Dawn of the Hunters

by Ryan Wieser

  “You had to take the Blade back because of what Hydo did—what he started!”

  “No, I didn’t! He may have wronged us years ago, but we could have moved on. We are all responsible for our own actions, Jessop.”

  She knew he was right, as Urdo and Kohl were right. She had remained incapable of accepting their notion of responsibility because then she would have to admit she was more monster than martyr. In every act of violence she had committed, she’d had the convenience of blaming Hydo—never having to admit that a part of her relished in her abilities. Abilities that had only continued to grow. She was a Fire-Wielder—Hydo hadn’t made her dangerous, she was born dangerous. He had done nothing but provide her a target for which to aim.

  She could not face the person she had become. She had pretended life in Aranthol was a great pain she had suffered because of Hydo, when in reality she had loved their Shadow City. She had claimed manipulating Kohl had been an arduous task, when the truth was much harder to admit. She had loved the way he’d loved her—instantly and without apology.

  “You’re not a monster, Jessop. If you were, you wouldn’t feel so terrible for your inability to love him back. You wouldn’t regret hurting him so.” Falco spoke clearly, knowing there was no longer a point in shielding Kohl from such things.

  “When you know so much, how could you possibly make the mistake of blaming yourself for our son?”

  “Because, Jessop, what if we aren’t the heroes here? What if we aren’t the oppressed mighty few, rising up to reclaim what’s rightfully ours? What if everything truly would have been better if we had stayed in Aranthol?”

  Jessop knew his words gave voice to thoughts she had long since wondered. Too much of what they had done had felt wrong to claim it was for a greater right. “I know—”

  “No. Just, no.” Kohl finally spoke, appearing at their side, his hands on either of their shoulders.

  “You two are hardly heroes—you’re violent, selfish, and you think of no one outside of your own family.”

  Jessop glared, but if Kohl could sense her anger, he didn’t show any sign of caring.

  “But you’re not wrong. Hydo doesn’t deserve the Blade. Long before anything was set into motion, we all knew the Blade would be handed over to Falco. That is what was right. And that is what we will ensure happens. And after Falco, it seems very likely that Jeco will rule. Which requires us getting him back. Enough of this contemplation—we have a boy to rescue.”

  Jessop knew instantly that Kohl had the same quality Falco possessed, the one that she did not. He had the great ability to lead. His words moved her and she felt more confident in their mission than at any stage prior. She suppressed a smile. Falco turned and embraced his brother, clapping him firmly on the back. Jessop couldn’t help but watch them with amazement, and a critical eye. She wondered if their bond would always be like her own with Kohl, constantly shifting between love and hatred.

  She heard the spear before she saw it—the distinct whistling of a fine weapon cutting through air. She threw her hand out quickly, only seeing the weapon once she had frozen it mid-air. She flung it to the ground as its owner appeared on the dunes.

  “Falco,” she spoke, and in unison, he and Kohl unsheathed their blades.

  There were three women, two still carrying spears. They wore no garments, but their bodies were covered in a thick, black paste. It was thick over their smooth, hairless heads and around their jaws and cheeks, protecting their skin from the heat of the desert, Jessop imagined.

  Kohl spiraled his sword about his sides. “Dezane wasn’t lying when he said this was a treacherous place.”

  Falco laughed. “What I don’t understand is why they all try to kill us? Why not just keep walking?”

  Jessop shook her head, ignoring both of them as they made light of the situation. She couldn’t, not when they were so close to the caves.

  The three women made no sounds. They walked in unison, almost as if gliding over the sand. Jessop knew they were supernatural beings by the way they moved and their unblinking stares, but she did not know in what way. As they continued their approach, one threw another spear. Falco deflected it with ease before using Sentio to wrench the last remaining spear from the hand of the third woman, tossing it across the dunes.

  When the women came to an abrupt halt, Jessop thought that perhaps, without weapons, they would reconsider their attack. The three of them stared at Jessop, Falco, and Kohl, still unblinking, emitting no noises whatsoever. Jessop was willing to let them leave in peace, in order to get to the caves faster. But she quickly realized the women had no such intentions.

