by Ryan Wieser
She hit the shield with all her might, the crack growing like a vein in the glass. She watched him raise his hand out towards the glass. The windshield began to shake, but he was too weak to break it on his own. She could smell the fire and her heart urged her to run. She thought of her parents and knew what the flames could do to him. What they could have done to her if he hadn’t saved her.
With every ounce of strength she had in her small body, Jessop slammed the metal bolt into the windshield. Her hand went straight through the glass, shattering bones along with the windshield. She reflexively dropped the bolt onto the dash, her hand limp. Falco lunged forward, leaping out of the Soar-Craft. He grabbed her and they fell from the vehicle. They ran, limping and bleeding, away from the vessel. Within seconds, the Soar-Craft erupted in flames.
He threw his body on top of her, crushing her into the sand. Debris landed all around them, but somehow, they were not hit. She squinted up at his bloodied, unrecognizable face, and knew he was gravely injured. His blood dripped over her freely, pooling around her neck. He would lose consciousness again soon. She pushed him off her and he rolled onto his back.
She ripped cloth from her tunic and forced it against his face. The material was drenched in an instant. She squeezed it tightly over the sand, ignoring the screaming pain of her broken hand, and reapplied it. He had many wounds, but worst of all was one to his face. His beautiful, handsome face had been cut. A giant laceration traveled through his left brow, over his eye, down his cheek.
* * * *
He hadn’t lost the eye, which was a miracle. Tribesmen had seen the smoke from the crash and had been quick to come to Falco’s aid. Dezane had worked on his injuries personally, using his knowledge of plants and Kuroi magic to heal him. He had applied a thick poultice, covering half of Falco’s face. He had worked alone, instructing everyone except Jessop out of the tent. He burned herbs in a small pot, filling the room with a strong and foreign scent. The smell and the heat made Jessop feel ill, but she refused to leave Falco’s side. She watched as Dezane rested his hands over the poultice, whispering chants for many hours.
Jessop didn’t know how long had passed, but she woke to Dezane softly nudging her shoulder. She had fallen asleep beside Falco. His face had remained heavily bandaged. She looked to Dezane, questions hanging on her lip. He raised his hand to stay her. “He will survive, and his vision will be fine, though he will always bear the scar.” She nodded, thankful. Jessop knew some part of Dezane was aware of the fact that she needed Falco. Another part knew that the Kuroi elder sensed Falco’s power, and believed he was destined to lead.
Falco’s face remained dressed for many days. He did not seem to despair over the cut, his vanity completely abandoned as he suffered an intangible pain. “They betrayed me.”
Jessop held his hand softly, tucked between her good one and her bandaged, broken one. She nodded at him as he spoke. They hadn’t left the tent in days. Food and water was brought to them. “Hydo hid behind them all…You should have seen the way Kohl looked at me. Like I was the insane one. He wouldn’t even listen to me.”
She had learned that Kohl, the boy Falco spoke of most, with the greatest vitriol, had been his best friend. That it was he who had cut Falco’s face. Falco had said Trax DeHawn, Dezane’s son, had helped him escape, but barely. He had fought many of his brothers, those who he had originally thought would take on Hydo with him. “I didn’t kill any of them. Even if they deserved it.”
She didn’t know what to say to him. She had never killed. She knew nothing of fighting. Despite their bond, they were still strangers to one another, who had led vastly different lives. “Come here,” he ordered, eyeing her over with his one uncovered gray eye. She inched closer to where he rested on his cured hides and pelts, ensuring his hand stayed locked in her own.
“Today is the Red Solstice.”
She nodded, already knowing what the day was. It was the first solstice without her parents. He brought her wounded hand closer to him, resting it against his chest. “It’s my day of Partus,” he added.
She cocked her head at him, stunned at the admission. “Mine as well.” He smiled softly, nodding, as though he knew that they must have shared a Partus—their day of birth. He closed his eye, covering her hand with his own, concentrating carefully. She felt the bones correcting, the skin repairing. As he opened his eye, he freed her hand. She pulled the bandages off and stretched her healed fingers out, amazed. He had healed her internal wounds the day of the fire—something incredible, but invisible to her eyes. Her hand, though, she could see. She could twist her wrist and clench her fist and see the amazing results of his abilities. She could see what beautiful things he was capable of.
“I am thankful for you, Jessop,” he smiled. The words one would speak to another on their day of Partus—an honor for one to be thankful for the other’s birth.
She took his hand back in hers; letting her freshly repaired fingers lock around his. “I am thankful for you as well, Falco.”
* * * *
Jessop rounded one of the many villager tents, careful as she maneuvered pails of water retrieved from the reservoir. Dezane had sent a warrior for her, requesting she speak with him. She had left Falco in the tent they had come to share. He moved with ease, having removed the bandages from his face. His scar was raised and puffy, pink and sore, but his vision, as Dezane had promised, was intact.
“Dorei Dorei, Dezane,” she spoke the formal greeting, remaining outside his tent until he responded.
“Come, Jessop Jero.”
