by Ryan Wieser
“We will begin the service tomorrow afternoon. It requires five Hunters of Infinity, four of whom must be Councilmen. We have selected Trax DeHawn, Urdo Rendo, Balk Tawn, myself, and, of course, Kohl O’Hanlon.”
Kohl tightened his hold on her hand and she could see Trax’s golden eyes in the darkness, watching her keenly. She knew that the process needed multiple Hunters, as the Blade of Light, which was required for the ceremony, was kept in such confines that five approved hand scans were required to get through five barricades of steel and stone.
Everything felt surreal to her. So much planning had gone into this very moment that now that it was upon her, she felt somehow surprised by it. She steadied herself with Kohl’s hand, turning her gaze out of the bright light and taking a slow breath.
“Do you have any questions, Jessop?” Hanson asked, and slowly the room began to light up.
She blinked, letting her vision adjust as the Councilmen came back into view. Some of the men, those who had been closest to Bevda, remained silent, perhaps unsure of their decision. Others, like Trax and Urdo, smiled down at her.
“No, not that I can think of,” she answered.
Hanson nodded, a half-smile pulling at his mouth. “Good. We will see you tomorrow morning then… sister.”
* * * *
Jessop woke late the next morning. Kohl had stayed the night with her, just to sleep by her side. She rolled over gently, avoiding knocking him with her elbow, and took a deep breath as she stared up at the ceiling. The day had finally arrived. She rolled out of bed silently and crossed the room to her bathing chambers. She undressed quickly and turned the showers on, stepping under the hot water.
She remembered the night Kohl entered the room and she had rendered him unconscious. She remembered every moment with him, especially the ones he no longer had memories of. She knew how greatly things were going to change, that from here on out, nothing would ever be the same for either of them.
As if on cue, he appeared in the doorway of the bathing room. He wore just trousers, his mane of golden locks tucked messily behind his ears, as he smiled to her. “Morning.”
She looked over his muscular form, across all of his scars, and she turned her back to him, so that nearly all of her scars were visible too. “Morning.” She remembered the day she had been lashed within an inch of her life. She remembered that when the whipping stopped, she couldn’t tell; the mere air against her wounds had been so painful it had felt as though it were still ongoing. She had only been certain it was over when the blood that pooled on the ground was no longer just hers.
“Nervous?” he asked, and she looked back to see him tying his hair back into a tight knot.
She looked over his body of scars once more. “Should I be?”
He ran a hand over his chest. “This,” he spoke, running a finger over a long scar across his torso. “This doesn’t happen during the Initiation you’ll undergo today. This happens long before that.”
It was the most he had ever said on the subject. He eyed her scars. “And yours? Falco?”
He was referring to her back, the lashing scars. “No, actually, not Falco. I was fifteen, there was a man who wanted to hurt Falco, and so he hurt me to get at him. Falco killed him.”
She stepped out of the water and Kohl handed her a robe. “He saved you?”
She wrapped it around her body, hiding all the scars. “Yes. I suppose he did.”
* * * *
There were no special robes, no pomp or display. Though when she met Hanson, he gave her a leather vest, with the Hunter’s sigil on the breast. She immediately put it on. They walked in silence. She stayed between Kohl and Trax, as they followed Hanson, Balk, and Urdo down the long corridor on a floor so low in the Blade she believed they were actually under the Hollow. It surprised her that Balk Tawn and Urdo Rendo had agreed to take part in her initiation ceremony, but Kohl had explained to her that they had been open towards the notion of women joining the Blade long before she had ever arrived.
The corridors were dark, which worked well for her, and they traveled in near silence. She couldn’t help but feel a sense of triumph, knowing that she would be the one to shape this momentous change within the thousand-year-old institution. She bore new scars, and new memories, and had made new allegiances, and it had all been for this.
