Radiant - Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

The sunlight-charged orbs cast eerie shadows on the ground. Blaike’s and Farrell’s sunstone blades glowed in the intermittent shadows as the newly crowned king led his Radiants through the shadow-strewn perimeter of the brightlands. Blaike’s knuckles tightened around the worn hilts of his two sunstone swords, a nervous energy buzzing beneath his skin.

They had defeated a single adder before, he and Farrel, but never an entire brood.

Farrel strode at his side, face grim beneath his helmet. “Do you think the stories of their venom are true? Eka’s spirit in my armor protected me when we were attacked. We never really found it for sure if these snakes could penetrate the skin of a pathwalker.”

Blaike swallowed against the dryness in his throat. “I don’t know. Most of what I know about these adders was from the Leyaks who tried to kill us before.”

Farrel winced recalling the incident. The Leyaks were minions of Rangda, the rival deity to Barong. Rangda sent them after Farrel and Blaike, posing as an impotent husband with two wives who offered his help in exchange for impregnating his two wives.

Farrel was more than eager to comply. Even if the wives were bound to get the short end of the stick. Just as the women seduced Farrel and Blaike, their heads separated from their bodies, dragging their entrails behind. They tried to kill us.

We escaped, of course, but most of what we knew about the adders that lurked underground in the blight was what the Leyaks told us, before we knew they were what they were. And what we learned from a single, brief, encounter with one that would have eaten Farrel whole if the spirit of Ming Eka hadn’t protected him.

“I wouldn’t be opposed to not learning whether it’s true or false,” Blaike said. “If their venom really can soften a pathwalker’s skin, no matter if they’re merely Ember of a full-fledged Lightweaver, no one will be safe if these broods spread.”

Farrel grunted, hand tightening around the hilt of his own sunstone blade—the one that we took from Lightweaver Dumadi when the murderous tyrant thrust his sword into the pedestal in the temple ruins of Batara Kala.

The act teleported Dumadi to Batara Kala, in some kind of vessel that soared among the stars. The place from where the destroyer of worlds conducted his devastating experiments and initiated the Kataklysms.

So far as anyone knew, Dumadi was still there. Blaike hadn’t heard from him since. Not since the day Dumadi killed Glimmer and Lisna. “We’ll just have to strike fast and strike hard. Before they have a chance to bite.”

Blaike nodded, though anxiety twisted in his gut. His Radiants had followed him into battle against mysterious, giant, venomous snakes. Blaike wasn’t trained a a soldier, much less was he suited to lead an army. But he wore the crown. Tradition dictated that a king made his legacy on the battlefield. In Ashathar, glory knew no other barometer than bloodshed.

Blaike didn’t care much about legacy. He cared about justice and survival. Still, he had to play his role. Revolution could quickly lead to revolt if the king were to implement too many changes too quickly. Blaike’s plan was to gradually win over the Ashatharians to a different worldview, one that prized charity, progress, and innovation over battles and bloodshed. A king who presided over periods of peacetime would likely be forgotten in Ashatar in a generation. The kings who bullishly conquered other nations, no matter how brutal, lived forever in the memories of the Ashtharian people. It seemed to Blaike that just the reverse should be true. Those kings who lead their people to prosper, protect them when they must, and maintain peace, should be those celebrated for generations to come. Not those cowards who know no way to introduce Ashathar to the peoples of other tribes or nations than at the tip of their swords.

A rumble under their feet stopped the entire legion in their tracks. Blaike widened his stance as the dry ground cracked under his feet.

“Run!” the young king screamed, but it was too late.

Massive forms burst from the ground in a shower of soil, four abreast, then eight, then twelve.

The adders had arrived.

Blaike sucked in a sharp breath at the sight of the beasts: thick, muscular bodies as long as three men, gleaming obsidian scales, and narrow heads swaying from side to side, forked tongues tasting the air.

“Steady!” Blaike shouted, raising his sunstone blades. The Radiants fanned out around him, shields and swords at the ready.

The adders hissed in unison, rearing back to strike—

And then they attacked.

The beasts burst forward in a flurry of scales and snapping jaws. Blaike swung his blades, slicing through the neck of the nearest adder. Black blood spurted as the head tumbled to the earth.

But two more adders were already upon them. A young Radiant screamed as venomous fangs sank into his shoulder. Blaike charged forward, stabbing his dagger through the adder’s eye. The snake released its victim with a dying hiss.

“Fall back!” Blaike ordered. His soldiers scrambled away as more adders erupted from underground. “We need to regroup!”

Farrel grabbed the injured Radiant and dragged him to safety.

“We’re outnumbered,” one of the Radiants panted, clutching a bleeding arm of his own. “Common blades won’t piece their skin, I don’t know if—”

“Go for their bellies,” another Radiant responded. “That’s where they’re vulnerable.”

“Good thinking,” Blaike said. “Still, I have three blades. You two each take one of mine.”

The first Radiant’s eyes widened. “Are you certain, sire?”