She ducked through the large flaps and found Dezane sitting, cross-legged, in the center of his tent. His hands rested on his knees. He had moved his belongings, pushing his pelts and floor mats aside, and sat directly on the ground. She studied him, wondering what he might have been doing.
“Meditation, Jessop. I think on things for long periods of time. And then I think of nothing for even longer periods.” He offered her a warm smile along with his explanation, obviously noting her confused look.
She nodded. “You wished to see me?”
He extended one of his long, slender hands, indicating for her to sit opposite him. She acquiesced, mirroring his position.
He stared at her for a long moment before speaking. “Jessop, I want you to know you have a home here, with the Kuroi, for all your life.”
His words seemed abrupt, though they did not surprise her. There had been talk throughout the village, since the fire. Speculation as to whether the boy would take her to Azgul or if Dezane would have her stay with the tribe. “Thank you, Dezane.”
“I have spoken with the boy and I know he has great plans. Plans I intend to help see through. If he asks for you to go with him, the choice is yours to do so, but know you can stay if you wish.”
She didn’t know which plans he spoke of. She didn’t even know when Dezane and Falco had spoken, for she had been at Falco’s side since his return, but she trusted Dezane. She trusted him to always be honest with her. She tore away from his strong gaze, looking at the ground for a long moment before speaking again.
“I must ask you something.”
He remained silent, waiting.
She raised her eyes, forcing herself to look at him. “Am I different? My family…are we different?”
His smile remained intact. “Your mother disclosed many things to me, and many things she kept private. What I know is that you are special, Jessop. The rest you needn’t worry about.”
She could feel her heart speeding up, fearful that Mar’e had been telling the truth. “Special how?”
“That I do not know. Only you can know. Only you can sense what resides within you. Well, you and—”
“And Falco.” She finished his sentence.
Dezane nodded. “Yes, I believe Falco can sense it too.”
* * * *
Several days passed before Jessop s
poke to Dezane again. Falco had initiated the meeting, insisting the three of them speak. “It is the only way for you to be safe, until such a time where you can overthrow Hydo,” Dezane added.
“It feels like you’re telling us to hide,” Jessop complained. She finally knew what Dezane and Falco had been discussing. They proposed the creation of an impenetrable city, a fortress for any who sought to be free from the Hunters. She had listened to Dezane speak for many hours. He assured her it could be done; the city would be fortified by magic from the Kuroi, from the desert, and from places in Daharia she had never heard of.
Falco looked her over slowly. A perfect silver scar traveled through his left brow, over his eyelid, down to the center of his cheek. Mar’e shied away at the sight of him now, but Jessop had found herself staring at him more frequently, more furtively.
“We will be hiding, Jessop, but Dezane is right. I will be pursued from this day forth by the Hunters. Word has already reached Okton Radon that I attempted some sort of coup. But we can do more than hide—we can train. I can train you.”
She thought of what he proposed. She had seen his Hunter’s Blade. He had shown her more of his abilities. He had shown her things she had never imagined. He had told her he could teach her how he fought, how to wield the weapon he carried—how to avenge her parents.
“You wouldn’t live alone forever. More would come,” Dezane explained.
She didn’t voice it, but she had thought that there were worse options than just being alone with him. He had turned away from her, clearly embarrassed to have heard her errant thought. Her cheeks pinked at the realization.
She looked between Falco and Dezane. All of their futures seemed set. She knew the dangerous path she chose when she chose to live her life with the boy. They needed one another, and all of Daharia would one day need him. “What would we have to do?”
* * * *
It was their last night with the tribe. There had been no great feast, no dancing—no spectacle of her impending exit was made whatsoever. She had said a quick goodbye to Mar’e. The Kuroi girl was angry at Jessop’s distance and even angrier that she was leaving. She had barely looked at Falco except to grimace at his fresh scar.
“Are you ever going to come back?” Mar’e had asked Jessop.
“I hope so.”
“Or maybe I’ll find you one day.”
“Maybe you will.”
Jessop rolled on her sleeping mat. Falco rested several feet away. Though they were in complete darkness, her vision was keen and she knew he did not sleep.
“Yes, I’m awake.” Once again, he knew her unvoiced thoughts.
“How do you do that?”
“I can just hear you.”
“Can you hear everyone?”
She saw him roll onto his back, resting his arms under his head of dark hair.
“Not Dezane. I have heard it spoken about in the Blade—no one can seem to enter the man’s mind.”
She thought of Dezane and felt unsurprised. If any could resist some mystical power, it would be him.
He moved again, turning to his side to stare in her direction. “I know Dezane told you that you could stay here.”
She didn’t know if he knew it from reading her mind or if Dezane had told him. It mattered not. “He did.”
“Don’t.”
“What?”
“Don’t stay.”
“I won’t. I want…” She began, but she let her voice trail off.
“You want what?”
She knew he could just hear the thought if he wanted to. He wished to hear her say the words aloud.
“I want to be where you are.”
She knew he kept his gaze fixed to her. “I want that too, Jessop.”
CHAPTER 4
Azgul
Present-day
Jessop ran down the hall, her linen robe beating about her knees. She rounded the corner, just in time to catch a glimpse of his golden eye and silver, star-shaped scar. She tried calling his name but her voice caught in her throat. She ran after him, tearing down the corridor. She needed to tell him—she needed to tell him he was bleeding.
