by Ryan Wieser
Korend’a had kissed both of her cheeks upon handing her to Falco. “Ura kora daneha, Jessop.” He had told her she was most beautiful.
She squeezed his hand tightly. “Sevos, Korend’a.”
Falco looked at her from head to toe. Slowly, he grazed her lips with his thumb. “You are a Night Queen.”
Corin had provided them a formal ceremony, despite the late hour. He spoke to them of their commitments and their bond, to their shared life story. He told them a history of the marriage bond and even performed portions of the ceremony in perfect Kuroi tongue. He then gave them an opportunity to speak.
Falco smiled at her softly. “My entire life, I had been alone in my mind and in my heart, in my abilities and in my day to day living. I was told that I was the only one like me, and, in truth, I was devastated to hear it. Then I met you. I met you and you resided instantly in my heart—for you were my match in every way. Even before you ever wielded a blade or pushed a thought, my soul recognized yours, and I simply knew who you were, and who you would become. I knew instantly who I would be for having you at my side. I knew I’d be whatever you needed; I would be whomever you wanted.
“From the first, I would have laid down my life for you. You have been my lifeline to a world that told me I had none of my kind to know. You have been what no other could be—my equal. Whatever you choose to do with your life, do so knowing you have my love and protection. My heart, my life, and my blade, are yours.”
Jessop squeezed his hands tightly, suppressing the tears his words brought forward in her. She knew he had never spoken so candidly in front of Corin and Korend’a, or any other. She smiled at him softly. “Falco…I feel like we have already shared a lifetime. We met as children, and despite our young ages, you were never a child. You saved me, again and again. And while I loved you for that, you truly won my heart when you taught me how to save myself. You saw in me more than who I was; you saw who I would be. The day I lost my first family, I gained my second.
“You didn’t just save my life, Falco; you gave it meaning. Loving you kept me sane. In a world where all was lost, we found each other. I loved you then, I love you still, and I will love you always. In a world on fire, we found our solace in the Shadows.”
Falco mouthed the words I love you back to her. With their vows complete, Corin instructed them to swap wedding bands. Korend’a handed her the one they had chosen from the market—a simple black band. She turned, ready to place it on Falco’s finger, when she saw a dazzling stone in his hand. The ring was made up of a giant, shining black stone, surrounded by weaving ropes of white crystals. It was beautiful. He opened his other palm and revealed a simpler band, made of black crystal. “For easier day to day wear,” he smiled.
They dressed one another’s fingers in the jewelry. Corin smiled at them both. “In this life and the next, you are now paired. Never before have I known two so destined to live as one.”
CHAPTER 7
Azgul
Present-day
“Even with only half the army arriving from Aranthol, that’s still thousands more than Hydo and Hanson can muster,” Jessop spoke, looking over the large map Falco had laid out before them.
He readjusted Jeco on his hip. Their son was still most at ease with his father, but he would bring his toys to Jessop in the evenings and talk with her. He remembered her; he was just slow to trust her again. “We don’t know that. Who really knows how many remain loyal to him, despite our presence in the Blade?”
Urdo Rendo placed his hand down on the table, his eyes darting over the map slowly. “Daharia is home to hundreds of thousands…Nearly a third of the population is Kuroi, and even if they are far out beyond the Grey, we can count on them. Hydo has spent his tenure here in the Red City, infrequently leaving its borders after you—err—left.” When no one spoke at Urdo’s words, he continued on.
“I wager the majority of his allies are here, or in surrounding regions. Many in Haycith, his home…but after the display you two put on here, word is out. Everyone knew Falco was heir apparent before, but no one knew what you could do,” he explained, eyeing Jessop with equal parts fear and admiration.
Falco stood up straight, placing Jeco down on the table. “They’ve seen nothing yet. Jessop is singular.”
