Faith and Moonlight

by Mark Gelineau

  Directly ahead, the main hall loomed. As Kay pushed open its heavy door, the cold grew deeper.

  It felt empty inside. Kay thought back to those first scared moments when she and Roan had stood in their shabby clothes, clutching Cadell’s letter as they sought Pamalia’s office. They had been so naive. Part of her wished they still were.

  This time, Kay knew the way to Pamalia’s office, but she made the journey with a heavy heart.

  Just as she turned into the empty hallway before the Preceptor’s office, Kay saw a figure leaning against the wall, arms crossed. She stopped.

  “So you’re quitting,” Gideon said.

  Kay raised her chin. “How did you know?”

  Gideon shrugged. “There are no secrets in Faith, if you know where to look.”

  Bristling, Kay drew herself up and moved to walk past.

  “Quitting won’t make Roan stay,” Gideon said. “You must know that. Yet you still seem intent on going through with this sad little charade.”

  “What?”

  Taking a step toward her, Gideon continued, “He will follow you to the ends of the earth if he has to, and your little disappearing act here won’t stop him. You should already know that.”

  Anger and frustration boiled out of Kay. “But what can I do?” she snapped. “He won’t stay without me, and I can’t pierce the veil. I can’t stay.”

  “What if there was a way you could?”

  Kay’s eyes shot up, expecting some terrible smirk. But there was none there. In his hand, Gideon held a thin sliver of metal, slightly shorter than his littlest finger. Even in the half-light of the hallway, it glimmered and shined.

  As she focused on it, Kay felt a throbbing pulse of power, as if the tiny piece of metal was reaching for her. It made her gasp. “What is that?” she whispered.

  “A sliver from Baheyer’s blade.”

  As soon as she heard the words, Kay took a step backward in shock and horror. The blade of Baheyer, an actual remnant of the First Ascended, was the heart of the school. For something that grand, that magnificent, to be in Gideon’s hand seemed utterly profane.

  “What… what are you doing with that?” Kay asked, her mouth dry and her tongue thick, unable to take her eyes from the sliver.

  “Giving you the only chance you have to stay in Faith,” he said.

  Kay’s stomach rolled and flipped with nauseated horror.

  “It can help you make contact. For a time,” Gideon said as he moved closer.

  Kay could not tear her attention away from the sliver.

  “I won’t lie to you. There is power in this. It will change you. It won’t turn you into a toad or a Ruin, or anything ridiculous like that, but it will change you. And it will hurt. But,” Gideon tapped the wall beside Kay’s head as he spoke, drawing her focus, “it will get you into the school with Roan.”

  Kay’s mind whirled and she felt sick. “And then what?” she managed to ask.

  He shrugged. “And then everything after that is up to you.”

  Her breathing came hard, and Kay’s gaze darted between Gideon and the end of the hallway leading to Preceptor Pamalia’s office. To the end of her dreams.

  Gideon raised the sliver. “It’s as simple as this. Do you want in Faith? Or not?”

  Kay’s entire world narrowed to that single piece of bright steel. Light danced along its length, and in that brightness, she saw everything she wanted. The school, the people, the life she had already started to make, all captured in the play of light on the sliver, like a reflection caught in a raindrop.

  Something stopped her. Being a Razor, being in Faith, was about being worthy. She had not been found worthy, and profaning a sacred artifact would only serve to make that even more evident.

  “No,” she said. With a pain in her heart, she turned away from Gideon and continued toward the Preceptor’s office. The spirits had not found her worthy. She did not belong here.

  No. She would not, could not, dishonor everything she came here to become.

  Her hand rested on the door handle.

  No, her mind screamed over and over as her heart pounded.

  Kay released the handle and turned back toward Gideon.

  “Yes,” she said.

  Roan

  Stepping into the open air, Roan felt blowing wind. The sensation seemed to blend with the hum of power.

