Dawn of the Hunters

Book 3: Hunters of Infinity

by Ryan Wieser

Genres: Fantasy action & adventure; Sci-fi Action & Adventure; Space Opera

Synopsis

Even the Hunters of Infinity are splintered when faced with the greatest battle in the Daharian galaxy's history....

Jessop has proven herself to be an unstoppable force from Aranthol to Azgul, inarguably the fiercest warrior the Hunters have ever seen. And her abilities only seem to strengthen as her rage grows. With the two men she holds dear by her side — one good-souled, one with a treacherous past, and both deadly with a sword — she prepares to enter the most important fight of her life, with the most personal stakes yet....

Armies are divided and reforged, and battle lines are drawn. Blind loyalty drives some while others are sworn to protect the galaxy at all costs. Bonds will be tested. Lives will be lost. Consequences will be devastating.

Release date: May 7, 2019

Publisher: Rebel Base Books

Print pages: 265

Sample

Prologue

Haycith

Twenty-five years ago

He had become certain of one thing, and one thing only: Fire-Wielders were not to be found in Daharia. He had searched, traveling as far as he could during the brief time Lord Gredoria allowed him leave from the Blade, with the hope of finding more. In part, he knew it was because Gredoria was as fascinated by the idea of Fire-Wielders as he was, but it was also simply a luxury afforded to him for his superior abilities. He didn’t need to train as hard, as fast, as long as his brethren. Hanson, Urdo, their masters—all of them knew he was going to be the next Lord Protector.

He leapt from his docked Soar-Craft, his boots landing softly on the lush ground underfoot. He had one night in Haycith before having to return to Azgul. He removed his dark gloves and ran a hand through his mess of brown hair. “You must learn to plait it,” Hanson had told him. Hanson kept his golden locks in pristine order. “Or cut it,” Urdo had quipped. He had laughed at his friends’ suggestions. “When you shear those whiskers, Urdo, I’ll cut it.” He was close with his brothers, though inexplicably different from them.

He let his eyes trail up the path to his family home—an expansive manor, built from the smoothest of dark stones, melded together to form perfect lines. It was the largest, and grandest, of homes in Haycith. He was quite certain there was no place in the world he preferred more. Not even the Blade. He pushed open the heavy black door and entered the cool corridor. “Mother, Father.” He bowed his head at the black stone busts lining the entryway. His family had long since passed away, a terrible accident claiming his parents’ lives many years ago. The home was maintained by workers in his family’s employ and whenever he had a chance, he would return to oversee the estate.

He crossed the dark hall, briskly leaping onto the smooth black stone stairs that led up to his chambers. He cleared several at a time, light on his feet, wondering—

He froze. He had heard the movement beneath him, still in the foyer. It was the softest sound of leather brushing against stone. He had been certain of it. He knew when he was alone and he knew when he was being watched. Someone was in his home. With his hand lightly poised on the black railing, he flung his body back over the side, twisting in the air. He landed on the ground below in near-perfect silence, appearing behind the cloaked intruder. He struck quickly, locking his forearm around the hooded neck of his assailant.

“Big mistake,” he hissed, shifting his position ever so slightly, ready to snap the intruder’s neck.

“Wait!”

The woman’s voice startled him, forcing him to loosen his grip. She spun about in his arms.

“Let me go.” Her voice was deep, her eyes angry, her words an order. She had the longest fair hair he had ever seen; it trailed around her face, down her chest. She was young and she was beautiful. Despite trespassing in his home, she had barked at him with aggression, possessing a natural authority Hydo hadn’t seen in many.

She wasn’t the only one of them accustomed to snapping orders though, and while he refrained from harming her, he did not let her go. “Who are you?”

As she stared at him, her fiery gaze softened, the tension in her body lessening. “I heard you were looking for someone like me.”

He finally loosened his grip on her. “I don’t know who you are or what you’ve heard, and clearly you don’t know who I—”

“You’re Hydo, the greatest Hunter since Gredoria Vane himself. You’re the next Lord Protector,” she smiled, though there was a mocking tone in her voice.

“Aren’t you clever. Then you know I can enter your mind and find out just as much about you,” he threatened.

“No one’s stopping you,” she whispered, leaning into him, tilting her head up to his.

She was so close to him, he could have closed the distance with a kiss. He held her stare, wondering for a moment if that was what she wanted—if it was what he wanted. She was beautiful, but she was an intruder. She was a total stranger who had broken into his home to find him. He wondered who she was and why he hadn’t already entered her mind to find out.

