by Ryan Wieser
He had then told her of Hanson Knell. Hanson was as scrupulous as he was naturally suspicious. He had never taken to any women and Falco had speculated that the Councilman had no interest in any physical relationships. “He’s above it all, or at least he seems to be,” Falco had said. Jessop would not be able to rely on her physical appearance to win him over. And there were more, Falco had said—other Councilmen who harbored more disdain for women than lust.
But he for whom Falco had reserved the most vitriol was Kohl O’Hanlon, her way into the Blade. Falco had described a pious, self-satisfied sycophant, with the skill required to best most of his brethren, but never Falco. “And definitely not you; you could carve him lip to loins if you wished.” Jessop had shrugged off the sentiment—whom, aside from her own husband, could she not best with a blade?
Perhaps Hydo. The thought had crossed her mind. The man was revered, undoubtedly skilled. Jessop feared him not though. He was old, he was unsuspecting, and he had grown too comfortable in his seat of power. She imagined the Hunter Lord hadn’t even had reason to take up the blade in decades…at least not since Falco had confronted him.
“How do you know he’ll want me?” she asked, turning her mind back to Kohl O’Hanlon.
Falco lowered Jeco between them. “Because since childhood Kohl has wanted everything that is rightfully mine. The only reason he would turn his back on me as he did was so that I would be expelled from the Blade, thus clearing a path for his own success.”
She ran her fingers over Jeco’s soft head of hair, lulling the boy to sleep. “I don’t want him to want me.”
Falco rested his hand on Jeco’s small chest, looking over the sleeping boy with love. “Everything we do, we do for him now. Don’t you know that the thought of what you might have to do kills me inside? I know what this plan entails.”
“Then we can think of another plan,” she rebutted, trying to keep her voice low so as to not wake Jeco.
“I’ve tried. We have spent years thinking this through. The ruler of Daharia must hold the Daharian Blade of Light—that is what Daharians will respond to. We could rain fire and war down on the Blade—we have the armies to do just that—but it means nothing if we don’t have five living Hunters to get you or me access to that weapon.”
“What about Sentio? I could force their hands with my mind.”
“They would die in battle before letting their minds be infiltrated.”
She ran a hand through her dark hair. She knew he spoke the truth. They had contemplated every plan, they had discussed every potential eventuation, and they knew what needed to be done. This was a war that needed to be started from within the Blade, and of the two of them, she was the only one capable of getting in. She lifted her son from the bed and moved him to his bassinet. She would do anything for her family—anything to see Hydo pay. Even if it meant winning over the heart of some stranger just to break it into a thousand pieces.
* * * *
Jessop paced the room, slowly rocking Jeco back and forth in her arms. She looked into his eyes, which had only the faintest Kuroi glow, and wondered if he saw hers as only one of Kuroi lineage could. Falco had never seen her eyes glow green, though he had often said they shone with a supernatural brightness.
She could not fathom leaving her son. He was but a year and a half, he needed her, and Falco needed her too. She had been prepared to go, before. Before the pregnancy, before Jeco, before realizing that her heart lived inside the small chest of her only child.
She sensed Falco as he opened his eyes. She could feel him when they were in the same room, feet apart. They had become extensions of one another.
“Did he wake you?” he asked, scooting to the end of their bed.
She shook her head, knowing his eyes had grown keen in the darkness as well and he could see the gesture.
“Jessop, he will be safe with me. Do you think Korend’a will ever let him out of my sight, or his, for that matter?”
His voice was teasing, but he spoke the truth.
“He’s my son, Falco. How can I part from him? It’s like asking me to leave behind my heart,” she explained.
He stood and walked over to her. She watched the curve of his muscle, twisted and taut as he took each step toward her, always moving with graceful agility. Her eyes trailed up to his and her heart swelled with love and longing. He was the father of her child, the love of her life, her greatest ally. He took Jeco from her and placed him slowly back in his bassinet.
