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

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.
    “From the stories, I thought they would be bigger,” the
girl said, her voice colored in disappointment.
    Conbert looked at her, unable to stop shaking, unable to
keep from staring as she handed him a water flask. She walked to the first
corpse and began working away at the creature with the short blade from her
belt. With quick, sure movements, she tore free the huge serrated jaws of the
rendworm.
    The girl grinned ear to ear. “They have no eyes, but they
can feel your vibrations when you move. You did incredibly well, sir.”
    Con could only nod dumbly. Finally, he found his tongue.
“Conbert Eylnen,” he said, unsure of what else to say. “My name is Con.”
    The cadet nodded as she tore out the jaw of the second
rendworm. “Elinor,” she said, handing him the bloody mandible. “That one’s
yours, but I think we had better get on our way before we attract any more
attention. Don’t you agree?”
    Con shook his head in disbelief. “After you,” he finally
managed.
    Elinor smiled and started for the road.
    Con made sure to follow close behind.



Prologue
    THE BOY FELT IT BEFORE he saw it.
    There was a chill feeling, different from the usual cold
that filled the stone halls of the orphanage. That cold was familiar and
simple. You felt it in your bones. You endured it by hovering closer to the
kitchen fire before the matron caught you, or by sharing a blanket with your
chosen brothers and sisters.
    But this was different. This was a sharp-edged cold. Like
the glitter that came off the knife they used to kill the goats. Like the ice
that sheathed the old tree outside and made the branches snap off. He did not
feel this cold in his bones, but in his very soul. And it made him want to
whimper with fear.
    He had tried to keep quiet. Already many of the other
orphans were angry at him. The dancers and jugglers had them clapping and
laughing, a rare treat for the forgotten children housed here.
    Until he had begun screaming and pointing at one of the
performers.
    He had ruined the show, and the embarrassed matron sent the
children off to their dormitories immediately. Their anger was palpable, a
terrible thing he felt all around, and he could hear harsh whispers up and down
the halls of the old fortress that served as the orphanage. “Crazy is at it
again,” he heard. “The lunatic’s seeing monsters again.” He knew if not for his
friends, he would have suffered that night.
    His friends Elinor, Alys, Roan, and Kay had not been angry,
though. They believed him. They comforted him, drawing him away from the
performers and out of the room without a look back at the ruined entertainment.
Elinor wrapped an arm around his shoulders as they walked and Roan stared
daggers at the other orphans, defying their anger at his friend. Together, they
returned to the dormitory and prepared for bed.
    No, his friends had not been angry like the other children
were. They never were. But he also knew they did not understand. Not truly.
Even he began to doubt himself. Perhaps the cruel whispers from the other
children were right,