“But that was so many years ago! You’re not the same person now that you were then; you’re a much greater Champion of Light today! You said it, yourself—you can make things right if you strive for it. You couldn’t obtain the Radia of Gallantry before, but maybe you’ve become worthy since then.”
Silence fell between them. Tiroku eventually stood, his expression still and austere.
What Alamor did not see was the conviction that boiled beneath Tiroku’s features.
“Very well, Alamor. I will take it.”
Tiroku reached out and placed his hand over the Radia of Gallantry. At once, it flared with a bright light, but not the noble, righteous light as what it emitted when Alamor first claimed it. This light was violent and merciless, like a maddened outcry against the fingers that touched it.
Before Alamor could even react, Tiroku pushed him away. When Alamor regained his footing, he froze in horror at the sight before him.
Arcs of white magic crackled along the Radia’s sharp edges, racing into and upon Tiroku’s body, seemingly torturing him for placing his hand on its blessed form. Tiroku’s legs quivered, threatening to give out at any moment under the duress. His face became a strained mask of agony.
Alamor realized, now, how the Radia of Gallantry must have harmed the Onda guard who touched it.
“Do you see, Alamor!?” Tiroku cried. “Do you see what happens when an unworthy being tries to harness this Serenity!?”
Alamor threw himself at Tiroku to take the Radia away, but the Champion of Light hung on with what seemed like an unbreakable grip. “Tiroku, stop! Let go of it!”
“No, Alamor, you must understand why it is your responsibility to wield this power! You must realize why it is your duty to wield the Radia and fulfill the Legend of Light!”
Alamor continued in vain to either overpower Tiroku or pry the Radia from his grasp, but somehow, the Champion of Light maintained his hold. Alamor could see the agony in Tiroku’s expression as he endured the Radia’s unforgiving response to his touch. Alamor could feel the wrathful Serenity that overwhelmed Tiroku’s entire being and punished him for trying to hold one of the Radia in his own hand.
“Tiroku, stop! Please stop!”
Alamor finally managed to wrench the Radia out of Tiroku’s hand. The furious light and magic faded almost instantly. Tiroku collapsed to his knees, breathing heavily, his grimacing features coated in sweat. Alamor set the Radia down at once and went to check on Tiroku.
“Are you oka—”
The Champion of Light did not allow him to finish the question. Tiroku burst to his feet and limped away, not once looking back at Alamor.
Alamor watched Tiroku go, his face raw with disbelief. He then slowly, fearfully, turned back to the Radia of Gallantry.
It lay within the sand, its shape now dull and without any activity, as if its violent response had never occurred.
Alamor hesitantly reached for it. He gingerly placed his fingertips upon it, afraid that it may react the same way it did for Tiroku. When nothing happened, he let his hand wrap about Xogun’s Radia.
Just like all of the other times before, he held it without any difficulty. He felt no pain or agony—only the awesome, divine magic that rested within its sharp form.
If Tiroku can’t even lay a hand on this… Alamor thought, then that means…
The truth began to trickle through him.
When Scourge reawakens and casts its shadow over the land
The Echoes of Light shall rise, challenging it with purest magic in hand
Proving their will, faith, and truth in the world’s darkest hour
A Gleaming Path shall lead them to Tordale’s inexorable power
Guided by valor and mercy to thwart all that is malice and hate
They who wield the light shall usher in a Radiant Fate
Alamor did not have a choice—if Baldaron was to be defeated with the Radia, if Tordale was to be saved, he had to find a way to control this Serenity, and his own.
9
Following his conversation with Tiroku, Alamor waited quite some time to retire for the night. Eventually, he went up to the room inside Onda Reef that he and his companions were offered to sleep in, the very same where they first awoke earlier that day. By the time Alamor got there, all of them were already asleep, including Tiroku. Alamor joined them, but he was unable to enter the same peaceful rest that they enjoyed.
He lay awake for most of the night, his mind enveloped in deep thought. Alamor could not stop thinking about what happened when Tiroku tried to hold the Radia of Gallantry, how its Serenity rejected the Champion of Light’s touch and lashed out at him for it. Alamor was still in a state of shock, almost disbelief, as he tried to fall asleep. He could hold the Radia of Gallantry without any difficulty, as if it were an ordinary rock, but when Tiroku—the greatest Spiritcaster he ever knew—attempted the same, it nearly killed his wise mentor.
It left Alamor with a maelstrom of thoughts and questions about their mission, but even more so, about his own role in the mission. Hours before, he had abandoned all hope in his duty to wield the Radia and wanted nothing more than to rid himself of the responsibility.
He still did not understand much of it, but as he lay there that night, he felt that, perhaps, he truly did possess an ability that was much greater than he had first imagined.
Eventually, Alamor managed to finally fall asleep, and it was a deep slumber that granted him a few hours of much-needed rest after the strenuous day. He would likely have slept well into the afternoon had he not be awoken by an Onda guard early in the morning. As his senses slowly returned to him, Alamor saw that he was alone in the room. The Onda guard informed him that the others awoke nearly an hour beforehand, and were all readying themselves down on the beaches to head out on their journey to Waverock. The guard guided him to the armory inside Onda Reef, where the Onda had kept all of the armor and weapons among Alamor’s party after they were rescued.
Not only were they stored there, but they were also treated. Alamor’s crimson armor had been rolled within sand to dry it out and clean it, the same for his sword and shield. In addition, the Onda guard explained that his weapons, as well as his companions’, had all been coated with extract from the huge mussels that grew upon Onda Reef. The extract was a white, slimy substance that the mussels secreted from their largest organ, as Alamor was shown, which kept their shells shut even under the strongest water currents. When the secretion dried after being applied to a weapon, it created a thin, nearly imperceptible coating that the Onda said would keep any metal from being damaged by the ocean’s salty waters.