  Kay stood alone by the edge, arms crossed over her chest against the chill wind. She wore the black leather jacket of a student now, and her white cape snapped and danced in the wind. Her brown hair blew loose and wild as she looked over the school grounds.

  “There you are,” Roan said, smiling.

  There was no response as Kay stared into the distance. Moving to her side, Roan touched her shoulder. It seemed to catch her off-guard, and she jumped.

  Suddenly, the spirits surged, swirling around Roan like a tempest. He felt their pressure against his mind and heart, begging to be drawn inside himself. There was also a sense of danger. Confused, Roan focused on Kay. “What is it?” he asked as the spirit sounds roared in his ears. “What’s wrong, Kay?”

  Kay opened her mouth to speak, but snapped it shut. Roan felt the power ebb and fade.

  She reached up and adjusted his collar, shifting his white cape and smoothing one of the buckles on his jacket. “You look good,” she said. “You look… right. It suits you.”

  Roan smiled at her. “So do you,” he said.

  Giving a small smile, Kay turned back to the vista.

  There was something about her, something not right. The last time Roan had seen this side of her had been the days before they arrived at Faith. The days after the fire.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked gently. “I thought you’d be happier. After all you did to make it this far.”

  She stiffened a bit, but then turned back and smiled. “I am. I am happy for both of us,” she said. “I guess it just hasn’t fully sunk in yet.”

  “Don’t worry. It will,” said a voice behind them.

  Erik exited onto the balcony, with Lillarn and Sabine behind him. The three were smiling widely.

  Sabine nodded. “Making first contact is just the first step. Now everything really begins,” she said happily, crossing over to Kay. “Wait till you meet Preceptor Stirling.”

  “Or have to deal with Advanced Mobility, Form, and Practice,” Lillarn said, giving an exaggerated formality to the course’s title. Then he shuddered.

  Erik made a face as well. “I’m glad I don’t have to face that again.”

  Lillarn sighed and leaned against the balcony’s low wall. “Yeah, good for you,” he said bitterly. “At least you passed it the first time. I am on my third time through.”

  Erik smiled. “Don’t worry, Kay. The class is not so bad, unless you’re Lillarn and are averse to practice and work.”

  Kay smiled, and Sabine gave her a hug. “There’s so much more to show you, now that you’re in,” Sabine exclaimed, putting her arm in Kay’s and escorting her to the door. “Come on!”

  Falling into step on Sabine’s other side, Lillarn laughed. “But first, we need to get something to eat before Ascension starts,” he said, pushing Erik in the direction of the door. “If they run out of butter rice again, I am so blaming you all.”

  As the others headed out, Roan took one last look at the view. At the school grounds and the entire district beyond. His new home.

  The fire had changed everything, and things were changing still.

  “Hey,” Erik called. “You coming?”

  Roan looked over and smiled. “Yeah. Yeah, I am,” he said before following them into the night.

  Follow the continuing stories of Roan and Kay in book 2.

  Coming soon.

  Acknowledgments

  Mark: A huge thank you to my dad, Dan Gelineau, my brother Dave, my wife Tiffany, and my son Bryce for their love and devotion. And to my mom, Pam Gelineau, who I miss every day.

  Joe: To Irene, Emma, and Kate. Thank you. You g
uys make me a better everything.

  A massive thanks to the team that helped put it all together:

  Jason, Susan, TJ, Marija, and Alisha.

  And also to our friends and beta readers:

  Jason, Maria, Beth, Emily, Anna, Dave, and Maggie.

  Author’s Note

  Echoes of the Ascended, Books 1

  Thank you so much for reading Faith and Moonlight.

  Mark and I met more than twenty-five years ago, and inspired by all the great fantasy authors of our childhood, we wanted, more than anything, to tell our stories as well. To share them with others. With you.

  It has been a long journey to finally get here. It hasn’t been easy, but nothing worthwhile ever is.

  We’ve got many more stories to tell in Aedaron. Our mission is to get one new story out to you every month.

