by Ryan Wieser
Not just a man, but a Hunter, and not just any Hunter, but the newest, youngest Lord Protector of Daharia—he did not simply fear that he would do whatever she wanted him to, he feared what she wanted. His gaze traveled over her beautiful face to find her spare hand holding her abdomen. She had two children in Daharia whom he would now be responsible for, whom he would have to find and return to her unharmed and proven as Fire-Wielders. Those children would be like children to him, he knew as much. But the child she carried was truly his.
“Of course I trust you.”
She smiled up at him, but quickly let it melt away. “Be sure to stay behind me so the guards don’t kill you.”
Without hesitation she pulled her hand free from his and marched towards the blue wall of fire. He could see it in her walk, the same regal authority that had once puzzled him when they had first met was so obvious after all this time. She had been trained to walk with power and grace, to speak with influence and education. She was a monarch. And he would follow her anywhere.
He quickly leapt after her, remaining right behind her as she stepped into the blue flames. Of course she had been right, the flames did not harm him. Once fully immersed in their wall, the sound of wind whipping through the fire was near deafening, and he paused for just a moment to see the wall of fire that surrounded him. It was powerful, frightening, and beautiful, just like Octayn.
He stepped forward, touching his foot down in Bakoran—the enemy’s territory. His territory. Instantly, his eyes fell to the guards. There were perhaps twenty in the immediate vicinity, marching down the border wall. They wore white linens under gold chest plates, on their heads sat gold helmets shaped to form a giant flame, and their weapons were golden spears and swords.
“Cazai caren, esa Octayn Oredan!”
Octayn’s words were an authoritative call, ringing out over them all. She raised her two arms high up in the air and, with a heavy clap, brought them down to her sides, the motion causing something Hydo had never seen before. It was as though she had pulled all of the air from the space around them, as if she had created static electricity all about them. He could feel his skin tingling. Suddenly, completely white flames erupted all around her. The fire flickered down her arms, over her chest, and through her hair—a brilliant, pearl-white.
As the flames extended out around her they whipped the air with a loud, thunderous crack. And just like that, the guards fell to their knees.
Octayn extinguished the white flame and the air lost its charge. He moved to her side, amazed that once again there was more he had not seen, more he had not known. “What was that?”
She smiled to him. “It’s an Oredan thing.”
* * * *
The guards had organized an escort to the Oredan palace. They rode in gilded carriages, pulled by young guards. Hydo felt uncomfortable with the practice, as he felt uncomfortable with the way Octayn reclined back, sipping her beverage and picking at the fruits the guards had brought.
She bit into a piece of fruit, her green eyes watching him keenly. “You’ll grow accustomed to it. It’s the Bakora way.”
“Hunters live in service. You live to be served.”
“Perhaps that’s why we are such a good fit then.”
He found it difficult to focus. He was in Bakoran, he was being seen by Bakora society, and he was traveling to meet Ozea Oredan, who was not only the sworn enemy to Daharia but the man responsible for killing his parents. While Hydo knew the current Emperor would not survive much longer, according to Hydo and Octayn’s plan, nothing currently stopped him from contacting the Blade and informing the Council that Hydo Jesuin had impregnated Octayn Oredan and had crossed into their territory. Nothing but the hope that as an uncle, he would believe Octayn’s story.
They had not traveled far but already the landscape had begun to change from desert to lush, forested terrain. As they moved closer and closer to the city, the guards raised a curtained wall around their chariot, ensuring they could not look out and none could look in on Octayn. While Hydo felt trapped and uncomfortable, Octayn seemed to relish the privacy. She laid out across the cushions of the chariot, keeping one hand on her abdomen, and the other firmly on Hydo.
Chapter 13
Haren’dul Daku
Present Day
They had traveled as far as their legs could possibly take them that night, thankful that they had crossed the terrain without further disruption or attack. They made their small shelter in the fold between the desert and the adjacent hillside, their canvas tent shielding them from the desert winds. The three of them sat cross-legged, forming a small triangle.
“Just close your eyes and seek him out,” Falco advised.
“Focus on his image, his movements, his face as you last saw it,” Kohl added.
Jessop rested her hands on her knees, her eyes shut, her mind focused on Hydo. The hour was late and she intended to enter his dreams as he had entered hers. She took slow deep breaths and thought of Urdo and how he had taught her to search with Sentio.
“Imagine where he sleeps.”
“Think of how he—”
“Stop! Both of you, I can’t focus.”
They remained silent and she continued to concentrate on her breathing. Her palms were moist and she rubbed them over her knees. They had traveled so far through the desert. Her hair was coarse and matted, her skin raw from the sand and wind, her feet blistered. Her mouth tasted of dust and dried meats. Her shoulder ached from injury. The men were just as worn. Falco’s hair stood on wild end, his skin red from the heat, his gray eyes exhausted. Kohl’s clothes were tattered, his lips so chapped they bled, the skin over his knuckles cracking from dehydration. She felt their pain—and the pressure for them to make real progress.