Suddenly, flames erupted around his hands. They were enormous, wild and crimson, and they laced over their interlocked hands, up his arms, circling about their embrace. At first, he feared that he had lost focus—that he had been so enamored by the woman he had started the fire without intent. With all his energy he concentrated on extinguishing the fire before he harmed her. Only when he couldn’t did he realize the flames were not his own.

She held his gaze with a wicked smile painted across her perfect face. She kept her eyes locked on him and with her mind she willed the flames higher around them, building them up before extinguishing them instantly. She was a Fire-Wielder. He had crossed the greatest of territories in search ...and here she was.

“I told you, I heard you were looking for someone like me.”

He didn’t know what to say. He had never seen another with the power he alone had seemed to possess. He knew, logically, that there were others. He had grown disheartened with every futile search though. He shook his head at her slowly.

She continued to smile up at him. “You have the darkest eyes I’ve ever seen.”

“And you have the greenest.” He flicked his gaze over her once more. She was like him. Truly like him.

“Who are you?”

“You can call me Octayn.”

Chapter 1

Hara’agul

Present Day

The Soar-Craft jerked violently, sending crates and weapons along with bedding and provisions flying about. Jessop and Falco gripped one another tighter. There was a deafening sound of wind blowing through the vessel. They were under attack.

“Falco—we’re crashing!”

They fell faster and faster, and all she could think of was their son. They couldn’t die in a Soar-Craft crash, not when they still needed to rescue Jeco from Hanson Knell and Hydo Jesuin. Jessop looked around the vessel, her eyes darting over panicked faces. She knew what she needed to do. “I need you to let go, Falco!”

“Never!”

Jessop gripped Falco tightly. “Do you trust me?”

The way he looked at her, amidst chaos, was with a perfect stillness. “Of course.”

She kissed him, deeply, with all of her love. As their kiss ended he rested his forehead against hers. She slowly pulled away. “Then let go.”

Falco stared at her with his concerned gray eyes, ignoring the surrounding panic, and finally let her go. She nearly fell, but her superior balance helped her regain her footing quickly. She turned, facing the control panel at the front of the Soar-Craft. She crouched low down in the aisle, and allowed for the force of the fall to move her down the vessel. She used her Sentio to throw items and falling men out of her path. She braced herself as she fell against the control seat. The vessel was falling nose-first. With a quick tumble, she leapt over the seat and fell against the glass window.

She could not deny that the sight of the desert ground, nearing so quickly, didn’t concern her. She already disliked flying. She couldn’t focus on the danger, though. She took a deep breath and laid both her hands against the glass, closing her eyes, and focusing with all her might. She knew they fell still. She breathed more deeply, and thought of Urdo and all he had shown her during their siege on Aranthol. She envisioned her abilities like a wave of light, traveling through her body, out her fingertips. She imagined the light clearly, and this time, it was a crimson red. It trailed from her hands, through the vessel, snaking around the Soar-Craft.

She thought perhaps the vessel was slowing, when the sensation of blood trickling from her nose distracted her. It wasn’t working. She pushed the light further from her, focusing with all her might on catching the falling ship, yet it still fell. She didn’t have much longer. She tried to regain her focus when his face appeared in her mind: Jeco. A perfect son, the exact image of his father with the same dark hair and gray eyes. He needed her. He needed her more than ever.

And if she were going to save him from Hanson and Hydo, she would need to survive this crash. She would need help.

“Falco!”

Instantly, she felt him at her side. He tumbled over the control seat and, realizing her plan, thrust his hands against the glass. “Urdo—push the plan to the others!” He shouted over his shoulder. Jessop couldn’t think about the two other Soar-Craft traveling alongside them—crashing alongside them. She couldn’t think about Urdo using Sentio to tell the Hunters on board the other vessels to attempt to copy her plan, to use their abilities to slow the vessels to a safe landing.

She couldn’t think about anything other than—crash!

Jessop didn’t need to open her eyes to know what had happened. The explosion, the instant smell of smoke. One vessel had already hit the ground. Suddenly, she felt Falco’s fingers lock around hers. He held her hand and she could see his face when they were children, she could feel his kiss when they were youth, she could hear his vows the day they married, and with an unexplainable, violent jolt, their vessel froze in the air. The sound of men falling, yelling, boxes breaking, and weapons clashing into the metal walls in a cacophony of noise surrounded her. And then everything was silent.

Slowly, she opened her eyes, fearful that if she broke concentration for just one second, the vessel would smash into the ground below.

Jessop’s stomach turned at the sight of the sandy ground not twenty paces below the glass she and Falco leaned against. There were thick, billowing clouds of black smoke racing across the window from the Soar-Craft that had crashed. She thought of Falco and Dezane’s soldiers and felt more than sorrow. She felt rage. “Let’s bring it down slowly,” Falco whispered to her.

