The Shadow City

by Ryan Wieser

  “I already said, I know nothing,” he answered quickly, tilting his throat away from Jessop’s blade.

  “It is in your best—” Kohl began, but Jessop had no time for this. She didn’t need the man to speak. She grabbed his head and forced her way into his mind. She sailed through dark memories, illicit trades, late-night forays, a crying woman, the death of a man at this very bar, not several nights ago. She searched with wild aggression, not caring what damage she inflicted.

  “Make her stop!” she heard him yell, feeling him wriggling to break free from her grasp.

  She focused, burrowing herself further and further. She found an image that suddenly struck her…The Hunter’s sigil, on a leather vest. The vest was draped over the bar. As hands curled over the vest, loud noises erupted. The streets were being emptied. She could hear speaking. “Go quickly, before they get here. Golden Death Valley is several nights travel.”

  Jessop released her hold on Derox. She blinked as her eyes readjusted to the blue lights of the tavern. The memory had been not several hours ago. She leapt on top of the bar and found what she was looking for, tucked beneath the countertop—a Hunter’s leather vest. She grabbed it as she hopped down.

  “Hanson was here,” she growled, tossing the leather to Kohl.

  Suddenly, Derox began to froth at the mouth. Jessop took a small step back from him. His skin began to turn red and his eyes bulged forward, seemingly too tight in their sockets. “He kept a death capsule in his teeth,” Falco snapped, realizing what was occurring. They knew many mercenaries who did the same, preferring death over Hunter torture. Jessop grabbed Derox by the shoulders and shook him. “Tell me what happened—where is Golden Death Valley?”

  She rattled the man violently, but it was too late. She felt the pulse disappear from his body. She turned slowly to see Falco, his gray eyes staring at her with hope and concern. “Golden Death Valley?”

  She nodded to him. The only source they had found who could help find her son had died. She had never heard of any Golden Death Valley. Their armies had turned up nothing. The Hunters had found no leads. Her son, her perfect, only child, was gone. She may as well have had her heart cut from her chest. She couldn’t think about it any longer, she couldn’t feel any more pain. She knew the tears were coming, and she wanted to scream. She wanted to scream like she never had before. She grabbed her face, holding on so tightly it was as though she feared she may shatter.

  With an explosion of rage, she threw her arms out to the side, and as though she were a mage, fire erupted in the tavern. The flames licked over the bar, and caught onto the two men frozen in their seats. She stared at them as they burned. She knew the fire was her doing, but she did not know how. She spun about, her hands trailing over the room, and everywhere they pointed, new flames were born.

  “Jessop…” Falco’s voice was barely a whisper. Kohl stared in shock. She knew this was not a natural progression of Hunter abilities. She knew she had never been able to create a flame—always feeling loath towards their presence. Had things been different, she might have felt fear at her newfound ability. She might have questioned it. She may have turned to her husband for guidance. But she felt nothing for herself, or any other. She felt nothing but the need to find Jeco—to learn where Golden Death Valley was. She moved past Falco and Kohl, ignoring their fearful regard of her. She crossed the blue lit pub as the smoke filled it, flames dancing on her heels, and stepped out into the streets.

  She felt Kohl and Falco trailing just behind her as she made her way down the street. She needed to feel it again. To feel the release of her rage. To feel the sensation of the world burning at her behest. With an aggressive extension of her fingers, fire erupted over the buildings she passed. It felt good, it felt right, as though her body had found a way to cope with the pain. She did not stop to think about the how or the why—she did not ever consider that there had only ever been one Hunter before her who could wield fire as if it were magic.

  CHAPTER 19

  Dezane sat down slowly, lowering his body into the chair with a kind of deliberation that somehow aged him in Jessop’s eyes. “I know where this place is,” he said again. Jessop felt her heart lighten the smallest degree. Everyone remained silent, waiting for the tribal elder to say more. Trax was reclined on the bed, wheeled into the large room by medics. He wore a loose tunic, the fabric bunching around his many bandages. Falco had healed him, certainly saving his life, but the wounds had been great and he had needed further care from the medics to manage the tissue damage and pain.

