Free Faith and Moonlight by Mark Gelineau, Joe King Page A

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 meat 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