The Shadow City

by Ryan Wieser

  Jessop felt at odds with his words. She knew them to be true; Falco was the most capable warrior in all of Daharia, and coupled with his inherent bravery, he seemed truly fearless. But he had not lost the sense of feeling the way Jessop had. Somewhere in Daharia, Falco had a family, he had men to lead, and he had connections with people and places. Jessop had only Falco and Jeco. He feared more than his wife, for he had so much more to lose.

  She turned from him, letting her gaze fall to Jeco. “You were born to live with great responsibility, Falco. Of all the things you must occupy your mind with, do not let me be one of them. Battle approaches the Red City too, and you must keep our son safe.”

  He ran his hand over her back, both of them watching as Jeco levitated his sword in the air, captivated by his own abilities. “It’s not just you I fear for. It’s Aranthol, our people, this war that is looming…So many will die, and it will be my fault.”

  At his words she turned back to him. “That is a lie. It’s the fault of Hydo and Hanson. Of Kohl. You gave them every opportunity to submit. Whatever deaths occur, the blood is on their hands.”

  At his silence, she took his hand in hers once more. “As for Aranthol, and our people, have a little faith.”

  His gray eyes studied her face. “In what?”

  She cocked her head to him, as if the answer were obvious. “In me, my love.”

  * * * *

  Jessop spent the night holding Jeco as he slept. She could not believe that after such a short reunion they once again would be separated. She couldn’t imagine him in the Blade as a battle was fought in the streets of the Red City. She couldn’t imagine him being anywhere near a battle, especially in her absence. For all of the fear she had ceased experiencing in her day-to-day life, she felt it for Jeco tenfold.

  She did not stir as Falco roped his arms around her, his head peering over her shoulder to gaze on Jeco. “It is my fault you must be separated again,” he whispered. His voice was quiet and low, filled with sadness.

  She rocked her son slowly, keeping his small body tight against hers. “It’s not. What we do we do for the destiny of our family—for your reign, and for his.”

  “I know. We fight these wars so that he won’t have to, so that he can inherit the Blade of Light without question when the time comes.”

  She turned her face slowly, grazing her cheek against his. “Like you should have been able to. I look forward to few things, Falco, but seeing Hydo Jesuin bleed out is one of them.”

  At her words, she laid Jeco down in his bed. He knew of their world, but he was still so young, and she wanted to shield him from all the darkness she could, for as long as possible; even the darkness that filled her and Falco.

  Falco ran his hands down her arms. Taking her small fingers in his, he led her out of Jeco’s attached room and back to their own chamber. “Hydo’s blood will stain your blade before this war is over.”

  She smiled in the darkness, running her hands over his chest. “Tell me what you look forward to.” Her voice was an order, filled with tension and longing.

  Slowly, Falco ran his hands over her shoulders and under her neck, brushing her long mane of hair away from her skin. His fingers pulled at her tunic and she raised her arms, allowing him to remove it. “I look forward to my wife returning from battle.”

  Their mouths locked instantly, hands roaming over one another, pulling clothes away, exploring the territory they were both so familiar with. As they fell to their bed, Jessop pushed her breast against him, his hands warm on her hips, their matching J scars lining up perfectly.

  * * * *

  They had left early, when the red sky was still a dusky crimson and few were in the streets. Several of the largest Soar-Craft the Hunters kept in their fleet carried them to Bareduk, the nearest weigh-station to Aranthol. From there, they would travel on foot for one night before reaching the Shadow City. Dezane, Trax, Falco, and Jeco had seen them off. Jeco had cried, finally understanding, with a child’s sense of urgency, that she was leaving again. It had broken her heart to walk away from him, hearing his muffled sobs against Falco’s neck. She had told herself again and again—she did this for him.

  “That’s why Hunters don’t have families,” Urdo had said, leading the way onto the Soar-Craft. She had shot him an icy glare, warning him off the topic, but she knew he meant no insult. She also knew he was right. It was selfish to lead the lives they led with children. Her situation was different though—she had never dreamed of becoming a Hunter, she had never thought she would have the child of the true leader of Daharia, a boy so powerful he lived without equal. She had been forced onto this path—by Hydo. He had taken her family, he had betrayed Falco, he had ensured that all of this would come to fruition.

