Dawn of the Hunters

by Ryan Wieser

  Hydo held his friend’s disbelieving stare. “It is love. She is my everything.”

  “You barely know her!” Urdo exclaimed, waving his hand out in frustration.

  “I do though. I do know her. I cannot explain it, but Octayn and I know one another. We know one another’s thoughts, bodies, and abilities. It is as though we are one.”

  His friends remained silent. They doubted his words but they both knew him to be a highly self-aware man. Hydo didn’t live an illusory life, he didn’t proclaim love for anyone, he didn’t shirk his responsibilities for anything. He had a history of reliability that could act as a testament for his current claims. “She’s like me. I’m not alone anymore.”

  Hanson tilted his head at him. “You’ve never been alone.”

  “Brother, I can’t explain it. You do not know the Fire, how hard it is to have powers so great you doubt your own ability to control them. Octayn was raised by Fire-Wielders. She has such incredible control. Control that she can teach me.”

  They all remained silent. Hydo had had a Fire-Wielding parent who was not around to teach him the necessary skills. His Hunter brothers knew how the woman had died, and how she had taken Hydo’s father with her. They would say nothing on the matter.

  Urdo finally sat. “We didn’t come here to convince you of who you do and do not love. We came to bring you home. Gredoria needs you.”

  “I don’t want to leave her here, though I know I must return.”

  Hanson leaned forward in his seat. “We will explain to Gredoria that you found another Fire-Wielder and he won’t be angry. He will understand.”

  “No. We will not be telling Gredoria about Octayn.”

  “Why not?”

  “He just doesn’t need to know.”

  Urdo stood quickly. “What are you saying? We should keep information from Gredoria—from our Lord Protector?”

  “I know how it seems, brother, but it is for the best right now. Gredoria wouldn’t understand.”

  “I don’t understand, Hydo. We are Hunters. Hunters. We do not put anyone before our brethren let alone before our Lord Protector.”

  Hydo didn’t know how he could explain it to his brothers. He knew how they felt, and he knew how he seemed to be acting to them—as though he were under a spell. But it was no spell. He loved her. He knew her. He wouldn’t betray her for the world.

  “I will figure out what to say to Gredoria, but I ask that for now you say nothing to anyone.”

  Hanson rose. “And what will you tell him, Hydo? How will you lie to him?”

  “I will omit. I was held up. He needn’t know details.”

  “I don’t like this,” Hanson said. “You’re asking us to lie.”

  “I am asking you for your loyalty,” he corrected.

  Urdo spun, angry. “You have it. You’ve always had it! If you wish to keep your secrets, so be it. I will keep your secrets too. For one day, Hydo, you will be the Lord Protector, and we all know it. What will you do when one of your Hunters acts with such treachery? How will you respond when you have the power Gredoria has now?”

  Hydo let his shoulders drop, his breath exhaling softly. “In truth ...I’d kill a Hunter who dissented as I have.”

  “Then you would not blame Gredoria if he killed you for these trespasses?” Hanson demanded, turning his gaze from Urdo to Hydo.

  “I cannot live without her. And if you ask me to, I would hope Gredoria put me out of my misery.”

  * * * *

  He held her tightly in his arms, his lips grazing her forehead. “I must return with them.”

  “But why?”

  “If I cannot tell Gredoria about you I need to explain my absence away as a simple travel delay.”

  She pulled back from him. “Your friends. How do we know they will not tell?”

  He knew Hanson and Urdo waited for him on the rooftop. They had promised silence and he, in turn, had sworn to return to the Blade with them. “They’re my brothers. They would never betray me.”

  She seemed nervous, and when she was nervous, she was angry. “There are things you still do not know. Things Gredoria Vane could find out if he knew my name.”

  He took a deep breath, calming his own natural tendency to respond with anger. “What don’t I know, Octayn?”

  “I will tell you everything when you return.”

  “Octayn,” he pressed.

  “Your friend was right, earlier.”

