by Ryan Wieser
Hydo kept his mind sealed as tightly as he could, knowing Gredoria spoke of Octayn’s kin. He could not pretend that he was surprised at Gredoria’s words—it would be a lie to describe Octayn as anything less than ruthless, and he had been raised knowing the Bakora were the enemy for a reason.
“Your parents angered him. To this day, I don’t know how, but they ran. They made it to Haycith. This was so many years ago ...It was still early into my tenure; I wanted to assert myself firmly when it came to defending our territory. When I learned of their presence, I went to confront them. I was stunned to find they had such a young child with them. More than that—they nearly killed me. I’d never seen such abilities—I had never met a Bakora. I had only ever heard of the Fire. We all knew that while their powers were great, I had an army of Hunters who would come for them if need be.
“I knew instantly that there was a better opportunity to be found. I made a deal with them that ensured I would train you. I tried as best as I could to hide them in Haycith, and for many years they were safe, but Ozea Oredan got to them eventually. Their death was no accident—they were murdered for their betrayal.”
Hydo suddenly couldn’t feel his legs. He hadn’t known that both his parents had been Fire-Wielders and he had no recollection of the events, obviously, for he had been too young. He fell, knocking a table in his attempt to catch himself. Octayn’s uncle had killed his family. Gredoria had lied to him for his entire life. He was full-blooded Bakora. “The Council ...do they know?”
Gredoria knelt before him. “They know you are Bakora, but they do not know about your family or what happened with Ozea Oredan.”
“You’ve lied… You’re a liar.”
Hydo had felt all his life that he would kill for Gredoria Vane—and he had. He had been certain that he would also die for his Lord and Protector, if it had ever been necessary. His mind ached. His stomach felt tight with knots. He closed his eyes and saw the dead man Hanson had killed.
“What did Hanson Knell do?”
Hydo blinked and saw Gredoria’s angered face. He had been in Hydo’s mind and he knew. Hydo scrambled to his feet as Gredoria stood.
“Nothing. He did nothing.”
“I saw your mind, Hydo. Hanson Knell killed a Daharian?”
“No. Of course not.”
Hydo grabbed Gredoria’s arms. It had been a mistake. The death was an accident. Letting Gredoria into his mind had been an accident too. Hanson had trusted him.
He jerked free with an angry tug. “Release me at once! Where is Hanson now?”
“You cannot punish him—his treachery is no worse than your own!”
Gredoria balked at the claim. “I have never killed an innocent Daharian, Hydo Jesuin.”
“It was an accident.”
“An accident punishable by death,” Gredoria hissed, turning away from him and making his way for the door.
“What if it had been me? What if I had killed a Daharian—would you execute your lifelong project, your greatest student?”
Gredoria stared at him with cold eyes. “You’re of the Bakora people. I’ve spent every day that I raised you preparing to kill you if I needed to.”
Hydo felt a pain in his chest. He had believed Gredoria loved him. His mentor pushed past him, making his way for the door. He was going to find Hanson and sentence him to death. He would find out about what they did with the body. He would find out about Octayn.
Without thinking, Hydo threw his hands out, aiming at the back of Gredoria’s mind, and within seconds he was inside his mentor’s mind. He didn’t know what to do; he couldn’t think clearly, his own mind aching from Gredoria’s admissions. He looked for the memory of the past moment they had shared. Gredoria tried to expel him with a violent force. Hydo had no choice but to harm him into submission while he searched for the memory. He tore at the thoughts he passed through. He saw faces and images, places and people he’d never met—he ripped each thought into shreds. And as he searched, a different thought crossed his mind. Gredoria would have memories of Hydo’s parents.
He searched, wrenching through the fortified walls of thought and time and memory. He ripped apart dreams and fears, he overturned memories that hadn’t been touched in decades. He moved through the colorful waves of light, slashing and cutting and burning, knowing he was nearing his mother’s face.
And then, like a vision, he saw her. She was younger than he had ever been able to recall. Her black hair ran to her hips and she was smiling, calling his name and beaming with joy. He wanted to grab on to her. He wanted to be with his parents one final time ...The fire appeared out of nowhere. It burned the memory to ash. Hydo could hear screaming—was it him? His mother’s face was gone. Everything was going blank.
His head hit the ground with a violent smack. He rolled to the side, grabbing at his head. He took deep breaths as the ceiling came into focus. “What have I done?”
He hadn’t been thinking clearly. He had been so consumed by the memories he had lost sight of ...of everything. He blinked slowly, pushing himself up, and saw Gredoria kneeling on the ground. He leapt from his position, locking his arms around his mentor.
“Gredoria, speak to me. Are you alright?”
Gredoria looked up at him and smiled. Hydo felt a wave of relief rush over him. His mentor was strong—the strongest. He had done him no harm. Gredoria slowly got to his feet, continuing to smile at Hydo. Hydo smiled back. “Oh, I’ve never been so thankful—”
“Who are you, boy?”
Hydo knew it was just an accident, a small injury caused by going through his mind too quickly. “Hydo, sir. Your pupil.”
“My what? What a funny word. Why would I have a pupil?”
Hydo felt the pain returning to him. The guilt was instantaneous.
