The Glass Blade

by Ryan Wieser

No fancy weapons, no easy escapes, and no ideal hideaways… the Hollow was designed to replicate as realistic a fighting scenario as could be imagined. And as the fire flickered in the darkness, dancing an amber light over the twisted steel, casting great shadows up blood stained walls, she could easily recall her life in the Shadow City. She could recall Falco’s kingdom of darkness, and a thousand easy memories rushed to the forefront of her mind. She fought to force Jeco’s face back into the depths of memory, needing to concentrate on the young Hunter before her.

  Jessop watched as Kohl stepped out onto one of the steel beams. After taking several paces out, he spun on his heel, turning his wicked smile onto her. He continued to cross the beam backwards, one foot carefully finding its place behind the next. He let his dark eyes trail up to her, proud of his precarious poise so high above the ground. “Ready?”

  The young Hunter was showing off for her. Jessop offered his attempt to impress a half-smile.

  She looked Hanson over. “You watch from up here?”

  He nodded slowly. “Today, I watch from up here.” He spoke each word slowly and deliberately, letting her know he would be watching her.

  She resisted engaging further. Instead, she turned and stepped quickly out onto the beam. She kept her eyes up, trained on Kohl, confidently closing the distance between them. She didn’t need to watch her feet. Not only did Jessop have impeccable balance but thirty feet was not a drop that concerned her. One hundred feet was not a drop that concerned her. But the young Hunter didn’t know that—she was quite certain he didn’t even know what heights his own abilities could conquer. He watched her quick movements with surprise, hastening his own steps, extending his arms out for balance.

  “You’re not afraid of heights,” he remarked, his half-smile reappearing as he found his footing.

  Jessop unsheathed her blade with ease, bringing her black star glass sword out in a quick, clean movement, continuing to gain on him. She thought of her dislike of flying. It wasn’t the height that scared her, but the reliance on the machine. “No one is afraid of heights—they are afraid of their own inability to navigate them.”

  “I suppose that’s true,” he answered, looking down to his feet as he shakily continued back.

  Jessop twirled her wrist and her blade, glinting a reflection of the far below fires, cut a circle at her side. “Did we not come here to fight?”

  The young Hunter seemed as surprised as he was impressed by her easy footwork. He paused briefly and, with a daring smile teasing at his mouth, he stepped off the edge of the beam, disappearing off the ledge.

  Jessop quickly looked over the side and found that he had caught himself on one of the ropes that hung from the steel. She watched as he shimmied down, the rope stopping about fifteen feet short from the ground. Once he reached its end, the young Hunter let go and fell. He landed firmly on his feet, kicking up a cloud of dust, and slowly looked up to her. He smiled smugly as he unsheathed his blade.

  “Come and fight me then,” he called up to her.

  Jessop couldn’t help but look over her shoulder at Hanson Knell. He wanted to see how much of her was the product of Falco Bane. Aranthol was the most dangerous place any would ever find themselves in and she couldn’t hide how she had managed to survive it. If the abilities Falco had instilled in her reminded the old Hunter of his enemy, then so be it. Fighting like Falco had gotten her into the Glass Blade and she knew it would also be what kept her there.

  She looked forward, steadying her body, controlling her breathing. With graceful precision, she sliced her weapon upwards and held it out to her side, the blade singing as it cut through the air and formed an extension of her arm, a perfect line parallel to the ground. She took an easy breath and, with a slight bend of the knee, she dove head first off the steel beam. She brought the sword across her body as she spiraled through the air. She twisted through the fall, tucking her head low and turning her body out, and, just as she saw the floor approach, her eyes transformed the world into beautiful slow motion. She turned her arm out, extending her blade once again to the side, and found her feet beneath her, her knees bent and feet ready. She landed, one foot flat as she kneeled, her head low, and her sword held up high to her side.