  Different characters. Different stories. But our same love for the world, characters, drama, and action that matter most to us.

  We hope you’ll come along for the ride.

  – Check us out at gelineauandking.com

  – Like us at facebook.com/gelineauandking

  – Follow us on Twitter @gelineauandking

  – Join us on our mailing list

  Or send us your best wishes via astral projection. Whatever your medium, we accept love in all its forms.

  Hope to see you again soon.

  Mark & Joe

  v3.1

  Previews

  Prologue

  Conbert’s hands were slick with sweat on the reins, despite the cold breeze. Every rustle of the long yellow grass, every whistle of the wind, any sound not the rhythmic clop of his horse’s hooves on the worn cobblestone road sent his eyes darting and heart racing.

  He had traveled the Reach Road two times previous. Each time had been without incident. Each time, he had arrived at his destination hale and whole, without even a glimpse of the fabled predators the grasslands were so famous for. Yet each time, the sense of dread, of cold fear, had been with him.

  The first time, he had tried to play the part of the brave hero, riding forth on a grand quest like the legendary figures in the old stories. That lasted until he caught sight of the infamous drowning grass. The blades were the height of a man and they moved with a sinuous and lifelike grace on each side of the wide stone road.

  The fear had started then, shattering whatever myth he might have fabricated of Conbert Eylnen, the future valiant officer of the King’s Own. In the face of that grass and what he knew could be hiding under it, he was just Con, apprentice engineer and architect, student of the academy, and anxious to get the hell out of there.

  Somewhere far out across the sea of grass, a lone tree rose up like an island. It marked the halfway point in crossing the grassland. It had often given Con comfort. But this time, beneath the shade of its heavy, twisted boughs, there was movement.

  A human shape.

  Impossible. The only road through the drowning grass was the one he was on now. No one would be stupid enough to travel into the middle of the cursed grass, set up like a picnic for the rendworms.

  Con pulled his horse to a halt. Reaching down to the heavy saddlebag, he pulled out his surveyor’s glass and raised the delicate instrument to his eye.

  Sure enough, there was a person. A girl. She seemed tall, but even with the glass, it was difficult to judge at this distance. She had short, blonde hair that was almost white as it ruffled in the wind. What really caught his attention was her clothing: the familiar grays of an academy cadet. The same grays he had worn as an underclassman a year ago.

  The fear came back, but this time wild. The girl was doomed, marooned at that tree surely as any castaway on a lost island. It was only a matter of time until the rendworms caught wind of her.

  Before he knew what he was doing, Con urged his horse into a gallop, off the stone road and into the undulating grass. His breath rasped and tears blurred his eyes.

  From the wind, he thought. Tears because of the wind. Not because I am stupid and going to die out here.

  He rode hard across the grassland, the twisted spire of the tree ahead of him. As it drew closer, he saw the cadet had caught sight of him. She waved frantically. Conbert focused on her desperate movements, shoring up his rapidly disappearing courage with the knowledge that he was her only hope.

  Something brushed his leg and he almost shrieked, but realized it was only a heavy stalk of grass. The tree and the waving girl were a few lengths away now.

  Con leaped from the saddle, stumbled, and fell on his face, but he got up quickly. Breathlessly, he stood before the girl. “It’s alright, cadet,” he gasped. “I can take you out—”

  Her hand shot out, covering his mouth. It was almost too fast to follow and his eyes widened with shock.

  The cadet met his gaze with a cold, hard look of her own. There was a focus there and not the desperate gratitude Con had expected. Slowly, she raised her free hand and laid a single finger against her lips.

  Utterly confused, he could only nod.

  She cocked her head, listening. Tall and fairly thin, she was not a delicate beauty. Her features were too strong, too sharp for that, but her clear, blue eyes were vibrant as she searched the grass around them. She sighed and released the hand over his mouth.

  Con drew a deep breath. “Cadet, what are you doing out here?”

  The girl turned and then, appearing to notice the black and silver uniform, snapped to a smart salute. “Forgive me, sir. I was hunting a rendworm.”

