by Ryan Wieser
He stared ahead, his hand tight around her. “I’ve never seen him like this.” Jessop couldn’t ignore the cramping in her chest; she felt bad for Kohl. He was angry and upset, and however different he was from the Councilmen, he felt the same as them.
She tugged him forward gently. “It’s okay, Kohl. He will be fine.” He hesitated, slowly turning his gaze to her.
Softly, he let go of her. “I just need a minute.” He walked away from her, heading towards the door. Leaving her with the entire Assembly Council and a handful of younger Hunters.
Hek’tanatoi, Oray-Ha?
The voice pushed into Jessop’s mind like a warm stream of welcome waters. She listened to the Kuroi language, and knew, before turning, that it was Trax DeHawn standing behind her, asking in the tongue of the Kuroi how she had come to be so far from home, affectionately calling her Green Eyes.
“I could ask you the same, Hasen-Ha,” she answered, turning slowly and looking up into the glowing eyes of the Councilman.
His mouth pulled into a broad smile. “Hasen-Ha—Golden eyes. Yes, this is what they would call me there.”
She smiled in turn. “And here they call you Trax DeHawn.”
He stared at her intently, with the same bewilderment in which she had regarded him.
“You’re from beyond the Grey, Oray-Ha?”
Jessop shook her head and pictured Koren’da’s face—the last Kuroi tribesman she had been close to. She ignored his question. “I have always been fond of your Kuroi tribe.”
“You see our eyes as only one from beyond the Grey sees them, Oray-Ha, and you yourself have the glowing green of one beyond the Grey. You lie when you say you do not come from where we come from,” he whispered, pulling his dark robes tighter around himself. His words were not accusatory, but musing.
“I was once cared for by one of the tribe. He meant a great deal to me.” She offered him information, but no answers.
She pushed a thought across his mind. Slowly, Trax DeHawn nodded down at her. We should speak, later, Oray-Ha.
But before she could answer him, Kohl had reappeared at her side. “DeHawn,” he greeted Trax, extending his arm.
Trax pulled him into a quick embrace, “O’Hanlon.”
“I see you have officially met Jessop,” he smiled, looking from his Councilman to her.
Trax nodded. “Yes, officially.”
“What does the Council think about Hydo? What can we do?” Kohl pressed, anxious to somehow help his Lord. Jessop didn’t think him wrong for caring, but she couldn’t quite reconcile the young man who had pulled her from the Council’s pool of torture, and this concerned Hunter beside her, desperate to help, as the same Kohl O’Hanlon.
Everyone and everything comes second to the Lord Hunter, before all else comes Hydo Jesuin. Falco’s voice filled her mind and nearly caused her knees to buckle. She remembered all he had said about Hydo, and for every wrong Falco Bane had ever done, about this he seemed most right.
“We think that more discussion is needed—whoever did this is beyond our conception at this time,” Trax answered diplomatically, but his deep voice was heard by more than just Kohl and Jessop.
“Whoever did this?” An older man, one Jessop did not recognize, approached, his loud voice drawing the attention of the room. Jessop stood up straighter, feeling the narrow eyes of the old man burning against her as he approached.
“There has only ever been one man capable of touching Lord Jesuin, and here we stand, in the presence of that man’s escaped slave!”
He pointed his wrinkled finger at Jessop, with accusation.
“Councilman Bevda, you can’t possibly think Jessop—a woman—could do this to the Lord?” Kohl queried. She knew he meant her no insult; he used the sexism of the Hunters to advance his defense of her.
She looked Councilman Bevda over slowly. She did not know him for any famous accomplishments, but she had heard his name nonetheless. He was the one who was known simply for being more fanatically loyal to their Lord than the others combined.
“Of course not! But she must have something to do with it! First the Lord takes his leave of us, to research pressing matters, and before he can report back this attack occurs? The first attack within the Blade, the first against the Lord, in over a decade!” Councilman Bevda exclaimed, his voice growing louder with each word.
