Faith and Moonlight

by Mark Gelineau

  “Tradition?” Erik cut in. “You sure you don’t want him to fight so you can place a bet?”

  “So I can win a bet,” Lillarn corrected. “I think against the right opponent, he could last a full twenty or so seconds.”

  Roan shot him a look.

  Lillarn pointed at Roan’s face. “Ooh! Or even thirty. Come on!” he implored. Erik and Sabine laughed, and Roan’s face softened at Lillarn’s antics.

  Kay moved closer to Roan. “Your turn,” she repeated with a challenging grin. He wouldn’t be able to refuse for long. She knew him too well; knew he’d take the bait. And really, it hadn’t been so bad, being bested so quickly.

  Roan looked at her for a long moment and sighed. “Okay,” he said.

  Lillarn cheered and removed his white cape. “You got a preference for your poison, Roan?” he asked.

  When Roan shook his head, Lillarn handed him the cape and his own practice sword and then took off across the rooftops, shouting, “Faith has a second offering to Ascension tonight!”

  Kay walked by Roan’s side, following Erik and Sabine.

  Sabine pointed to a nearby rooftop where Lillarn was talking to a group of students wearing dark purple mantles. “Looks like he found you something fun, Roan. Those are Vertigos,” Sabine said.

  Erik chuckled and shook his head. “Leave it to Lillarn.”

  “What do you mean?” Kay asked. “How are Vertigos different?”

  “Where Torrents are known for their speed, Vertigos are known for being unconventional when they fight.”

  “Let me put it this way,” Sabine said, “the last time I fought a Vertigo, he was a big brute swinging a long-bladed axe.” She tilted her head. “And in the fight, he never swung that axe once. But I was kicked in the head more times than I can even begin to count.”

  “That makes no sense,” Kay said. “Why would he kick you if he had the axe?”

  Both Erik and Sabine laughed. “Because he’s a Vertigo,” Sabine said.

  As if on cue, Lillarn gestured for them to come closer.

  “Good luck,” Kay said with a grin.

  As Roan and the Vertigo moved to their respective sides of the rooftop, a murmur drew Kay’s attention. The Royals, white capes reflecting the light of lanterns, were approaching. At their head was a tall young man with blonde hair and hard eyes. His attention never left Roan.

  “What is Gideon playing at?” Erik asked. “This is just blooding an aspirant. Well below him.”

  “Who’s Gideon?” Kay asked in a hushed tone.

  “The top fighter in our class,” Lillarn said, his earlier excitement gone. “And he makes damn sure people know it.”

  “So why would he be fighting Roan?”

  Neither Erik nor Lillarn responded, but as they watched, the Vertigo talking to Gideon shrugged and stepped from the ring, rejoining his comrades. Gideon moved in and took the empty spot. He raised his chin at Sabine, who frowned deeply.

  Kay’s earlier excitement shifted to unease. “Erik, what’s happening?”

  “I don’t know,” Erik said, “but it looks like Gideon is going to be Roan’s opponent.”

  “What? Seriously? Is Roan in trouble?” she asked, grabbing Erik’s upper arm.

  “No, everyone knows these aspirant fights are just for fun. Even Gideon,” he said, but his voice did not fill Kay with confidence.

  Roan and Gideon faced each other, each holding still, blunted-swords raised.

  Sabine frowned as she continued her officiant responsibilities. “Challenge issued by a blade of Faith. Accepted by a blade of Faith. This is a duel of glory. The eyes of history are upon you.” She looked at them both. “Prove your worth.”

  Slowly, Gideon began to circle. Roan countered. Their measured steps scraped across the rough rooftop. Gideon reversed direction, slashing at Roan with a backhanded cut. Roan blocked and thrust back. The exchange was quick and sure.

  Kay felt power emanating from Gideon, like a hand was pressing against her heart. She frowned at the power he seemed to effortlessly command. As Gideon slashed at Roan, the metal bent impossibly like a spring branch. The tip snapped around to strike the side of Roan’s head, sending him to the ground.

  Kay gasped. She went to step forward, but Erik grabbed her arm and held her back. He gestured back to the circle. Gideon had not moved. Slowly, Roan rose, rubbing the side of his head. He turned toward Gideon, stretched his neck and raised his sword.