He held her stare and together, with their combined Sentio, they brought the vessel parallel to the sandy terrain, before focusing on lowering it slowly. She was thankful that whoever had shot them in the first place had ceased their attack, even if it were only temporary. Jessop could feel the blood drying on her face, the sweat dripping down her temple as she pushed herself, forcing all her attention onto the vessel. A deafening nearby thud distracted her, and instantly the Soar-Craft fell several feet.

“Easy! Easy!” Urdo’s voice filled the cabin, calming those around him. Jessop kept her eyes on Falco. He nodded at her slowly. A bead of sweat hung on his brow. His fingers locked tighter around hers. She envisioned the red light gently lowering the vessel to the ground, and just like that, the Soar-Craft found a place on the soft sand. They had landed.

Jessop slowly released Falco’s hand, turning to see the ransacked cabin, the eyes of all the men on her and Falco. Urdo nodded to her approvingly, “Hode Avay managed to land his vessel—though somewhat less slowly.” She thought of the young Hunter Urdo had introduced her to back in the Blade and was instantly impressed. “Teck was with him,” he added, and Jessop nodded slowly, knowing the Oren had many remarkable abilities.

She let her gaze move from Urdo, to Dezane, over the stunned faces of the many warriors they traveled with, to Kohl. He had a cut on his face, and Jessop knew he must have been struck during the fall, but otherwise he seemed fine.

Their vessel shuddered violently as they were struck again. The metal rung all around them, aching her ears. She grabbed Falco to steady herself. The Hara’agul assailants were shooting at them. Jessop thought of the fallen vessel, of Hanson traveling through these lands with her son. And she felt the fire burning inside her—the rage coming forth. She leapt over the control seat, moving around fallen items and men, making her way for the door.

Kohl immediately leapt in her way, and she could feel Falco following her. “Jessop—these aren’t raiders, they are Soren—desert brigands—and they have a Bakunawa!” He referred to the giant canon they were using to shoot scrap metal at the Soar-Craft.

She didn’t care if they were mercenaries or Soren or anything else. She didn’t care what weapons they possessed. She side-stepped Kohl with ease. “Not for much longer they don’t.” With a heavy slam of the release button, the door began to open, lowering down to the sand.

“Jessop—Jessop! You need to recuperate,” Falco urged, appearing at her side.

“I’m fine.”

She shrugged off his concern and ignored Kohl as he came up on her other side. She did feel fine. She had exerted herself greatly, but she did not feel faint or weakened by her feat.

As soon as the door was low enough, thick black smoke filled the cabin. The smell of burning flesh settled in her nostrils, reigniting her anger. Men who had followed them into battle, who had trusted her, were now dead. She immediately felt as though she were standing in the Gahaza Square of Aranthol once more, leading her men into Kohl’s ambush. She knew her weakness. She was no leader. But that didn’t change the fact that she was an excellent fighter.

She leapt from the doorway, her boots finding the soft sand with a firm landing. Through the smoke and hazy sky, she could make out the hordes of Soren from Hara’agul—and their Bakunawa. The Soren were unlike any Jessop had ever seen before. Their bodies were made up of metal scraps and exposed bone, flesh covering bits and pieces of their faces and trunk, a mess of wires and veins crossing over and under steel and cartilage. They wore red tunics and half of them had makeshift caps on, as if the skull bone and metal needed protection from the desert heat.

Centered within the group was the massive cannon. A giant rusted-red barrel, large enough for chunks of scrap metal to be stuffed into and shot back out. With a flick of her hand, Jessop sent the Bakunawa across the desert terrain, with such force that the barrel came loose from the wheelie-stand, rolling off into a dune.

A man with two silver eyes, wild black hair growing straight out of exposed bone, and a shining, metal jaw, shot his arms up, as if to guard himself from the flying, crumbling weapon. He turned, locking his eyes on Jessop, his metal jaw grinding in anger. He was their obvious leader. Jessop was certain that if any of the machine-men Soren knew whether her son had passed these lands, it would be him.

He pointed a boney hand at her, the sleeve from his crimson tunic falling back to expose a forearm made of shimmering copper.

“Attack!”

Jessop drew her daggers and flung them out before her, instantly striking two oncoming attackers in their fleshy trunks. With Sentio, she called the blades back to her, ducking under swords and metallic, skinless fists, incapacitating any who came before her. However many there were, they were no match for Falco, Kohl, and Urdo, who fought in a circle around her, keeping many at bay as she made her way for the silver eyed leader.