  Urdo stood leaning against the wall, his arms crossed over his broad chest. He looked both weary and determined. Korend’a stood at his side, eyes bloodshot, an impatient look stretched across his face. Jessop knew both men would help her find Jeco, both would go without sleep or provisions in order to bring her son back to her. She stood at the head of the table and could feel Kohl and Falco beside her, their eyes boring into her still. She knew she frightened them both; she knew the abilities she had displayed in the street had been more than either had ever anticipated her capable of. In truth, they were more than she had ever believed herself capable of. Abilities that Falco didn’t even possess…She cared not if they were alarming, all she knew was that they could help her get her son back. She had long since grown accustomed to learning new powers—Sentio had diminished her sense of surprise for the mystical.

  Mar’e stood in the corner of the room, behind Dezane and Trax. Teck Fay, whom Jessop had not seen in quite some time, stood off to her left, cloak pulled down low, tucked into the shadows. She turned her gaze back to Dezane. “Where is it then, Dezane, tell me,” she commanded the elder. Whatever love and allegiance she felt towards the man paled in comparison to the pressing need to have Jeco back in her arms.

  “It is a forbidden and treacherous territory—not under the rule of Daharia,” he answered, keeping his aged eyes on her.

  “It belongs to another galaxy?” Kohl quipped.

  Dezane shook his head. “It belongs to no one. It is a barren wasteland, nothing but sand dunes…It is where the Great War took place many thousands of years ago.”

  Jessop knew the Great War referred to the battle for Daharia, fought by both man and creature for the rights to the territory. The Bakora, a foreign tribe who ruled over the nearby galaxy of Bakoran, lost the Great War, leaving the Prince of Daharia, who had fought with the mighty Blade of Light, to claim the territory. She also knew that the Great War had been fought in a region of a very different name.

  “The Great War was battled in Haren’dul Daku,” she interjected.

  “Haren’dul Daku is old Kuroi for Shimmering Death, as the sands of these places shone like diamonds painted in blood,” Trax answered, keeping his eyes on the table. His voice was faint and he clearly struggled to speak. “The easier translation became Golden Death Valley.”

  Falco leaned forward, resting his hands on the table. “It is not ours and it is not Bakoran’s?”

  Dezane once again shook his head slowly. “It was agreed upon that such land was forever tainted—hosting the greatest loss of life Daharia and Bakoran had ever experienced. The land was deigned no man’s.”

  Jessop could feel her hands shaking. “That monster has taken my son to a forbidden wasteland?”

  The room was silent. It felt as though each one of them experienced a sense of personal guilt, and Jessop felt no urge to reprieve them of it. Jeco had been in the Blade, with the very people who surrounded her, and he had been taken. She had trusted these men and her son had paid the price. They had all, at one time or another, vouched for Hanson Knell. But not she. Jessop had never trusted the old man.

  They group remained silent, but Jessop knew that more was left to be said. It was a silence that concealed some unspoken secret. She flicked her gaze over Dezane and Trax, to Mar’e, who seemed to turn herself further toward the wall. “What is it?” she demanded, her eyes turning to
Korend’a and then Urdo.

  Urdo looked to Trax and then back to her. “While you were gone, I discovered who helped Hanson get so far into the Blade without detection.”

  Jessop felt the heat rising in her once again, the pressure boiling under her skin, the urge to erupt in flames. “Who?”

  “Jessop, you need to remember that Hanson’s Sentio is great—he abused this person. They did not help willingly nor do they—”

  “Tell me,” she growled.

  Once again, silence.

  Jessop slammed her fist on the table. “I swear if—”

  Mar’e stepped forward. Silent tears streaked her face, and her shoulders were shaking. “It was me.”

  Jessop felt the flame inside her chest. Of course, it had been Mar’e—weakest of them all. Her old friend who had come to the Blade with uncertain intentions, who turned her eye from Falco to Kohl, who questioned her every decision, who had been cruel to her in childhood.