“Coincidence?” he barked, his loud voice raspy. “I think not!”
Jessop stared deep into the old man’s eyes. She could be in his mind in an instant. She could throw him entirely off course, and force him to see reason. He was too weak to fight her. She could do it without anyone even noticing…
“She’s brought evil into this sacred place!” he rambled, nearing her slowly, his finger still extended out angrily. She could see in her periphery the other Councilmen and Hunters slowly approaching, listening to their old comrade as he stirred suspicions.
“Councilman Bevda, please, you said it yourself, she couldn’t have done this, and only one with the mark could gain access to the Blade,” Kohl reasoned, turning his palm out in reference to the F-shaped scar, but the older man wasn’t through with his tirade.
“You brought her here, to see our fallen Lord, to let her bask in the damage she helped create.”
“Councilman!”
Jessop began to push. She didn’t need anyone else hearing any more. It would take her a matter of seconds to fix his opinion of her. She just needed to find the right spot. She could see first his perception of the room, and then herself through his eyes, standing between Trax DeHawn and Kohl. Then she saw the face of unconscious Hydo Jesuin. And then—
Jessop fell from his mind, forcefully expelled. At first, she thought it had been him, the old Councilman, stronger than she had anticipated. It took her a second to recognize the glazed expression that came along with death, as it plastered itself over the old man’s face. Councilman Bevda, his jaw still slack with another accusation waiting on his tongue, fell to his knees.
His hand grabbed at his chest. Kohl leapt forward, falling beside the man to help him. “Councilman, what is it? Someone—call for a medic!”
But it was too late. The Councilman’s fingers clung to the sigil on his snug leather vest above his heart. He stared up at her with shock, and she stared down at him as he took his last breath. He fell back in Kohl’s arms—dead.
Kohl looked up to her, stunned. It had appeared the old man had succumbed to a heart attack. But Jessop knew better. A bad heart couldn’t have flung her from his mind. Only one thing could have done that—someone else also using Sentio. She took a step back as the Councilmen and Hunters descended on their fallen comrade, circling him, shocked.
She searched their faces, looking past the few tears, the gaping expressions and wide eyes—searching for whoever had just murdered one of their own in a room full of his allies. All of them may have thought they had just witnessed a heart attack in motion, but she knew better. She knew someone in the room had found her in Bevda’s mind, and had kicked her out just in time to kill the old man, to either save her from his accusations… or frame her for his death.
* * * *
The medics lifted the body, with the white sheet tucked tightly around it, onto the silver trolley. Jessop couldn’t help but notice the eerie parallels between Bevda and his Lord, as they both lay still as meat on silver platters. She had felt too self-conscious to slip into anyone’s minds. As the medics had arrived and futilely attempted to revive the Councilman, she had felt both helpless and alert, studying the face of every man in the room.
“Overcome by grief for his Lord—the stress took his heart,” one Councilman guessed, shaking his head solemnly.
“I think it more likely that he was overcome by rage. He didn’t want her here,” his comrade hissed.
Jessop resisted the urge to speak back to them.
“He wa
s right—she has no place here.”
“She knows Sentio!”
“But she couldn’t have done this—no matter how trained she is, she’s still just a woman.”
Jessop could feel the tension in her palms, her nails digging into her plump flesh as she held her tongue and braced her mind.
“She did not do this. I was in her mind as Bevda fell.” The voice belonged to Trax DeHawn. Jessop twisted around to him, staring up as he calmly addressed his fellow Councilmen.
“Despite whatever doubts there may be surrounding the limited scope of her abilities—she could not have killed him without me seeing her thoughts.”
Jessop was shocked. Not at his decision to defend her—but at his willingness to lie for her. The yellow-eyed Hunter had not been in her mind when the Councilman fell.
“What were you doing in her mind?” Kohl’s angered voice traveled across the room. His eyes were swollen and his fingers curved around his jaw with pensive concern—he was upset.