  Slowly, she looked up, her green eyes travelling to meet Kohl’s. He stared with shock, his lips apart as he looked from her up to the beam above. She followed his gaze and found Hanson looking over the edge, his critical stare locked on to her. She slowly rose from bended knee, turning her gaze back to Kohl. “Are we doing this?”

  He cocked his head, flicking a strand of golden hair out of his eyes. “Definitely.”

  Jessop brought her blade up, taking a confident step forward, as Kohl made his first move. He closed the gap between them quickly, expertly crossing his crystalline blade from either side of his body. He descended on her with precision, executing an expert strike at her. She parried and sidestepped. He pivoted around, swinging his blade out across his body, aimed at her neck; she ducked, rose and hit his sword away with the ting of forged star glass.

  She already knew that Kohl, as an Infinity Hunter, was a good fighter. He moved with control and grace. He had been trained extensively, but Jessop could see the negative side of such thorough training—perhaps, as with her and Falco, Kohl’s mentor had influenced his style too much. As a man, the young Hunter seemed to have an easy confidence and natural flair, despite his serious training and rigid beliefs, but it did not come through in his fight. He moved with textbook deliberation instead of fluid intuition. He executed his regimented attacks so efficiently it was as though his body didn’t know there were other options.

  She weaved around him, bringing her blade over her back to block a blind assault. She pivoted and squared off with him, holding his blade off with her own. The brilliance of his transparent blade connected with the dangerous edge of her black weapon, two entirely distinct edges ringing out. She smiled at him wickedly. “Getting tired, Hunter?”

  She could feel Hanson’s eyes on her from above. She knew that he wouldn’t be able to deny her uses to the Council having seen her hold off his own mentee with such ease. She thought of hunting with them and she could imagine a hundred scenarios where Hydo Jesuin and the Councilmen could see that she was more than a battered escapee, more than—

  Umph!

  Kohl’s fist connected with Jessop’s chest so hard that it sent her flying through the air. With luck, she grabbed hold of one of the hanging ropes and quickly regained her footing. She had provoked him and then allowed herself to be distracted by her thoughts—she may have been the superior fighter but the young Hunter was no amateur. His blade came straight at her and she couldn’t help but notice that being incited had loosened Kohl up—had brought out his aggression.

  To be a good fighter you have to be hungry for the fight. The memory of words she had heard so many times before filled her mind. She ducked back as Kohl came for her. She slid to the side, pulled on the rope, and as he cut just past her, twisted it swiftly around the hilt of his blade. With his hand temporarily trapped, she kneed him in the side. She grabbed his hilt and kicked him hard in the chest, sending him flying back and forcing his grip free. She arched her brow at him, his blade now in her hand.

  He recovered swiftly and with anger. He came after her quickly, eager to retrieve his weapon, and she backed away from him, watching as he hit the ropes out of his way. And then he stopped.

  He extended his hand out in front of him and pulled his fingers tightly in the air, as though grasping an invisible hilt. Within seconds, Jessop could feel his blade shaking violently in her hand.

  Sentio.

  She knew better than to resist. She let his blade go and watched as the sword flew through the air, back into the grasp of its master. He caught the hilt easily, spinning it in a full circle about himself and as the crystalline star glass caught the light of the burning tar pits, creating the appearance of
a circle of shimmering fire around him.

  He took quick steps towards her and executed a strike with great force against her. She blocked and began to step back, keeping the momentum of their fight moving. She found her feet easily, stepping back again and again as she blocked and attacked. She defended against his sword with ease, but remained wary of his willingness to use Sentio.

  In her periphery, she saw they were beginning to pass through the levitating metal platforms. Without delay, she crouched down swiftly and flipped back into the air, recalling where the next floating metal board would be. She landed smoothly atop the edge of the platform and, just as quickly as she had landed, she flipped back off, leaping behind Kohl. Before he could turn on her she had kicked him in the back. He fell forward, rolling right onto the precipice of one of the tar pits.

  Before Jessop could say anything, the fire of the pit traveled its periphery, and leapt onto Kohl’s tunic, burning around him with an angry blue flame.

