by Ryan Wieser
He nodded to her encouragingly. “Find Hydo, my love. And make it swift.”
* * * *
Jessop stepped away from him, letting her hands fall to the side, dizzy. She kept her eyes closed and focused on regaining her balance. It had been hours and she had found nothing, her rigorous search of his mind wearing on her. She had seen the early days, after he had nearly killed her, where he spoke with Hanson while Hydo regained his strength in some unknown part of the city. She had felt all his emotions, all his concerns, she had known how he despaired and how he agonized over his attack on her. He had gone countless sleepless nights wondering if she had survived his assault. Hanson had been the one to comfort him in the end, explaining that if he had killed her, Falco would have gone on the warpath already.
Once Hydo had recovered, they had planned their separate missions. Hanson would lead an assault on the Red City, while Kohl would attack Aranthol. Hanson had insisted that Kohl stay with him and fight by his side, but Hydo had refused. He said it was their time to part ways and they would find Kohl once the battles were done and they had succeeded in reclaiming the Blade. They had not succeeded though, and they had refused to tell Kohl where he could find them should they have failed.
Slowly, Jessop opened her eyes. Tears had streaked Kohl’s face. His cracked lips were parted, though he had long since given up on asking her to stop. She felt a pang in her chest, seeing the pain she caused in his eyes once more, tenfold for her rampant, hours-long searching. “He knows nothing, Falco,” she insisted again.
“Search harder then,” he pressed back, leaning against the back wall of the Hollow.
She turned to face him. “It’s been hours—I would have found something by now.”
He pushed off the wall and approached her. “He’s been trained to defend his mind against such raids, Jessop, don’t be fooled.”
“Not against the likes of me, Falco, and you know it,” she argued, squaring off with him.
“You’re restrained by your guilt—you do not wish to see him harmed further,” he hissed, shaking his head at her.
She narrowed her gaze. “Twice now you have offended me with your words.”
“As you offend me with your actions—do you not wish to find Hydo?”
She glared at him, but before either could say anything further, Kohl spoke. “Just kill me now.” His tone was mocking, as though she and Falco irritated him.
Falco moved past her gruffly. Before she could say anything, he hit Kohl.
He struck him violently, again and again.
“Falco,” she warned, but he ignored her.
He raised his hand at the shackles and, using Sentio, he ripped them from the walls. With a forceful jerk, he threw Kohl across the Hollow. Kohl tried getting to his feet, but Falco was on him in an instant. He kicked him in the abdomen before pinning him to the ground, striking him again and again.
She approached him slowly. “Falco, that’s enough.”
He hit Kohl once more, blood staining them both.
Jessop raised her hand and, using her own abilities, pushed Falco off Kohl.
He stared at her with anger, and for a moment, it was as though he weren’t her husband. She held his gaze until his face calmed. He got to his feet slowly, and stood above Kohl. “It’s been far too long since Azgul has had a public execution, brother. Know that your silence has been your death sentence.”
CHAPTER 17
“Public execution? Really, Falco?”
He rounded on her as she closed their chamber doors behind them. His eyes were dark and wild, his hands covered in blood. They had left Kohl in the Hollow, instructing the guard who stood watch to fetch a medic to tend to his wounds.
“He’s brought this on himself. He declined a spot at my side, he tried to kill you, he burned Aranthol to the ground—and now he resists helping us locate Hydo,” he yelled. His words echoed around the room and she was thankful Jeco was with Trax still.
Jessop nearly hit the wall in her frustration, her hands tightened into fists. While Falco’s words were true, they were also misleading. He refused a spot at Falco’s side because of what she did to him, he tried to kill her because of what she did to him, he burned Aranthol to the ground out of vengeance. And he truly didn’t know where Hanson or Hydo were.
Falco stared at her with amazement. “Stop defending him, Jessop!”
She took a step towards him, ignoring his anger. “He does not know where they are—do you really think he could hide such information from me?”
“I think you hesitate to hurt him—hesitate to kill him— because you still walk around with your guilt, despite all he has done.”
She squared off with him, holding his angry stare. “And you leap at the opportunity to kill him because you cannot live with your own guilt! You are equally responsible for what transpired between Kohl and myself, equally responsible for what he did to exact vengeance on us, and now you wish to see him dead.”
He turned from her, pacing. “And you do not?”
She hesitated, unable to answer. Her hands fell to her side as she took a slow breath. “We have killed indiscriminately for so many years, Falco. The fact that he loves me is not a good enough reason to kill him.”
He shook his head at her. “It’s also not a good enough reason to let him live in light of his trespasses. The decision remains with me. It is I who rules the Blade.”
She took a step towards him. Her hands shook at her sides, her breathing slow to calm her racing heart. “Do not forget who gave you the Blade, my love.”
* * * *
That night Falco did not come to bed and Jessop did not go in search of him. She lay with Jeco, brushing his hair back with her hand, soothing him into a slumber neither of them seemed interested in.
He put his small, pudgy hand on top of hers, wriggling in her arms. “Where Dada?”
She kissed his little fingers, squeezing him tighter. “He has work to do, my love.”