  The fight was not over.

  Roan and Gideon clashed. This time, Roan swung fiercely, trying to force Gideon back, but the blonde student held off every attack. Power burst from Gideon, even more forceful this time. In a blur, Gideon appeared behind Roan and struck, sending him sprawling.

  Roan sprang back up and rounded on Gideon. All around, the rooftops teemed with onlookers from every school, as if all of Ascension had stopped to watch.

  The sound of crossing blades echoed. As Kay watched, the fight seemed to grow more serious; more brutal. Once again, Roan was knocked to the roof. He shot to his feet and wiped blood from his face. His eyes were filled with rage as he charged once more.

  Responding, Gideon’s power surged harder. As their two blades met, Gideon’s energy exploded across the rooftops.

  And was answered by a surge from Roan.

  The combined burst rocked Kay, Erik, and Lillarn back a few steps. Kay’s eyes stung from the force.

  The crowd exploded. Cheers and yells erupted as onlookers pushed forward, trying to get close. Erik grabbed Kay’s hand and pulled her ahead of the crowd.

  “What happened?” she yelled over the tumult. “What’s going on?”

  “Roan pierced the veil,” Erik exclaimed. “His first night, his very first fight, and he pierced the veil and touched the spirits.”

  “He didn’t just pierce it. He tore it wide open!” Lillarn yelled over the surrounding cheers.

  Kay caught Roan’s eye amidst the confusion. He offered a confused shrug. Kay laughed with a wild, powerful joy.

  Her heart swelled. She looked at the crowd, at the nighttime world of Ascension, and then to Faith, rising tall and proud in the sky. She wanted this.

  Even as she laughed, an edge of fear cut into her. Roan made it look so easy, yet she had not been able to manage anything close to his achievement. As Kay watched him be lifted onto the shoulders of cheering students, she realized she was being left behind, a shadow in his moment of glory.

  Roan had found his home.

  Kay hoped desperately she would join him.

  Roan

  The morning sun was bright, making the school’s green landscape even more vibrant as Roan exited the dormitory. He had not slept much. After the fight, there was celebration, but questions weighed on Roan’s mind. He had little chance to talk to Kay afterward. That, at least, he could rectify.

  As he descended the steps, it was not Kay waiting for him, but Gideon. He leaned against the side of the stone steps that led from the dormitory building.

  “You’re to come with me,” Gideon said. “Preceptor Pamalia has requested you.”

  Roan stopped on the last step. “I need to wait for my friend.”

  “The preceptor asked for you,” Gideon stated. “Just you.”

  Frowning, Roan looked toward Kay’s dormitory and sighed. “Fine.”

  They made their way to Preceptor Pamalia’s office in silence.

  The preceptor was waiting at her door. She motioned them both inside and directed Roan to the same chair from yesterday. Gideon moved around the large desk to stand beside Pamalia. The preceptor herself was different from when Roan had last seen her.

  Pamalia wore a broad, satisfied smile as she settled into the chair opposite him. “It seems you had quite an eventful night.”

  “Did I pierce the veil?”

  Preceptor Pamalia steepled her fingers under her chin and nodded slowly. “Quite dramatically, from what I heard, but likely it was not truly your first time. You have probably done so unconsciously often i
n your life. Calling upon it in a time of need. But the ability was clearly present in you. Otherwise, you would never have felt the call of Baheyer’s blade in the Reliquary yesterday.”

  Roan’s eyes shifted to Gideon. The young man stood leaning against the back wall, his arms crossed over his chest. He met Roan’s gaze, unfazed.

  The preceptor continued, her smile growing wider, “We do not accept older aspirants very often. But though rare, there are times when the policy shows its worth. Like it has with you.” She spread her long-fingered hands across the desk. “You have found your place, Roan. You belong here in Faith.”

  “And Kay?” Roan asked.

  The preceptor’s smile faded away. “She must wait until she pierces the veil herself, like any other aspirant.”

  Roan gave a terse nod. “Then I too will wait.”

  “Then you will wait too long,” Gideon said, shaking his head. “She is not going to make it.”