She reached for Jeco’s hand, smiling as he grabbed hold of her finger. They had spent days discussing battle tactics, fielding reports from the scouts who hunted for Hydo, Hanson, and Kohl, strategizing and trying to find out what their rogue enemies had planned. It consumed them all—having taken the Blade, they now needed to keep it, and trying to gauge where the loyalties of a nation lay was near impossible. Yet this was not all that was on Jessop’s mind.
When she wasn’t trying to figure out where Kohl O’Hanlon was and what he was plotting, she thought only of Jeco. His safety meant everything to her. Ensuring the security of the Blade was paramount, but no matter how many guards stood watch, she could not leave Jeco alone. He had to always be with Falco, herself, or Trax. More than anything, she wished Korend’a could join them in the Blade, but he was governing Aranthol in Falco’s absence. He was whom they trusted most with their son and their city.
“Certainly,” Urdo agreed. Jessop found the older man’s eyes on her, narrow with curiosity.
She did not blame him. She had lived amongst the Hunters for quite a time, convincing them daily she was skilled only in blade and not in Sentio, only for them to see what was likely the greatest demonstration of Sentio in all their lives the day Falco arrived. They did not trust her. While they swore allegiance to Falco out of a belief that he was the true Lord of Daharia, a conviction based on memories of his childhood abilities and shared history with Hydo, they did not swear that same allegiance to her. Falco had never lied about his skills or intentions—Jessop had.
“And have we any news on our missing brother?” Falco pressed, referring to Kohl.
Urdo exhaled slowly, bad news travelling on his deep breath. “Nothing. Trax said there have been whisperings, beyond the Grey—some well-known mercenaries spotted traveling together. But no sightings of O’Hanlon.”
Jessop watched the way Urdo spoke to Falco. She didn’t blame the brothers who stayed for trusting Falco—but their trust in him did not earn her trust in them. She had no brethren, she had no army. She had wronged many, more than just Kohl, and she possessed neither the time nor constitution required to make all the necessary amends.
“They’ll be arriving by end of day,” Urdo spoke, his words pulling her back.
Falco nodded slowly. “Is their camp ready? And do we have enough provisions?”
Urdo seemed to be performing calculations in his mind. “Camp is ready…As long as half your army stays in Aranthol, yes, we should be fine for several months at least.”
Jessop flicked her gaze between the two, trying to discern whom they spoke of. Falco turned to her. “You’ll want to be there when they arrive, I imagine?”
She chewed the inside of her lip, embarrassed to have lost track of his conversation. Before she could answer though, he spoke again. “I hear Dezane will be bringing them in. It will be wonderful getting to see him after such a long time.”
Jessop smiled, realizing who was arriving in the Red City. Perhaps she had been wrong; she did have more allies than she thought. She had the Kuroi.
* * * *
The camp was quite unlike anything Jessop had ever seen before. Behind the Blade stood two towering buildings with few to no finished walls, simply stone floor after stone floor—a docking station for public Soar-Craft. Falco had commissioned new docking stations to be built south of the Blade and commandeered the current ones for his camp. Without any real solid walls, one could see thousands of canvas tents neatly arranged in rows on each open floor. Falco’s army had taken over one tower already. There were multiple levitating platforms permanently located outside each floor of each tower, and on th
e ground below. All that was required was to step onto the platform and utilize a lever to be taken up or down.
As they traveled up the tower, Jessop’s eyes flicked over the soldiers. Even though they were her husband’s army, Jessop knew they were an unsavory folk; a mess of men, creatures, and machines. Most of them had been hunted or had bounties on their head. They stuck largely to their subgroups, which were defined by illicit profession or region, and there was often intergroup fighting and killing. But they had two things in common; they were all indebted to Falco, and they all had a penchant for violence. They were a formidable army that could be led by one and one alone.
“The Kuroi will not want to associate with them,” Jessop spoke, looking up to Falco as they traveled higher up the side of the tower.
The Kuroi were a distinguished people. They abstained from drink and activities of ill repute. A highly select and proud tribe, with ancient traditions and skilled fighters. Jessop knew she held a bias towards them—they were her first family, and she shared their blood—but she did not speak out of bias; the Kuroi wouldn’t wish to reside with Falco’s army.