“What I do is no concern of yours, young Hunter,” Trax answered with more aggression than Jessop would have anticipated from him. Her being in his presence, sharing what thoughts and language they had shared, had brought out a side of the Kuroi Hunter that she was certain most of his brethren would never have seen before. The Kuroi were fierce and loyal people—loyal to their own kind before all others. Making them entirely similar to—and entirely different from—the Hunters of Infinity.
“Oh, I see,” Urdo Rendo, the renowned Hunter, finally spoke. “O’Hanlon is sleeping with her.”
Jessop was certain that if she had lived a different life—if all of these men had not already seen her naked and tortured—she would have been embarrassed. But she had no room for humiliation—simply rage.
“With all due respect, Master Rendo, you have no right—” Kohl began, turning on his Councilman with fiery anger.
“No right? I have no issue with women taking up the sword, but I do have a problem with you not using your better judgment.” At his rebuke, the room erupted.
“Better judgment! What—”
“Falco Bane has killed thousands of men and this woman—”
“No better than an escaped pet!”
“Enough!”
The bellowing voice of Hanson Knell silenced the room and startled Jessop. She had entirely forgotten his presence there. They all turned to see where he stood, at the back of the room, leaning against the wall near Hydo.
“If Master DeHawn insists she is innocent, she is innocent. We all know my budding, albeit wayward, protégé is sleeping with the girl—but he did not bring her into this place, I did, and he would not compromise our way of life for her. She is here because she saved his life—and my life too. She is simply not capable of bringing anyone into our fortress, for she does not bear the mark, and who here truly believes our Lord was bested by this girl?”
He pushed off from the wall, taking a step forward to look over Hydo’s still face more carefully.
“In fact, she is only here because Hydo deemed it so. Before he succumbed to his attack, he made it clear she would be directly involved in our hunt for Falco Bane. For his fortress is as impenetrable as our own.”
At his name, all the men grew tense. Some cursed under their breath, others shook their heads, obviously certain of the futility of the task.
“Who here could overpower Hydo Jesuin?” he asked, approaching the group. “You, Urdo? Or you, Master Wale? How about you, DeHawn—youngest of any Hunter to ever make the Council?”
At her side, Trax shook his head slowly, his yellow eyes glowing as he looked to Hanson. “Not I, Master Knell.”
“Nor I, Trax, nor I…” Hanson answered, nodding his head. He continued through the small group, nearing her. She hadn’t seen it before, but Hanson had the ability to captivate his colleagues. Every eye rested on him, every ear peeled for an instruction.
“Nor she. However strong she may be, whatever Sentio the enemy has taught this young woman—do any here truly believe she could put Hydo—our Lord—into this dark sleep?” He asked, standing right before her.
“This shouldn’t just be a question of who could do it, but who would do it,” Kohl interjected, taking his mentor’s eyes off of her and onto himself.
“Perhaps. But the fact remains; no one in this room could have done this. Our Lord has said it infinite times—there is, and has only ever been, one strong enough. Falco.”
Urdo Rendo stepped forward slowly, his arms crossed. He was an imposing man, standing half a foot taller than the others in the room, with a full gray moustache. “You think Falco Bane was once again inside the Blade?”
Hanson shrugged, his eyes falling once again on her. “No. That doesn’t mean his agents haven’t infiltrated our fortress.”
Jessop shook her head. “There’s no way he has agents here. Hydo may have been poisoned, or attacked during his travels only to succumb to his wounds here—but none of the men within the Blade are loyal to Bane.”
“And why’s that?” Hanson pressed.
“Because I would know about it already.”
“Bane may not know we have you here,” another Councilman argued.
“I’m sorry—you are?”
The older man pressed his chest out slightly, his head tilted with offence. He had a mane of thick dark hair and small eyes. “Master Renaux.”