They turned the corner and Jessop nearly walked into the back of Urdo Rendo, as they had stopped so abruptly. It was the first wall, made of thick, old stone, with a small steel door. “This is me,” Urdo smiled, glancing at her over his shoulder before stepping up to the wall. Jessop propped up on her toes to see him touch the scanner pad in the door.
The whirring sound of electricity cut through the air as the device read his print, and then, with a click, Urdo pushed the door open, stepping through the thick wall, and allowing them access through the first barricade.
* * * *
As they got through the next barrier, and the ones after that, they explained to Jessop that it needed to be the hand of a different Hunter each time, to ensure that the decision to access the Blade of Light was not being made by any one individual alone. It was only once they had passed through the fifth wall, that Jessop felt surprised. They stood in an empty, dirty, room. The walls were made of stone, allowing no natural light, but a small electric bulb hung from the middle of the ceiling. The ground was covered in loose dirt and sand. There was a thick smell in the room, for the walls and soil were aged. There was nothing grand or remarkable about the space.
“Not quite what I was expecting,” she admitted, walking around. When no one answered her, she turned to find all of them kneeling down in a circle, in the middle of the room. They each had one hand on the ground, and were concentrating very hard—using Sentio, it seemed. Hanson used his spare hand to brush dust away on the floor, revealing the Hunter’s sigil carved into the stone they circled. She watched in silence as the ground beneath her feet began to shake.
She braced herself, securing her footing as she held on to the mossy stone of the wall beside her. Soon, the entire room was quaking violently, and the light from the one bulb began to flicker. Then the ground in the circle of their hands began to crumble and crack. With violent tremors, rock and dirt began to bounce around, and a large stone slab began to rise up from the ground. Underneath the stone slab was a cylinder, being wrenched up by the combined powers of the five Hunters. As the dirt fell away from it, Jessop saw it was a cylinder of thick glass, and that inside it, emitting a soft, golden glow, was the Daharian Prince’s Blade of Light.
The blade seemed quite similar to their Hunter weapons, but the hilt was made entirely of glistening white stone and the glass was a pale gold, unlike any Jessop had ever laid eyes on. Slowly, the five of them stood, and the cylinder reached its apex height. Together, they moved their hands in a horizontal motion and, using their abilities, twisted free the stone slab from the glass cylinder like a bottle top. Hanson pulled the sleeve of his tunic back and reached into the large glass container, his hand just near enough to touch the hilt. He looked over to her, and warned, “You may want to cover your eyes.”
As soon as his old fingers touched the hilt, the Blade lit up the entire room with a bright golden light. It was blinding, and Jessop quickly squeezed her eyes shut and turned away. When she dared open them, she found that she could see the very depths of the mortar and dirt between each slab of rock in the wall. The entire room was alight. It took her a minute for her eyes to adjust, but slowly, she turned around to face them, and found them all watching her, smiling.
“Worthy of its name,” she said, taking a step towards the men.
“As you are worthy of being in its presence. The Blade of Light, as you know, is the one true weapon of Daharia, once wielded by the last Prince of the realm; whoever remains in possession of it is the rightful Lord Protector of Daharia, and leader of the Hunters of Infinity,” Hanson explained.
She knew the story, and she knew the significance of the blade. She knew that Hydo Jesuin was currently the Lord Protector, but things had changed greatly in her time with them. And she knew they would just keep changing.
“There is only one way to gain access to the Glass Blade, only one way to gain access to any of the barricades we just passed through, and that is to bear the mark we wear on our hands, the F. Created during a time all too painful for each of us, for reasons too dark to detail, the F is marked into our palms as the Hunter’s mark is to our necks.
“You, for the same dire reasons behind the creation of the second mark, already bear the Hunter’s sigil. Now, it is time for you to join our ranks, and wear them both.”
She took a step closer to them, and Kohl offered his hand out to her. She understood that this ceremony would have typically involved engraving the Hunter’s sigil on her neck, as they each had undergone—but thanks to Falco, that step was not required. She gently placed her hand in his and acquiesced as he turned it over, exposing her palm to the others.