He could barely breathe as he kept a hand on Gredoria. “What is your name?”
Gredoria opened his mouth, prepared to answer, but said nothing. His eyes narrowed, his lips remaining parted, as if the answer rested on the tip of his tongue. “How odd ...I can’t seem to recall. Isn’t that funny?”
Chapter 9
Haren’dul Daku
Present Day
Jessop woke to the pale light of early morning creeping through the tent. She was in Falco’s arms. She could tell by his deep breaths that he was still sleeping. She sat up slowly, cautious not to wake him. As she rose, her shoulder stung, and instantly she recalled the attack from the previous night. She pulled at her tunic and saw the raised scar, red and angry, on her skin. She covered the fresh injury back up. Whenever Falco had healed her before, he had completely healed her—no residual pain left lingering. She knew their quest for Jeco was wearing greatly on them both.
She ran her fingers slowly over the side of his face, her thumb brushing over his long scar before combing his dark hair back. She knew that as she felt the madness claiming her mind, she had to keep faith. They would retrieve their son, and they would return to their lives—restored in every sense of the word. They needed to carry on, but he could sleep a few moments longer. She pulled apart the tent flap and crawled out onto the sand. To her surprise, Kohl was already up. He had built a low-burning fire, and he had a large blanket wrapped around him. He had reworked his tunic to cover his face and protect his eyes from the sand. He looked over her slowly, as if assessing her for injuries.
“You’re alright.”
She stood and stretched. “How long have you been out here?”
“All night.”
She looked down at him quickly. It was no longer surprising, really, the lengths he would go. “You should have slept.”
“I believe we are officially in the beginning of true Haren’dul Daku territory—no man’s land. Couldn’t risk Soren sneaking up on us again, and Falco had to be with you while you recovered.”
She nodded but did not voice her thanks. She knew that there wer
e more important things to be said. “About last night…”
“We don’t have to talk about it.”
“I’m sorry we couldn’t wait for her.”
“She’s strong. She’ll hold on until they find us.”
Jessop nodded. She knew Mar’e’s fight and the way she was driven by her emotion. It was a form of strength. She hoped Mar’e would survive.
“It is difficult to know that had we three been there, she probably wouldn’t be hurt. Many more would have survived.”
Kohl’s eyes were on the small flames. “I know. I’ve spent my entire life in the Blade believing Hunters lived to protect. But whom were we protecting against? First, we were told it’s the Bakora. Then, it became about keeping Falco at bay. Who were we protecting from him though? Daharians ...or Hydo?”
Jessop stared at him. Kohl was different. She knew that they had destroyed parts of one another. And they could not apologize or forgive one another enough to make up for any of it. She had believed this whole time that she had set off a series of events that had shattered his way of life. But she couldn’t deny that, as they traveled closer to the lands where the Bakora and Daharians once fought, the land Hydo Jesuin had fled to, it seemed many events had been set in motion long before her arrival in the Blade.
“You were not wrong to protect Daharians from Falco—or myself, if you had known of me then. But we would have never become as dangerous as we were, or as we are, if Hydo hadn’t done all he had done. He’s responsible for all of this.”
Kohl shook the blanket off and pulled his tunic off, uncovering his scarred body. She saw the maimed Jeco scar that he had originally cut into himself to gain entry to Aranthol, the one that she had destroyed. She saw all his wounds, all of the scars Hanson had inflicted. He began to fold the blanket up when he paused, staring at her.
“Is he though? Or were we just too foolish to ever look with our own eyes, to ever discern the truth on our own without relying on him? Did he destroy Aranthol, or was that me? Did he nearly kill me, or was that you? He might have set fire to your home once, but I plunged a sword through you.”
Jessop bristled at his words and how reminiscent they were of Urdo’s, raising a hand to the scar he had left on her. “He destroyed my family.”
He stared at her still. “If it weren’t for what he had done, you and Falco wouldn’t be together.”
“You think I should be thankful?”
“Of course not. But if he hadn’t done what he did, for whatever reasons he did it, you would have never fallen in love with Falco, you would have never had your son; you would have never come to the Blade ...I would have never fallen in love with you.”
“A preferable ending for you then.”
“Hardly. I’ll live with this pain all my life, and it will be worth it for having lived for the briefest of time under the belief that you loved me.”
“There are days where I hate you. And there are days where I love you, Kohl. Just not as—”
“Not as you love Falco. I know.”
She knelt before the small fire. “You’ll love another, Kohl. In time.”
“Not as I love you. Not as you love him.”
“Mar’e will survive this. You cannot deny the feelings you two might have for one another.”
“She deserves better than a broken man.”
“Any would be lucky to have you, brother.” Falco spoke. They turned to see him exiting the tent. He looked over Jessop slowly, as Kohl had. “How is your wound?”
“Healing.”
“Let’s go then.”
* * * *
It didn’t take long for the heat to set in. Jessop removed her leather vest, stuffing it into her pack. Falco and Kohl walked without their tunics or vests, using the lighter material to cover their heads and necks. They had one flagon of water left for sharing, and they each had sipped at it with great caution only once or twice in the several hours they had spent crossing the dunes. She hated the bright light reflecting in the sands, so much hotter than any territory Beyond the Grey.