He took Jessop’s hands in his and pulled her close. “Everything you are doing is for him. You risk several months, maybe a year, of distance, to ensure a lifetime of rightful power for him. You legitimize his claim to the Daharian galaxy. You restore me to my rightful position, to prepare the Blade for Jeco one day.”
She nodded. “I know. I just feel as though my heart is breaking.”
“I will be with you every step of the way. Here,” he whispered, touching her temple softly. “And here,” he lowered his hand to her chest, holding it firmly over her heart.
She ran her hands up his chest and kissed him. His lips were warm against hers, his body emanating heat. He ran his hands through her hair and drew her closer to him. “Your bravery will change our lives, Jessop.”
She remembered the fire; its heat, its arching flames and thick smoke. “As yours once did, long ago.”
* * * *
Jessop spun Falco’s blade about her, twisting its hilt, growing comfortable with its weight. She would take his Hunter Blade with her when she left, as tangible evidence of her claims. The blade was perfect in weight and balance. She had fought with many weapons, nearly always opting for her two needle-shaped daggers, but she knew Falco’s weapon was quite special.
Falco circled her, two swords twisting in opposite directions around his body. “Every Hunter fights with a Hunter Blade. Forged by the remaining sediment of star formations, the glass is harder than any substance found in our galaxy. The blade is designed to reflect its owner—strong, capable, deadly.”
Jessop flicked the weapon about, marveling at its beauty. She had never fought with Falco’s blade. The hilt was somewhat big for her grip, but she had the strength to wield it nonetheless. The blade sung through the air and she thought of the many times she had deflected its deadly edge in their sparring sessions. She looked up from the Pit to Korend’a, who held Jeco in his arms. “What do you think, Korend’a?”
He nodded down at her approvingly. “It suits you, Oray-Ha.” Jeco struggled against Korend’a arms, growing frustrated as a spectator to his parents training. Jessop lowered the blade and crossed the Pit, knowing he needed her.
He wriggled his little hands free and held them out towards her. “Mama,” he called, and as he closed his small fingers into tight little fists, Jessop felt the Hunter’s Blade lurch free from her grip.
“Jeco, no!”
The blade flipped through the air, commanded inadvertently by Jeco. Jessop felt as though her body were draining of blood, her heart frozen, her eyes wide with horror. Suddenly, the blade froze mid-air.
Falco had his hand turned out, having taken hold of the blade, cutting through his son’s abilities. Jessop leapt in the air and grabbed the hilt, quickly sheathing the weapon. She crouched down and pushed off the onyx floor, leaping up onto the lip of the Pit to take Jeco in her arms. Korend’a quickly handed the boy to her.
She looked him over, uncertain what she thought she might find. He had never done such a thing. Sentio was something that needed to be taught and they had never…He was powerful already. Falco was at her side in an instant, examining their son with an equally critical eye.
She pulled Jeco closer to her chest as she looked to her husband. “How could he do that already?”
He was silent for a long moment, stroking Jeco’s dark hair softly. “He’s destined to rule. His abilities already showing through simply in
dicate the speed at which he will overtake even us, Jessop.”
She knew what Falco said was true, and she knew what it meant. The time had finally come. She needed to leave her son, her husband, her closest ally, and make for Azgul. If Jeco could already pull a blade free from her, there was no telling what greater abilities each day would bring. Were any outside of Aranthol to ever learn of him, they would hunt him down simply for being a Bane. Jessop couldn’t imagine the danger if Hydo learned the child of his enemy was born with such skill.
“It’s time,” she whispered, kissing Jeco’s head.
* * * *
She rested her head against Falco’s shoulder, their bodies still intertwined, slick with sweat, tender and electric all at once. Their hearts, as always, beating as one, their scars—a woven design of the letters of Jeco’s name—touching one another. She kissed his collarbone as she sat up, needing to see his face.
His gray eyes were soft and sad, framed by dark lashes. She ran her finger over the scar that cut down his face, running her thumb over his bottom lip. “Leaving you is breaking my heart,” she whispered, her voice cracking over the words.