“Jessop, do you vow your life to serving the true Lord Protector of the Blade of Light, the Hunters of Infinity, and the lands of Daharia?”
She smiled, and answered with complete honesty. “Yes. I swear it.”
Hanson nodded, also smiling. “Hunters,” he spoke, and all of them raised one hand, Kohl using his spare, and turned them on the blade. After a moment, Hanson released his grip on it, and the weapon levitated precariously in the air. Once still, with the fixed concentration of all five Hunters, it slowly began to turn over, rolling over and hovering right above her fleshy palm. She took a deep breath, and watched Kohl and the others as they concentrated with all their might to perform the meticulous task.
As the blade began to cut into her skin, she couldn’t help but smile. She felt no pain as they carved the letter into her hand, the F, which they all knew stood for Falco. This entire ordeal was because of him. It had been his coup that had led to these measures.
And then it was done, and Hanson once again took hold of the Blade of Light, and they all looked to her. She smiled down at the bloody F in her hand, and then smiled to all of them, beaming. “I have waited for this for a very, very long time.”
“Welcome to the Blade, sister,” Trax smiled, and they each took turns giving her warm hugs and congratulations, all while she pushed the same thought through her mind again and again and again.
It’s done.
CHAPTER 20
The five of them stood around her, forming a semi-circle. For the briefest moment, Jessop almost wished things could stay this way. She had never intended to win Hanson’s pride or support, Kohl’s love, or the faith of great Hunters such as Urdo Rendo. She had always known she would get to this stage, where she would be trusted to fight alongside the Hunters, but never did she imagine it would be in quite this way.
“Clean your hand up and then meet us all on the first terrace of the North Tower so we can celebrate with the others,” Hanson advised. She held her bloodied hand against her chest and looked from him to Trax, to Kohl. The cut was deep enough to form the necessary scar, but she was still too stuck in the moment to feel any pain.
“That’s one floor below the funerary terrace,” Trax explained, noting her expression.
She smiled to him. “I’ll be there as quick as I can.” They nodded at her, patting her shoulder and offering supportive grins as they began their trek back down the corridor. Except for Kohl.
He took a step closer to her and reached for her hand. “I’ll wait with you,” he offered. She stepped back from him, guarding her hand from his touch. Before she had to explain though, Trax reappeared and clapped Kohl heavily on the shoulder.
“Actually, O’Hanlon, I need your help, with the thing,” he explained vaguely, giving Kohl a knowing look. Kohl looked at him blankly, so Trax made a sword-fighting motion with his hands. It took Kohl a moment, but then he nodded, understanding.
He turned to her quickly, an apologetic look in his eyes. He ran his hand over her shoulder as he spoke. “Of course! Jessop, I’m sorry, do you mind?”
She took another step back, nearing her door. “No, I’ll see you shortly,” she smiled.
Trax led him away and as soon as they had disappeared down the hall, she ducked into her room. She leaned against the wall, bloody hand close to racing heart, and took a deep breath. It was all happening, and she needed to remain calm and composed long enough to see it through.
She ran into the bathing room and quickly thrust her bloodied palm under the tap, cleaning off most of the dry blood. Her hand was still dyed a pale red, but she didn’t have time to be meticulous about it. She grabbed a roll of cloth and wrapped it around the wound, just needing it to dry.
She couldn’t waste any more time. She looked around her room, and realized how few things she actually kept there. A few sets of tunics and breeches were all, really. She sighed, realizing she had done a pretty good job of never making a life for herself in the small space. Without hesitation, she pivoted on her heel and ran from the room, the room that had seen so much, and so little, of her. She left it all behind, taking off full speed ahead, for the docking bay.