Falco kept his eyes trained forward, assessing his troops as they passed. “Hence the second tower.”
She did not know if it would be enough to simply keep their quarters apart. Or if that was any real solution at all…They were expected to fight together, but couldn’t live or train together. “They need common ground, Falco, if we expect them to fight side by side.”
He looked down to her. “They have it. You, myself, Jeco. We are their common ground. You are of the Kuroi, as I am of my army; Jeco is of them both. They will fight for their rightful leader.”
She nodded. “Fight, I am certain they will. It’s cohabitation I am less convinced of.”
“Like I said, two towers.”
* * * *
Jessop walked at Falco’s side, halting their conversation every so often as he stopped to greet members of his army. They had established their encampments throughout the tower, and Jessop was unsurprised to find many had already formed tents for gambling, drinking, and trade. It was simply their way.
She grew weary of their walk through the tower, her mind set on the arrival of the Kuroi. She could not push him on though. Falco had forged an army from nothing, he had earned the respect of all those who followed him, and he would not disregard their loyal presence in Azgul. She watched as he embraced a soldier with curls of dark hair and one dark eye, a man Jessop did not recognize. The man’s leathers were worn, but not cheap, and his skin was marked with many scars and many ink drawings. She carried on down the rows of tents. Many inclined their heads to her as she passed, recognizing her and all she had accomplished on behalf of their leader. Some simply stared, confused by her presence. Jessop was accustomed to both forms of regard; she was a woman in a world of men.
As Falco fell back in stride beside her, she spoke. “How much longer until the Kuroi arrive?”
“The streets will be cleared for their arrival at sunset,” he answered, waving to a passing combatant.
Jessop nodded. “Good.” She pictured Dezane’s face in her mind. It had been too long since she had spoken with the man who helped change her and Falco’s lives. He was as much a parent to them both as any could be from a distance. Though he did not raise them in the traditional sense, he had guided them throughout the years. His presence, and that of his warriors, would be of great comfort to her, as Korend’a and Trax’s presence had always been. Even if one could not immediately tell she was of their people, for she did not have the dark skin of the desert tribes, she had their eyes, their dark hair, their culture, and their language.
Falco flashed his gaze down to her as they walked on. “Once everyone is settled, we will need to discuss who is fit to become a Hunter.”
Jessop stopped walking, grabbing his wrist to halt him. “What are you talking about?”
He smiled over her shoulder, acknowledging another comrade, before turning his gaze back to her. “We need to fill the ranks, Jessop. We lost many disloyal Hunters the day we took the Blade.”
His voice was soft and low, and he spoke to her as if his claim was obvious. She had spent several hours walking about a militia of the most dangerous men in Daharia, waiting for an army of one of the oldest tribes in their galaxy. Skilled fighters, experts in their craft, menacing and capable, regardless of whether they were of the Kuroi or Falco’s outcasts. None of which made them Hunters, however.
“Falco, Hunters are trained from birth. Sentio cannot be learned after adolescence. You know, better than most, that none here are destined to be Hunters.”
He cocked his head at her, his gray eyes unblinking. “Are you suggesting the Hunters are superior to everyone else who follows us?”
She thought on his words. “Not superior. But not the same either.”
He crossed his arms. “You became a Hunter. The first woman to ever do so.”
“Yes, I did, but can you choose any man here— or in Dezane’s army— who could best me in a fight?”
He stared at her with frustration. “Jessop.”
“You can’t, can you? Because you know what it takes to become an Infinity Hunter is not what it takes to be a soldier. Hunters are something different.”
He nodded at her slowly. “Maybe that was true before, but we need to be inclusive now. This is a new dawn for Hunters.”
She grabbed his arm and brought him closer to her, needing to keep her voice low. “Falco, you cannot take thousands of the most dangerous men in Daharia and tell them they now are the enforcers of the law—they cannot have that kind of trust or power.”