  She felt her hands twitch at her side, her eyes widen at the sight. She wanted to help him extinguish the flames, but she was frozen in place. He leapt to his feet and ripped the vest and burning tunic away from him, cursing at the discarded material as it lay in a smoldering heap on the ground between them. Jessop looked from the burnt tunic to Kohl. Her eyes traveled across his exposed stomach, his body rippling with adrenaline and might. She looked across his abdomen and wide-set shoulders. The marks she had previewed earlier had alluded to a much more grave sight.

  Every inch of Kohl O’Hanlon was scarred. Some of the scars were deep, some slender, some carved out in circle formations, others had been clean cuts—all silver and all old. The scars were so old it made her wonder how young he had been when he suffered their creation. His entire body was made of muscle and scarred flesh. He had the formidable size of a prime Hunter, but the flesh of a torture victim. It was horrifying to simply imagine such pain, even for a woman as scarred as herself… But Jessop had seen the same devastation before.

  On the body of Falco Bane.

  CHAPTER 4

  “Your body…” The whisper fell from Jessop’s lips before she could stop it. She knew what had happened; she knew how someone got scars like that. What she didn’t know was who was responsible—for Kohl’s or Falco’s.

  “It’s the Hunter life,” Kohl shrugged, picking up his leather vest and leaving the burnt tunic on the ground.

  “It’s the Hunter’s life,” Falco shrugged, noting her stares as he undressed…

  The memory vanished as quickly as it had emerged—the same words, the same scars, but a different man, a different time and place. Jessop shook her head, clearing her mind.

  “We’re done here.” Hanson’s tense voice carried over them. Jessop had nearly forgotten he was there. She looked up, just in time to see a flick of the old Hunter’s long silvery braid as he disappeared down the corridor above.

  Jessop turned her attention back to Kohl. She had experience ignoring grotesque things—beauty was uncommon in the Shadow City—but this was different. To be so reminded of Falco Bane… she forced her eyes to concentrate on Kohl’s face, to know that he wasn’t Bane.

  Kohl watched her carefully, and she could see that where there had been fight and anger in his eyes just a moment ago, there was pride and discomfort. He knew what she saw when she saw his body. He crossed his arms over his marred flesh. “Want to get out of here?”

  She watched as his blonde hair fell in front of his dark eyes.

  “And go where?”

  Without thinking she reached up and pushed the hair back, tucking it behind his ears. She slowly pulled her hand away, catching his hazel eyes, entirely unsure of what she had just done.

  He slowly smiled down at her. “Anywhere.”

  * * * *

  Instead of taking her out of the Glass Blade, Kohl had decided to take her up it. They traveled through one of the many glass chutes, in a small, translucent bullet, and as they rounded another floor Jessop couldn’t help but show her amazement. They had been ascending the building for some time and she couldn’t help but stare at how the floors beneath her feet disappeared into blurry, distant dots and details as they climbed higher and higher. She wondered, having been to the depths of the Blade, and now seemingly to its very top, where did they house the famed Blade of Light?

  “The height can be daunting to some.” Kohl’s voice surprised her, pulling her attention back. She slowly looked away from the disappearing floors beneath her feet and up to his hazel eyes.

  “It’s more the building that fascinates me,” she said. He nodded at her slowly, and she found herself studying the star-shaped scar carved into his cheekbone. It made her think of his marred body—and of Bane.

  He arched a brow at her. “A wound from my first serious fight.”

  She nodded. “You left a larger mark on him that day.”

  He studied her face, running his hand over the stubble of his jaw line, his fingers just grazing the old wound. “On who, exactly?”

  “I think you know the answer to that.”

  His lips fell into a weak smile and his gaze dropped for just a moment. “How did you know it was Bane I fought that day?”

  “Several things have given me the impression that you and he would have been trained together, not least of which is that he mentioned his former best friend over the years,” she answered. She couldn’t help but picture Bane’s face, his gray eyes, and the scar that cut through his brow and down his cheekbone, a perfect silver line down his face. It had nearly robbed him of his eye—the blade that marked him.