A tear trailed down his cheek, tracing his scar. He grabbed her hand and brought it back to his mouth, kissing her fingers. “It’s killing me just to think about it.”
She cried in his arms. He held her tightly and they rocked back and forth, swaying one another into a soothed comfort. They stayed that way for many hours, declaring their love for one another again and again, whispering their despair, clinging to one another, as they always had, as they always would.
Eventually, Korend’a brought Jeco back to them. She held him the entire night, forgoing sleep, watching him as he dreamt. She had never entered her son’s mind, feeling as though it would be a betrayal, but she often pushed thoughts at him. She told him of her love for him. She showed him images of her life with Falco, she shared with him the sense of safety and protection that she had always known with his father.
“The world may say and think many things about us, about him, but we know the truth. We know one another,” she had told him. She knew Jeco was born into a time where Falco Bane was the most feared man in Daharia. She knew that if they stayed in Aranthol for all of their lives, not only would they be forgoing their rightful positions of power, but they would be raising their son amidst the constant lies, gossip, and ridicule. If Jessop did not act now, Jeco would be regarded as the dangerous son of a traitor, instead of the rightful successor to the Daharian Blade of Light, born to the most skilled Hunter to ever live. She had the opportunity to correct the narrative of his future, if she were to act while he was still young. Leaving broke her heart, but it secured his future.
* * * *
Jessop hugged Korend’a tightly, “Had’away hei,” she whispered, telling him to watch over Jeco.
Slowly, he released her. “Baruk, Oray-Ha,” he offered with a tight smile. It was late in the night and they stood at the far edge of the city. The Soar-Craft was small but well-engineered, prepared for her to travel the distance to Azgul without needing to stop.
She kissed her son once more, holding his sleeping body tight against hers. “I love you with all that I am,” she whispered. She handed him to Korend’a, certain she could feel the fibers of her heart tearing. She told herself she was doing this for him; again and again she whispered the mantra inside her head.
Falco pulled her into his arms, holding her firmly against his chest. She felt with each heaving movement that he was forcing back tears. They had always been with one another, always lived as one, since Hydo had set everything into motion so many years ago. She needed him as he needed her.
“You are everything to me,” he whispered.
She kissed him. She ran her hands over his short hair and around his shoulders. She touched his face and chest and hugged him tightly. She kissed his neck and mouth and felt the fire of despair rising up in her throat.
“It’s always been you, Falco. It will always be you. No matter what.”
He nodded, his eyes dark with tears. “Do what you must.”
CHAPTER 10
Azgul
Present-day
Jessop embraced Dezane, holding him tightly in her arms, trying to focus on the reunification instead of on the unyielding stare she felt from Mar’e. In her periphery she saw the woman, her old friend, greet Falco.
“You grew into the scar.” She smiled, bowing her head low to him.
He offered her a small smile and gestured to her weapon, “I remember your dislike for all things grotesque. I must admit I am surprised to see the path you have clearly chosen.”
She rested her slender fingers on the hilt of her short sword. “This is a different time. The Kuroi have no issue with women taking up arms.”
Falco inclined his head. “I said I was surprised by your choice—not the Kuroi’s.”
Before the two could speak further, Dezane released Jessop from her embrace, turning to Falco. The two took arms, embracing quickly. “Dezane DeHawn, you are most welcome in the Red City,” Falco smiled.
Dezane nodded slowly, looking up at the Blade. “Words I never thought I would hear before meeting you, young Falco.”
As they spoke, Jessop turned to Mar’e. Her young friend was no longer quite so young. Of course, just like Jessop, she had grown up. She was undeniably striking, with full lips and arched brows. She wore her ochre robes fitted and donning a weapon somehow suited her—regardless of however capable she may have been with it. But Jessop saw the same look, the one that had been there in childhood. Mar’e regarded her with contest in her eyes, forever viewing Jessop as competition instead of comrade. She could see it in the way she stood so near to Falco, in the way she had positioned herself in Dezane’s life—Mar’e was as ambitious as ever. Jessop knew she must have become quite skilled in either spear or speech to have come to be in Dezane’s favor.
