by Ryan Wieser
* * * *
Their flight up the glass chute of the North Tower was painfully long, thick silence cut only by Madam Mesa’s soft cries. When they finally emerged from the glass bullet, the young robed boy led them down a short corridor, until he reached two large silver doors. He raised his hand to the scanner pad beside the doorway, and as it recognized his print, the doors slowly pulled to the sides, opening up and revealing a grand outdoor terrace.
The terrace was formed in the shape of a large circle, with floors of polished gray stone; each slab had the Hunter’s sigil engraved into it, and walls of crystalline glass separated the attendants from the thousand-foot drop. In the center of the large circular terrace, there was a smaller circle, in which a large glass chute stood.
The terrace was filled with Infinity Hunters, many of whom Jessop had already met or sparred with in the Blade, and all of the Council, barring, of course, Hydo Jesuin. She found Trax quickly, his yellow eyes glowing from under the dark hood of his funerary robe, leaning against the glass wall of the terrace, alone. He nodded to her, acknowledging her presence. She readjusted her grip on the worn blade in her hand, and turned to Kohl. “I’ll be back.”
She turned on her heel and made her way through the sea of black robes, until she stood at Trax’s side, eyeing the treacherous drop down. “I told them about the fire.”
Trax seemed unsurprised by her admission. “That must have been hard for you.”
She shook her head slowly. “Harder for Kohl. I keep springing these bits and pieces of information on him.”
He turned his head to her, slowly twisting his body around to face her. “Suffering a crisis of conscience? So close to achieving everything you have worked so hard for. So close to becoming the first female Infinity Hunter.”
“Don’t lecture me, Trax. My plan remains set, I simply wish things could be different.”
“Why? Everything you have done, all you have kept from him, it’s been for the right reasons. You could never truly be yourself with him, never really confide in him.”
Jessop raised her hand, silencing him. “I know. You know this is not about that. You know how I feel. It’s just having Daro’s parent here. I simply wish that I weren’t the one responsible for causing so much pain.”
He nodded down to her. “We have all caused pain, Jessop. It is why we must take assurance in the fact that we do it for a true cause, for the greater good of all.”
Jeco’s face flashed to the forefront of her mind, and she did not voice what she thought—she was not doing this for the good of all, she was doing it for the good of one.
“Do you want to meet Daro’s parents?” she suggested, changing the subject.
He shook his head. “I’ve met them before.”
Jessop couldn’t imagine why Trax had met them before; he would have been too young to go recruit Daro, and parents were not openly welcome to visit the Blade.
Noting her perplexed look, he answered. “I met them when their first son, Hayo, died. He too was a Hunter.”
She couldn’t conceal her surprise, her eyes automatically darting back to Daro’s mother. Of three sons, one was a raider, and two had been lost to the Blade.
“They said nothing… Hayo—that name sounds so familiar,” she mused, turning her attention back to Trax.
“You’ve probably heard of him. Several years ago, he died trying to breach the walls of Aranthol.”
Immediately she could see his face, and knew his name and the way he died. It felt surreal and eerily interconnected, the way this family had suffered such loss surrounding her. Her stomach tightened as she forced the image of the two dead Mesa boys out of her mind.
“What a small world,” she whispered. The words felt like acid on her tongue, still seeing the dark eyes of Daro’s fallen brother.
“Indeed. Worlds are small when everyone is involved in the same war.”
* * * *
There were two chairs, for Daro’s parents, facing the glass chamber in the center of the terrace. Jessop followed Kohl’s lead as they all began to form a circle around the glass chamber, encircling Daro’s seated parents. They stood quietly, the wind whipping about the glass barricade, their hoods low over their faces, a wall of black robes.
After a long silence, one Hunter stepped forward, his face concealed by his hood. By his long silver braid, which rested down on his chest, Jessop knew it to be Hanson. He cleared his throat softly, his hands held behind his back. “We are here to honor a brother, Daro Mesa, who has been with us for nigh two decades. The enemy has taken him from us, but he does not move into the next world alone. We all know that his brother, our brother, waits to be his guide.”
Daro’s mother rocked forward in her seat, hideous gasps of air expelling from her throat as she fought back the tears.
“This family has given their blood to the cause, and we honor them. Let us come together, as Hunters, protectors of Daharia and the Blade of Light, to say farewell to one of our own.”
As he spoke, Jessop noticed a movement in the middle of the circular glass fixture. Something was rising up from an unseen chamber below. A table, or a platform, with something atop it… It was Daro. A metal platform ascended in the center of the glass circle, and on it, Daro Mesa’s lifeless body, wrapped in tight black cloth. Jessop finally understood what the glass chute was—a funerary pyre.
Hanson took several slow steps, until he was standing before Daro’s parents, a dark figure between parents and child. From behind his back, he drew a long sword, which Jessop quickly recognized as Daro’s Infinity Blade.
He knelt down, bowing his head as he presented it to the parents. Daro’s father, silent tears freely cascading down his face, took the blade from Hanson. Hanson bowed as he backed away from them.