  “He mentioned me?”

  She nodded, trying to read his expression. “In passing.”

  “You’re right, I did give Bane that scar,” Kohl spoke, answering what she hadn’t needed to ask.

  The Hunter took a step towards her and for the first time Jessop noticed how tall he was, how intimidating—how similar to Bane. A fight between the two would have ended in devastation at one point in time. Before Bane had become unstoppable. She looked up into his amber eyes and found the intensity of his stare surprising.

  “Earlier, you said everything here reminds you of him. I don’t want to remind you of such pain,” he spoke. His voice was soft and sad. It surprised Jessop, to hear such emotion in his speech, but she knew they were bonded forever now.

  You’re responsible for the lives you save—another lesson from the shadows of Aranthol.

  She took a deep breath and touched his arm softly. “You don’t remind me of such pain.”

  He smiled sadly, “You’re sweet to lie.”

  He stepped away from her and Jessop couldn’t help but stare at him. “I’m not lying—feel free to check.”

  He looked over her darkly. “You know I wouldn’t do that.”

  She cocked her head to the side. “You had no issues using Sentio earlier in the Hollow—to get your blade back,” she reminded him.

  “That’s different, I wouldn’t use my abilities to invade your mind,” he answered, his voice low and his expression serious.

  Jessop leaned against the glass, crossing her arms over her chest. “Then you’re the sweet one. Your fellow Hunters feel differently.”

  He stepped back to her slowly, “I’m sorry for what they did to you… for what he did to you. Since meeting you, all I could think about was that I could have saved you so much pain, had I known things sooner. Had I been able to tell there was something off about him—”

  “Stop.” She held his intense gaze as she cut him off. At his concerned expression, she elaborated, softening her tone. “You can’t keep apologizing to me, Kohl. What has been of my life has not been your fault. You were just a boy when you knew Falco Bane.”

  He nodded, “I know. It’s just that you saved me—and that means something to me.” He rested a hand on her shoulder and Jessop couldn’t help but stare at his fingers.
And then he pulled her into a hug. “I just want you to know that we will get the man responsible for your suffering,” he whispered.

  Slowly, she wrapped her arms around him. Jessop didn’t like to be touched; she didn’t like to be embraced. But she understood Kohl O’Hanlon’s attempts at comforting her. She nodded against his broad chest, picturing the face of the very man. “Oh, I know we will.”

  * * * *

  While the view was undeniably incredible, Jessop was certain she would never get used to the color of the sky in the Red City. Everything around her shone crimson, like the world was on fire. They were on a large ledge outside of an empty training room. Kohl had said it was his spot, that whenever the training or Hanson or the Council had gotten to be too much, he would come to sit on the ledge. He said it was a reminder of why they trained, of the importance of the Blade of Light and the Daharian galaxy, and of themselves.

  “As a child, I wondered if the fall would kill me. I had been raised seeing Hunters move—the way you moved today—and I never knew how high was too high,” he mused, looking down at the miles of space beneath them. She had been right in her earlier assumption; perhaps he still didn’t know the extent of his own abilities.

  She looked over to him, arching her brow. “You were raised here? In the Glass Blade?” She knew those chosen throughout Daharia were selected young, some perhaps too young to remember a different home, or parents.

  He nodded slowly, still looking down over the ledge. “For as long as I can remember this has been home.”

  She turned slightly in her seat, forcing down thoughts she did not wish to think. “Well, you can move the way Hunters can now.”

  He turned to study her face. “I know I can. I’m amazed that you can. That kind of power, it’s what’s needed for Sentio.”

  She shrugged; uncertain of what more she could say about her abilities. “Is that what the Council fear women wouldn’t survive—if they trained them—is wielding that kind of power?”

  Kohl nodded slowly, “Yeah, either they wouldn’t survive that or the…” his voice trailed off quickly, dying out on the passing wind.