  “What would happen?” Urdo’s voice wrenched Jessop back to the present. She turned in her canvas-covered seat to face him.

  He cleared his throat. “What would happen if I tried to enter your mind? I’ve never seen anyone so stuck with their thoughts.”

  She eyed him slowly. He was being serious and it did not surprise her. The Hunters had discovered much about her, but not all, and it left them curious. “Feel free to try.”

  She didn’t move, she didn’t sit up or brace herself. She knew that if Hydo couldn’t trespass her mind, if Falco couldn’t find a thought she did not want him to find, then none could. Perhaps Jeco, one day. She felt the strong pressure against her temples as he fixed his stare on her. She could tell instantly that he was a master of Sentio. His mind found perfect focus on hers, and were she anyone else, she knew her walls would fall under his fixed gaze rapidly, and everything inside her would lay vulnerable to him. But she was not any other, and her walls would not fall. She felt the pressure of his attempts and nothing more.

  She watched his eyes narrow, she could sense his blood pulsing, a vein protruding from under his brow. He strained, while resistance was easy for her. Suddenly, she bolted up in her seat. She leaned forward, grabbing his hands with hers, fixing her stare upon him. She pushed back and while he was quick to resist, he could not keep her out. He had a strong mind, surprisingly unweakened by age or drink, and she knew he would be a formidable target for any other. She broke through his walls with ease, though, and found herself walking through his recent memories. Drinking in a tavern in the Red City, training a class of young Hunters, polishing his blade. She did not search for more, for she was not interested in unveiling his secrets or betraying his privacy—she simply performed a demonstration of her abilities.

  She released her hold on him, leaning back in her seat. He stared at her, unblinking, clearly shaken. “Not even Hydo can enter our minds like that.”

  She nodded. “I know.”

  “Falco?”

  She nodded.

  “And your boy?”

  She turned back to him. “Jeco has little understanding of his abilities, though Falco and I are certain they are already destined to outshine ours. He can move blades with his mind and he is barely two years of age.”

  Urdo shook his head, leaning back in his seat. “It amazes me that Hydo knew, all these years, the truth. He deceived us.”

  She studied his face, intrigued by his admission. “Not all view his actions as deception apparently. Hanson and Kohl, many of the others—they heard the truth and still they left.”

  Urdo stared straight ahead, his eyes seeming to recall an old memory. “Falco Bane was a terrifying boy, you have to understand that.”

  Jessop shot him an angry glare. He raised his fingers lightly, as if to show he meant no harm. When she readjusted in her seat, relaxing ever so slightly, he continued to speak.

  “We were all skilled, we were all told at one stage or another that we might be the next Lord. We all came to learn we wouldn’t be, in the Hollow, during the rite of passage—earlier for some. But Falco—he was just different. Hydo brought him to the Blade, this sma
ll boy with dark hair and eyes that just pierced you. He was a reluctant Hunter recruit, but not out of fear—out of boredom. He was better than his peers on day one, he surpassed senior students with ease, and soon he could only train with fully-fledged Hunters.

  “He spoke to few, aside from O’Hanlon. As they became teenagers, Falco grew cocky. He knew he was the best, and we, on the Council, knew he would be the one to take over from Hydo. He was the most gifted we had ever seen. He was arrogant and frustrated—nothing left to learn, no one left to challenge him. He picked fights and got in trouble on a daily basis. It wasn’t just the other recruits he messed with—he taunted Hunters and Councilmen alike. No one could touch him.

  “When Hydo came back from beyond the Grey, he told us Falco had gone rogue. He said the boy had finally snapped—killing a poor country family in a fire. Falco showed up not long after, wild-eyed, demanding the Blade. He attacked Hydo and we did what we thought was right—we defended the Lord. It had all seemed to make sense—many of us had thought Falco was headed toward a dark path, too powerful for his own good. We had no clue…

  “O’Hanlon was unlucky enough to get in the way. Falco carved him up nicely, all the while calling him a traitor—all of us were betraying him, in his mind.”