  Each of their bodies began to tremble. The women held their hands out, their paste-covered skin shaking violently, still maintaining perfect silence, still staring. Jessop could hardly believe what she was witnessing, but it seemed as though all of their hands were melting under the black-paste, losing the shape of their fingers and thumbs and wrists.

  Jessop glanced to Kohl and Falco, who remained equally transfixed and horrified. “Anyone know what they are?”

  Their hands were beginning to take new shape. Their arms grew longer, flatter, forming sharp edges and a fine point—their hands had become long black swords.

  “I’ve never…” Jessop began, but her voice trailed off, uncertain what to say.

  The three began to extend their arms out, testing their weapon limbs. Once sure of themselves, they smiled as they began their descent on Jessop, Falco, and Kohl. Jessop took a step forward, leaving Kohl and Falco behind her. She threw both hands out before her, focused with all her might, and let the fires that had been bursting to break free, fly from the palms of her hands. It was a relief and she could feel her muscles relaxing and her skin cooling as she allowed the flames their escape.

  The fire encircled the women, but to Jessop’s amazement, they remained silent. She knew after holding the blaze for a long moment that the flames should have been fatal. Slowly, she lowered her hands, expecting to find the bodies, charred in the sand. Instead, the three women remained standing, completely unharmed.

  “Neat trick,” Falco mused, walking past Jessop, his sword at the ready.

  Jessop couldn’t believe it. They were immune to her powers. She unsheathed her Hunter’s blade and took quick strides towards the women. They may have been fire proof, but there was nothing her sword couldn’t cut down. Jessop swung her blade, engaging the woman who had thrown the first spear, as Falco and Kohl covered the other two.

  Her sword met the woman’s blade-arm with surprising ring. “What are you?”

  “What are you?” The woman spoke back, and to Jessop’s surprise and horror, she spoke in Jessop’s exact voice.

  “Well, that’s terrifying,” Jessop balked, forcing the woman back against a dune wall. Jessop’s fighting ability was superior—but the woman was incredibly strong. Jessop ducked her sword-like arms and avoided falling into her grasp or getting kicked by one of her long, paste-covered legs.

  “Well, that’s terrifying,” the woman mimicked, still staring at Jessop with unblinking eyes.

  “Enough already!” Jessop threw her free hand out, willing the woman to fall to her knees with Sentio. But nothing happened. Jessop’s hand was outstretched, as useless as her flames had been. She stared at her fingers, knowing this was the first time since Falco had taught her Sentio that it hadn’t worked.

  “Sentio doesn’t work on them!”

  Just as Jessop yelled to the others, the woman kicked her violently in the side of the head. She flew to the ground, rolling in the sand. Her head throbbed in pain. The fire didn’t work, Sentio didn’t work, they had turned their arms into blades—Jessop couldn’t fathom what the women were.

  She rolled to her back and with a quick flip, she was once again on her feet. As she turned to face the woman, she was stunned to see her own reflection before her. She blinked and refocuse
d, knowing it had been a firm kick to the head. But, still, standing before her, was a perfect version of herself.

  The woman had changed shape once more, turning into an identical copy of Jessop. Jessop stared at the version of herself—amazed at how identical the replica was. The only difference, if she could think of one, was that her copy didn’t blink—and though she had hands that matched Jessop’s, she did not carry a weapon.

  Jessop sheathed her sword. “If you think I won’t kill you just because you look like me, you’re in for a treat.”

  Jessop hadn’t fought without a blade in the longest time, and a part of her longed to win a fight with her bare hands. She twisted her body and executed a perfect roundhouse kick against the woman. She ducked under angry swings and struck with neat precision, hitting the woman in the face and throat. It was confusing—seeing her own face bleed, but it did not deter her. As she ducked low, she heard the whistling of another spear. She fell to the ground, letting the weapon travel over her.

