Faith and Moonlight Read online

  The flash of the blades in the sunlight dazzled the eye, and the contrast of black uniforms and white capes accentuated the speed and grace of their exchanges. They moved lightly, feet barely disturbing the sand’s pristine smoothness.

  As the fight picked up in intensity, so too did the energy. Roan felt it rolling off the fighters like roaring winds. Like a crack of thunder, a sharp spike of the unknown energy struck the arena. A spray of white sand was sent flying by an unseen force, and the woman with the spear staggered back.

  A burst of the energy surged from the female, and the roaring hum grew louder. As the woman attacked, her spear seemed to separate and unfold until the one weapon became six, each thrusting at her opponent. The swordsman waved his blade in a blinding arc, parrying as many as he could. Then her spear snapped back into a single weapon that darted past his guard, striking square in the chest. The blow sent the young man flying into the sand.

  Kay gasped, her hand coming up to cover her mouth. The assembled students below clapped and cheered.

  The vanquished young swordsman sat up, shaking his head. His opponent was already making her way over to offer a hand. Together and with matching smiles, the two walked back to the crowd while two new students took their place in the dueling space.

  “Amazing, right?” said a voice behind them.

  Roan spun around to a young man in the black jacket and white cape. “Sorry,” the student said, his hands up in a gesture of supplication. “I didn’t want to ruin it by interrupting.”

  The young man looked to be around their age, though he was slightly shorter than Roan. He ran a hand through his brown hair, pausing for a moment, but the smile he gave was easy and friendly. As Roan looked more closely, he noticed that unlike the meticulous state of his jacket, the young man’s cape was faded and somewhat ragged.

  “They are provosts, almost tempered. Looking to represent Faith in the Grand Tournament.” The young man looked down at the duel going on amidst the statues and sand. “They’ve spent most of their lives getting to that level of mastery and control. And now they’re almost done here.”

  “It’s beautiful,” Kay said, and Roan could not disagree with her sentiment.

  “Yes it is. And one day, that will be us down there on the floor of the Hourglass.” There was an optimism to his words that was tough to ignore, even for Roan. “But not today. The Hourglass is off-limits for us. This way,” he said.

  Roan and Kay followed the young man outside, leaving the clashing of steel and waves of power. Their guide turned to them. “I’m Erik Saer. I’m the prefect assigned to you.”

  “I’m Roan,” he told Erik. “And this is Kay.”

  Erik smiled and nodded at both of them. “Well, now that I’ve tracked you two down, and since it seems you’ve already got a bit of curiosity about the school grounds,” he teased good-naturedly, “I’ll show you around a bit.”

  As he started walking, Kay moved to his side. “What was that back there? What was that feeling?”

  “That,” he said, his smile growing, “is what makes a Razor what we are. It’s the power of the Ascended that we all tap into.”

  Kay furrowed her brow, but kept quiet. Walking away from the Hourglass, Roan felt the hum and tingle from the duel weaken. But even still, there was an underlying current of it all around, like it emanated from the earth and stone of the place itself.

  “I hope you don’t mind my asking about it,” Erik said. “It’s pretty rare to get aspirants who are so old. You guys must be special. Are you connected to an Ascended bloodline?”

  There was a slight pause. “Actually, no,” Kay said. “We grew up at Sanctuary Foundling House.”

  “Foundling house?” Erik said, his brow furrowing. “An orphanage?”

  Roan’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Does that matter?”

  “Not a bit,” Erik said evenly. “You’re Faith now,” he said with a grin.

  As they walked, Roan saw something was worrying Kay. “Erik, how do most students come to Faith?” she asked finally.

  “Outside of Resa is a place they call the Fairgrounds. It was built on the site of one of the great battles Aedan fought, so it’s a special place. Like the ground here. There are instructors there from all the schools, and anyone who wants to can come and train there.”

  “It sounds amazing,” Roan said.

  Erik shook his head. “It’s not. It’s…” he paused, seeming to search for the right word. “It’s desperate. There are kids everywhere. Sons and daughters of nobles, the children of merchants, beggar kids coming from the streets of the capital. All are there, desperately trying to pierce the veil, because once you do, you’re in.”

