him over slowly, as if trying to gauge his reaction. “It’s complicated. While all children are special, mine in particular are of a unique, royal importance. I couldn’t let a father interfere with their destinies, not once I knew he wouldn’t be the one to rule Bakoran with me.”