  “You don’t know that,” Roan said.

  “I do,” Gideon responded. “I do not say this to be cruel. It is simply what is. You pierced the veil last night. She did not. And she will not tonight, nor tomorrow, nor any other night.”

  Roan stared at him coldly. “Then so be it. If she must leave, then I will leave with her. I promised her we would face this together. Nothing has changed that.” Roan turned toward Preceptor Pamalia. “If I might be excused, Preceptor. I would like to rejoin Kay and assist with her training.”

  Pamalia nodded, but there was sadness in her eyes. “One month, Roan. Perhaps in that time, you and Kay will each find the path you need to take.”

  Roan had no response as he walked from the preceptor’s office.

  Kay

  Kay tried to relax, stretching like the dozen or so other students standing on the Rose’s intricate wooden floor. The tension and anxiety coiling in her stomach refused to abate. It had grown over the last week, but it was strongest when she stepped onto that beautiful wooden floor.

  “Prepare!” came the loud voice of Preceptor Vullohn.

  The tall instructor strode through the assembled students, livid white scars marring the back of his shaved head. Vullohn met Preceptor Ksena in the center as she waited, leaning on her cane. The two were a study in contrasts. Her cold beauty to his brutish looks; her clipped words to his parade ground bellowing. The two of them were the monarchs of the Rose.

  Kay had come to dread the sight of them.

  She assumed the ready posture a half-second behind the other students. In her hand, she gripped the worn handle of the practice blade, and she brought it to her side.

  This time Kay had been smart enough to position herself behind Erik and Sabine, hoping she could follow their lead. Roan was to her right, but around her were a number of unfamiliar students. She saw a few of the Royals though. In her one week at Faith, she learned to recognize their kind.

  “Alright then, my darlings,” bellowed Preceptor Vullohn, the term lacking any endearment. “If you would be so kind, let’s begin with a casual stroll.”

  Kay stared down at the wooden with an almost manic intensity. Outer petals. Dark moves, then light. Step then double step, turn, slide, turn. She worked through the movements as best she could. Even with that knowledge, she fell a half-step behind.

  All around, the black-clad students moved with an ease and grace that seemed to mock her feeble attempts. Erik’s steps were smooth and sure. Sabine’s were as graceful as a dancer in motion. The Royals added spins and flourishes. Even Roan seemed at home on the chaotic, shifting floor. His face was set with determination and his steps were steady and strong.

  Kay was barely able to stay upright.

  “Forms,” Preceptor Ksena said in her thick accent. “The Stag, in Defiance.”

  Kay’s mind raced. Stag. Two high cuts, then the parry crossing the body. But wait. In Defiance. Kay struggled to remember, desperately trying to piece the instructions together.

  Preceptor Ksena’s cane cracked like a whip, echoing in the expansive room. As one, the students slashed with their blades. Two flowing strikes at head-height, then an intricate weaving motion across the torso. Twenty blades slashed in unison.

  One trailed behind.

  Kay managed the first two cuts, but as she came around for the parry, she realized she had not accounted for the second aspect of the Preceptor’s instruction. Desperate to cover her error, Kay rushed forward. The reckless motion took her across more boards than anticipated, and she had to stutter her steps to keep from being thrown.

  “The Shrike, then Rendworm Striking,” Ksena intoned, and she punctuated her words with two more cracking strikes of her cane.

  The first move called for a thrust, but Kay was far from steady on her feet. As she extended her blade, she landed on two sliding pieces that moved in opposition. She stumbled backward into another student’s blunted blade.

  The young man, one of the Royals, shot her an angry look. “Watch yourself,” he hissed.

  Kay tried to return to the forms. Rendworm Striking, Rendworm Striking, Kay repeated in breathless desperation.

  Other students dropped to their knees, riding along the moving floor before exploding upward in a sweeping, spinning slash. As Kay dropped down, the moving floor threw her balance and she landed hard on one knee.

  Kay gasped and spread her arms wide to keep upright. In doing so, she accidentally put her blade into the path of another student. The young woman flared her Razor power out of desperation, thrusting away from Kay’s blade, but into the path of a pair of students behind her. They collided. Bodies fell heavily with curses and groans as more proximal students were knocked off their feet.