He rolled around in her arms, turning to face her, directing his gray eyes on her. She marveled at how greatly he resembled his father already, though his eyes did not carry the burden of Falco’s history. They had never argued before as they had that day. Always of one mind, they had never had any reason to, nothing to dispute. Kohl O’Hanlon was their first true point of contention. She knew Falco wished Kohl dead for the same reasons she wished him to live—to abate their guilt. He had been collateral damage, and while he was not the first to suffer from her and Falco’s ambitions, he was the first to strike back against them so keenly.
Falco’s anger only highlighted her remorse; with every strike he made against Kohl, she had to defend him. With every insistence on his death, she had an equally insistent claim for his life. She wished she could accept what Falco believed, what Urdo believed—that it simply would be for the best if Kohl died. She wished it not only for her sake, but for Falco’s. His suffering was torment for her. She wanted to relieve his guilt, she wanted to restore their relationship, and yet, she could not let Kohl’s life be the price for such repair. He simply didn’t deserve it.
She looked down at her son and knew that it was at his birth that she had developed a conscience. Hydo had destroyed much of who Jessop was. She had felt nothing for anyone except Falco for so many long years. She had fought and killed. She had encouraged Falco to do whatever necessary for their lives, for their futures. She had never lost a single night’s sleep over their decisions. Until Jeco. Her son had reminded her of the sanctity of life, and in his presence, she felt shame for relishing in violence, for harming others who did not deserve harm. He made her want to be better. And in advocating for Kohl’s life, she believed she was achieving that.
She thought of Aranthol, though, and the fires. The many who had died on Kohl’s sword. Perhaps the primary reason for her defense of him was her conscience—she truly didn’t think he deserve
d death—but she also knew there was more to it. Had any other burned their city to the ground, she would have done more than just kill them. And Falco would have killed whoever responsible as soon as he knew they held no further knowledge he required…Perhaps, both she and her husband let him live for the same reason. Some part of them both loved him still.
She remembered sitting in the tent with Kohl in Okton Radon, arguing about his bond with his brothers. She remembered how he explained it to her. “It’s not that I love my brothers in the same way that I love you, because I obviously don’t, and it’s not that I love them more, because I have now begun to realize that that is not true either. It’s simply that I loved them first.” She thought of her husband, who had told her time and again that for Hunters, before all else came their loyalty, their love for one another. She thought of how he had surprised them all, offering Kohl a place at his side. She thought of how often he had expressed such anger at his brother’s refusal. He had sentenced Kohl to die at the hand of an executioner because he could not do it himself—some part of him still felt that loyalty, that love of his brethren, that love for his best friend.
“Dada,” Jeco complained, wanting his father, his small voice sad and frustrated.
She nodded, kissing his forehead. “He’ll be back soon.” She pulled Jeco closer in her embrace, hoping her words were true, for the both of them.
* * * *
The next morning Jessop woke to the sound of heavy knocking on her door. Jeco stirred at the sound, causing her to leap from her bed. She immediately realized Falco’s side of the bed was undisturbed. He hadn’t returned that night.
She opened the door quickly, prepared to chastise whoever disturbed them, but the sight of Mar’e, visibly distraught, struck away her anger. Her Kuroi friend stared at her with red, swollen eyes. Her braids fell about her sad face without any of their usual order. She wore ochre robes, haphazardly pulled on.
“Mar’e, what’s the matt—”
Mar’e grabbed the doorway, as if trying to support her own weight. “Is it true?”
Jessop glanced over her shoulder to see Jeco, still sleeping. She stepped towards Mar’e, forcing them out into the corridor. She closed the door quietly behind them. “Is what true?”
“The execution, Jessop,” she answered. Her voice was hoarse and angry.
Jessop regarded her old friend, so clearly devastated by the news. She thought about how Mar’e had tended to Kohl’s wounds and asked about him. Jessop didn’t believe her former friend could have developed any real feelings for Kohl—she didn’t even know him—but her distraught state warned Jessop off the thought.
“It’s true,” Jessop answered plainly.
Fresh tears sprung forth and Mar’e wiped her face quickly, clearly embarrassed. “Please change Falco’s mind.”
Jessop shook her head slowly. Her thoughts from the night before came back to her, the memories of their fight. The fact that he had not slept next to her that night. “I’ve tried.”
Mar’e grabbed her wrist and pulled her closer. “Jessop, please,” she begged, her eyes fearful.
Jessop pulled her arm free. She had her own fears. She feared that if she stayed speaking to Mar’e a minute longer, she too would break down in tears.
“I have already spoken to Falco.”
She opened the door and began to retreat inside.
“But, but, Jessop…”
“My son needs me,” she answered sternly, stepping further inside the room. She offered Mar’e a final glance. “I’m very sorry.”
She closed the door behind her, turning and slowly lowering herself to the ground. She watched Jeco sleep, so peaceful and so unaware of the world falling apart around him. She kept her eyes on him as her vision blurred and her breath hastened, as she tried to hold back the tears she did not wish to show anyone.
* * * *
Long after Mar’e had left, Trax came for Jeco. He told Jessop that Falco had stayed up speaking with him that night. He told her that sadly, he knew all about Kohl’s fate, and that he too had been unable to change Falco’s mind.
