The Shadow City

by Ryan Wieser

  “He did this all for you,” he whispered, shaking his head at the spectacle. Jessop looked upon the far-off city warmly, with its perpetual night, and smiled. Falco had reshaped nature just for her. There was nothing they wouldn’t do for one another—whether it was to create a forever night, or break another’s heart.

  Mar’e appeared at her side. “The scouts have returned; they found no armies dwelling outside your city walls.”

  Urdo crossed his arms over his broad chest. “Which means they reside within Aranthol already.”

  Jessop knew she could lead an attack now. She expected the same of Urdo, but less so of the Kuroi. However capable, they needed their rest before entering battle. “We attack at dawn.”

  * * * *

  Jessop woke before the milky sky broke light, her eyes fixed to the blanket of darkness over her city. Slowly, silent and ready, the Kuroi rose. They painted their faces with ochre and water, but they would not sing their war chant—this attack required stealth. They would descend on the Shadow City in silence.

  Jessop led the troops, flanked by Mar’e and Urdo. She was happy to be moving before the sky was truly lit, and grateful to be leading Kuroi—who knew how to move in silence. The sandy terrain cushioned their steps, but there was little coverage to conceal them from any scouts. If Kohl was anticipating her attack, he would soon see her approaching. She hoped Korend’a had kept Kohl and his troops—whoever they were—too occupied to man the gates.

  Within striking distance of the large onyx gates, she halted her army. Crouching low in the sand, her eyes travelled over the mystical barrier. She knew that the minute she revealed her scar to the gates, they would open. What she didn’t know was what awaited them. Luck had been on their side allowing them such easy passage to the city—she did not believe it would remain so.

  “Jessop,” Urdo hissed, pulling her attention.

  She glanced to him expectantly, impatient.

  “What do you want us to do with O’Hanlon, if we find him before you?”

  She felt the pang in her chest, the anticipation growing, knowing she was about to encounter Kohl for the first time since his escape. “He will find me long before you find him.”

  She turned her gaze back to the gate, ready to move forward.

  “What if he doesn’t, Jessop?”

  She didn’t turn back to Urdo. She knew what she had said to be true. Some part of her could feel his eyes on her already. She felt the target on her back, or more aptly, on her abdomen. After all, he had laid it there.

  She stood slowly. “He will.”

  She took cautious steps towards the giant black gates. The doors were constructed of onyx and scrap metal. They stood some thirty feet high, where the edges of the welding tapered off in sharp prongs, pointing to the perimeter of electricity holding in the night sky above. The same border of electricity formed the mystical barrier around the city limits—were one to simply scale the gates, they would feel the assault of lightning.

  She kept one hand on her hilt and used the other to loosen her leather vest and tunic. With a slight pause, she glanced back over her shoulder. Mar’e and Urdo were crouched, ready to run to her side with hundreds of Kuroi warriors behind them—swords drawn, shields raised, spears fixed forward.

  She pulled her tunic low, tight between her breasts, revealing the scar which acted as a key to Aranthol. She knew that where she stood was in the sightline of a nearby guard tower. Typically, newcomers would elicit the presence of a guard, who could grant them entry to the City. Jessop knew no guard would appear for her, certain they had been called to fight Kohl’s mercenaries.

  After a brief moment, the massive gates began to drag open. She fixed her vest and drew her sword, taking a prepared stance as the gates drew a body-length apart. She took a deep breath, immediately thinking of how many mercenaries she could stop with Sentio, remembering the impact using such exhaustive methods had had on her that day on the terrace. She could hold back twenty perhaps, but she would fall to her knees doing it.