  Hydo stared down at her, confused. “Right about what?”

  “My name. It isn’t Daharian.”

  She moved away from him, leaning against the wall. Small streaks of fire ran up her hands and arms and he thought she was perhaps unaware of it. “Think about it, Hydo. I have no Daharian sigil burned into my neck and I have no Daharian name because…”

  He had, of course, noticed that she bore no sigil. All Daharians had the burn of their kind on the base of their neck. A form of organization implemented by Prince of Daharia after the Great War. But he had cared too much about her Fire to worry about her sigil. Admittedly, he had not thought once about her name, for he knew little of such things. It was a beautiful name. He looked her over, noting the challenge in her stare, willing him to figure out that which she was hinting to him.

  He took a step towards her and he suddenly knew. The truth hit him, a vicious jolt to the system. He stared at her, as if looking for other signs to his newfound truth, wondering how he couldn’t have figured it out sooner. He knew he should care, he should truly care about this information. And yet, he did not. Her people were the sworn enemy of Daharians—they were the reason Hunters existed. The Blade of Light had been last used against her kind. The practice of branding sigil existed to differentiate from her people. He hadn’t been able to figure it out because he had never met one of her kind—he only knew of them as the enemy.

  He grabbed her hands and watched as her small flames transferred to his skin. “You are not Daharian.”

  Chapter 5

  Hara’agul

  Present Day

  “Tell me then, Kohl.” She had dropped the bag from Teck to the ground, and crouched beside it. They had run far, and if she needed to wait to hear Kohl’s thoughts, then she would at least catch her breath while doing so. Falco knelt beside her, but Kohl remained standing. He appeared nervous and that concerned her.

  When Kohl remained silent, Falco snapped. “We haven’t got time for this!”

  “Well, I don’t know how to explain it. It’s Hydo. He speaks about your mother, Jessop.”

  Jessop studied Kohl’s worried expression, the concern that kept his lips parted, his eyes wide as he waited to gauge her reaction. She couldn’t understand the importance of such a declaration from Kohl.

  “He knew her. He killed her. I imagine her name would come up.”

  It had been over a decade since the murder of her parents, but the tone of her voice when she spoke of it was as sharp as ever.

  Kohl shook his head, kneeling opposite her. “He speaks about her in the present, as though he still knows her. He said ‘Octayn will need to know this.’ He said it just like that.”

  Jessop felt her chest tightening and she realized it was her body reminding her to breathe. She sucked air in sharply. She didn’t understand. She stared into his hazel eyes, angry that he would delay their quest for this. “My mother is dead. I saw him kill her with my own two eyes.”

  Falco stood beside her, his hand running down her arm. “As did I, brother. You walk a fine line with these stories.”

  Jessop stared at Kohl, studying the confused expression on his face. He brushed his blond hair back, revealing a large bruise swelling on his cheekbone and a cut near his ear. He paid the wound no notice as his fingers grazed it. Kohl was many things; weak was not one of them.

  “They’re not stories and I meant no harm by th
em. I just thought you should know what I heard.”

  Jessop stood, brushing sand off of her. “Enough. We don’t have time for this. Hydo is a sick man; a sick man who instructed Hanson to take my son. There are people fighting for us, as we speak. We won’t waste any more time on this.”

  She swung Teck’s pack over her shoulder and began to walk off, her boots light on the dusty sand, when Kohl yelled after her. “But Jessop—what if your mother lives?”

  She rounded on her heel, flicking up a storm of sand, closing the space between her and Kohl in an instant. “She’s dead. I sat amongst her ashes. She burned to death in that fire.” Her words were sharp and angry, and she glared into his dark eyes with challenge. She blinked, and she could see her mother before her, on the ground, their home burning down all around them. Her father, blood covering his body, Hydo fleeing, and Falco trying to save her. She could see the flames and smell the smoke ...

  “But Jessop, one of your parents was a Fire-Wielder. It’s how it works. You wouldn’t be one otherwise.” She was amazed that Kohl hadn’t instantly backed off, as he would have once done. He remained still, his gaze still locked upon her.

