The Glass Blade

by Ryan Wieser

  “Jessop, are you okay?”

  But she wasn’t in the room anymore. She wasn’t in the weigh station, surrounded by blood she was responsible for, surrounded by men who would die for loving her. She was home again, in her mind. She was safe, and warm, and loved, and she was with Jeco.

  And then everything went dark.

  * * * *

  When she woke, they were in the Soar-Craft. She was lying down, wrapped in warm blankets. Kohl was looking down on her. His eyes brightened when he saw her wake, but his happiness seemed grotesque under so much dried blood. “You’re up,” he smiled.

  She didn’t speak. Her throat was dry, but other than that, she was physically fine. He seemed so pleased. In his mind, he had escaped Falco Bane and a horde of raiders. In her mind, they had postponed the inevitable, worsened it even. She had nothing to say to him. She forced herself to roll over, turning away from his bright eyes, squeezing her own shut, until she found comfort in the darkness once more.

  * * * *

  They had thanked her repeatedly. They had commended her bravery and retold the ways in which she had stood between them and certain death. And as they spoke, she knew she had succeeded in her mission. Even though Daro lay dead, everything else had gone as well as any could have imagined—her actions would win over the trust of the Council. Just as she had hoped. She knew what she risked, and, as she looked up to Kohl, hearing nothing of what he said to her, she knew it wasn’t her life that had been imperiled.

  He hugged her before disappearing down the corridor with a medic. She waited, aimlessly, in the brilliant, white reception area. She thought back to that day, her first in the Blade. She thought of Hanson grabbing her by the throat, recognizing the Hunter blade, threatening her and telling her to leave while she still could. It had been so long ago, and she wondered how different things may have been if she had listened to him. If she had just walked out the door, taken a Soar-Craft, and escaped the Blade. Her life would be something different, something she struggled to conceive… but so would Kohl’s, and Hanson’s, and Falco Bane’s, and Jeco’s, and Hydo Jesuin’s, and Trax’s. She saw the faces of so many men, and wondered if saving lives made up for endangering them in the first place?

  She imagined Daro Mesa wouldn’t think so.

  * * * *

  Jessop stood alone in the bathing room of her chambers, before the large mirror. It was the first time she had felt truly alone since arriving at the Blade. She would never admit it aloud, but she was thankful to no longer have the tracking device bound to her flesh. She studied her green eyes, her full lips and long dark mane. She had traces of dried blood under one eye and matted in the roots of her hair. He had fixed her bruises and healed her wounds, but he hadn’t removed all traces of the pain. She looked horrendous.

  She undid her tunic and pulled it over her head, dropping it to the floor. She continued to strip until she stood naked and exposed to her own critical eye. She studied her body, the twisted muscle and taut skin.

  The scars.

  There, between her breasts, was the most intricate of them all. The one Daro had threatened. The lines, as intentionally woven as the Hunter’s mark on the back of her neck, were still so clear to her. She rested her hand above them, and she could feel her heart pumping forcefully beneath her flesh. The longest line in the scar drew down low, and then turned up, like a fishhook. Out of its side came several small semi circles, one with a line through it, that all melded into the long body of the hook. She knew the mark looked bizarre to the untrained eye, but it was something they had designed together—it was the only thing she had thought belonged so near her heart.

  * * * *

  She had no Hunter’s blade now. He had taken it back from her. She rolled over on her side, pulling the blanket up to her neck. She couldn’t train, couldn’t spar with anyone. She supposed there were blades she could borrow… but they wouldn’t be the same. It was early, and she knew she should check on Kohl. She would make another stop first, though.

  She dressed quickly, quietly, and felt the pang of loss once more, as she reached for an empty sheath. She was sick of her own feelings, and of the days, of the life she led. She had done her duty, she had fought, she had killed, and she had saved. She wanted to be home again, once more. She closed her eyes, and saw his, and her heart ached.

