The Glass Blade. Ryan Wieser
were travelling in. She had confirmed who they were and she knew they were going to a place she had envisioned entering for many years.
Jessop could see it nearing in the red horizon, the building that mirrored the crimson light of the city, refracting red rays in every direction. The building that appeared like a needle in the skyline; slender, tall and reflective. The Glass Blade was the training center and home to all the Hunters of Infinity there had ever been, and all the Hunters of Infinity there ever would be. She narrowed her eyes at the architectural spectacle that she had only ever known through the thoughts of others and she wished she could remove her stained goggles to get a clearer look. The sickly sensation of fluid slicking her fingers drew her attention away from the nearing Glass Blade and back to the wounded Hunter.
She cautiously drew her cloak back and pulled at his leather vest. His tunic was saturated with dark blood. She pulled the hem up, narrowing her eyes on the injury as the wind whipped around his garments. The sheer amount of blood made it difficult to assess the actual injury, but with focus, she could see the small pocket of a wound, tucked in between the mounds of his red-stained muscular ridges. It amazed her how humans, Hunters or otherwise, were kept safe by the integrity of this fine skin, and one small slice was all it took…
The wound was bad, the blood loss potentially fatal. She covered the injury back up, pushing a handful of material hard against it. The abilities of the medical team at the Glass Blade were renowned, known of even where she came from. If anyone could save the young Hunter, it was the team residing within his own home. As if on cue, the gleaming reflection of the red sky against the glass-paneled building nearly blinded her and she looked down to the pale face of the Hunter, silently willing him to hold on just a little bit longer.
She looked ahead as they sped towards the glass, with no signs of slowing down, and no visible entrance. She knew the Hunter trick, but she could not pretend she was not put somewhat on edge by the nearing building. As her heart sped up, the old Hunter threw his hand, fingers extended and palm out, in front of him, making the mystical mark in his palm visible to the glass walls. And just like that, the glass seemed to melt, rippling as though burning, and a black hole, barely large enough for the Soar-Craft to fit through, opened up to them.
With a sudden sickening drop, the Soar-Craft ducked into the mystical entrance, enveloping them in darkness. The preternatural mark, burnt into the hand of the Infinity Hunters, was the only way to gain entrance into the Glass Blade. A building that housed the protectors of Daharia, and the Blade of Prince Daharian, or the Blade of Light, as they called it, needed such security measures. Although, Jessop knew, such measures had only been put in place after what had happened with Falco Bane all those years ago.
They soared down a pitch-black tunnel and it was clear that Hanson navigated the ship through such darkness by memory alone. Jessop, on the other hand, pulled her goggles off, able to see in the darkness just fine. She had been raised in darkness. It was more soothing to her than any source of light could ever be. Just as she thought it though, a light did appear. A white glow in the distance illuminated a docking bay. Hanson zipped the Soar-Craft forward, bringing them in for an abrupt landing on the parking zone. Almost immediately, a team of white uniformed techs and engineers began yelling, angry, as they circled the ship.
“Knell, if we’ve told you once we’ve—” one began, but froze, his voice caught in his throat, as he saw Jessop and the fallen Hunter.
Hanson leaped from the craft, wrenching open a side door so that Jessop nearly fell out onto the hard floor. “Help me get him inside!”
Hanson and a group of the white uniformed men lifted the young Hunter from Jessop and quickly began to haul his unconscious body down the bay, leaving her, bloodstained, in the back seat. She quickly leapt out of the ship and ran after them, barely getting through the sliding automatic glass doors in time. She stared as Hanson Knell watched over his young mentee with fear, applying pressure to his wound and whispering under his breath to him. She could feel the combined concern of all of them, who clearly knew the wounded man and feared for his life. The second thing for her to learn about the young Hunter was that he was clearly beloved. The first had been that he was a half-decent fighter.
But her attention was torn as she lurched forward, unsteady on her feet as the floor beneath her began to rise. The steel metal platform on which they stood flew up a transparent chute, travelling through the Glass Blade, like a bead in a crystal clear tube. While she dug her heels in, the surrounding men seemed quite accustomed to the force.
They passed floor after floor of training rooms, engineer docks, labs, and workplaces, each one containing groups of men, all in the same uniform—black if they were a Hunter, white if they were not—all conducting different business. After several more levels were passed in which Jessop had seen a handful of young boys, some barely old enough to talk, undergoing martial training, the glass bullet came to a sudden halt, opening its doors to a medical floor.
Jessop nearly fell out, stumbling to the side as the white uniformed men and Hanson Knell carried the young Hunter out. “Let’s get some help over here!” Hanson yelled, and immediately, under his vicious growl, a flock of medics and nurses swarmed them. Jessop stepped back and watched the team as they moved like an efficient flight of birds, swooping in, opening the young Hunter’s vest, removing his blade, and carrying him away, disappearing down the corridor without any hesitation or questions.
The room fell quiet as all of them stared at the slow swinging doors the medics had taken Kohl O’Hanlon through. Jessop took a deep breath, looking around slowly, amazed by the building she found herself in.
One of the men from the docking bay turned to Hanson Knell. “Do you want us to wait with you, Sir?”
Hanson shook his head, staring down at the young Hunter’s sword in his hands. “No, go on.”
The man nodded, slowly clapping Hanson Knell on the shoulder as he walked past, leading his group of techs back into the glass chute. Jessop studied the old Hunter’s face, the smattering of blood flecked across his cheek, the way his cool eyes fixated on the blade in his hand. He was old and he was weary, and likely in need of a medical inspection. She knew better than to suggest it though. Instead, she let her gaze fall from him, slowly taking in the brilliant opal lights that surrounded her, the pristine ivory floors and glass furniture. It was the brightest and cleanest room she had ever been in.
Suddenly, Jessop was choking. Without warning, a terrifying grip had locked around her small throat, closing around her jugular and flinging her body against the glass doors. Hanson Knell’s grizzled fingers tightened around her windpipe and in his spare hand was the blade of his comrade, pointed directly at her face. She was pinned between the blade and the door behind her, his rough fingers grinding at her neck.
She didn’t stir, her startled heart slowing as she studied the hardened eyes of Hanson Knell. Being startled was not the same as being afraid—true fear was something that had long since been beaten out of her. She took shallow breaths between his vice grip. “What?”
“Who are you, girl?” he growled.
She slowly raised her hand to his and pulled gently at his wrist, willing him to release her throat, but he resisted, inching the blade closer to her eye.
“I don’t know what answer you want,” she spoke hoarsely, her voice straining against his hold.
“Don’t toy with me, girl,” he barked, jerking her by her throat and slamming her body hard against the glass door again.
“Do not call me girl, old man,” she growled back, narrowing her eyes on him.
He brought his angry face closer to her. “I want a name, girl. And once we have that, then perhaps you’ll tell me why you fight with Falco Bane’s sword?”
She slapped at his hand, urging him to loosen his grip on her throat… before she forced it loose. Slowly, he acquiesced.
She coughed, swallowing hard against her bruised windpipe. She held his gaze as she ran her fingers slowly up and down her neck. “Because I took it from him when I escaped Aranthol.”
CHAPTER 2
“You’re