The Architect's Arc

Chapter 5 of 6

The poison was gone, but Lukas climbed out of the grove with empty hands. The Architect watched the boy follow the Wanderer up the wet stair. Clean now, yes. Still a child with no weapon. The temple's trials waited above, and they did not soften for the unarmed. A golem of old stone guarded the first hall. It would strike hard enough to break bone. The Architect would not fight the trial for him. But he could set a blade in the boy's reach. The Architect turned his sight through the temple walls. Deep behind the training hall he found a sealed chamber, its doors carved with fire, water, earth, and air. Inside rested two weapons from the old world. One was a soldier's gunblade, black mithril, its flat etched with a single name. The other shone pale, a long blade fused to a firing grip, built for a lighter hand. The doors would open only to one who had earned them. The Architect could not pass. A mortal could. He spoke into the Wanderer's mind as the two stepped into the hall. "Behind the carved doors lie two blades. The boy fights the golem unarmed if you wait." The Wanderer stopped. He looked at the sealed chamber, then at Lukas. "He's not ready to swing steel." "He is readier than you were," the Architect said. The Wanderer set his jaw behind the mask. He crossed to the doors and pressed his gloved hand to the stone. Runes warmed under his palm. The doors ground open. Two weapons hung in the cold air. The Wanderer lifted the black gunblade first. It knew him. The name etched along it was his own. His fingers closed around the grip like they had always held it. Lukas reached for the pale blade. The Wanderer caught his wrist. "That one's heavier than it looks," the Wanderer said. "You drop it, the golem won't wait." "I won't drop it." The boy's scowl pulled tight. He took the blade anyway. Its weight dragged his arm down. He braced his feet and lifted it level. His hands shook, then held. The Wanderer watched him a long moment. "Grip higher. Point stays up." He moved the boy's hand along the hilt. Lukas fixed his eyes forward and did not argue. The man almost said something more. He stopped himself. The golem stirred in the hall. Red light woke in its carved eyes. Stone joints ground as it stood to its full height. It raised one huge fist and stepped toward them. "Behind me," the Wanderer said. He set himself between the boy and the golem, gunblade up. Lukas did not go behind him. He stood at the man's shoulder, pale blade raised, boots planted on the cracked floor. The Architect watched the two stand together, armed now. The boy was no longer defenseless. But the trial had begun, and the golem fought to break, not to spare.