Jessop offered a brief embrace to her old friend. “Mar’e Makenen, I am…surprised.”
Mar’e looked her over with surprising warmth, squeezing her tightly despite the briefness of their embrace, and for a moment, Jessop felt remiss for dismissing her old friend as unchanged in her youthful malevolence. “Jessop Jero, the years have been good to you.”
Jessop brought her hand to her hip, flashing her black wedding band. “It’s Jessop Bane.”
Mar’e smiled, “Of course. I had heard as much.”
Jessop instinctively took a step closer to Falco. “And it is still Mar’e Makenen, is it not?”
The woman’s smile faded. “Yes. Still Makenen. My time training and serving Dezane has kept me quite busy. Too busy for concerns about a wedding ceremony or children.”
Jessop smiled as her friend smiled. She kept her tone light, as Mar’e did, but she knew the other woman was taking a jab at her. Mar’e was certainly unchanged, but little did she know Jessop was an entirely different person from the girl she had once known.
* * * *
Jessop had bombarded Dezane with questions as they made their way up the Blade and towards the Assembly Council room. While she and Dezane conversed in Kuroi, Mar’e held Falco’s ear in the common tongue, asking him almost as much as Jessop asked Dezane.
“Baruk, we always knew this day would come. The Kuroi have never lost faith in Falco,” Dezane answered as they turned down another glass corridor.
“Never,” Mar’e was quick to add, smiling to Falco. Falco remained silent, his eyes catching Jessop’s. She’s unchanged, Jessop pushed the thought his way. He inclined his head ever so slightly in agreement.
Jessop had to admit the Kuroi elder, dressed in his warrior garb, looked out of place in the modern environment of the Blade. She knew he would have new attire waiting for him in his room, as all his troops would in their tower. Their robes would not suffice for the weather in the Red City; though not cold, it was not the warmth they
were accustomed to beyond the Grey.
“Father,” Trax’s voice startled Jessop, drawing her gaze forward. Trax stood several inches taller than most men, but his wide eyes, the way in which his mouth remained slightly parted as he stared at his father, presented him in a youthful light. Jeco was asleep in his strong arms, his small head resting peacefully against the Hunter. She approached her friend and took her son from his arms, quickly stepping out of the way and allowing for Trax to embrace his father. They embraced tightly for a long minute, releasing one another with reluctance. She knew the father and son should speak in private. Meeting with the Assembly Council could wait.
“Falco, Trax can show Dezane and Mar’e to their quarters. Why don’t we reconvene for supper?”
Falco walked around the Kuroi elder and took his place at her side. “I agree. Dezane, it is most excellent to have you in the Blade. Trax, Mar’e, we will see you shortly.”
Mar’e bowed her head low but kept her eyes on Falco. Dezane smiled warmly, but Jessop could see the exhaustion in the older man’s face. He had traveled far and would need rest. Tonight, they would regain their strength; tomorrow, they would strategize a new future for Daharia.
* * * *
“She likes you,” Jessop spoke quietly as she lowered Jeco into his bed.
She turned from the sleeping boy and found Falco undressing. He pulled his tunic off, revealing his body of silver scars. Muscle built upon scar, scar built upon muscle. He continued to undress as he made his way to the bathing chamber.
“Falco.” She pressed, following him.
He adjusted the water. “Yes?”
“I said she likes you.”
He stepped under the heavy downpour. “Who?”
Jessop leaned against the doorway, her arms crossed over her chest. “What do you mean who? Mar’e. She couldn’t take her eyes off you.”
Falco ran his hands through his wet hair. He tilted his head back and let the water rush over his face. When he looked at her, water droplets clung to his dark lashes. “She likes antagonizing you, as she did when you were younger. It had nothing to do with me then, it has nothing to do with me now.”