  Jessop couldn’t help but interrupt. “You were betraying him.”

  “Well, we didn’t know that, did we? We thought he had snapped, that he had to be killed, and if any of us had been capable of it, he would have been. O’Hanlon got him pretty good, but only because Falco was hesitant to kill him. We thought maybe he would succumb to the wound…It wasn’t long until we heard of the construction of a city, fortified by mage magic, being built by the most dangerous boy any had ever seen.”

  Jessop nodded slowly to the old Hunter. It was odd for her to hear about Falco from someone who had known him so well in childhood. She had met Falco as a young adolescent boy, and he had been arrogant, but not without reason. It had never bothered her, for she knew his plight—he felt entirely alone in the world.

  “I understand how we all came to be where we are. What I do not understand is why Kohl, Hanson, and the others are still supporting Hydo.”

  Urdo fixed his stare on her. “There is much you don’t know about Hanson Knell…War, killing—it impacts everyone differently. Hanson went to a dark place once, a very dark place, and Hydo brought him back into the fold, forgiving him all his trespasses. Knell owes Hydo his loyalty.”

  Jessop wanted to know more, but knew better than to press the subject. She remembered what Falco had said to her, and what she had seen herself of Hanson; he did not indulge in any vices and showed no interests outside of Kohl. She would find out more about the old Hunter in time. “And Kohl?”

  Urdo practically scoffed. “O’Hanlon didn’t choose Hydo over Falco, he chose Hydo over you. You broke his heart. Humiliated him. How could he stay and serve under Falco all the while longing for you?”

  Jessop shifted in her seat uncomfortably. “He could have tried. He knew what the right thing to do was.”

  Urdo laughed softly. “Jessop, I mean no disrespect, for I follow you into battle wholeheartedly and I follow Falco without question, but what do you really know about right and wrong? You’re the wife of a warlord—I couldn’t fathom how many have died on your blade. You betrayed a man who loved you; you killed, lied, and deceived to be where you are now.”

  Jessop felt her skin tingle, angered by his words—however true they were. “Hydo forced Falco and me into these lives. We had no choice but to become who we are today.”

  Urdo cocked his head at her, skeptical. “Didn’t you? You’re not the first people to lose your families, Jessop.”

  She turned away from him. Sentio or not, his ability to work his way into her mind wounded her.

  CHAPTER 13

  Bareduk was unchanged—a small, barren town on the outskirts of nothing. They landed in the dark, and disembarked swiftly. A small unit would be left behind to guard the Soar-Craft, but everyone else would make for Aranthol on foot with Jessop. Jessop studied the dark horizon, knowing that while Bareduk had not changed, she had. When she had last passed through the weigh station, she had been the wife of Falco Bane—now she was something much more. She led an army, and she was acknowledged as a powerful warrior—great enough to be a Hunter, to be much more than a Hunter. She had sought revenge and initiated a war that the whole of Daharia whispered about.

  “Should we not make camp for the evening? It has been a long journey already,” Mar’e suggested. Jessop didn’t turn to her, instead keeping her gaze on the surrounding hills. She thought of Korend’a and knew that if they began their march now, they could be in Aranthol by morning. “No, we go now.”

  “But—”

  At her rebuttal, Jessop snapped her gaze to the woman. Mar’e was silenced. Slowly, she turned from Jessop, and made her way back to the Soar-Craft to prepare. She knew they had travelled far, she knew the trip had been long already, but Korend’a had feared falling to Kohl’s advances days ago—who knew what state he, and Aranthol, would be in by the morning.

  * * * *

  The army moved with ease through the darkness, with eyes like her own, adept for such settings. Urdo struggled the most, if he struggled at all. He moved with determination and experience, for he had led many battles. Jessop knew it best to focus only on Aranthol and Korend’a, but her mind wandered. She thought of Jeco and Falco, of Hanson’s army, and of Kohl. Her hand danced over her abdomen as she saw his golden eyes in her mind.