  She tossed the empty sheath down with anger, pivoting on her heel and exiting the room. She knew it wouldn’t be long. Falco had been truly angered and everything she had worked so hard to hide would soon become very apparent. She had told herself, time and again, to care less, to keep distance between herself and Kohl. She had ignored her own instincts and better judgment. She had saved his life, she knew that, but for what? A more painful death, it seemed.

  There was much she could say about Falco Bane, much more than many could say about him. She knew many truths about him and many lies, but of all of these things she knew, the one that was most true was that his word was his bond. If he wanted someone dead, they would die. He had built an entire Shadow City, fostered an entire movement, and taken on followers so loyal they would kill for him, die for him. He had decided to kill Kohl long ago, and because of her actions, he would be sure to see it through.

  She hooked sharply around the corner, deep in thought. Kohl would be beyond convincing—he didn’t fear Falco, or for his own life. She would never be able to stop Falco. She had turned his mind from killing before, but everything he did for her he did out of his incomprehensible, unwavering love. He would spare some lives for that love—and he would end others for it. She would not be able to use his feelings for her to Kohl’s advantage. She hissed with anger and frustration, certain about the fate of the young Hunter.

  She would protect him, as best she could. She would help keep him alive for as long as possible, because she owed it to him. Because he deserved it… Because she didn’t think she could live in a world where he didn’t, no matter if she could reciprocate his feelings or not. Her heart may have belonged to another, but that did not mean she didn’t also, in some way, love Kohl O’Hanlon. She was quite certain their lives would not be carried on together, but she would do all she could to ensure that they would be carried on. She had guaranteed his death, and now, she would find a way to guarantee his life.

  The automated voice announced her presence, and the door slowly slid to the side. She needed assistance, advice—a plan of some sort. She needed things to be moving both faster and slower. She needed to check on Kohl, and she knew it was likely that he would only be safe for a few more days at most. As the door fully opened, she looked up to Trax and sighed heavily, “We need to talk. Now.”

  CHAPTER 16

  “You’re going to become an Infinity Hunter.”

  She had told him everything, all of her concerns and everything she had planned, and that was his answer.

  She stared at him. “What?”

  “Hanson is going to hold a Council meeting, but it’s already been decided. You risked your life against Falco Bane to save the lives of three Hunters. You did it, Jessop. The first female Infinity Hunter to ever exist.”

  He sounded more enthused than she felt. Perhaps this was everything she had worked so hard for, perhaps it wasn’t. Perhaps she was just too drained to have the reaction she should have been having. It was seeing Falco again… hearing him talk of Jeco. Losing her blade. Knowing the threat to Kohl in her name… This was, indeed, all she had wanted and all she had worked for. She just couldn’t feel the excitement she once thought she would have.

  She quickly found herself once again thinking about actions versus intentions, and wondering if she deserved this honor. She had done what they claimed, she had set out to achieve what she had, she had saved them, but what risk was there really, when she knew Falco wouldn’t have killed her to get to them?

  “This is a good thing, Oray-Ha.” He smiled. She looked up to him from her seat and wat
ched him cross the room to her.

  He squeezed her shoulder thoughtfully. “The plan is finally in motion.”

  She nodded, staring at her palm, envisioning the inverted F scar. “You know what will happen if they do this, if they make me the first female Infinity Hunter.”

  “I do.”

  “And still you are pleased?”

  Trax knelt down before her, looking her over with his glowing eyes. “I know too much of the truth to let things carry on the way they have been. I know what is right and what is wrong, Oray-Ha. There is nothing wrong with you becoming an Infinity Hunter, or what it will mean for Daharia and the Blade of Light’s true protectors.”

  She closed her eyes and saw Jeco’s face, and she hoped beyond hope that her loyal friend was right.

  * * * *

  “Are you alright?” Kohl’s voice trailed through her hair as he hugged her tightly. She pulled away from him slowly, careful not to bump into his healing arm. He had stitches across his brow and in his forearm, and several dark bruises trailing down the side of his face, but he seemed, for the most part, alright.