  “You’re what? Are you absolutely mad, girl?” he asked, his voice rising.

  “No, sir. Not at all. I am merely here to honor the First Trial of Aedan,” she said, bowing her head momentarily. “I am not to return without the jaw of a rendworm, but so far, none have appeared.”

  “The First Trial of Aedan?”

  Con’s eyes grew wider. The Hunt. The joke upperclassmen played on first-year cadets at the Academy. The older students regaled them with stories of the First King, Aedan, and the legend of how he bested a field of colossal rendworms to earn a meeting with an ancient one, the Shepherd of Tree and Stone.

  Only there was no Hunt.

  It was all an elaborate ruse, a traditional jape each first-year cadet class went through. The cadets were stopped at the gate of the Academy, chased and beaten by older cadets wielding sticks and wearing garish costumes. And then the ale casks were brought out and everyone would get ripping drunk.

  No one ever actually went out to hunt the damn things.

  He looked at the girl again. For her to be out here meant she must have been very sheltered or very stupid. But that didn’t explain why the other cadets wouldn’t have stopped her at the gate.

  Conbert felt suddenly cold. Had they done this on purpose? Had they sent her unknowingly to her death? The chill turned to anger. The Academy had never been a warm place, but it had never been this cruel.

  Conbert opened his mouth to tell the girl the truth about her fool’s errand, but saw her posture change. She stood absolutely still, looking past him, a long-handled black mace in one hand. His horse danced skittishly as the grass waved around it.

  The girl put a hand on his shoulder. Her voice was low. “Whatever happens next, you mustn’t move.”

  And then the ground underneath the horse exploded and a pale white form the size of a wagon erupted into the air. The horse let out a scream that turned into a wet gurgle as white writhing tentacles enveloped the animal. The copper tang of blood filled the air and Conbert felt his stomach lurch.

  He thought to go for the sword at his side, but he saw the girl’s eyes.

  He held himself still as another of the creatures breached the drowning grass. It was a huge mass of rippling white flesh, except at the front, where the mouth opened like an exposed wound. Massive tearing fangs lined the pink maw, and white tentacles writhed from the worm’s throat, seeking the remnants of the thrashing horse. The two monsters tore the horse apart in seconds, powerful tentacles flaying me
at from bone with horrific efficiency.

  As the rendworms began to slide across the ground in their direction, Con felt a terror urging him to run. He fought against it, trying to focus instead on the perfect stillness of the young girl as the huge worms slid past them.

  Then the girl moved.

  The young cadet was fast and sure as she darted forward. She struck out with the mace, swinging it with both hands, and smashing it into the rendworm’s side. There was a loud crack, and Con knew that somewhere inside the sinuous horror, a bone had broken under the blow.

  The rendworm let out a keening screech that stabbed Con’s ears and took the breath from his lungs. The injured creature folded its bulk around, trying to round on the girl. The crown of white tentacles snapped and writhed like angry serpents, seeking her.

  Instead of retreating, she moved into the circle of the rendworm’s turning bulk. The mace carved through the air once more, the flanged head crashing squarely just behind the enormous hooked jaws and tentacles. This time, there was no crack like thunder, but a wet sound like the smashing of rotting fruit. The rendworm immediately shuddered and collapsed to the ground dead.

  The other rendworm came now, covering Con with a shower of earth, a massive shadow blocking out the sun. Bringing his blade free of its sheath, he held it before him in desperation as one of the tentacles lashed at him. By some fortune, Con’s sword came across his body right in the path of the slashing tooth of the tentacle. Con dropped to the ground as the horror reared for another strike.

  There was an explosion of gore as the creature’s soft abdomen was crushed under the girl’s mace. The white flesh shuddered and collapsed, and Con scrambled away from the new corpse. Through the noxious rendworm blood dripping down his face, he peered at the young cadet.

  Her eyes shone with excitement and triumph.