  But as the gates fully parted, Jessop saw no one. The Gahaza Square was usually bustling with early morning traders and travelers. The Square wasn’t just an area for merchants to make sales; it was also where newcomers received their residency paperwork, and where they looked for housing and labor. It was one of the busiest parts of the city, and yet, the dark street ahead was completely abandoned. The windows of black-stone buildings were boarded up with rotted, dark wood; the kiosks, typically swarming with merchants and consumers, were unmanned and without stock. The black-stone streets were wet with rain and stained with blood, home to the evidence of a battle Jessop had been too late to prevent—a discarded sword, a bloody cloth, a dented shield. She felt her skin prickle, rage running over her with ease, the feeling of betrayal, of violation, consuming her. Their home had fallen prey to a Hunter, the Arantholi people punished for her actions against the Blade.

  Slowly, she took several steps towards the gate, raising her hand to indicate for the others to wait. She kept her eyes trained on the Square, darting about building corners and under kiosks, looking for any indication as to where anyone might be—mercenary or Arantholi. She took another step forward and while the smell of blood, dried and plentiful, overwhelmed her, she saw no one. She could imagine Kohl attacking the Square as soon as he got the gates opened. She could picture him, his Hunter’s blade tight in hand, mercenaries instead of brethren at his side. It turned her stomach to picture it. Even though she knew Falco and Jeco were safe, and had been in the Blade when Kohl attacked, she felt sick to think an attack had happened to their family home. By breaching Aranthol, he had come too close to truly harming her once again.

  As she stood at the entry of the Square, blood-stained stone beneath her feet, silence all about her, she indicated for the others to approach. They moved quickly and quietly, Mar’e and Urdo taking their respective places at her side. Jessop could hear Mar’e tighten her grip on her short sword. She looked to Jessop with concern. “Where is everyone?”

  Jessop remained silent as they led their army further into the Square, unable to answer. She glanced to Urdo, hoping it would not take long for his eyes to adjust to the immediate darkness, but found he looked more concerned about the empty Square than the darkness. He pivoted about, looking up towards the building tops. She followed his gaze, but saw nothing.

  “Jessop, we should move,” he advised, his eyes darting from building top to building top.

  “We are moving,” she answered tightly, finding she was speaking in soft whispers.

  He grabbed her arm with an urgency that rattled her. “Something’s not right…Can’t you sense it? We aren’t alone.”

  She was about to close her eyes, about to focus on their surroundings more, to try to gauge what the older Hunter already sensed, when she heard the sound—the distinct stretch of a bow being pulled. “Archers! Area’ha!”

  The Kuroi immediately brought their shields up as soldiers appeared over the edges of the rooftops, arrows trained on Jessop and her army. They wore no common uniform, many looking exactly like the Arantholi, but the weapons they carried—a random assortment of distinct pieces, fine bows in their hands, blades that cost more than they could rightfully afford on their hips—let her know they were, in fact, mercenaries. Before Jessop could lead her army out of the trap, the hired soldiers released, their arrows singing through the air.

  As Urdo and Mar’e ducked low, Jessop threw her hand up in the air. She focused, zoning in on a single arrow, noting the way its metallic shaft and tapered end spun perfectly through the dark sky. She felt her energy traveling through her, snaking through her chest and down her arms, extending into the world around her. With easy focus, all of the arrows froze in a cloud of metal above her army.

  She would not be able to stop a second wave without releasing the first. She looked back on her army of Kuroi. “A’ve! Move!”

&
nbsp; At her order, the army dispersed. She kept the arrows frozen, knowing the mercenaries had likely had no warning of her abilities, knowing they watched her with torn focus. She followed Urdo with her eyes, watching as he used his abilities to scale a building wall, flipping over its lip onto the rooftop with the agility of a man half his age. With blade in hand, he engaged several fighters.

  As fighting erupted all around her, Jessop scanned the rooftops, looking for the most populated. The roof top of the building nearest to the black gates held several archers. As her eyes locked on them, she saw them ready their bows, preparing to take aim at her. She took a deep breath and began to turn her fingers about, orchestrating the cloud of arrows she controlled to turn in a semi-circle. As the archers watched her, shock and amazement in their eyes, she couldn’t help but softly smile. With a thrust of her forearm, she shot the arrows back at the group. She struck many; two leapt from the roof to the street, while others narrowly escaped.