Falco spun about her path. He moved his sword with such speed she could only make out a shimmering glint of its path. His lips remained tightly pressed together, his gray eyes dancing about his opponents with a sense of disinterest. What she had said aboard the vessel to him may have been true—perhaps she was surpassing his abilities of the mind—but that did not by any means diminish his vast skills with a weapon. He was unstoppable with a blade.

Jessop threw her arms out with carelessness, unconcerned by how much damage she inflicted and upon whom. The man with the silver eyes watched as his brigands fell at her feet, helpless against her and so many Hunters.

“Jessop, duck!”

At Kohl’s instruction she dropped to her knees, sliding across several feet of silky sand, her body leaning so far back she could feel the trail her braid left in the granules. She saw as Kohl flipped over her, his sword spiraling about him, his blond hair whipping about his face. He landed with grace on her opposite side, cutting down a man with a metal bow and arrow trained on her.

She leapt back to her feet, appearing just before the Hara’agul leader. He reached for his hilt, but Jessop was much faster. She locked her hand around the metal and bone of his wrist and violently twisted it outward, forcing him to release the hilt with a sickening crunching of bone. With a forceful kick to the side of his knee, he fell before her and with all her might, she locked her fingers around his throat, only partially covered in skin. Her fingers were slick around exposed veins, her thumb futilely pushing against a sheet of metal leading up to his jaw. Nonetheless, she squeezed, knowing she could kill him regardless of his metal makings.

“We did not know you traveled with Falco Bane.” He choked out the words, glancing over Jessop’s shoulder. The ruckus had died out; she felt Urdo, Kohl, and Falco take their places at her side.

Jessop ignored his explanation for the attack. “Do you know Hanson Knell? The Hunter—he’s been reported traveling this way with a boy.” She could not control the speed at which her heart beat, the sweat appearing on her lip. She knew whatever information this man had could change her entire life.

His strong, boney hands found her wrist, trying to pry her fingers off of him, to no avail. She forced her fingers tighter into the mess of wires and bloody veins.

“We—argh—we all—cahh—kn—know—”

“He can’t breathe, Jessop.”

She ignored Urdo’s words. “Answer me or die here.”

She could see, in her periphery, some of his Soren army approaching once more. They were hesitant to reengage with the Hunters, but she did not question the depths of their loyalty. If they needed to, they would come to his aid. She refocused, clamping down with her strong fingers.

“Answer me.”

“He came through last night with a boy, a dark-haired, small thing.”

Jessop released her grip on him. He coughed violently at her feet, blood dripping from his throat to the hot sand.

“Was the boy harmed?”

“No, he seemed fine. They didn’t stay long, just refueled their vessel and left.”

“He seemed fine?” Jessop spoke, her heart racing, her fists tensing.

Falco moved closer to her. “Jessop.”

“That boy is our son, you fool. My son. Falco Bane’s son!” Her voice traveled far, ringing about the dunes.

“We didn’t know. I swear it.” His voice was loud and desperate, his silver gaze turning from her to Falco.

“Jessop,” Falco spoke her name once more, but it sounded so faint.

Blood was rushing to her head and she felt dizzy. White spots appeared before his silver eyes, down his metal and bone and flesh, over his red tunic, dancing across the sand all around him.

Mama.

She could hear him. She could hear her son. She spun around but saw no one—Jeco was not there.

Mama!

She blinked, and the Soren leader once again was in her sight, but no Jeco. She fell to her knees and grabbed his tunic.

“Where is he? Where is my son?”

She shook him with all her might. Jessop could see his mouth moving but she heard nothing. She shook him harder, and harder. She could see all of the exposed bones of his hands as he locked them onto hers, trying to push her off him, but she could not feel his touch. She could hear nothing but a distinct ringing. White spots clouded her vision. Blood thumped against her temples. She could taste blood—was she bleeding? She didn’t know.

She closed her eyes and tried to focus. Someone was screaming. Was it her? She could feel the heat. She could smell the burning skin and charring bone. Fire. There was so much fire. Just as there had been when she was a child. The smell of burning flesh ...She had been so young then. She had come home to the small cottage her family had lived in Beyond the Grey to find Hydo Jesuin, Lord Protector of the Blade of Light, leader of the Hunters who patrolled Daharia, attacking her parents. Her father was dead on the floor. There had been so much blood. Falco had saved her. He had fought Hydo and forced her from the home. He had saved her before the flames could take her.

She could never forget the smell of the burning skin.

Strong hands pulled her to her feet, wrenching her back. The ringing was gone. The screaming had stopped. She could no longer hear Jeco. There were no white spots. There was just the Soren leader, his charred remains smoking in the sand. Jessop had burned him alive.

* * * *

The Soren had retreated at the sight of their dead leader, but not disappeared. They waited on the desert periphery, metallic skeletons whispering and watching, staring down . . .