The Glass Blade

by Ryan Wieser

  His whispered voice was low and raspy, and from the closer proximity she could see that his eyes were entirely dark blue, with no shades in the iris or pupil to be seen. Dark blue, like the inked trees beneath them. She continued to smile, mesmerized by the Oren, pleased to know after so many years that her abilities surpassed the desert mages.

  “All in good time, Teck Fay,” she nodded.

  “But we—”

  The ink-eyed Hunter looked as though he might protest, but before he could, Kohl had sat down beside her. He looked from Teck, to her, and back to Teck. “Good of you to join us, Fay.”

  He leaned back in his seat, sighing heavily. “We all know why the Council is sending me beyond the Grey with you.”

  Trax brushed past them, making his way to the pilot’s seat. “Not all of us Kuroi fear your Oren kind,” he remarked, sitting heavily in his seat. Jessop knew the Kuroi shunned the mysticism of the Oren, believing them to be a dark and cursed people. The Kuroi drew their power from the lands; the Oren drew theirs from their own blood, which carried with it the power born from the dark deeds of their ancestors. She looked from Teck, whose hood covered his downturned face, to Trax, who stared at the younger Hunter with glowing eyes.

  “Sekha’nasey-do, Hasen-Ha?” She asked Trax if he feared him, and watched his golden gaze turn from the Oren Hunter to her.

  “Nei. Huk’hana dore’ sekhan’na Oren, and for good reason, too, Oray-Ha,” he answered, telling her that while he did not fear the younger Hunter, others had good reason to.

  She nodded slowly. Trax was chosen for this mission because he led all missions beyond the Grey, she was sent to have her loyalties tested, Kohl was sent to bait Falco Bane, and Teck Fay was sent because his kind were feared in the region. Slowly, she turned her gaze to Daro Mesa. He was sitting further back, reclined in his seat with his feet on the back of the chair in front of him. He had a knife in his hands that he cleaned his nails with, one of many on his person, Jessop imagined. She watched him closely, his relaxed demeanor and disinterest in the group now garnering her attention. Perhaps, she had been wrong to think nothing of him earlier. It seemed they had all been sent on this mission for a reason, handpicked by Hanson Knell. All of their purposes had been made clear, except for the knife expert’s…

  She crossed her arms and rested back in her seat. She recalled fighting him in the Hollow—she had won, but she remembered how his knife wielding skills had impressed her. She couldn’t recall anything spectacular about him though; he wasn’t of a tribe she knew of, nor did he have a mentor—

  Bevda.

  The realization struck her so suddenly she jolted upright in her seat. Daro Mesa’s mentor had been Councilman Bevda—who everyone believed had died at her hands. Had it not been for Trax’s sudden testimony to the contrary, who knew what would have become of her. She pictured the old man, wildly raving and desperately loyal to Hydo, yelling at her before he fell to the ground, grasping for life as death struck him suddenly.

  When she looked up, Daro Mesa’s eyes were on her. She felt confident that she knew why the knife-expert had been sent on the mission. Should she fail to prove her loyalty to the Blade, he would be the one ordered to kill her. Who better than the protégé of a man whose death was widely believed to be her fault? She felt on edge, staring back at the Hunter, watching him roll his knife in his hands with expert ease, holding his stare as he boldly smiled at her.

  * * * *

  Kohl was asleep. She watched his fluttering eyelashes and listened to the whistling breaths escaping his pursed lips, and found herself to be, once again, amazed by him. He was traveling further from his home than he had ever traveled before, to a region dominated by those loyal to Falco Bane, who would exact their leader’s vengeance against Kohl in a heartbeat. And yet, he slept peacefully.

  They had been flying for some several hours, Trax silently piloting the ship, Teck Fay seemingly meditating under his cloak, and Daro Mesa looking out a window, one blade permanently spinning around his fingers. Jessop unlatched her seatbelt and slowly sat up, careful to not disturb Kohl. She stepped past Teck Fay, who remained motionless, and carefully sidled around Trax’s seat, before lowering herself into the co-pilot chair.