Jeco needed them. And they needed to find him. She knew of no others who could carry on through such conditions and she knew nothing would stop her now, as nothing would stop Falco or Kohl. They were trained to see through their missions and retrieving Jeco was the most important task any of them had ever had to undertake. But they were falling sick to the treacherous wasteland. She needed to find out where Hydo was.
She knew this was not the exact same process that she had done with Urdo. She was trying to enter a mind from a distance. It required a degree of abstract focus that she knew well, but typically her targets were within sight. She took a deep breath and kept her eyes shut. She could hear her own breath, the breath of Falco, and that of Kohl. She blocked it out. She focused on her heartbeat. She focused on the darkness within herself. She found herself drawn into the shadows of her inner being. She saw flashes of her life—of the men she sat across from, of her son, of her parents. She walked away from them all. She knew, somehow, that she needed to immerse herself in the shadowy void of her own mind.
She breathed deeper and deeper, each breath propelling her towards the shadows. She saw nothing and no one. She heard no desert wind, no breathing, and no heartbeats. She felt surprisingly calm. Fear was an emotion that had eluded her for many years. Without her son, she had been reminded of its treacherous hold. But in this shadow place, hidden deep inside herself, she felt nothing at all. It was isolation, and silence, and in some ways it seemed tantamount to peace, to true, inner calm.
She pushed through the shadows, and some part of her knew that she was in complete control. She felt invincible in this place, not for being all-powerful, but for being immune to harm. She felt safe. She felt as though she hovered above all others, watching them live their lives, watching them sleep and eat, make love and kill. She felt as though all she needed to do to peek into their existences was open the right door, a door hidden in the darkness.
She focused on Hydo. She focused on his dark eyes, on their dark history. She pictured his face and his gait. She imagined him speaking with Jeco, and just like that, Jessop knew she had found the door. She reached out in the darkness, and found her hand push
ing on a door…
The room was completely white and gold. There were white sheets that hung from the ceiling, so long they pooled in a fold of lush fabric on the floor. Jessop found that the ceiling with its gilded molding had an intricate mural painted in gold. It took her a moment to realize the painting was of a fire. She looked down and found that the white stone floor had the exact same golden fire drawn into it. She turned about. The room was decorated in fine materials and ornate furniture. Tables held gold platters of fresh fruits and meat and chalices filled to the brim with cool drink.
She had no recollection of this place and yet it seemed somehow familiar to her. She thought of the men she had seen when Hydo entered her dream—of the white linens and gold utensils.
“Welcome, Jessop.”
She spun around to find Hydo standing several feet behind her. He was dressed all in white and his hair was pulled back tightly. Standing next to him was one of the men Jessop recalled from her own dream, the one with the glowing eyes. Jessop imagined he was about the same age as her, and she noticed the hilt of a dagger peeking out above a strap on his shoulder and what appeared to be a silver coil—perhaps a whip—tucked on his hip. As she had suspected before, he definitely had the build and presence of a warrior.
She turned her gaze away from the young man. “Where is my son, Hydo?”
“I assure you he is safe. He is being well cared for.”
Jessop let her hand wrap around the hilt of her Blade. “Can you die in your dreams? Or will I have to wait till I find you in person?”
At her words the younger man took a step forward. Jessop pulled her blade but Hydo raised his hands, urging them both to calm. The younger man stepped back. Jessop kept her eyes fixed on Hydo—they both knew his young friend was no match for her.
“Jessop, how you have your mother’s aggressive flair ...In truth that is the only similarity I see; it amazes me they made you a Hunter.”
“Speak of my mother again and you’ll get a lesson in why they made me a Hunter.”
Once again, the younger man made a move forward, but Hydo was quick to stop him, placing his hand on the man’s shoulder. “No, Calis.”
“Vei con harana mei, Calis.” You cannot fight me, she warned the young man. He stared at her with his glowing eyes, a blank expression on his face.
“He does not speak Kuroi,” Hydo explained.
Jessop was certain he was part Kuroi—his eyes were an obvious tell. She couldn’t imagine how a man of Kuroi descent didn’t know the language. “You can’t speak your own tongue?”
He narrowed his gaze at her. “You’re half Bakora and you can’t speak your own tongue.”
Jessop didn’t know of what he spoke. But his words did not matter to her. “You know nothing of what I am.”
“I know more about you than you know yourself.”
“That’s enough,” Hydo spoke, raising his hands as if to ease the tension. “You both have much to learn from one another but—”
Jessop pulled her blade free. “I’m not interested. Where is my son, Hydo?”
Calis moved faster than she had anticipated. With an angry crack his silver whip had laced around her sword-wielding arm. The sharp metal tip slapped her with an agonizing sting. Just as she was about to wrench the man forward with his own weapon, the whip ignited, a dark blue flame erupting around its silver coil.
For a second, Jessop almost laughed, knowing she was more resistant to flames than most, but then she felt it. The fire actually burned her. She hissed in agony, falling to her knees.
“Jessop, you need to let us explain everything to you. You can be reunited with your son, but first we must speak in person,” Hydo explained, taking a step towards her.
She resisted for long enough, finally screaming out in pain as the fire burned her flesh. With all her might she wrenched her arm and Calis flew forward. The pain was excruciating. She needed to escape the dream.