Blaike nodded as he unsheathed his sunstone dagger, the one that previously belonged to Lightweaver Lisna. “You are better trained with a blade than I am. We’ll make more progress if my blades are in your capable hands.”

The two Radiants, examining their glowing blades, nodded at Blaike with respect. The Lightweavers never would have lent their blades to Radiants. Blaike wasn’t even a Lightweaver and he was king. That meant he was more vulnerable than the likes of Dumadi, Boskoro, Arif, or any other Lightweaver who’d led the legions in the past.

Blaike knew this was the right choice. Not having his sunstone broadswords made him more vulnerable, but he wasn’t entirely defenseless. This was the best chance they had to stop the adders.

With a newfound confidence, the Radiants strode back to the battle, blades and shields at the ready.

All around them, the fight raged. The Radiants battled on, displaying the kind of valor and skill that made men in Ashathar legends. But for every adder they felled, two more emerged to take its place.

Now bereft of his weapons, Blaike gripped his sunstone dagger tightly. He knew the risk he was taking, giving away his blades—but it was the right choice.

The two Radiants wielding Blaike’s swords spun and leaped through the air, cutting down one adder after the next. They were truly impressive and, for a moment, Blaike envied their skill. Put Blaike against a slate wall in the old mines and he’d tear through it with a pickaxe like no other, but on a battlefield he was an amateur.

“For Ashathar!” Blaike raised his short dagger into the air, and the Radiants echoed the battle cry.

Golden light flashed through the fray as more sunstone blades found their marks. Even Farrel, with little more experience than Blaike had in battle, took down a few adders. The beasts shrieked in pain and outrage, some fleeing back underground while others lashed out in a frenzy.

Blaike ducked under an adder’s snapping jaws, slashing at its throat with his dagger. Dark ichor spurted, and the creature let out a strangled hiss as it collapsed.

Around him, the sounds of battle were fading. His soldiers were emerging victorious, sunstone blades dripping with venom and gore.

Then the ground under Blaike’s feet shook. Before he could move a giant adder burst from the ground and wrapped itself around him, Blaike’s Luminary constitution struggling to hold as the serpent squeezed. Blaike tried to flick his wrist, to hit the snake with his dagger, but the adder squeezed tighter. The next thing he knew a fanged mouth dove toward his head.

Then the snake’s head burst into flames. The snake’s coil loosened and Blaike sliced at its body with his sunstone dagger. He looked to see Antaboga flying through the air, the dragon-god’s spirit-form aflame. It wasn’t the god, himself, but Ming Yue controlling Antaboga’s form from a distance.

Blaike watched as Tinder, the young Tensian Luminary, rode on the back of the sprit-dragon, firing sunstone-tipped arrows at the few adders who remained.

With their help, and the Radiants wielding Blaike’s swords, the last adder fell to the ground with a thud.

“Are you alright?” Farrel asked, running over to Blaike.

Blaike nodded. “I will be. I thought I was done for, for sure.”

Farrel laughed and shook his head. “Thank the gods for Ming Yue.”

Blaike grinned. “She arrived just in time. I wonder how she knew what we were facing.”

Farrel scratched his head. “There’ve been reports that Tinder is staying in a small camp near the old Sudveil mines. He must’ve told her.”

Blaike watched as the spirit-dragon flew off into the distance, it’s blazing body now little more than a flicker of a flame on the horizon. “Tinder is waiting for me to join him. He believes we are meant to make pilgrammage together to Bedawang.”

“What do you think?” Farrel asked. “That’s a big ask given all that Ashathar is facing right now.”

Blaike nodded. “Kirana thinks I should go. I’m not so sure.”

Farrel slapped Blaike on the back. “I’m sure you’ll know when the time is right.”

Panting with exhaustion, Blaike turned to face his Radiants. They were battered and bloodied, some clutching wounds or nursing injuries—but in their eyes burned a fierce pride. They had slain monsters, after all.

The two Radiants approached Blaike and offered back his sunstone swords, expressions full of gratitude and awe. “You have our eternal thanks, my king,” said the older of the two Radiants, his long beard littered with the evidence of his slaughters.

Blaike extended his hand and shook their hands. “You fought admirably. It is you who should be honored today.

The second of the two Radiants, the one who took the blade that once belonged to Glimmer, shook his head. “Your quick thinking saved many lives tonight.”

The other Radiants voiced their agreement. Blaike felt a rush of affection for these brave souls who had pledged their lives to his service. He had asked much of them, but they had not failed him.

Blaike sheathed his blades, gazing out at the shadowed plain. Somewhere beneath their feet, the adders were licking their wounds—but he knew with grim certainty that this would not be the last time they rose to threaten the brightlands.

The creatures were growing bolder, and deadlier, by the day. Each time Blaike ordered more sunlight orbs deployed beyond the borders, things got worse.

“Learn from today’s battle,” Blaike advised. “This is not the last time we’ll have to face these creatures. For now, return to the city and rest. You have earned a reprieve, and the gratitude of all Ashathar.”

The Radiants saluted him as one. Then they turned and began the march back to New Ashathar, some supporting their wounded, but all with heads held high.