“Hunters, your swords,” he called out, an authoritative, deep-voiced order. At his command, the circle of robed figures unsheathed their blades in unison, holding them vertically, their tightly clenched hands in front of their hearts, the blades parallel to their noses. Jessop had quickly followed suit, fast enough to be just in time with the men. The crimson sky darkened around them, and they formed a circle of reflective star glass blades.
“Take a knee,” Hanson called out, and with perfect synchronicity, they all knelt down, swords still held up before them, forming a circle of protection around Daro and his family.
“Repeat after me,” he instructed. Jessop could hear the hushed whistling of gas, filling the glass chamber.
“This, our Hunter’s Prayer. We ask our gods, take this soldier into the bosom of your vast sky, and shape from him a star of brilliance, to shine as his valor shone in life.”
The group repeated the words, slow and measured, with such rhythm and earnestness that Jessop felt their wishes and hopes in her own heart.
“Guide our brother, as he joins the ranks of those who have come to pass before him.”
As the words were repeated, Jessop heard the keen sound of a fire igniting.
“He will come to you on the winds of your making, cloaked in smoke and wearing the Hunter’s sigil. He was a protector of the Blade of Light, a protector of Daharia, a brother to many, and a hero to all. This is our Hunter’s prayer.”
Jessop kept her head bowed low as she finished repeating the words. Daro’s mother wept freely and the glass chute was filled with bright flames, the smoke travelling up into the sky above. Jessop could not bring herself to watch the burning. She kept her head down as they remained kneeling.
They stayed on bended knee as the fire burned, as Daro’s mother’s cries turned from sobs to soft tears, as the red sky grew darker, scarlet and angry, around them. They remained kneeling through the last of the unkind smoke, until there was nothing left in the pyre but the ashes of someone who had crossed Falco Bane.
* * * *
Jessop removed the funeral robe and handed it to Kohl
. “That was a moving ceremony,” she remarked, running her hands over her tunic.
“One too many for that family,” he answered, leaning against the wall.
“You never told me about Daro’s brother.”
“I didn’t want to remind you of Falco any more than you already constantly are.”
She took a deep breath, crossing her arms over her chest. “What I said earlier, to his parents, about the fire. I should have told you that sooner,” she admitted, but she didn’t mean it. What she meant was, she never should have gotten so close to him that keeping secrets from him riddled her with guilt.
He nodded slowly. He didn’t seem mad at her or even upset. He seemed composed, and, as always, empathetic. “I understand that we both keep certain things close to our chest, the secrets we have… I just wish we weren’t the sort of the people who felt we had to keep them.”
She wanted to say something optimistic, she wanted to say something like maybe in the future things would be different… but she was sick of lying to him.
When she said nothing, he spoke. “You remember your family then?”
She shook her head. “I remember the fire, the circumstances, bits and pieces…”
He nodded, watching her with sad, dark eyes. “You remember you were saved by an Infinity Hunter though. Do you know who?”
She sighed heavily, not wanting to lie, she opted to omit and avoid. “I simply knew he was an Infinity Hunter by his sword and the sigil on his chest.”
“And ever since then, you’ve fought to join us in the Blade,” he spoke, assuming the rest of the story. He regarded her carefully, as though he finally understood what dark history forced her onto this path.
“Something like that,” she answered.
He pushed off the wall and took a step towards her. Leaning over, he kissed her forehead gently. She reached up and touched his jaw, letting her thumb run over the soft skin of his star scar.
He cupped her hand with his, and smiled softly. “I truly believe in my heart that, one day, things are going to be very different between us.”
His words made her want to cry, but instead, she forced a smile. “I’m certain you’re right.”
* * * *
That night, Jessop found herself once again standing in the dark, looking down at Hydo Jesuin’s weary and resting face. She had gotten past the guards with her usual ease, and had been standing in the welcome darkness for nearly an hour, simply watching him.
His hands, beaten by years of battle and age, rested on his sternum, still loosely holding his blade. His lips seemed cracked, his skin worn. He did not look well and she wondered whether his loyal brethren had somehow begun to forget about his needs. They were making large institutional changes without him, they were leading funerary services, instructing missions that ended in death, and allowing her permanent, real access to the Blade.
“And it’s all because of you,” she whispered, lowering her hand gently onto his cheek.
Slowly, she bent over, folding at the waist, until she could rest her ear against his chest. She listened carefully for his heartbeat, wondering, for a brief moment, if she would be able to hear one. Sure enough, the low, rhythmic beat became audible. She sighed heavily, and crouched over him, her elbows propping her up so that she was just inches away from him.
“You seem dehydrated… and you need to be bathed,” she told him, referencing his stale smell. “I can speak to Hanson about your treatment… although, he has been leading quite the busy life as the Blade’s acting leader. It’s as though they have forgotten you. How awful… forsaking their leader, believing you to be in a sleep that will take your life. How disloyal it seems,” she spoke, running a finger down his jaw line.
“Things are about to truly change around here, Hydo, and I do so want you to be awake to witness it all,” she added, her whispers trailing over his papery skin.