“Few are as distraught as Mar’e,” she remarked, finding Jeco’s play swords and getting him ready for his time with Trax.
Trax shook his head with disapproval. “She has grown feelings for him most swiftly…Does she not understand the extent to which she could anger Falco?”
Jessop shrugged. “I do not know if what she feels for Kohl is sincere, or if she feels it merely to scorn me.”
Trax nodded slowly, watching her with his golden eyes. “You do not think very highly of your friend.”
Jessop hesitated as she handed Trax Jeco’s sword. “No, I suppose I never have.”
He picked Jeco up and smiled to him, telling him how they would spend the afternoon training. As he made his way to the door, he paused, turning to face her once more. “She may have real feelings for him. You cannot deny he is easy to love, Jessop.”
She crossed her arms over her chest, silent, knowing any answer she gave would be a betrayal to either the truth or to Falco.
* * * *
For the second time in their recent history, Jessop found herself sharing a drink with Urdo Rendo. He had come to check on her, flask in hand. She had not wished to stay in her room any longer, and the two had gone to one of the highest points in the Blade, where she could pop open one of the many glass windows and sit on the ledge of the great building.
“This is his favorite spot,” she explained, sipping the hot liquor.
“I know,” Urdo nodded, taking the flask from her as she finished.
Her eyes trailed over the red city’s horizon—the Soar-Craft weaving about one another through the dusty sky, the Levi-Hubs busy with travelers and traders, the street so far below that the people seemed like little dots. She had shared this view with him so long ago, and she couldn’t quite believe all that had come to pass between them.
“I do not love him as I love Falco,” she admitted, reaching for the drink once more.
Urdo nodded, letting her sip his liquor thirstily. “I know that, Jessop. We all do.”
“Then what is wrong with me? Is it just the guilt…Why, when we have all killed so many, does his death bother me so greatly?” She studied Urdo’s older face, and wise eyes, for answers. He had mentored her in many ways, teaching her new abilities and supporting her in battle. She knew that if any would know these answers, it would be him.
“Could you kill Trax or Korend’a, or even that odd old man, Corin?”
Jessop shook her head. “Of course not.”
He sipped his drink, turning his eyes to the red sky. “Love takes many shapes and forms, Jessop. Loving another does not mean you love Falco any less, and not being in love with Kohl does not mean you don’t love him.”
She felt the tears pressing at her eyes once more. Urdo offered her the flask, but she shook her head, afraid that if she spoke, she would once again find herself crying.
Urdo’s large hand landed gruffly on her back. He patted her with inexpert movements. “Go to him, Jessop. Say your goodbyes while you still can.”
* * * *
Falco had ordered more guards to the Hollow. They lined the dark corridor, and two rode perpetually up and down the only bullet that could reach the training area. She wondered if he feared Kohl’s ability to escape, or another’s interest in freeing him. She ignored the guards and they did not try to stop her from seeing him; there were few left who did not know who she was and what she was capable of.
She was surprised to see Kohl was no longer shackled to the wall. He had a clean tunic and his wounds had been tended to—though he did not look well. His face was blue and swollen from Falco’s beating. There was a deep cut in the bridge of his nose, and his lip was black with dried blood and bruising. She turned her head at him softly, hardening her expression as she leapt down to
the Hollow grounds.
He turned to her, his blond hair falling over his golden eyes, and he offered the smallest smile. She felt a fire growing in her chest, she felt the tears she had held back from Urdo rising once again. She saw all they had once shared, and she felt all the pain she had caused him. She felt all the pain he had caused her. He took a step towards her. “I knew you’d come. A guard told me it’s tomorrow and—”
She raised her hand, silencing him as a single tear ran down her cheek. “Don’t speak.” He nodded at her order. They held one another’s stares for the longest moment, and she knew he felt the same sense of loss that she did. She knew that as each memory of their relationship flashed before her, he saw it too. Without cue or command, they grabbed onto one another, embracing tightly, falling to their knees as they both cried.
She ran her hands over his back, sobbing heavily into his chest. His tears travelled down her neck, and his heavy body rocked back and forth in her strong arms. There was nothing left to be said, there was nothing left to be done. Everything that was ever going to come to pass between them already had. They could offer nothing but the strength of their embrace, nothing but a mutual understanding for one another’s tears. Kohl O’Hanlon was going to die in the morning, and once again, her entire life would be changed because of him.
* * * *
Falco returned that evening. Jessop felt his eyes on her as she bathed. She didn’t know how long she had been in the Hollow, but the tears, coupled with Urdo’s drink, had brought a pain to her head. She did not wish to argue further with him. She wanted simply to rest, to somehow forget what the dawn would be bringing.
“I am sorry my decision wounds you so,” he finally spoke. She did not turn to face him, instead facing the cascading water and letting it wash away any redness from her face.
“Jessop, can we speak?” He pressed again, approaching her slowly. Reluctantly, she pivoted around. She held his gray stare, her face stone cold to him. She loved him, as she always would, and he knew that. She did not blame Falco for the way he felt, but for the way in which he blamed her for how she felt.