  Jessop knew how it worked. Fire-Wielding was inherited, if one parent had the Fire, the children may have the ability; if both had it, then the children would certainly have it.

  “What does it matter if one of them was a Fire-Wielder?”

  He stared at her, as if waiting for her to realize what he was saying. “A Fire-Wielder can’t be killed in a fire. Hydo told me as much. Your kind doesn’t burn like we do.”

  Jessop said nothing. She felt anger at Kohl for telling her these things, especially in this time and place. If one of her parents had had the ability, which they would have had to, why had she never known? She couldn’t imagine why they would keep the ability a secret, even within the confines of their family home. And as far as not burning went, she had kept a natural distance from fire all her life, as any would after losing their parents the way she had. She had never thought to see how her flesh fared in an open flame—but she couldn’t deny that on the occasions where a burn might have occurred, she had coped better than most.

  Falco readjusted his position, moving slightly in front of Jessop, as if shielding her from the news Kohl had shared. “Jessop’s father was dead before I ever entered the house, and it was no flame that claimed his life. He could have been the Fire-Wielder. The flames would burn a Fire-Wielder once deceased.”

  Jessop felt both thankful and horrified. They never spoke of these things. They spoke of Hydo, of vengeance, of strategy—never of her parents burning. He was right, though, her father could have been the Fire-Wielder. Jessop and Falco had been open with their son about his and their gifts since his first breath; it felt odd to her that her parents hadn’t acted the same towards her. Perhaps they were waiting to learn if she had inherited the abilities too.

  She would never know though. Octayn and Hoda had died years ago. She and Falco knew it. Hydo definitely knew it. Whichever mad way he spoke of her mother now, whatever coping mechanisms he had devised to live with his trespasses, was not her concern. All that mattered was Jeco. She looked to Falco. “We must go now. For Jeco.”

  “But Jessop…”

  She ignored Kohl’s protestations and Falco’s conflicted gaze, taking off across the dune. She could hear them quickly walking behind her. She couldn’t stand speaking about such things. She couldn’t be distracted when her son needed her. But Kohl had laid a seed in her mind that was undeniably growing. The fire Hydo had set would have never killed her. Had she known what she was then—had one of her parents told her—perhaps she could have done more to save them.

  Jessop pushed her boots into the sand, climbing the edge of a dune wall. The idea that she might have saved her parents wasn’t the most severe of her contemplations. The most dangerous of thoughts, itching at the corners of her mind, flicking like a whip against her heart, daring her to believe it, daring her to imagine for just a second, was that her mother could have somehow lived. Her rational mind knew it wasn’t true. Hydo speaking of her likely meant nothing. He spoke of her. He had a fractured mind and a wounded heart—Jessop had done much to progress his insanity in the time since she had arrived at the Blade. If he spoke of Octayn as though she lived, perhaps it was because she had trapped him in a memory where she did live for so long.

  Jessop wiped her brow with the back of her arm, dabbing away the sweat and sand. The heat of the desert was not helping. She couldn’t think clearly. She needed her son back in her arms. Her mind ached. Her body ached. She knew tears would form if they could—but it was too hot for tears. No matter the desert, the fire burned inside her eternally, drying her tears. Since becoming aware of the flames, she felt them always. They itched under her skin, constantly wanting to break free, constantly hungry to consume. She felt her breathing grow heavy—as though a vicious weight sat mightily upon her chest. She ran a hand over her heart, pushing her boots harder into the sand, willing herself forward.

  Mama!

  Jeco. It was Jeco calling for her. Or was it? She spun around. She saw Falco and Kohl—they watched her keenly. Concern filled their eyes—their faces. Did they speak?

  Mama!