  Trax kept his eyes trained on the sky, but he entered her mind quickly, and she his.

  This morning before we left, you knew I was in more danger than usual, didn’t you?

  Trax glanced over to her, flicking his golden gaze over her. You have realized Daro Mesa’s purpose, then, Oray-Ha?

  “I won’t be intimidated,” she spoke, accidentally voicing her thought. He looked between her and the sky.

  “Then don’t be, Oray-Ha,” he said, looking ahead. “Don’t be.”

  * * * *

  Jessop crouched down, perched on her haunches, and struck quickly. Just like that, his blade was in her hands, and she twirled it around her fingers in the same impressive manner he did. He jolted, surprised by her. His wide eyes watched his blade spiraling around her fingers, clearly wanting his weapon back.

  She smiled up at him, keeping the knife spinning, as she rocked on the balls of her feet. “I didn’t kill your mentor.”

  His lip twitched, his dark eyes following her hand as she rolled his blade. “If that’s your story.”

  She rotated the knife, spinning it in the opposite direction. He wasn’t the only one who could wield a small blade. “That’s the truth.”

  He leaned forward, resting his arm on his knee. “You know we have all been told not to trust you.”

  She nodded slowly, unsurprised by his words, but somewhat taken aback by his candor. “Well, how many of you have been instructed to kill me should I fail to prove myself to Hanson?”

  His mouth tightened, his dark eyes trained on her. He didn’t seem as bothered by the fact that she had guessed his true purpose as she had anticipated him to be. He exhaled a loud breath. “Can I have my knife back?”

  Jessop flipped the blade in her hand, and offered him the hilt. She didn’t fear Daro Mesa, she didn’t fear Teck Fay or Hanson Knell, or the raiders in Okton Radon. Her greatest fears were currently surrounding the sleeping blond Hunter behind her. Slowly, Daro took the knife from her.

  “Why are you even here?” he asked, turning the blade over in his hand, like a comforting habit.

  She took a deep breath and rested her elbows on her knees. “I am here, Daro Mesa, because I love someone very much. I had metal bolts drilled into my flesh because I love someone very much, and I am contending with veiled threats and contingency plans for my demise because I love someone very much.”

  She watched as his eyes glanced over her forearm—they all knew about the tracking device. Her words seemed to have some impact on him, his dark eyes softening. He stopped twirling his blade and looked at her with an earnest expression.

  “He is our brother—we love him too,” he spoke, his voice low and certain.

  Jessop half-smiled at his words, rising up slowly. “No, Daro Mesa, I don’t think you do.” She took a step back and shot him one last look, extending her finger at him in warning. “And keep your knives to yourself.”

  * * * *

  They hadn’t passed another Soar-Craft in hours, and as the sky began to darken Jessop couldn’t help but feel as excited as she was concerned. She would be beyond the Grey, in Kuroi territory, and even if the mission was intended to be short, and she was supposed to simply translate and protect Kohl, it would still be better than sitting in the Blade amongst Councilmen who plotted against her.

  “We’ve been together for some time now.” Kohl’s tired voice startled Jessop and she looked down to see his hazel eyes watching her from beneath long, fluttering eyelashes.

  “I thought you were asleep,” she answered, studying the star-shaped scar on his cheek. He offered her a tired smile. She felt his fingers running over her hand, past her wrist, and abruptly haltin
g at her tracking device.

  “You’ve undergone such pain for me,” he spoke, his voice so quiet she almost couldn’t hear it over the droning of the Soar-Craft engine.

  She turned her arm, feeling the pang of guilt. “I’m fairly certain you underwent that pain for me.”

  “You didn’t have to stay… at the Blade, I mean. You could have left. You stayed despite what they did to you, to hunt Falco and find a way into Aranthol with us… You didn’t have to be with me, or let me love you, or deal with Hanson and all of this,” he continued, rolling his hand around to gesture to the world around them.

  Jessop shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “Please stop, Kohl.”

  “I had a dream about you… You saved me, just like the first time we met,” he spoke, stretching out slowly.