  Kohl hadn’t warned his army of misfit killers about her—something she found interesting but unsurprising. He likely would have had to pay more coin to convince mercenaries to cross not only Falco Bane, but his deadly wife. She was astounded to realize that they hadn’t already heard of her. As all reports seemed to have indicated, all of Daharia had heard of the woman with abilities greater than any Hunter.

  She took a deep breath and ran full speed ahead at the nearest building. She leapt, and with one foot pushing off the stone wall, she flew well above the lip of the building, landing firmly on the rooftop. She spun her blade about her as she engaged several mercenary fighters. They did not move with the uniformity of soldiers, but that did not hamper their abilities. Typical of hired-soldiers, some were incredibly talented, and some were clearly novice. Whatever the span of their abilities, they were no match for Jessop—or Urdo, who in her periphery fought as many men as she did with masterful skill.

  As she sprung about the Square, she worked quickly to inject herself in fight after fight between mercenary and Kuroi, feeling responsible for squashing the ambush. She had been a fool. On her first test, she had failed, leading her army—Dezane’s army­—into a trap that could have killed them all. She had been so confident in her own abilities she had forgotten the vulnerabilities of her cohorts. Her arrogance was blinding—and the realization made her feel ill. She had once made a similar claim against Hydo.

  She had never led an army, never ruled a people—not as Falco had. She had spent her adult life focusing on her own abilities, her own fight, on Falco and on their son. She had never wanted to reign, never wanted to lead. She hadn’t been trained by the Blade, hadn’t been raised to always feel a loyalty to her brethren-in-arms. She saw them as more people she had to keep alive, and even in that task, she had nearly failed.

  She ducked under a blade, spun about her attacker and kicked him squarely in the back. He flew off the rooftop with a loud cry. She turned, hearing the thud of his body collapsing on the street below. She sheathed her sword and leapt to a second rooftop. She grabbed the jaw of a mercenary she came up behind, and with an easy snap she let his lifeless body fall to the ground. She knew that she should have asked Urdo what he thought sooner—he had led countless armies.

  She weaved around the mercenaries, and as a sword thrust past her abdomen, she grabbed the hilt, tugged it viciously out of the grasp of its owner, and flipped it around in her hand before skewering its possessor through the abdomen. She thought of what Falco would have done, and how he would have known to think for archers, how he would have sensed the trap.

  Suddenly, Jessop’s face was alight. Someone had struck her. She steadied herself, resisting raising a hand to her cheek. With all her might, she swung her arm out, backhanding the attacker across his jaw. As he stumbled away from her, she grabbed a dagger off her back. She flung it at him, piercing him in the chest as he scrambled for his weapon. She used Sentio to call her weapon back to her grasp, just in time to stab the third fighter in the diaphragm, catching his weapon-wielding wrist with her spare hand.

  “Who are you?” he asked, blood trailing from the corners of his cracked mouth.

  She ignored him, attacking him with her own questions as he fell to the ground. “Where is Kohl O’Hanlon? Where is the man who paid you?”

  He was too close to death to answer. She wrenched her blade free from him, watching as he lay back on the roof top, his one hand pointing out behind him, towards her and Falco’s home.

  CHAPTER 14

  Jessop kicked the door in with ease, the wood crunching beneath her boot. She led Mar’e, Urdo, and the Kuroi troops into the abandoned building, careful to scan the space first. Some were wounded, but few had died, thanks to Urdo. Jessop was thankful to find the building had a water source and linens on the boarded windows. She helped rip the material down, tearing the large pieces into strips for the wounded. As they settled in, she asked Urdo to speak in private, Mar’e following in tow. They found an adjacent room, covered in dust with parchment strewn about haphazardly, as though the space had been ransacked. Jessop stood at the room’s one window, peeking through a crack in the boards.

  “I cannot do this,” she admitted, scanning the street through the dusty glass.

  Urdo kicked over a wooden crate, fashioning himself a seat near her. “Do what?”