“Jessop.”
Jessop woke to the sharp tug of Falco’s hands on her. Instinctively, she clambered back in the sheets, freeing herself from him. He raised his hands away from her slowly. Sweat greased her skin, her hair stuck to her face and neck with a stickiness that stung her. It was the middle of the night.
Falco slowly reached for her, resting his hand on her shoulder. “More nightmares?”
She nodded, sweeping her hands over her face, pulling her hair back from her hot skin. “I need you to find him, Falco.”
He lowered his hand from her slowly. “Kohl.”
The room was perfectly dark but they saw one another with ease. It was chilly, and yet she felt on fire.
“I broke his heart…he wants vengeance, I can feel it.”
She pulled the damp tunic off her body, tossing it to the ground as she moved to the side of the bed. She let her feet rest on the smooth floor and enjoyed the cool sensation. Falco readjusted to sit beside her. He held his hands together, leaning forward to regard her carefully.
“He is no threat to you.”
She kept her eyes trained on the ground. “He nearly killed me.”
“He caught us off guard. We both know he is no match for either of us. He will bring you no harm.”
She snapped her head up to face him, studying his gray eyes in the cold darkness. “Then why do we hunt them? Him, Hanson, the others. Why must we find them if they pose no threat to us?”
The question was rhetorical, but she asked it to remind Falco that she knew his thoughts, as she knew these men. One-on-one, or even three-on-two, they were no match for her and Falco…but that did not mean they bore no threat. They were the fallen rulers of Daharia, and they had many skills and many allegiances.
At his silence, she spoke again. “You have told me many times to not underestimate them. We did just that, the day you arrived, and it nearly cost me my life. We cannot do it again. I want them found and shackled.”
He held her stare for a long moment. His gray eyes appeared icy to her, cooler than usual. “You mean you want them found and killed, right?”
She said nothing. She saw Hanson’s face from that day on the terrace, paralyzed, betrayed. Hydo deserved death; he had murdered her family. But Hanson…she did not know if she could truly sentence him to the same fate as his friend. Despite all he had done, he was no murderer.
“Jeco will never be safe around him. Hanson will always be loyal to Hydo,” Falco spoke, answering her thoughts.
She quickly stood from the bed. “Don’t do that, Falco.”
He stood, throwing his arms out with frustration. “I’m sorry—but what choice are you giving me? You’ve been closed off for days. Since I arrived, if we’re being honest, you’ve refused to open up to me.”
She turned from him and rifled through her drawers for fresh clothes. “After months away from my family, I nearly died at the hands of someone I—”
“Someone you loved?”
She turned around slowly. Falco knew her heart, he knew her mind, and he knew she was always only ever going to be in love with him. “Someone I betrayed.”
He nodded slowly, skeptical. “You cannot tell me he isn’t in your heart. He plagues your mind each day and night. I have known you long enough to know you feel no fear—so do not pretend that the preoccupation is because of that.”
She ran her hands over her damp hair. “I loved him as I love Korend’a.”
“You never slept with Korend’a.”
His words were a slap. She turned from him and made her way to the bathing chamber. In the illuminated room she studied the freshly twisted scar on her abdomen. It was a thick knot of mangled flesh. The sight of i
t, the words Falco had spoken to her, all made her want to be ill. She steadied herself against the mirror, taking slow breaths, wishing her skin were less hot, or the room less cold.
Slowly, she let her eyes trail back to the wound. She had nearly died at Kohl’s hands but she couldn’t say with complete confidence that she wanted him dead. If that uncertainty meant some part of her loved him then so be it. Whatever she felt for him, it was not the love that she felt for Falco.
“I’m sorry. That was wrong of me to say,” Falco spoke, leaning in the doorway. She watched him through the reflection, their bright eyes locking on one another.
“Sleeping with him was part of your master plan, Falco.”
“I know.”
“Had there been another way—”
“I know.”
She studied his face for some sort of sign, some indication that he truly did know her heart still, as he always had. “Can’t you understand that I feel I’ve wounded him enough? He loved me, as you do, and I destroyed him. I do not trust him to roam free, but I do not think he deserves to die.”
He nodded but he did not appear in agreement. His perfect lips were tight around his teeth. His muscles tensed as he crossed his arms over his broad chest.
“Can you not understand that he nearly took you away from me? I thought you were going to die, Jessop. Can’t you see how I would want him, above all others, to suffer?”
They held one another’s stares; contemplating the position their common friend—enemy—had put them in. Before either could speak, a small cry called out to them.
“Dada,” Jeco wept.
Jessop waited for Falco to go to him.
“Do you want to?” he offered.
She turned, flicking on the water to bathe. “He didn’t call for me.”
* * * *
The blade was a dark violet color, the hilt made up of shining onyx stones. It was the most beautiful weapon she had ever seen—and its purple edge still bore her dry blood. She cleaned the weapon meticulously, wiping it down until there was no longer any evidence to the fact that it had nearly taken her life. She discarded the cloth and turned the blade over in her hand. It was singular.