  “And what if they can’t do it?” Kay asked.

  “They keep trying. Some stay at the Fairgrounds for years.”

  “Until when?” she asked quietly. “At what point do they give up their dream and accept it won’t happen?”

  Erik paused before answering. “By ten,” he said. “The schools don’t admit anyone after ten summers. They say if it hasn’t happened by then, it never will.”

  Kay’s face grew pale and her pace slowed. Roan’s stomach tightened. They were already four years past.

  Erik must have seen the impact his words had. “Don’t worry about that,” he said, shifting tone. “You two will make it.”

  “Thank you, Erik, but you don’t know that.”

  “Yes I do. You’re in Faith. This place, the ground and the buildings and the people, all of it is special. Magical. It will help you.” He raised a finger. “Plus, you have something special that no candidate at the Fairgrounds, or even the greatest warriors of Faith, ever had.”

  “What’s that?” Kay asked, her eyes wide.

  “A truly great tutor,” Erik said, pointing his upraised finger to himself.

  Kay laughed, and Roan smiled. It was good to hear her laugh again. It had been a long time. Much too long.

  Erik led them down a broad central path toward the heart of the school grounds. Ahead of them, a building loomed. It looked older than the other buildings around it. The white stone was not the pristine white of the other structures. It was the mellowed tone of old bone.

  As Erik opened the door for them, he bowed his head slightly. The warm, genuine smile was still there, but tempered with reverence. He quietly led them inside.

  The room was a circular stone arena, the polished obsidian floor gleaming. Small candles were placed here and there, their flickering flames reflecting off the floor’s smooth perfection.

  Rising up from the center of the space was an enormous statue, dwarfing the students standing in silent veneration. It depicted a powerful warrior clad in a swirling cloak of carved marble. In his hands was a massive sword, the tip of which was driven into the obsidian.

  Roan stared at the immense blade, unable to avert his eyes. The weapon was not carved from white stone like the statue that wielded it. It was steel. A real blade, though four times the height of a tall man.

  Kay spoke in a hushed whisper. “That sword… is that?” she stammered.

  Erik nodded. “The sword of Baheyer himself.”

  Roan stared at a piece of legend made real. He had always believed the stories, the tales of great Aedan and the First Ascended, but here was proof. The First Ascended had gained the strength of their fallen brothers and sisters, and, in doing so, had grown not only in power, but stature.

  The weapons of the First Ascended, as much a part of them as their own flesh, had grown with them, spirits of the wielder merging with the wielded into something powerful enough to turn back the darkness.

  That was Roan’s favorite part of the legend, and, as a child, he imagined what such blades would look like. Never had he expected to stand before one.

  In contrast to the smooth perfection of the statue itself, the sword was worn, making it all the more real. The blade itself was pitted and chipped, the edge ragged where it had been broken on the backs of the Ruins. This was no showpiece, but a
weapon wielded for the very salvation of humanity by the greatest the world had ever seen—or would ever see.

  The buzzing hum filled the air. Roan closed his eyes, trying to tune it out, but this only made it worse. It echoed in his skull.

  Roan opened his eyes, trying to steady himself amidst sound and sensation. Kay was talking with Erik, but he could barely make out their words over the incessant hum. Whatever was making the sound, whatever he was feeling, it was clear that Kay was ignorant of it. Even Erik seemed to take no notice.

  There was a pull, a tugging sensation that drew him toward the sword. Before he realized what he was doing, Roan moved to stand before the blade.

  The humming rose to fill every part of him. He felt it in his bones, in his teeth. His eyes vibrated with the thrum of it. He placed his palm against the metal blade. The moment he made contact, the mad humming grew into a powerful crescendo that took the breath from Roan’s body.

  And then it was gone.

  Roan looked at his hand, half-expecting to see it marked in some way, but the skin was the same as ever.

  “You felt something,” said a voice beside him.

  Before him was a slender young man, about Roan’s own age. His blonde hair fell over his face, and his green eyes gleamed with intensity. He wore the uniform of a Faith student, but unlike the others, this ensemble was open; jacket unbuckled, and cape swept over one shoulder.