  She needed to get to him faster. If only she could breathe a bit easier. She dropped Teck’s bag. She could remove her leather vest. Her hands were trembling, her fingertips numb, twitching under her weakened sense of control. She needed—

  Falco locked her in his embrace with immense force. She grabbed onto him. She needn’t have opened her mind to him for she was quite incapable of closing it off to anyone in the moment. She felt him instantly, like a rush of cool water. He moved through her mind, easing her thoughts, laying them down to rest, silencing the voices. He held her and it was the only time she felt the flames dissipate—as though they knew they could not touch Falco Bane. He held on to her and healed her tormented mind. He healed her as he always had.

  He kissed her temple. “As I always will.”

  * * * *

  Jessop rolled to her side and found Falco watching her. They had walked for many, many miles, long into the night. When the dunes became too dangerous for Kohl to travel over, his eyes not as familiar to darkness as hers or Falco’s, they had begrudgingly agreed to make camp. Teck had supplied her with a bag that contained two small tents, several canisters of dried, salted meats, and two leathers filled with drinking water. He had ensured they could survive at least several nights in the desert if they were smart about it.

  Jessop stretched out, knowing she needed to get back on their path soon. They had rested enough for her. Even as her mind seemed to descend into madness, as her body ached and protested further movement, she knew she needed Jeco. The rest could wait.

  Falco held his hand out, a pincer grip on a shining jewel. She focused, and realized what it was that he held for her.

  “You brought my ring?”

  It was not the dark, shimmering band she wore most days, but the large shining black stone, surrounded by weaving ropes of white crystal. She took the beautiful piece from him.

  “When I commissioned the piece, I explained something to the jeweler. He was an older fellow with long silver hair, someone Corin had introduced me to. I had him come to the Pit, and there we sat for a long time.”

  Jessop sat up, turning the ring over in her hand as she listened to Falco.

  “I told the man who made it to imagine one who had lived in darkness all their life, feared by all, fearing even themselves at times. I told him to imagine a darkness that consumes you, that you get lost in, one where you feel as if you are entirely alone. I told him to imagine this dark place, and to wonder what it would be like for a man to have lived this way for all his life, before finding a single source of light.”

  He turned a teary gaze to her. “I was the darkness and you were the light. I spent half our lives together wait
ing for you to realize you should leave me. I spent it feeling certain that you did not love me as I loved you, for I was inherently unworthy of such love. A warlord. A killer. I felt myself beginning to lose my mind ...You were there, every day, refusing to leave, refusing to abandon me, no matter the cost. And I knew the only thing left to do was to let you love me. To let your light in. And when I did, I felt true contentment for the first time in my life.”

  Jessop pushed the ring back on her finger and leaned against him. “Falco, in my life, it was I who was the darkness, and you the light. When we had Jeco ...I felt fulfillment. I had everything then. And we ruined it. I ruined it. We need him back, Falco. I can’t live without my son.”

  They held one another tightly, yearning to correct the course their lives had taken. The Hunters were brave and selfish, always focused on the Blade, and never on others. She and Falco had lived that way—and they had lost their son for it. She wished they had done many things differently. As she held Falco, she saw her hands, locked around his back, ignite.

  Her heart began to race, knowing the flames controlled her too greatly. She immediately lifted them away from him, and as she did, he let out an audible cry. He suffered as greatly as she did. As she realized she was not alone in her grief, in her madness, the flames extinguished.

  * * * *

  Jessop pulled her boots on and fixed her blades once again. Falco knew her mind and refused to let her leave alone. He would go with her to the caves. Once ready, they brought their small tent down with ease. In the dark, Jessop could see Kohl, sitting off on the lip of a sand dune, staring out into the night sky. She let Falco finish rolling up the tent and she walked to Kohl.

  She stood behind him in silence, but she knew he sensed her. The air was cool, the night a welcome reprieve from the scorching day. She looked out over the many dunes. She could hear life within the desert. She remembered learning stillness with her father Beyond the Grey. They would sleep beneath the stars, breathing as one with the wind, their eyes on the stars above, and they would listen for the movements of the desert creatures. She could hear them now. She could feel her father at her side—