He narrowed his eyes at her. “And what of the Kuroi? Such a noble people, surely they are worthy of the title?”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “However noble, they do not simply inherit the Hunter title because we took the Blade. I agree with you that we need to fill the ranks once again, and I believe that there may be some throughout your army and some throughout the tribe that could wear the sigil, but we cannot simply title all of these men Hunters. It would be a dangerous move. Disrespectful to those Hunters who chose to stay with you, and disingenuous to all those who have come to follow you.”
His eyes softened. He exhaled slowly, running a hand over his dark hair. “You’re right. Everyone needs to get settled first and we will figure the rest out soon enough.”
She smiled softly up to him, taking his hand back in hers. Falco could be rushed in his decision-making; he had a notorious temper that was not restrained by contemplative thought. She knew, though, that when presented with sound reasoning, he could be swayed. If not by Corin, Korend’a, or Dezane, then by her. She always had his ear.
“I heard news of something,” he spoke, his tone already lighter.
They turned back to their walk, weaving through tents and smiling at passing soldiers. “Oh?”
He glanced down to her. “Dezane DeHawn will be arriving with an old friend of yours.”
* * * *
As Falco had said, the streets had been cleared, but that did not stop the Azguli from finding ways to watch the arrival of the Kuroi warriors. Men, women, and children sat perched in windowsills, lined up on levitating fueling station pads, peeking out of doors, and watching from rooftops. As the red sky shone more brilliantly—their version of a sunset—the Kuroi arrived. They had come on Soar-Craft, but the vessels had landed outside the city limits. The warriors walked through the twisted apricot stone streets, a haze of red dust gathering at their leather-sandaled feet. Before you could see them, you could hear them.
When the Kuroi warriors marched, they sang their battle songs. Thousands of men huffing heavily, their combined breaths sounding like a great, dangerous beast, a predator approaching. Every so often, one would sing out in the Kuroi tongue.
“Far’a harana, vande far’a sei, far’a daku, vande far’a
sei.” Jessop closed her eyes, listening to the call. For the fight, we come for you, for the death, we come for you. There was no doubt that their music was menacing—she could imagine the fear thousands of Azguli felt hearing it for the first time—but to Jessop, it was beautiful. For others, this war song meant death; for Jessop, it meant the arrival of her kind.
She stood with Falco, Trax, Urdo, and a handful of others on the lowest terrace in the Blade. Jeco was on her hip, listening keenly to the war song. She held him tightly, “Far’a harana, vande far’a sei, far’a daku, vande far’a sei,” she sang. He listened intently, his gray eyes wide with interest. He understood many words in Kuroi, having been spoken to in the tribal tongue often since his birth, and it was Jessop’s intent that he would feel as at peace with their people as she did. When he heard the war song, he would not feel fear but security, knowing his people came to him.
She looked out to the street, watching as the band of warriors appeared amidst the metal and stone buildings. Their dark skin glistened under the red sky, mahogany markings painted over their bodies, disappearing under their ochre-dyed robes. Some held giant shields made of hide, some had their spears—ranging from five to ten feet in length—in hand, others kept them strapped to their backs. Some carried short, thick blades, sheathed in oiled leather around their hips. Their dark hair was braided back, their eyes narrowed on the path ahead as they chanted. They moved as a single unit, singing, breathing, marching, as one.
And leading them was none other than Dezane DeHawn—Trax’s father. Dezane seemed unchanged to her. His hair was braided back and his body was also covered in the ochre war paint. His green eyes shone brilliant as ever. His body, though much older than all who marched in tow with him, was still in equal form—strong and sinewy. He was as tall as Jessop remembered, and his shoulders still kept tightly back with every proud step. Despite his age, he was stronger than all those he marched with, and all those who watched him. Dezane had one of the strongest minds in Daharia, fortified by years of meditation and practice; it was near impenetrable. While his body could be seized by another’s Sentio, his mind could not.