  She took a small step towards Jessop, her eyes wide and watery. “Jessop, I can’t tell you how sorry I am. I don’t remember any of it, I don’t remember ever even seeing him, but—”

  Jessop couldn’t hear her speak. She saw the woman’s mouth moving, but she heard no noise. She saw no one else in the room. She thought of nothing but retribution. She raised her hand over her shoulder, and with lightning speed, she threw her dagger. The blade sung through the air and lodged in her old friend’s stomach. Mar’e lurched forward, falling to her knees. Her small hands hovered over the hilt of Jessop’s dagger, wedged beneath her rib cage. Her eyes were bulging, her full lips parted; she was shocked. She was dying.

  “Jessop!” Kohl hissed, leaping past her and kneeling beside Mar’e.

  Trax appeared stunned, his mouth ajar, his eyes unblinking. Korend’a took two steps towards the injured Kuroi and then froze. Teck Fay stepped out of the shadows, his indigo eyes trained on Mar’e. Jessop felt Falco tense at her side. Dezane kept his eyes on Jessop only, his tired face showing no signs of surprise.

  Jessop watched the blood pool, staining the ochre robes Mar’e wore, dripping to the floor like crimson rain. Her old friend looked at her with shock, with horror, and Jessop felt nothing. She could smell the blood, she could see the pain, but in her mind, all she heard was Jeco’s laugh, all she saw was her son’s eyes.

  “Falco, heal her,” Kohl begged, his hazel eyes on Falco as he held the dying woman in his arms.

  Falco did not move. “Jessop wishes her dead.”

  “Jessop, please, please,” Kohl pleaded, pulling Mar’e tighter against his own chest, soaking in her blood as her head fell back.

  She stared at him and wondered how much pain her death would truly mean to him. She stared at him, the man who had proclaimed to love her and had tried to kill her, and wondered if this was the punishment he truly deserved. She felt her skin twitching at the thought. She knew she would not kill another to punish him.

  “Heal her,” she whispered, her voice barely a murmur, heard likely only by Falco. He nodded and crossed the room quickly, taking a knee beside Kohl. As Falco pulled the blade free and began to heal Mar’e, everyone watched in silence, captivated by the ability only he possessed—though Falco was no longer the only Hunter with a singular skill.

  Jessop raised her hand out and used her mind to summon her dagger back to her. As it cut through the air, it ignited in bright orange flames. She caught the fiery hilt, and the attention of all in the room. The flames encircled her hand, but they did not burn her. It seemed she was impervious to her own flame. She felt their eyes, their shock and concern. There were few fire wielders in existence, and the men now knew her to be one of them.

  Urdo took a step towards her, his eyes wide. She could sense his mind racing. She knew who he was thinking of. Korend’a fixed his gaze to her burning hand, a look of amazement in his eyes. He had likely never seen a fire wielder. Dezane nodded slowly, as though unsurprised by her newfound ability. Trax stared from his reclined spot, and she could sense that his thoughts mirrored Urdo’s. Hydo.

  She spun the blade around her fingers with expert ease. “We leave for Golden Death Valley at first light.”

  * * * *

  They had been up all night preparing for their mission. If Hanson and Hydo had made camp in the Golden Death Valley, then their armies resided with them. They did not simply prepare to find Jeco—they prepared for war. Dezane had readied the Kuroi. Falco had rounded up his army. Urdo had enlisted three Hunters who he believed would be most beneficial to their journey, only one of whom Jessop had ever heard of. “Hode Avay,” he introduced himself to her, lugging a small sleep sack over his shoulder as he appeared on the docking bay early that morning. She nodded to him. Hode Avay had led missions near Aranthol before, and Jessop knew him by reputation. The other two were much younger, though fiercely loyal and highly skilled, Urdo insisted.

  She watched as the large Soar-Craft before her was packed to the brim with provisions—weapons, food, libations, bedding, and tents. The tools for war, she thought, watching as crate after crate was loaded up. Falco moved all around, snapping orders, lifting bags, packing up the vessels. They had barely spoken, barely looked at one another for longer than a second. No one had dared speak to her about the fire wielding. No one had dared speak to her at all, barring Korend’a and Urdo.