  She smiled softly down at him. His wounds had not warranted laser treatments, which meant the slower, more traditional recovery. “You’re lying in bed in the medic ward, asking me if I’m alright?”

  “I know. I can’t believe I spent a night in this place,” he laughed. “Veritable torture chamber,” he added.

  She laughed, with an earnest sincerity. She wondered if she felt affection for him because she knew how she had endangered his life just by being a part of it, or if she had always felt it, but was simply more aware of it knowing he might now truly die.

  “Honestly, are you alright? I can’t imagine what seeing him, let alone fighting him, must have been like for you.”

  She stood from the bed, running her hands over her arms. “It was fine. Really.”

  It wasn’t the truth. But it wasn’t a lie, either.

  “Jessop…”

  “I don’t want to talk about it, Kohl.”

  They stared at one another in drawn-out silence, equally stubborn in their pursuits.

  “Hanson has been to see me.”

  She held his expectant stare, silent.

  “He seems truly upset. As though, despite treating us like bait, he realized he could have really let me die. He’s very grateful to you.”

  She hesitated, unsure of what to say to him. Hanson hadn’t cared about Kohl’s life until he nearly lost it. That wasn’t profound, or moving. It was pitiful.

  “Trax also came to see me,” he added, catching her attention. Trax hadn’t said anything to her.

  “What did he say?”

  He studied her face, annoyed by the way he had piqued her interest. “Nothing much. That I was lucky.”

  She rested her hand softly on his knee, before remembering herself and removing it. “We all were.”

  He shook his head, slowly disagreeing. “It wasn’t luck that saved us. It was you.”

  “You fought off all the raiders,” she reminded him, hating how dumb the sentiment sounded aloud.

  “We saw you fight him… It’s true, none of us can move like that. The speed and agility you both have. He is a legend for it, and one day, you will be too.”

  She studied his face, finding his words curious. Falco wasn’t a legend for his fighting style—he was a legend for what he could do with his abilities; his attempted coup and his following, for being the purported next Hydo Jesuin before that, for becoming the Arantholi Lord. Did Kohl think she was going to do something legendary as well?

  “Because Hanson told me…” he pressed on, arching one brow at her.

  She stared at him blankly.

  “Oh, come on, Jessop! I know you’re going to be made a Hunter!” He exclaimed, his animated face smiling up at her.

  She finally relaxed. Of course Hanson had told him. She smiled, knowing she needed to appear more excited about this news for Kohl than she had with Trax. “I may have heard a rumor or two this morning.”

  “This is incredible! Now this, this is legendary. The first female Infinity Hunter. You know what this means right?”

  She smiled, silent, waiting for him to answer his own question.

  “It means they trust you, Jessop! Hanson, the others on the Council, they truly trust you. You saved their Hunters and a Councilman, again. You fought Falco Bane… You truly are more deserving of this than most.”

  He beamed at her, his brilliant smile clashing with his badly bruised face. She felt awful, but she couldn’t show it. She reached for his hand and squeezed it tightly. “I would never have gotten here without you.”

  She regretted the words as soon as she heard them, knowing how they meant something quite different than what she intended.

  “Of course you would have. You have saved me twice. You’re the most incredible person I have ever met. I owe my life to you.”

  His words cut into her as cleanly as a blade. He owed his life to her. She knew that he had that all wrong. She owed him his life.

  “Swear something to me, Kohl,” she pressed, holding his hand tightly.

  “Anything.”

  “Swear to me you’ll always be safe. You won’t do anything—er—stupid or brave. You’ll never try to fight Falco or anything like that.”

  She knew she sounded like an idiot, but she wanted to hear him make some sort of promise, something that would let her know he wasn’t about to rush off to his doom.

  His brow turned up at her and his smile softened. “I love you too much to go get myself killed.”