  She watched his large body twist into comfort, trying hard to not think of the first day they met, and the bloody wound he had suffered. She wouldn’t let him get hurt like that again. She held his hand tightly. “I would always save you.”

  He relaxed his body and breathed heavily, his easy, sleepy smile playing on his face as he rested his head back in his seat. He looked at her with his warm eyes and she wished he were still sleeping.

  “I would save you, too, you know? If you ever needed it, if it ever comes to that, I would save you, too.”

  She didn’t know why, but she could feel tears building up inside her, and she fought them back with all her might. She nodded at him, ignoring the stinging pain in her eyes and the tightening of her throat. “I know you would.”

  She leaned over and kissed his forehead. It was part of what she feared most… that he would die trying to save her. When the truth was, Jessop had never truly needed saving in all her adult life.

  CHAPTER 12

  She watched Kohl, sitting beside Trax in the cockpit, staring into the dark sky. She felt at ease in the dark, knowing that she could see better than all of the men she traveled with, barring perhaps Trax. The Kuroi were built for the darkness; they had evolved to live under the stars, and under the stars they still lived, either in the towns beyond the Grey, or in the Shadow City of Aranthol. She could hear the slight clipping sound of metal as it hooked around calloused flesh—Daro Mesa’s spinning knife. She could hear the low, nearly silent breathing of the meditating Teck Fay. And she could feel the way Kohl’s heart raced in his chest.

  But nothing from Trax.

  He made no noises; his breaths were silent, his mind calm. He was like her in all of these ways—all of the tricks of the Kuroi that she had learnt. They disappeared in the shadows, and she knew that if Okton Radon had fallen to foreign raiders, she and Trax could deal with them easily. Kohl, the mystic, and the knife-expert would all be unnecessary distractions. She wished she could order them to stay in the Soar-Craft, to simply let her and Trax go on without them—but she knew that they would never allow it. This wasn’t a mission team assembled for efficiency—they were all sent to serve a purpose. And Jessop knew that if she left, she wouldn’t be by Kohl’s side, where she needed to be in order to keep him safe. Not to mention, the devices that bound them to one another prevented any rogue missioning.

  She sighed, running her hand over her long braid, staring into the dark sky between Kohl and Trax. She wondered if the Council was right, if Kohl’s presence would bait Falco. It wouldn’t be like him to show up in the middle of Okton Radon just for Kohl.

  She turned in her seat, eyeing the mystic, Teck Fay. She wasn’t sure if he had slept at all during the trip; he had been still and silent since speaking to her briefly upon boarding. She looked him over, a perfectly motionless robed figure. “I’ve only ever met one Oren before,” she spoke, leaning forward in her seat.

  Slowly, the robed head turned in her direction. “This surprises me. My kind does not know of one of your kind.”

  She smiled at his words. He was a smart Hunter. “The one of your kind I met did not live very long. And I’m just human, Hunter Fay.”

  He inclined his robed head at her. “Not quite.

  “The infamous female fighter, only person to ever escape Falco Bane,” Daro Mesa spoke up, his voice filled with false amazement as he joined their conversation from his spot behind Teck.

  “I’m not the only one,” she denied, turning to him and watching his spiraling blade.

  He stopped spinning his blade as he fixed his gaze on her. “Yes, you are. Falco has killed hundreds upon thousands. He has destroyed entire cities. He has enlisted an army of the most dangerous kind in Daharia, and everywhere he goes he leaves nothing but shadows in his wake.”

  She forced herself to remain calm. “You think you know more about what Falco Bane has done than I do?”

  He leaned forward in his seat. “I think if you were as impressive as everyone thought you were, you would have found a way to kill Bane in all those years.”

  She contained her rage. She would not be provoked by him so easily, not when he was looking for any excuse to slice her open. “You know nothing of Falco Bane or what it would take to kill him. And you know nothing of me.”

  She realized the rest of the Hunters had silenced, tuned in to her and Daro. Her heart had sped up, her hands tightening around the canvas of her seat. She held his dark stare as he began to roll his blade over his fingers again.

  “I know you have a large scar between those plump breasts that would be perfect for me to slip my blade into.”