  Jessop could sense her before she spoke. She turned and found Mar’e standing behind her, wide-eyed and fearful. Jessop looked her up and down and took a step closer to her. “What?”

  “I wanted to…I wanted to apologize again,” she spoke. Her voice was small and frail. Jessop crossed her arms over her chest. She had nearly killed Mar’e and yet, the woman returned, risking Jessop’s temper once more.

  “I don’t remember any of it, Jessop, you must believe me. I have never had anyone enter my mind like that. I don’t know when he found me, or how, or how long he kept me under his control. I cannot remember anything.”

  Jessop didn’t care to hear more. She began to turn from Mar’e when the other woman grabbed her hand. “Jessop, please. My life is yours, I truly know that you can take it and that you spare it at your will. Please, let me help get Jeco back.”

  Jessop wrenched her hand free, holding the woman’s stare. “Let me make this clear, friend, if your weak mind has cost my son his life, I’ll finish what I started yesterday.”

  Mar’e nodded slowly, visibly saddened and silenced by Jessop. She could not bring herself to care. She would kill Mar’e if she wished to, she would turn on any who got between her and Jeco. She returned her gaze to the vessels and found Falco and Kohl in deep discussion near one of the Soar-Craft. They spoke in hushed tones, Kohl keeping his hand on Falco’s shoulder, as though there had never been any threat of execution or hatred between the two. She watched them interact, and without willing it, her hands caught fire. She couldn’t feel the burning. She couldn’t feel anything.

  CHAPTER 20

  Jessop had found a seat next to Urdo, tucked against the metal wall. Each Soar-Craft was bursting with provisions and warriors. Soldiers filled seats and aisles, food parcels were stored in overhead compartments and underneath the canvas covered chairs, weapons were bound tightly together and piled up against the walls. Falco and Kohl had found seats nearer the front. Falco had asked her to join them when they first boarded, but she declined, knowing that if the fire was something she could not control, being near him and Kohl made her a danger to the entire vessel.

  They had travelled for many hours already, the skies having changed from light to dark, and Jessop knew they neared Hara’agul, the southernmost weigh station in Daharia. The weigh station would typically be the last place any could stop before the hundreds of miles of barren land leading up to the border of their Daharian territory. She thought only of Jeco and Hanson, of how they had made this journey. She thought of every square space of territory far beneath that they flew over, and
of how Jeco had already passed over it. She thought of all the ways Hanson would pay for his trespass. She had felt sorrow for him, the day she let Falco into the Blade. She had seen his look of disappointment, she had known the ways in which she betrayed him, having worked so long to win over his faith…but none of it compared to this.

  Hanson did not know what rage he had unleashed. She was not the same woman he had seen when last in the Blade. She had walked and left fire in her wake. She would burn him alive given the opportunity. She would burn all of Daharia to the ground if that’s what it took to get Jeco back.

  “Jessop?”

  She stirred, her attention pulled to the present. Falco stood in the aisle. She forced herself to look up into his gray eyes, the eyes her son had inherited, and found he looked awful. His eyes were bloodshot and circled in dark skin, his cheeks looked sunken, his dark hair was an untidy mess. She looked to the floor.

  “Urdo, would you mind giving Jessop and me a moment?”

  Jessop grabbed Urdo’s forearm. “This is his seat, Falco, he doesn’t have to move.”

  Urdo looked from her to him and back to her. “I’ll return shortly.” She removed her hand as he stood, his large frame taking up the entire aisle as he moved past Falco. Falco took his seat, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees. He waited in silence, and she knew he wished for her to look at him.

  She felt the heat inside her expanding, her fingers tingling, her mind racing—searching for some release, some sense of peace. She took deep breaths, her eyes forced tightly shut, and tried to focus on her breathing. “Jessop,” he pressed. She clenched her fingers over her knees, taking slow breaths, ignoring him. She knew that even if she could initiate the fire at will, it could also start on its own. She couldn’t control it—she had never been trained by a Fire-wielder. She did not know their tricks.