The Forgetting Moon (Five Warrior Angels, #1)

by Brian Lee Durfee

For in the end, do any of us know who we truly are? Do any of us ever show our true selves to the world?

Trust is fleeting, while betrayal is timeless. Alas, life is crowded with lies. So be bloody, be brave, be happy. For at the end of every tale, nobody is who they seem to be. . . . —THE BOOK OF THE BETRAYER

Be we slave, peasant, knight, or lord, within all of us dwells a craving, a longing deep in our soul to know our own heritage and to identify the birthright of our fellow man. For regardless the number of good works and heroic deeds we achieve in life, the fatherless are by nature deemed unholy, susceptible to betrayal, and useless in the eyes of the great One and Only. —THE WAY AND TRUTH OF LAIJON

Nail shrugged. “I’d rather do something else with my life.” “Like most men, you would prefer a life of leisure. Hard work and precision in all things builds strength, character, and pride. Your mother wanted me to instill those things in you more than any other. She never took things such as hard work for granted, nor should you.”

In life, as in war, more is lost when hope dies, than by a cold steel and slaughter.

Can a woman love two men at once?

For that which was taken in blood, can only be regained in blood,

But worst of all creatures found in the Five Isles are the merfolk—beautiful and shocking to behold, dangerous beyond measure. They will rape you and they will eat you. For they are the most vile of all living things. —THE WAY AND TRUTH OF LAIJON

“My honor will never need defending,” Seita said, a distant tone in her voice. “But I fear the arena changes every man in Amadon. The whole city has gone gladiator mad; every man wants to defend honor. Every man wants to prove the rightness of his cause by throwing a challenge. They have more regard for a bit of honor than any hundred lives. To place personal honor or the defense against insult above the safety of those around you is the behavior of an oghul raider—or worse yet, the behavior of kings, princes, councillors, and archbishops. As if Laijon truly cares who wins.”

human cruelty was to never be underestimated, always to be believed in, even above and beyond any belief in Laijon.

“Let me ask you, Jon,” the dwarf started, “who do you count as your friend? Have you ever noticed how, as Borden’s child, you have never had any real friends? Royalty has no lack of courtly friends. Folks who may seek favor for this or that. Jovan has been close with Leif Chaparral his entire life. And Tala spends plenty of time with Glade and Lawri and Lindholf. But they too are royalty, plus the latter two are your cousins. Is that the only kind of friends a prince and princess should have, other royalty?”

Through the light of the eyes, one can glimpse the soul

Many things are found hidden beneath the ground. Men and kings and ancient warriors and the weapons they forged. All are eventually buried. Ages pass and important truths are hidden, forgotten. Yet most men never look beyond the surface of their farms and forests and within their own castle walls for knowledge. But those who search the deep . . . find salvation.

“Well,” Jovan said, closing his eyes. “Do you hate me?” “I cannot remember the last time I saw you laugh, or the last time I saw joy in your eyes,” she said. “I do not hate you. But you make me sad.”

The fact was, Gault knew that he wouldn’t care at all about this slave girl if she wasn’t so beautiful—the same could be said for Spades. But wasn’t that the way of it? The Illuminations said, The weak-minded soldier will behave with spineless indignity around a fetching lass. If Ava Shay were fat and homely, Gault knew that he wouldn’t give two cartloads of donkey shit about her. And if Spades were ugly, he would’ve killed her years ago. The warrior must rid himself of what tenderness may creep in.

There was nothing like the intoxicating taste of battle and the killing of a friend to rid oneself of any soft spots left in one’s heart. It was like taking a breath of fresh air.

There are much worse things than not knowing.” “Like what?” “Like knowing.”

There is no triumph more satisfying than turning your worst enemy into one of your greatest allies.

I truly believe that to some are given the gift of faith. Yet for others, faith must be earned.

“Who is worse, the one who rapes, or the one who enables the rapist?”

have witnessed the folly of men. Trying to save your own skin will not make you a hero. For every soul has an instinct to survive. Even the starving rat slinking in the sewers of Amadon will fight the mangy cat that stalks it. You are only a hero when you risk your own life to save another. But man is stupid and filled with pride. I have seen men throw away their lives just to prove they were tough or, Laijon forbid, right. —THE MOON SCROLLS OF MIA

Hope had been lost forever. It was never coming back.