“I’m growing more open with Kohl—in fact, I told him about the fire today… He was so understanding of the whole thing. He asked me if I knew the Hunter who saved me that day. I couldn’t tell him, though, could I? I couldn’t put all of our secrets out there in the open, not just yet.”
She ran her hand up his face, her fingers grazing his temple, and she entered the dark confines of his mind, where they both could remember the heat of the flames from that day long ago.
CHAPTER 19
When Jessop woke, Kohl was sitting at the foot of her bed. His pale blond hair was loose, hanging around his tanned jawline. He wore garments for training, his sword on his hip. She rubbed her eyes, sitting up to face him. “When did you come in?”
“Ten minutes ago. I have word from Hanson,” he answered, his hand resting on her blanketed foot.
She ran her hands over the knotted mess of her dark hair, waiting for him to continue. She wasn’t sure what hour it was, but it felt very early. She had been out late the night before and was more tired than usual. She imagined it was the funeral service; it had been a very draining day, both physically and emotionally.
“The Council wants to meet with you. Today.” His deep voice was filled with excitement, and he squeezed her foot tightly.
She forced down a yawn. “You think it’s about making me a Hunter?”
He nodded, his eyes wide. “I know it is.” He smiled down at her and she lurched forward into his arms, embracing.
He hugged her tightly; running his hands over her back, and then released her. “Go bathe. We can get in a sparring session before we go to meet with them.”
She pulled away from him. “No. I don’t want to fight you.”
He arched his dark brow at her. “What?”
She thought of how badly she needed him to be fit and healthy, and how much of a danger she was to him, and she knew she didn’t want him in the Hollow. “I just don’t feel like sparring,” she corrected.
He nodded, patting her on the leg. “Okay. We probably wouldn’t have had time for it anyway. Just go bathe.”
She gauged his disappointed expression, and once again felt bad for how she treated him. “Kohl, I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”
It was the truth, and she so rarely had the opportunity to share it with him.
“Were you planning on hurting me?”
He waited for an answer, but she couldn’t give one.
“Jessop, you act like I’m some childhood friend who spent the past twenty years as a tailor or rug maker. I was raised in the Blade, I have been fighting all my life. I have been badly hurt, and survived. I have killed and nearly died, mourned and carried on. The hurt is intrinsic to my way of life, and you need to understand that. I’m not fragile.”
She nodded slowly. He was right, and she knew it, but it didn’t change how she felt. He did live an inherently dangerous life; he had nearly died the day they met. That didn’t change the fact that she didn’t want to be the cause of his pain, not any more so than she already was.
He didn’t wait for her to say anything. He stood, and pulled her out of bed. “Now go. I’ll wait for you.”
She smiled up at him softly. “You don’t have to.”
He stared at her with such resoluteness, entirely in love with her; he had a way of showing his whole heart in a single glance. “I’ll always wait for you, Jessop.”
She forced a smile as she turned from him, knowing that would always be the problem.
* * * *
She was standing in the same sole beam of light, in the same room, in front of nearly the same Council, as she had on her very first night in the Glass Blade. But this time, she stood there with an ease and sense of achievement. She could still so easily remember the sense of wariness and indignation in the room from so long ago.
She could remember how suspicious they were, how Hydo had chosen to allow her to stay. She remembered how they had tortured her in the pool, searching her mind, certain
she wasn’t who she claimed to be… and here she was, joining them as the very first female Hunter of Infinity.
“Jessop, not long ago I made a decision that endangered the lives of several Infinity Hunters, and claimed the life of one. I could have lost my mentee, whom I view as a son,” Hanson spoke, his voice travelling softly around the dark room. She kept her gaze cast downward, listening keenly.
“If it weren’t for your actions, which I had so greatly doubted the intention and scope of, I could have lost Kohl twice, I could have been responsible for the deaths of Teck Fay and Trax DeHawn, and I, myself, could have died that night in the tavern.
“Too many Hunters owe their lives to you, now, for us to pretend any longer that what keeps you from entering the brotherhood is little more than arrogance and semantics. The Hunters of Infinity no longer need be simply a brotherhood, but an inclusive family of Hunters, dedicated to protecting one another, the Blade of Light, and all of Daharia.”
The room fell silent and she took it as an opportunity to speak. “Thank you, Hanson Knell. I am moved by your words.”
“I should have been moved by yours long ago, Jessop. You saved Kohl’s life, and my own, on our first meeting. You came here willing to help, and we wounded you. I wounded you, again and again. All I ask now is that you do not begrudge the Hunters for my trespasses against you. Join us.”
Jessop took a deep breath and resisted the urge to smile too broadly. The day had finally come. Everything she had worked so hard to achieve, all of the pains she had endured and the hurdles she had overcome, it had all been for this moment—to become a Hunter of Infinity. She nodded, incapable of hiding her smile. “It would be an honor.”
They clapped, and it startled her, catching her off guard; she laughed. Kohl stepped forward from the shadows and took her hand in his, as excited as she was. Even though they had heard it rumored since their return from Okton Radon, the joy of it being actualized had not been dulled. Finally, Hanson cleared his throat, and they all quieted down to hear him.