  He met Roan’s gaze. “I’m Gideon,” he said.

  “Roan.”

  “So, you felt something?”

  Roan shot a glance to Kay and Erik, who motioned for him to join them. Kay’s face bore concern, and Roan didn’t know how to explain what he was feeling. But he knew it wasn’t happening to her, and the last thing he wanted was to shake her confidence.

  “Didn’t feel a thing,” he said and quickly rejoined the others.

  As he came up to her, Kay fixed him with a questioning look. “What is it?” she asked. “What’s wrong?”

  Roan shook his head. “Nothing. Just trying to process everything.” He shifted his focus to Erik. “What other wonders are you going to show us?” he asked.

  Erik grinned. “Follow me.”

  As the three walked out, Roan felt blonde boy’s eyes upon him.

  Kay

  Walking in Erik’s wake, Kay felt lightheaded. The scope and scale of what she saw had shaken her. A relic of ancient legends that shaped her imagination had been close enough to touch. The impossible greatness of it made her seem small and insignificant.

  Roan moved up beside her and offered a smile, but his gaze kept reverting to the grand building they left. Perhaps he felt as she did, but Kay dismissed that thought. She knew Roan never felt small and insignificant. Even when she first found him bloodied and starving outside the orphanage, there had been a strength to him. An intensity he always carried.

  Erik led them to another building. “Preceptor Pamalia made arrangements for your first class,” he said. “Eventually, you’ll be folded into the regular curriculum, but for now, you have more individual lessons.”

  At his words, Kay’s nerves flared. “Lessons?” she said hesitantly. “But we’ve barely arrived.”

  Erik gave her a half-shrug. “Well, it is a school,” he offered. “And besides, this is what we all start out with. The first lesson is always Preceptor Ksena’s Rose.”

  “Ho, Erik,” said a voice behind Kay, drawing her attention.

  Coming out the door was a pair of students, both wearing the white mantle of Faith. The young man was tall and lanky and had light hair that looked tossed and messy. The girl by his side had vibrant red hair and light eyes. Both had their jackets unbuckled, and there was a relaxed and happy air about them that made Kay smile. They returned the gesture.

  Erik put his arms around the two newcomers. “These two,” he said with obvious pride, “are the best of Faith.” The two of them smiled even more broadly. “Not necessarily with a blade, mind you—”

  Erik was cut off as the red-haired girl elbowed him in the stomach, but he came up laughing. “But the best in every other way you could imagine,” he said. “This is Sabine Collesse,” Erik said as Sabine gave a confident nod and waved. Erik gestured to the other. “And this is Lillarn Mattan.”

  The tall young man gave a deep bow—and then fell over.

  Kay gasped as he fell, but instead of hitting the ground, the man tucked his chin and rolled to his feet to stand before them. The grand gesture almost went wrong as he stumbled coming back up. Sabine smoothly grabbed the man’s jacket, steadying him. She gave Kay a wink and then sighed.

  Lillarn gave Kay and Roan a sheepish smile, and then delivered Erik a gentle push. “I have no idea what strings you pulled to get us out of Vullohn’s class, but we’re definitely grateful.”

  “Preceptor Ksena knew I was coming with Roan and Kay,” Erik said, “and she requested I bring you two to assist with the first lesson.”

  Lillarn blanched. “Ksena asked for me?” He shook his head. “But she hates me.”

  “She doesn’t hate you,” Erik replied.

  “She kind of does,” Sabine corrected before turning to Roan and Kay. “Welcome to Faith, you two. Best come inside the Rose. Preceptor Ksena doesn’t like to be kept waiting.” Moving while speaking, she held open the wooden doors.

  “She doesn’t like much of anything,” Lillarn muttered under his breath.

  As Kay walked in, she asked Sabine, “Why do they call it the Rose?” But as soon as she entered, Kay found her answer.

  The expanse of the room glowed. The entire floor was covered with perfectly smooth, warm-toned wood. Darker pieces interspersed amongst the predominately lighter boards, forming an immense, complicated rose pattern. The whole space gleamed like golden honey under candlelight.