  With a sickening pierce, the spear struck Jessop’s attacker in the chest. Jessop rose quickly, turning to see Falco wink at her—he had used Sentio to throw the weapon.

  Jessop turned back and found that the woman was beginning to shift back into her original form, blood pooling from her mouth and chest—she was dying. She leaned over the woman and wrenched the spear free from her, bringing about a much faster death. She turned and found that her attacker was not the only one to have changed shape—Falco and Kohl both fought identical versions of themselves. Jessop watched Falco’s fight. He moved with a grace she found mesmerizing. She would always know Falco, even blinded, she could hear his step or recognize his breath. Without hesitating, she threw the spear with all her might, and struck his attacker.

  As Kohl brought his own attacker down, Jessop walked to Falco’s side, taking his hand in hers. Kohl spun on them as he sheathed his sword. “What is wrong with you two—you could have killed one another!”

  Falco turned to him. “There was no such risk.”

  “But they were identical to us.”

  “We can sense one another,” Jessop explained.

  Kohl shook his head, as if he should no longer be amazed by the connection they had. “Of course you can.”

  Chapter 10

  Haren’dul Daku

  Present Day

  Jessop rushed ahead, fearing neither Hydo nor Hanson, nor any other monster that could be hiding within the caves. She thought only of her son. Falco was at her side, but Kohl was more cautious, taking a wider berth of the caves, ensuring they did not run into a trap. They were a small range of caves that backed into the dry hill where the sands trailed up sparsely before blending into the persevering desert shrubs.

  “Jeco!”

  “Jeco! We’re here! Son!”

  Jessop and Falco ran into the mouth of the cave. There was no light and though that did not hinder her or Falco greatly, Jessop ignited her hand to help in their search. “Jeco!”

  Her heart was beating with such a violent force it caused a sweat to break out on her brow. She was anxious—more than anxious. Her son had been missing for days—days. It had been the worst time of her life.

  “Hanson! Where are you?”

  Jessop ran down through the deep cave, her heart never slowing. She felt the panic growing with every second that Jeco remained missing.

  “Where is my son?” Her voice echoed all around them as a spout of fire erupted from her hand, trailing over the cave walls in a winding pattern before escaping out into the desert. She followed the fire’s path and found Kohl standing in the cave entryway.

  “There’s a natural spring behind the caves, footsteps in the dampened soil—small ones. He would have been here as recently as this morning, perhaps last night.”

  Jessop turned to Falco and saw the pain in his face, the disappointment—the fear. She turned, glaring back at Kohl. “Your mentor will die for this.”

  “Given the chance, for this, I would kill him myself.”

  She threw herself against Falco, her arms locking tightly around him as the tears burst forward. She was not an emotional woman—she was a warrior. She did not suffer the actions of others. She took action. But this pain was too great. It was more than torture, more than suffering. This, Jessop truly believed, was what dying felt like. And as she held Falco, she knew her husband felt it too.

  “He’s not here, Falco. Our boy isn’t here.”

  She fell to her knees and he fell with her. She cried, as she never had before—the waves of pain rushing through her, escaping her in agonizing sobs. Her body heaved as her strong muscles rippled, her stomach violently turning. Falco held her as tightly as he could, crying and fighting for breath.

  They held one another in their grief and she wanted nothing more than to fix everything, for Jeco to have been with them, safe…

  “Argh!”

  Kohl fell to his knees, grabbing his head, pulling both Jessop and Falco from their own pain. She knew instantly it was Urdo, forcing his way into Kohl’s well-fortified mind as he had before, to tell him of Mar’e’s condition. Kohl rubbed his head tightly, hissing for a moment before relaxing.

  Finally, he opened his eyes. “Urdo told me we to stay here—they’re close. And they’re bringing reinforcements.”

  * * * *

  Jessop started a small fire for them, using kindling that Kohl had gathered from the hillside. Falco refilled their flagon with fresh water, and they shared the last of the dried meat. She knew Teck had kept them going this far with his foresight. She bit into a leathery strip of meat and sipped water, though it did nothing but add to her nausea. She needed her son back.