  “I love you too much to let you die,” she whispered, fighting back tears of shame. It was the truth. And if Jessop had learnt one thing in her life, it was that the truth was deadly.

  * * * *

  She sat at the foot of Kohl’s bed in his quarters, watching him dry off. His body was nearly as bruised as it was scarred. And she didn’t have a mark on her from their ordeal in Okton Radon. He had asked her about Falco’s ability to heal, and she had answered the only way she knew how. His capacity to heal, like all of his abilities, was just exponentially more advanced than anyone else’s. He had also asked her about how she had saved Teck from the blade, and that had led to a less pleasant conversation.

  “You know, if you want to keep secrets from me on a personal level, it hurts. Truly, it does. But I could understand it, given your past. The same way I understood when you stopped sleeping with me.”

  He crouched down before her, allowing a clear view of her crimson blush. She couldn’t explain anything to him anymore. Not without lying, and she didn’t wish to lie. “Kohl… I stopped sleeping with you because I felt like I couldn’t be myself in front of you, because you’d never accept me.”

  He stared at her, stunned. “How could you think that?”

  But the question was too frustrating for her. She thought it because it was the truth. She had tried time and again to reveal herself to him, and he could not keep her secrets in confidence. He always wanted to share them with the Council. And whether she was becoming a Hunter or not, she was not prepared to share her biggest secrets. The Council may have trusted her, but she did not trust them. She had to lie—always. Lives depended on her ability to keep others out of her mind.

  “I told you from the beginning. I can hear a thought, open a door, push a little.”

  “What you did, stopping that knife like that, controlled by someone with abilities like Falco, that’s more than ‘push a little’,” he rebutted.

  She sighed, resting her elbows on her knees and leaning down to him. “I don’t know what to tell you, Kohl.”

  He rose, angry. “How about the truth?”

  She mirrored him, standing and crossing her arms. “You like the truth so much, but you never share anything, do you? What’s with all the scars, Kohl? What’s
the ritual that happens?”

  He shook his head at her, stuck between concealing his own past and prying further at hers.

  “See? Not so easy when it’s your history on the table,” she snapped, stepping past him. But before she could leave the room, the automated voice announced Hanson’s presence.

  The door slid open and revealed the old Hunter, holding a parcel in his hands. It was the first time Jessop had seen him since Okton Radon, and she couldn’t pretend to think he looked well. He looked old. He looked grayer than before, and weary, perhaps even sick. But his appearance did not seem to surprise Kohl, who had said his mentor was struggling with his own recent decisions. Jessop couldn’t help but wonder if she wore her shame just as badly.

  “Jessop, good to see you in one piece,” he greeted her, his voice soft and somewhat tentative, less gruff. He spoke to her with more kindness than usual, but he struggled to hold her gaze.

  She had recently found herself to be much more forgiving than she had once been. Perhaps because she had never felt as though she had been the one to need the forgiveness until now. She offered him a slow nod, a faint smile. “And you, Hanson Knell.”

  “I—err—I brought you both these. Funerary gowns for… for Daro Mesa,” he explained, handing the parcel to her. She took it from him softly and passed it to Kohl.

  “Umm… Thank you,” she spoke, unsure of what else she could say. Hanson had been in control of the Blade for such a short time, and during his brief tenure he had nearly gotten his protégé killed, a young Hunter had died, and Falco Bane had nearly killed their entire mission party. Hanson had failed in his leadership, and he wore his failure with great shame.

  “Yes, thank you,” Kohl added, holding the parcel tight against his chest.

  She hadn’t really had a spare moment to think about Daro’s funeral. She had been too busy thinking about everything that had led to his death.

  “His family will be arriving in the morning. The ceremony will take place in the North Tower,” Hanson explained, running a hand over Kohl’s dresser softly. “I will bring them to the Blade… but I would like you to escort them to the tower, Kohl.”