She loosened her arm free, but the moment he regained his footing, he lashed at her again. She remembered the mage and the damage he had done to her back with his whip. She pushed the thought out of her head, focusing on Calis. The whip cracked the air beside her face with a vicious bite. She had barely rolled out of the way in time. She threw her blade into her other hand—dominant or not, she was a better swordswoman than most. She leapt up and carved the air with her weapon, aiming for the young man. He flipped back with spry mobility, barely escaping her attack. As he readied his stance, he pulled his dagger loose, tightly wrapping his fingers around the hilt.
“Both of you—stop!” Hydo yelled, but Jessop knew she wouldn’t be able to leave with Calis attacking her.
He struck at her with swiftness and precision, his feet moving perfectly, his arm in flawless form—he had been trained very well. But not as well as her. She sidestepped his strike with ease, carved his blade back, and executed a crescent kick against his face. He fell to the ground, his blade over his body like a shield, his loose whip tucked between his fingers. She pulled her weapon back, ready to strike him, when strong hands grabbed her shoulders and wrenched her back.
She flew off her feet and toppled backwards into a table. The golden plates and chalices clattered about her as she grabbed the heavy tabletop to regain her balance. She was amazed by Hydo’s strength. She knew he did not have his Hunter’s blade, but as he squared off with her, he called Calis’s dagger to his hand. Sentio worked in their dreamland.
“Good to know,” she mused, and with an easy push from her mind, Hydo went flying back. She held her burned arm tight against her chest, her blade in her left hand. She might not have been fit for the fight, but she welcomed it. She pushed herself off the table as Hydo recovered, but before she could strike at him, Calis leapt at her. With a slight swipe of her fingers, she used Sentio to also send him flying across the room.
“Tell me where my son is!” she demanded, closing the space between her and Hydo with ease.
Hydo spun the blade about him in a manner near identical to Falco. “She asked me not to fight you!”
Jessop didn’t know whom he spoke of and it didn’t matter to her. She swung at him, and despite his claims, he was quick to parry and attack. She was injured and in pain, but she had longed for the moment where she could fight Hydo. “Don’t make me explain to her that I had to kill you,” he growled at her.
She struck his blade with hers, forcing him back. “You couldn’t kill me as a child. What makes you think you could kill me now?”
“You know nothing about what happened that day,” he answered with his own strike. She blocked and attacked once more.
“Just give me my son back!”
As she leapt in the air, prepared to strike him with a hook kick, he used his Sentio. He flung her to the ground with a vigorous force. She felt the rib break but refused to scream out. She rolled back, threw her legs up, and leapt to her feet.
“I trained the best there ever was, girl, and it’s not you.” He cut the air with his blade. She blocked, but she struggled to counter-attack with her broken rib and burned arm.
He swung down on her again. Their blades sung as they met. She used all her might to hold his weapon off. She saw Calis behind him, watching with visible concern. He would not intervene now, not while it appeared Hydo dominated their fight.
“I knew when his skill overtook mine—that was never the issue. The issue was you.”
Jessop didn’t follow his angry diatribe. She forced his blade back and struck at him. He blocked and returned the attack.
“Where is my great student now? When his love is so close to death, where is Falco? Nowhere to be seen!” Hydo yelled, spinning in a fluid motion and bringing his blade down on her with might.
Before Hydo’s strike could connect, strong hands caught his forearms, rescuing Jessop. “Don’t be so sure of that.”
Falco stunned them all. But as hi
s scarred hands sent Hydo flying across the room, Jessop knew it was really him—he had come for her. His dark hair still wild, his scarred face staring down at her, concern filled his eyes. As Calis took a step forward, Falco swung his arm and sent the man flying back into the white-covered walls with a violent force. He struck the wall and Jessop could hear the crack of his head against the hard surface. His body fell limp to the floor—he was unconscious.
Falco corrected his stance and pulled his blade free, spinning it about himself in the same manner as Hydo. He took a quick step towards Hydo, who threw his hand out in an attempt to use Sentio on Falco. Falco waved his hand and instantly cut through the man’s supernatural abilities with his own. “Where’s my son?”
Their blades clashed with a violent ting. Jessop watched with amazement as Hydo fended off Falco’s attacks with some of the fastest defensive moves she had ever seen. Their form was astoundingly similar. They both moved constantly, spinning in circles, twirling their blades about themselves with ease. Though Falco found it visibly easier.
She had truly underestimated Hydo’s skill with a blade. But it was true what he and all of the others had said—Falco had long since surpassed his corrupted mentor. Falco swung his blade about and with a sharp inward curve, he sliced Hydo’s side open. Hydo stumbled back, quick to grab at the wound. His blood pooled through his white tunic.
He held his side, flicking his gaze between Falco and Jessop. “Neither of you understand. You have to understand.”
“Understand what?” Falco demanded.
Jessop felt the ground beneath her feet begin to shake. “Falco,” she whispered. The entire room was shaking. She looked to Hydo, who seemed unsurprised. She knew that he was somehow responsible for the quaking; he was kicking them out of the dream world. The linen fell from the ceiling. The chalices tumbled to the ground. The room was growing darker and darker.