* * * *
She closed the door to the room behind her silently, once again having slipped past the same guards she had eluded time and again before. She pressed her hand against her heart, and she could feel it beating violently into her bloody palm. This was truly it, the moment everything would change. She didn’t want to take too long, for Kohl’s sake. Trax knew what to do, but she needed to be quick nonetheless.
Hydo was unchanged, resting on his platter, motionless and decrepit. She crossed the room to him quickly, and looked down upon him with a sense of excitement and anxiety that she hadn’t felt in the longest time. “There’s a party going on upstairs, Hydo,” she smiled, lowering her hand to his forehead, running her fingers into his hairline and taking hold of his skull.
She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath, and pushed inside his mind. She traveled through the memories, through the thoughts and fears, the secrets, lies, and dreams. It was like sifting through a pool of colored water, like being enveloped in a silent tornado of violet, teasing images. She traveled deeper and deeper, and then, like every time before, found the one memory they most greatly shared together. It was a memory just for the two of them; no one else was alive to recall it any more. It was so vividly crafted, in both of their minds, that she could simply step into it and, all at once, be in the world of the past that Hydo had been living for all these long days.
There, right before her, was a small wooden home. It was nothing grand or impressive. It wasn’t imposing—quite the opposite, actually, with the way it had been built into the woods, tucked into the crevice of the mountain behind it. There was a pile of freshly cut lumber outside the front door; it was a little damp, with some mossy corners, and the grass underfoot was lush, all due to the recent rainfall, so rare in the surrounding desert terrain. She stepped forward, and she could see movement inside the small house, just through the window.
It was the most beautiful place in the world to Jessop, the green forest of the Grey Mountain, so different from the surrounding territories. It was also the place that housed all her nightmares. For though the place had been a silent and serene one, Jessop knew as she stepped closer to the cabin, it would very abruptly become a dwelling of mayhem and death. As if on cue, the screaming began.
A woman, struck, fell to the ground. Then the sound of a brawl followed by a guttural cry, and a child screaming with such clarity that it formed a truly terrifying knell. Jessop crossed her arms over her chest, unable to keep her eyes open at the horrendous sound.
The door to the cottage then flung open, and there he stood before her. His hair was darker and his skin younger, the scars fresher and the wrinkles much less prominent, but it was him, nonetheless. He slammed the door shut behind hi
m and stumbled away from the scene, falling back and tripping over the woodpile. Jessop took another step forward, watching closely as he crawled back. She studied his face as he watched the house. She had seen every angle of this memory, and watching his eyes as he took in his doing was the view she most often found herself taking in. The smoke had begun to escape the window. The roof crumbled in, disappearing in flames, and all the while, there was still a girl screaming.
She watched as he got to his feet, not seeing her, not as she was now. He could see only the child, who was making a desperate escape through the small window. He lunged right at the girl, and grabbed her small shoulders. Without hesitation, he shoved her violently back into the burning house and forced the window shut.
He stepped back so quickly, he nearly bumped into memory-travelling Jessop. Though she was certain there would be no tangible connection between herself and the memory, she sidestepped nonetheless. She watched as he raised his hands out before him, concentrating hard, using his abilities to keep the doors and windows shut, forcing the fire to rage on. A fire that, despite all of the moisture in the ground, continued to burn, thanks to his great power… and all Jessop could do was watch him and listen to the small girl trapped inside.
She took a deep breath, knowing what would happen next, what always happened next when she revisited this place.
“Hello, Hydo,” she spoke, but the younger version of the Lord didn’t hear her, of course. No matter the extent of her abilities, she couldn’t interact with the memories, she couldn’t change anything, she could just watch. At her words, the modern-day Hydo Jesuin, older and wearied, appeared at her side.
Tears were running down his cheeks and he watched the scene unfold beside her. “Why do you make me relive this day? It was the worst of my life.”
She regarded him speculatively, before turning her attention back to the fire, watching a younger Hydo burn down a younger Jessop’s home. “The worst of both of ours then. Are those tears for me?”