  She thought of the time they had spent together. She had remembered crying in his arms, winning him over with her supposed fear of his mentors. He had held her tightly, kissed her deeply, had whispered to her, “You’re with me now. I won’t let them hurt you again.”

  She thought of the way he saw her then and the way he saw her that day on the terrace. She remembered the look in his eyes, the confusion and the heartbreak. He had loved her, and she had destroyed him. She remembered the hatred in his voice as he had pierced her with the very blade he had designed for her. The blade she would take into battle against him. She wished that all she could remember was the last of their moments together; it would make hating him so much easier.

  She remembered the taste of his lips, though, she remembered the way he had held her body close to his, she remembered how it felt to be wanted by him, loved by him. She remembered being surprised by his experience, the way he had kissed her neck and held her in his arms. She remembered hating herself—for caring for him when she loved Falco, for feeling like she betrayed them both. In truth, she felt it still, despite Falco’s instructions for her—she had harmed both the men who loved her.

  “You fear seeing him again?” Mar’e spoke, intuitive even without the abilities of Sentio.

  Jessop kept her eyes trained forward, forcing foot after foot in the unforgiving sand. “I fear no one.”

  “There is a difference between fearing no fight and fearing no person, Jessop.”

  Jessop narrowed her eyes as a strong wind brought the sand up around them. They moved through the natural chaos silently, and when it abated, she glanced in the darkness to Mar’e. “Fear is fear. I have none for Kohl O’Hanlon.”

  “Would it be easier for you if he were dead?”

  Jessop was somewhat taken aback by the question. It seemed unnatural, despite their ways, to discuss the notion of death with such ease. Unnatural did not mean untrue, though. She thought of her old friend’s question. She had voiced it many times in the previous weeks—she did not believe Kohl deserved to die. Not for his attempt on her life, nor for his betrayal of Falco.

  She thought of the feelings she had for him, however different they were from what she had for Falco, and she wished more than anything that they could be gone. She felt anger towards him, for being so gullible and reckless with his heart, for falling for her ruse so easily. She wanted to blame hi
m for his heartbreak, despite knowing the fault lay solely with herself. She hated herself for caring about him, because it was an insult to her husband. She hated that Kohl knew of her what only Falco had ever known. Kohl was a living reminder of her great success against the Blade, which happened to also be the greatest mistake she had ever made. Perhaps, in truth, that was why she struggled so greatly. She had won her husband his throne, but at such a steep price it made her question herself. She could not help but wonder whether, if Kohl were dead, it would perhaps be easier to move on.

  She thought of Urdo, though, and all he had said on their journey. She blamed Hydo for the life she led as she blamed Kohl for falling in love with her so easily. Jessop knew, though, that she was responsible for her own actions, and accepting that meant living with the guilt of her mistakes. She walked on a path created for her, but she did so without guidance. She felt amazed and horrified by her own abilities—she had become the sort of fighter who could contemplate living with the guilt of killing just to abate another, prior shame. Jessop had never been apologetic for who she was—all of Daharia feared Falco, but she felt as though, despite his actions, she knew him. Really knew him. In such a way that she could disconnect the man from the reputation, the boy she loved from the greatest dark leader Daharia had ever seen. In the same breath, she had begun to separate herself from her own actions, perhaps wrongly attributing them to the situation, and not the person.

  She closed her eyes against the rising sands, and saw him. His golden mane, his silver star-shaped scar, his perfect hazel eyes. She saw him smile at her, a memory that tore at her heart. “No. It would not be easier for me if he were to die.”

  * * * *

  They set up camp two miles out from the Aranthol gates, where the sky still shone light in the day and turned dark only at night. As the Kuroi rested, Jessop kept her eyes on the Aranthol region. All the territory that belonged to her and Falco could be distinguished by the sky. The Shadow City never experienced daylight—a blanket of constant night rested above it, extending a mile out around its perimeter. She noticed how Urdo stared at the border, where the mystical sky met the normal one, and where a belt of lighting formed the border in the clouds.