Jessop turned to him slightly, her hand falling on her hilt. “Underestimating Falco Bane will lead to your death. I’d advise you correct your way of thinking.”
At her words, several of the younger hunters actually chuckled, muffling their laughter.
“How dare you, you—”
“She’s right,” Hanson interjected.
Slowly, the old Hunter turned from her, facing his colleagues. “She’s right.” He reiterated. “We cannot underestimate Falco. We all saw what tortures this woman has undergone, we all saw her scars.”
Jessop shivered, affected by his words for the first time.
“Falco would have had her killed or taken, if he could have done it… and we cannot underestimate his abilities or his knowledge. We must always assume he knows what we know, if not more. It’s the only way we will find him, and a way into Aranthol.”
“No,” Trax DeHawn spoke, looking down to her. “She is the only way we will find him and a way into the Shadow City.”
CHAPTER 7
Kohl reached for her hand as they brought their impromptu Council meeting to an end. “I was thinking we could go down to the Hollow? Train, talk about all of this,” he offered.
Jessop squeezed his hand softly before letting it go. “Actually, I think I’m going to go speak to Trax for a while.”
He cocked his head at her, his blond hair loose around his dark eyes. “Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why do you want to speak to him?”
She took a deep breath and tried to control her voice. “Because it’s been a long time since I have gotten to speak to a Kuroi tribesman, I’d like to talk with him.”
“You know many Kuroi then?”
She pursed her lips, unwilling to play the question game with him. She could trust him with more of the truth than she did the others. “Many Kuroi have thought I derived of their people… Look, we can train together later, Kohl.”
He held her tense stare for a long moment before a smile broke across his face. “Of course, sorry. I’m just stressed. Speak with Trax and come find me when you’re done.”
She smiled back to him. Jessop wasn’t one for explaining herself. With abilities such as hers, it tended to not be a requirement.
“I am sorry… for Bevda,” she added.
He nodded at her slowly. “I know you are.”
And then, with a slow smile, he turned from her and walked out of the room. She thought about his words, unsure
about their meaning, but very aware of the uncomfortable feeling they had left her with. Did he suspect something? Did he know Trax was lying—unnecessarily at that, because, despite any intentions, she actually hadn’t killed the old Councilman?
“Oray-Ha.” Trax’s voice pulled her from her thoughts. She turned to see his gleaming yellow eyes staring down at her.
“Hasen-Ha, huk-hananaimei?” She asked if he would speak with her, offering a small smile to accompany the use of his native tongue.
“Baruk,” he nodded. Of course.
“How do you come to know the language of those beyond the Grey?”
“Many in Aranthol speak Kuroi—one in particular who cared for me, and we spoke near exclusively in his tongue,” she answered. The account was the truth, even if it wasn’t the honest answer.
Hanson narrowed his eyes on her. “I did not see any foreign tongue or Kuroi caregiver in your mind from the night you spent in the pool.”
She took a deep breath. “Then you didn’t look hard enough.”
“Or perhaps you can conceal more than we initially gave you credit for.”
Jessop looked from the old Hunter, to Trax, and back to Hanson. “You just said that I am here to help hunt Falco, that I need to be a part of this, that there’s no way I attacked your Lord—and within minutes you are making new accusations.”
“It’s simply an observation,” he shrugged.
“Then do me a favor, Lord Knell, and go back to observing me from afar.”
* * * *
Trax DeHawn’s room was similar to her own and Kohl’s, comprised of gray metal and glass. It was slightly bigger. She regretted her words with Hanson immediately. She had heard too many accusations, too many disparaging comments against her sex—a man had died in the middle of berating her. She had run out of patience. He may have told the others to listen to Hydo and include her in the hunt for Falco—but he would keep pushing her, watching her, waiting for her to mess up.
“They won’t like us spending time together. They think you’re a snake in the grass… and the Council has very strong, very negative feelings, towards the Kuroi. It’s common knowledge that there are many of my tribe loyal to Falco Bane.”