  She turned to face them. Mar’e stood beside the old Hunter, a look of confusion on her face. Jessop crossed her arms, thinking her sentiment was apparent. “I can kill any who come against us, I can make it through the Shadow City on my own, I can do many things, but I cannot think about the safety of those warriors. It is not in my nature, it is not in my training.”

  Urdo shook his head at her. “If it’s about the trap, don’t let that discourage you—it’s happened to the best of leaders.”

  She raised her hand to stop him from speaking further. “I’m not a leader, Urdo. I’m a killer.”

  Mar’e took a step towards her. “We have all killed, it is part of the job.”

  “It’s not a job to me, Mar’e!”

  Jessop’s raised voice surprised herself as much as it did her companions. She thought of Falco, of Hydo, of all Urdo had said to her and all she had thought about. She knew what she was, and what she was responsible for. “This is no job to me. This is simply me. It is all I know. My proficiency with the blade, with Sentio—it does not make me a leader. Leaders have other qualities than a skilled sword hand.”

  Urdo shifted in his seat. “Do you think you’re the first one to doubt their capability? Do you know how many Hunters I have trained, how many I have fought beside, who resist the position upon their first error? The hardest part about leading is taking responsibility for the path you forge.”

  She shook her head at him slowly, ignoring his pensive stare as best as she could. “I can’t…I’m not one of your Hunters.”

  Urdo stood gruffly from the crate, a storm of dust exploding around him. “You want to go off and play rogue warrior, fine, we know we can’t stop you. You want me to lead this army for you—fine. But you’re going to help me find the rest of O’Hanlon’s mercenaries first, because I am not going to be the one to tell Dezane DeHawn that I got half his army killed.”

  For the first time in years, she remembered what it felt like to be a child, admonished for her immaturity and selfishness. The last person to speak to her with any command had been her own parents, a lifetime ago. She looked at him, and while she saw Urdo, for the briefest of moments she heard her father’s voice. Slowly, she nodded.

  “Mar’e, go tell the troops we won’t be staying here long. Jessop and I have Hunter business to attend to.”

  Mar’e scowled. “Why can’t I stay and help? The troops are—”

  Urdo raised a hand, silencing her. “This is Hunter business.”

  Mar’e tossed her hand out, pointing at Jessop. “You just heard her—she’s not a real Hunter.”

  Her word
s kept Jessop in the past, remembering her life at ten and two years. Still dressed in ochre robes, still feeling inadequate around Mar’e Makenen. In childhood, she had lived with the knowledge that she wasn’t real Kuroi, and in adulthood, no matter how much power she wielded, no matter how many she bested, she wasn’t a real Hunter..

  Urdo inclined his head slowly, his voice low. “I am Master Urdo Rendo, of the Taden people. I stopped Elias Rahut from accomplishing the Aren rebellion. I have been a Hunter for fifty-four years, a Councilman for twenty-eight. I believe I am somewhat more fit to decide who is and isn’t a real Hunter than either of you. Jessop Bane is as real as they come.”

  Mar’e looked from Urdo to Jessop, but neither looked back to her. Jessop kept her gaze locked on Urdo, his warm eyes regarding her with confidence. She felt moved by him, and knew instantly that his powerful oration was why he had led so many armies. Jessop nodded to him slowly, prepared to do whatever he said, realizing that his ability was to remind others of their own.

  * * * *

  Jessop sat cross-legged, mirroring Urdo. He rested his hands, palms upwards, on his knees, taking deep breaths. “Take my hands,” he instructed. She hesitated, always apprehensive of human contact, but as she took a deep breath, she rested her hands in his. His skin was warm and calloused, his hands hardened from years of the fight.

  “We will search for them together,” he explained, though Jessop was still confused. She could sense others with her abilities because her mind picked up on Sentio, but she could not just locate unknown persons.

  “I’ve never done this before,” she admitted.

  Urdo opened his eyes slowly. “I have, and today you’ll learn. It is something that nearly always requires several Hunters, but your abilities are great—they can carry us.”