The Knife's Edge

Chapter Four

A NIGHT TO REMEMBER

Still moving, Kirin hit the ground. Instinctively, he tucked and rolled on the hard dirt. He came to a stop and his stomach churned, the world spinning.

The ramparts were gone, as if evaporated. The stone was now replaced with hard earth, and he felt bits of gravel between his nails. On his left, a stone’s throw away, a group of girls in gray dresses sat on a grassy knoll shaded by old silveroot trees. The trees’ glossy bark glistened like a fish’s scaled belly. They listened attentively to an older woman in scarlet robes, who wove luminescent green strands of nature between her hands like a seamstress—as she did, a silveroot’s nearest branch miraculously lengthened, bending to touch her outstretched palm. Elsewhere, groups of women roved the grounds, conversing lightly, ignoring his sudden appearance in the middle of the courtyard. To his left, near a stack of barrels, a pair of older Neophytes trained, tossing a large flame steadily between the two.

He recognized it as one of the four courtyards of the Neophyte Palace, where female Neophytes trained. The Palace itself loomed nearby.

“I didn’t know there was a transporter there,” he told Ren who stood calmly in the center of the courtyard.

Ren shrugged. “I had to do something. That was quite the move. I doubt I would have evaded it. You moved like the wind.”

“Not fast enough, but I guess I’ll accept the fact that you had to cheat.”

Ren gave a burly chuckle. “Speaking of moving like the wind, for a moment there, I thought you weren’t moving, but shifting. While the transporters were developed by a hundred Reavers using the Link, it is nothing compared to the Ronin’s abilities. The Ronin could teleport at will, and not just to one designated area like a transporter, but anywhere. They called it shifting. Quite the ability.”

Kirin scratched his head. “That’d make sense if I could harness the spark more than a trickle, Ren. A rock has as much natural ability as I do.”

“No. A rock can probably harness more of the spark than you.”

“Thanks.”

“... but you, Kirin, have raw ability.”

“With the sword, maybe,” he replied. The man said nothing. “I’ve been tested, Ren. Dozens of times, remember?”

Ren shrugged. “The tests have been wrong before.”

He narrowed his eyes when he heard a voice call out his name. From the grand arched entry that led into the Palace, Enise, his young friend with a startled fray of white- blond hair, charged down the wide steps.

Enise approached. “Kirin—”

He steadied the girl with a hand. “It’s all right, slow down. What are you doing here? Is something wrong?”

“You haven’t heard?”

“Heard what?”

“Listen!” Enise put a hand to her ear.

The sounds of the bells hit him like a hammer’s blow. “She passed!” He grabbed Enise’s hands and danced in a circle, sending her into a fit of laughter. “I can’t believe it,” he said. “The youngest Reaver in all of history.” And he felt as if those bells chimed for both of them, for he never thought he would live to see this day.

Looking back, he vividly remembered passing through the giant black gates of the Citadel as an orphan. Tired, hungry and on the verge of death, he had entered a world he had always feared. A place rumored to be full of the most powerful wielders of the spark, behind cloud-scraping black walls. He could still remember the feel of his pounding heart as he took in the Citadel. It gleamed like a vast gem of obsidian, the red- robed men and women demanding respect just short of kings. Since then, he had been tested in every way to get to where he stood now, and those chiming bells were a testament to their triumph.