  Kohl was on his feet in an instant, having leapt back from the cockpit to stand between her and Daro. “That’s enough.”

  Jessop forced her breathing to slow and concentrated on loosening her grip on the canvas. She did not know how he knew of her scar, but she imagined Bevda had shared an account of her first night in the pool with his mentee. She looked past Kohl to Daro. “You’re not a good enough fighter to threaten me, Daro Mesa.”

  “We’ll see about that,” he scoffed, turning his gaze away from her.

  Yes, Jessop thought, we will.

  * * * *

  The usual ashen sky appeared, the day just breaking as they landed on the outskirts of Okton Radon. The dark sky was beautiful to her. Jessop hadn’t slept for the entirety of the trip, and neither had Trax. She looked at his weary face, noting the slight dullness of his usual glowing eyes, and knew they would not be hunting any raiders any time soon.

  “We will make camp by our vessel, remain on the outskirts for the day—Daro will take first watch. When the gray sky darkens, we will go to the weigh station and find the raiders.”

  As he spoke, the group nodded along, happy with his plan. Except for Jessop. She wouldn’t sleep as long as Daro Mesa was on lookout. She shot an irritated look at Trax, who raised his eyebrows at her, before realizing her issue.

  “Kohl—you’ll take first watch with Daro,” he spoke, finding a solution for her problem.

  She didn’t want Kohl to take watch while she slept either… but it was better than trusting Daro to watch her back, or to forgo sleep any longer.

  “I can take watch,” Teck volunteered, his voice low as it emanated from the darkness of his pulled up hood.

  Trax shook his head. “No. In fact, I don’t want you to be seen. I don’t need a Kuroi war party hearing about a nearby Oren.”

  They nodded, Kohl squeezing her shoulder softly. “And if anyone recognizes me and plans to exact vengeance on behalf of Bane?”

  Trax looked Kohl over slowly, one eyebrow arched. “Then kill them, Hunter.”

  They remained silent. Trax had an authoritative tone befitting his superior position in the Blade. She admired it, and the manner in which the Hunters respected him. He was a natural leader, but he had also lived many years as a follower…

  Jessop couldn’t understand the way they all kowtowed blindly to their superiors. Or maybe she did. She just didn’t understand the way they could forgive those who had most betrayed them. More th
an forgive, but follow. This, she supposed, and not her gender or abilities, was the true reason she would never be considered a Hunter.

  * * * *

  Daro and Kohl walked the perimeter around the Soar-Craft as she and Trax set up tents. The ground beneath her feet was hard sand and rocks. They had landed in a gorge surrounded by giant boulders, to take advantage of the natural shield the terrain offered from prying eyes of any nearby tribesmen, villagers, or raiders. The city of Okton Radon was some miles down an escarpment, Trax had explained to her. She enjoyed the sound of sand grinding beneath her boots, of canvas beneath her fingers as she smoothed her hands over the tent wall. She welcomed the gray sky and blanket of encroaching darkness.

  She enjoyed the air and the breeze, the smell of heat and dry land, the sheen of fading light as it reflected across the boulders. Her eyes fell onto Kohl, who stood strong as the wind attempted to move his formidable frame. He spoke with Daro, seeming so trusting of his brother. She looked at his eyes, narrow against the sandy winds, as he stood beside a boulder. She studied Kohl’s face for any anger that he might show against the other Hunter, but found nothing.

  “That love in your heart still lives?”

  Trax’s question caught her off guard. She turned her attention, and gaze, to him. “Of course it does.”

  He nodded slowly. “Just checking.”

  She fastened a tent flap, studying his pensive gaze. “You don’t need to check. I have proven my loyalty.”

  “Of course,” he answered quickly, his voice soft, his tired eyes still on her. She knew he held his tongue though, and it irked her to wonder his thoughts. She wouldn’t enter his mind just to discern them.

  “What is it that you think but don’t voice, Trax?”

  He shrugged, his large shoulders heaving slowly. “It doesn’t matter.” He stepped around the tent, preparing to duck inside. She grabbed his elbow, stilling him gently.

  “It matters to me.”