  “Oh,” was all Kay could manage.

  A small woman stood in the center of the rose pattern. She leaned heavily on a polished black cane. Her auburn hair was pulled up into an elaborate and old-fashioned style atop her head, and a dark mole on her chin seemed to enhance her pale beauty. Her chin was held high as she watched the group enter. There was a palpable intensity in her gaze.

  Preceptor Ksena rapped her cane on the floor, producing a series of thunder cracks. “You are aspirants to Faith,” she declared as Roan and Kay slowly approached. Her words were shaped by a thick accent, reminding Kay of traders from the cold southern marches who had come by the orphanage.

  “Lillarn,” Preceptor Ksena snapped.

  Lillarn moved over quickly. “Yes, Preceptor?”

  “I need someone to operate the wheels. You will do so.”

  “The wheels? Why me?”

  “Because I need Saer and Collesse to demonstrate how to walk the Rose properly, and your instruction would only serve to damn our new foundlings to mediocrity. But mostly, Lillarn Mattan, because I have told you to do so. Now move. And keep up with my pace. Are we clear?”

  “Yes, Preceptor,” Lillard responded sullenly. He walked back toward the open door, but not before Kay saw him shoot Erik a look and mouth the words, “I told you.” Erik grinned, but kept his eyes on the preceptor.

  “All aspirants come to me first. They come to me to walk the Rose,” she said, tapping her cane rhythmically. “Walk the Rose to reach me.” The woman smiled. “If you can.”

  As she tapped out a steady rhythm, each of the inlaid wooden pieces of the floor began to move. They slid in smooth motions, dark spreading over light before being eclipsed again by dark. Each wooden section moved sideways while shifting elevation. The entire design shifted between flat symbol, towering blossom, globe-like bud, and then back again.

  Kay was caught off-balance as she was shifted first sideways by one piece, then carried forward and up by another. Each floorboard seemed to move independently, forcing Kay to hold out her hands to maintain equilibrium.

  Trying to remain upright, Kay watched the preceptor. The woman remained still while Kay moved dizzyingly around.

  “Walk
the Rose,” Preceptor Ksena called out.

  From the corner of her eye, Kay saw Roan leap to a light-colored platform, and then quickly onto another that slid him away and around as the Rose grew.

  Drawing a deep breath, Kay raised a foot, toes poised above the floor. The ground beneath her did not slow, and she hesitated. The opposing motions of pieces spread her legs wide and she fell backward, landing hard and tumbling to the base, only to discover even the foundation now shifted.

  Roan changed direction and headed for her, moving quickly across the chaotic platforms. He came close and extended a hand. Kay reached out, but the platform rushed him past. She gripped him momentarily, lurching upward, before her added weight pulled him off balance and they both toppled.

  The tapping cane continued as Preceptor Ksena spoke. “You,” she intoned, pointing at Roan. “You focus so deeply on your goal that you neglect the path that will take you there. And you,” she said while her glare skewered Kay. “Your hesitation and doubt ruin you before you begin.”

  Kay’s cheeks burned at the comment and she struggled to regain her footing. Once upright, she gaped at the swirling lumber.

  “Saer, Collesse,” Preceptor Ksena called out to Erik and Sabine. “You are here as guides. Help our aspirants find their legs.”

  Erik and Sabine moved onto the floor, Erik heading toward Roan and Sabine to Kay. In amazement, Kay watched the girl step unerringly across the floor. Sabine seemed to pay no attention to her footing, but also instinctively knew each board’s direction. She used the lumber’s momentum to propel herself across, up, and over obstacles.

  In moments, Sabine stood before her. She held out a hand, but even as she did, her feet continued moving. They worked constantly to maintain her upper body’s perfect stillness.

  Kay gaped.

  Sabine smiled before blowing a long strand of red hair from her face. “There is a pattern to the floor,” Sabine said. “Watch the Rose.”

  Keeping her arms out to maintain balance, Kay tried to see what Sabine spoke of. It did not take long. The floor’s design shifted in a specific manner: bud to flower, full bloom, and then back. It was like watching the flower flow through its days in mere moments.