  Falco squeezed her arm, answering her unvoiced thoughts. “We will get him. He was here—he is alive.”

  She handed him the flagon and turned her gaze to the small fire she had made. “I know we will. What I don’t understand is why would they take him to Bakoran?”

  Kohl shifted in the sand opposite her. It had grown dark in the desert but her fire kept a warm light on all of them. “It has something to do with the woman—Octayn.”

  Jessop moved back, readjusting to be further away from the fire. “Not this again.”

  “Jessop—”

  “I remember my mother—I remember her life, and her death, and I remember her smile and her glowing green eyes, and—”

  “Her what?”

  “Her glowing green eyes.”

  He furrowed his brow, the movement twisting the star-shaped scar carved into his cheek by Falco so many years before.

  “What?” she pressed.

  “The face of the woman I saw in Hydo’s mind—she was a beautiful woman, but she didn’t have glowing eyes.”

  Jessop thought on his words. “You have no Kuroi blood—you cannot see that my eyes also glow. Neither can Falco.”

  Falco leaned forward. “That is true, but I can see how you see another Kuroi when I see your memory of them, for it’s my witnessing a memory, not my witnessing them.”

  “How so?”

  “I can see your memories of Korend’a or Trax or Dezane—and I see the way their eyes glow. I can see Trax’s memory of you, and the way your eyes glow to him. But I could also see Kohl’s memory of you, and your eyes do not glow in those images.”

  Kohl moved closer, his eyes fixed on her. “Which means I would have seen Octayn’s eyes glowing if it were your mother?”

  Falco shook his head. “No, actually you wouldn’t have. Hydo has no Kuroi blood—he would have never seen the way Kuroi eyes glow so he would have no memory of Jessop’s mother’s eyes that way.”

  Jessop looked between the two of them. “Then there’s a simple solution to this—let me see the memory you saw.”

  Kohl leaned back from the fire, silent, dropping his gaze from her.

  “What is it?”

 
Falco looked her over with his gray eyes. “He does not want you in his mind again, I think.”

  She felt offended instantly, and then remembered she had no right to feel so, not after all she had done to him. She had tweaked and removed memories, tortured him, torn through his thoughts and used her abilities against him to propel her own agenda. She had no place in his mind.

  “Oh.” It was all she could manage.

  His tight expression softened at her voice. “No. It’s fine.”

  She looked up at Kohl’s words. He was nodding, as though convincing himself that it was fine.

  “Kohl, I know my mother died. I don’t need to see the face of the woman you’re thinking of. I have no place in your mind any longer.”

  “It is I who must know, now. If I cannot trust you to enter my mind then what am I even doing here? Just do it.”

  “Kohl—”

  “I said do it.”

  Jessop stood and quickly made her way to Kohl’s side. She didn’t want to hurt him any more than she already had. Slowly, painfully aware of his fear and Falco’s eyes on her, she raised her hand to his face. She remembered holding him in the Hollow—certain Falco was going to execute him. She remembered everything between them and she forced it all down into the deepest parts of her mind where it could live forever, in hiding. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and once again entered Kohl O’Hanlon’s mind.

  * * * *

  Jessop turned in Falco’s arms, shifting her back to his chest, facing the fire. On the other side of the glowing embers she could see Kohl’s back rising and falling with slow breaths. She didn’t think he was really sleeping, but she couldn’t be sure. Falco slept, but it was with unease and restlessness. She felt him twitching and tensing, whispering under his breath. They had not spoken much after she had found the memory.

  It hadn’t been her mother. Of course it hadn’t. The woman was undeniably beautiful and there had definitely been a surprising resemblance between her and Jessop’s mother—the long blonde hair and green eyes. But sure enough, the Octayn of Hydo’s memory was not Jessop’s Octayn. “What are the odds of Hydo knowing a blonde, green eyed woman named Octayn who isn’t your mother?” Kohl had asked, staring at her with confusion.