“I heard you both this morning,” Falco suddenly broke the long silence.
Jessop looked him over, the sweat trickling down his muscular, scarred form, his skin burning under the heat of the desert, his voice dry and hoarse. She did not worry if he had heard them—she hid nothing from him.
Kohl glanced at Falco, carrying on steadily through the sands. “You know how I feel about Jessop.”
“Not that. I was thinking about Hydo and how all of this started. How we all got ...here, I suppose.”
Jessop and Kohl looked to one another before returning their full attention to Falco. He leaned into the dune wall as he scaled it, Jessop and Kohl at his side. As they crept over the sand lip, he stopped climbing. He ran his hands over the back of his neck and stared out over the vast desert. “My parents were terrified of me.”
Jessop whipped her head to the side. In the years they had been together, he had never spoken of his family.
Falco continued to stare, looking out into the horizon. “There—that dark patch in the distance, that must be the caves.”
Jessop followed his gaze and saw as he did, a dark ridge in the horizon line. She felt her heart begin to race. “Jeco.” She did not wait for either of them, sliding down the face of the dune wall with ease, forcing on through the heat and scorching sands. Kohl and Falco were quick to reach her side.
Despite their hurried pace, Falco continued with his story. “Like Hydo, I’m from Haycith. My parents knew something was different about me early on ...I could move objects with ease. I once struck my mother with a large vase. It was an accident, but after that, she was always so afraid of me.”
Jessop couldn’t believe Falco was divulging this history. She was torn between his voice and her view of the caves. She took his hand, by way of offering her support and encouraging him forward.
“I was so young. Whenever I was overly tired or losing my temper, objects would go flying. My parents knew of a family—the parents had died in a terrible accident, but they’d had a Hunter son. They thought the Blade could handle me. It was that or death, really—they thought I’d kill them on accident, or kill myself.”
Jessop squeezed his hand tightly, imagining Falco as a young boy; he had probably been identical to his own son. She knew he would have been so confused—much more afraid than his parents. Jeco’s ability was a point of pride for her and Falco. She couldn’t imagine ever sending him away for his gifts.
“My mother was really too young when she had me. And I don’t remember any father.”
Jessop and Falco both turned to look at Kohl as they trudged through the sand. He kept his eyes trained forward. “She was so young ...beautiful, with blonde hair and warm skin. She would wash my feet in a small bucket when I came in from the fields. We had no coin and barely any food ...I think we were living in a shed on someone else’s land.”
“She knew things were different about me, I suppose, when I told her I could hear her sadness. She was afraid and sad every day, and I could hear her thoughts. I began to voice them to her, unaware of what I was doing ...She wasn’t afraid of me, but she knew I could have a better life elsewhere.”
Jessop remembered once being in Kohl’s mind and seeing such a woman. She had been so young Jessop hadn’t ever considered she was Kohl’s mother. She looked to Kohl but said nothing, and the three of them carried on in silence. Jessop wondered if Kohl would ever return to the woman—Jessop had found her location, after all. She had forced the information from Hanson before Falco took the Blade.
Jessop stared ahead when she finally spoke, unable to look at him. “Would you go to her now that I could tell you where to find her?”
She knew why she struggled with the question. In the passing days, though she no longer had nightmares about Kohl, she once again feared losing him forever. She wonder
ed if it would always be that way for them—if they would spend their lives torn between wishing the other dead and wishing they could love each other differently.
Kohl said nothing, but in her periphery she could see him thinking hard on the question. Finally, he shook his head. “I couldn’t bring her into all of this. She’s safer not knowing me.”
Falco scoffed, pulling Kohl and Jessop’s stares. He kicked up a mound of sand. “We are as dangerous as they come—everyone is safer not knowing us. All of Daharia fears me. And for good reason too.”
He spoke the words with an odd tone, as though they were both a point of pride and a mark of shame. They instantly reminded Jessop of how Falco once was as a boy—arrogant and lonely.
“They will not fear you when you lead them. They will respect you. As we do.”
“She’s right, Falco. The same act that seems treacherous when executed by your enemy is seen as brave when committed by your leader. Daharians feared you because of Hydo, and Aranthol, and the belief that you would one day harm them ...Knowing you will use your power to keep them safe will win them over.”
Falco laughed, pulling his hand free from Jessop as he leapt down the sloping curve of a dune. “Keep them safe ...I couldn’t even keep my own son safe.”
Jessop felt the words burn her as keenly as a branding iron. She had let him believe he was to blame for Jeco—knowing full well that he would have already been blaming himself. Just as she blamed herself and as Mar’e and Kohl had blamed themselves.
She leaned back as she slid down the slope, quick to land at his side and grab him in her strong hold.
“You mustn’t think like that.”
She reached up and touched his face, forcing him to look at her. “It’s not your fault. Do not take blame from Hydo and Hanson—this is their doing.”
“It’s as you have been saying—you blame Hydo for setting events into motion that ruined your life ...Well, I set the events into motion that led to Jeco being taken. By reclaiming the Blade I put him at risk.”