  In the midst of the maelstrom, blushing crimson, stood Kay.

  “You!” she heard Preceptor Vullohn shout apoplectically. “By the First Ascended, girl, you may be the most dangerous student I’ve ever seen. If it was intentional at all, you’d be a sure Tournament champion.” He gestured for the students working the wheel to stop. The Rose slid to a quiet halt as Vullohn stormed across the floor to stand before Kay. “Outside. Now!” he yelled, air wheezing from his crooked nose.

  Head hanging low, Kay shambled toward the door. As she passed him, she saw Roan straighten to follow her. Kay gave him a terse shake of her head. He frowned deeply, but did not move.

  Outside, Kay leaned her against the building’s sun-warmed marble, allowing the soothing comfort of heated stone to sink into her sore muscles. She tried to review her mistakes, but Kay was so tired she could only concentrate on the warmth.

  It had been a long week, and she felt every second of it in the aches and twinges. Her palms were chapped and raw from holding the practice sword. She had been clumsy and terrible during martial training, slow and awkward at the exercises, and was still no closer to piercing the veil. Today’s failure was the latest and most spectacular of her debacles.

  Kay was unaware how long she had been out there when she heard approaching footsteps on gravel.

  “You doing all right?”

  Kay slowly opened her eyes to see Erik standing there. He offered her a metal cup full of water.

  “Don’t tell Preceptor Vullohn I gave you this. I think you’re still supposed to be… how did he put it?” Erik asked as he handed it over.

  “‘Contemplating the unfathomable depths of my ineptitude,’ I believe was his phrasing,” she replied before taking a drink.

  Laughing, Erik sat beside her. “Preceptor Vullohn has a way with words. Don’t let him get to you, though. He is an amazing instructor.”

  “He wasn’t wrong. I was pretty terrible today, wasn’t I?”

  Erik shrugged, but remained silent, as if searching for something tactful. The more he hemmed and hawed, the more Kay smiled. Finally, he answered, “Yeah, you were.”

  Kay laughed. “Thank you for that.”

  “But hey, at least you’re not letting it get you down,” he said. “Have you had any training before?”

  She shook her head and winced at
the twinge of sore muscles.

  “None?”

  Kay shrugged. “I was never really into the fighting and such.”

  “You do know you’re in a Razor school.”

  “That I do know.”

  “My point is that this place teaches you to be a Razor, and being a Razor is kind of focused on fighting and such. How is it you came to Faith without any training?”

  “Well I’m from an orphanage, remember? It’s not like we had a lot of opportunities there and besides, I had Roan and Elinor, Ferran, and Alys, my brothers and sisters at the orphanage. Between them, I never really had to do anything. Actually, I think I spent more time trying to get them out of fights than actually doing, you know, fighting and stuff.”

  “I see,” Erik said. “But you’re here now. Something must have changed.”

  A heavy silence fell as the weighty memory pressed upon Kay. The others had not talked much about that night, but it remained ever-present in the back of her mind. Watching Erik’s smile, remembering his kindness when she and Roan entered Faith, she felt safe.

  “At the orphanage,” Kay began, “something terrible happened there. There—there was a fire. Of all the children, there are only five of us who survived.”

  Erik blanched. “Kay, I’m sorry. That’s horrible.”

  “It was, but the people who mattered the most to me survived. I know it sounds terrible, but I cling to that. We made it out. We survived, but no thanks to me,” she said quietly. “Roan, Elinor, Alys, even little Ferran, if not for their actions, we would not have survived. While they fought, I did nothing.” Kay shook her head. “Worse, they almost died coming back in for me…”

  They sat in the silence. When Kay spoke again, her voice was stronger, “After that, I promised myself that I would never go back to just sitting by while others fought. I owe them more than that.” A trace of smile returned to her face. “I love them more than that.”

  It felt strange sharing something so personal with an acquaintance. Erik seemed like he appreciated her confessing something so private. She put her arms out, gesturing to the expansive school. “And so here I am. Or,” she said, tilting her head as she spoke, “at least I am for another three weeks.”