The guard left Alamor by himself to dress in his armor, since Alamor knew the way to the beaches once he was finished. He slipped on every piece of his crimson mail, as well as his white shoulder pads and his silver cape.
Just as he was finishing, Tridian entered the armory.
They shared only a passing glance at one another, but there was heavy tension between the two when their gazes met. The silence that filled the armory quickly became a strained one.
Without looking back at Alamor, Tridian went over to claim his spear. The Prince of Tordale lifted his weapon and inspected the blade, running his fingers over its steel surface.
Alamor hastily grabbed his sword and shield and started forward. He was nearly out of the armory before he heard Tridian behind him.
“Wait, Alamor.”
He stopped. For a moment, Alamor considered walking ahead and ignoring Tridian. He was in no mood to engage in another hostile discussion.
But he turned around nonetheless, and gave the Prince of Tordale his attention.
Tridian did not say anything else, at least immediately. His words appeared to be caught on a combination of hesitation, and frustration. When he eventually did speak, again, it came after a labored breath. “I apologize for what happened between us the other day. There is no excuse for what I did to you.”
Alamor was surprised to hear a tone of
sincerity out of Tridian. Although the Prince of Tordale’s countenance was hardened, and he chose not to look Alamor in the eye, Tridian seemed to be genuinely remorseful. It was a few moments before Alamor was able to decide on the appropriate response, and he only found one that was suitable.
“There’s no excuse for what I did to you, either.”
Tridian shook his head. “You had every right to strike back at me. There was no reason for me to attack you that way.”
“I wasn’t talking about when I tackled you or hit you,” Alamor clarified. “I meant when I questioned your love for Raissa.”
“Perhaps you never would have said that had I not called you a coward.”
“You weren’t wrong. At least, if you were referring to what I think you were. You meant how I never returned to see Raissa after my training with the Dawnwatch, didn’t you?”
Tridian nodded, but he seemed angry with himself that he had to do so.
Alamor could not blame him for that anger. “Well, when you’ve been there to comfort and protect Raissa for her entire life, and someone like me runs away from her because he’s depressed, I can see why you’d be bitter toward them. If I were you, I’d probably hate me, too.”
“I don’t actually hate you,” Tridian said. “No matter what you did in the past, I can’t deny your devotion to my sister ever since that day you returned with Tiroku. With you, she’s been in good hands when I haven’t been around the last few weeks. You’ve gone to great lengths to protect her, and I’m grateful for that.”
Tridian’s expression did not soften, but his graciousness was evident. Alamor averted his eyes and released a quiet sigh. “I wish we could say that I had protected her better aboard the Balcryst the other night.”
“Unfortunately, I think that was out of our control,” Tridian said. “No matter how much you or I have strived to keep her from harm, there was nothing we could do to change what happened that night. All that we can do now is assist Tiroku in this plan of his, and if we free the Onda’s guardian, we can get off this island and start searching for Raissa.”
Alamor looked up at Tridian. He was surprised by the certainty that the Prince spoke with. “Then, you truly believe that she is still alive?” he asked.
“I have to,” Tridian answered. “I can’t possibly go on without her in my life. And I’m sure that you are no different.”
Alamor did not need to respond; they both knew that Tridian was right.
“You must forgive me, as well, if I am a little slow to fully trust in the Radia,” Tridian went on. “I don’t doubt that they contain incredible Serenity, but…I am not always so quick to worship the magic of Serenity.” Tridian paused. His features tightened; he was obviously fighting back the emotion that attempted to overwhelm him. “Serenity is supposed to be this pure, divine power that can heal and protect, yet no amount of it was able to help my mother when she died. She was said to be one of the greatest Spiritcasters of our era, and even she did not have the ability to save herself from an untimely death.”
Alamor could relate to that sentiment. “Well, as you know, I haven’t always had the best experience with Serenity, either,” he said. “It’s a mysterious form of magic, that’s for sure. Sometimes, I get the feeling that it’s not meant to be entirely understood. Trying to rationalize it when I trained as a Spiritcaster just brought me disappointment. Trying to rationalize it even now, after I acquired one of the Radia, has done me little good.”
Alamor held up on his words. He waited until Tridian finally looked back at him. He needed to be eye-to-eye with the Prince for what he would say next.
“But if it alleviates your doubt at all, just know that it was only because of Serenity that Raissa and I were able to return safely from the Hallowed Plane. Serenity was what allowed me to protect her while we tried to obtain Xogun’s Radia, and I’m ready to use it again to save her.”
Tridian smiled, as sincerely as Alamor had ever seen of him. He approached Alamor until they were no more than a foot apart. The Prince of Tordale reached out and set his hand on Alamor’s shoulder. “Then let’s go find her.”
Alamor smiled, too. He patted Tridian on the chest, as one would do to a lifelong friend.
They left the armory together and headed out onto the beaches. They eventually found their comrades on the island’s southern shore. All twenty of the Onda scouts who were to accompany them already had gathered there, each one outfitted with one of the Ondas’ traditional weapons—a spear carved from the bones of great ocean monsters, or a pair of curved blades hewn from the hardest coral on the island and treated to be as sturdy as metal. Sharq was one of the warriors who wielded those blades, his pair bright pink in color, and their handles blue like that of an aquamarine gemstone.
Many other Onda had gathered there, far more than just the scouts who were heading out to Waverock. Plenty were there to send their brethren off and wish them well on their mission. Tagran and the other seven King’s Fangs who had survived the attack the other night were there, as were Rawner and the Bachus. Tiroku was further off from most of the gathering, speaking with Tsunari.
Alamor was thankful to see that the Champion of Light was unharmed after what happened the night before. He was also thankful that Tiroku was occupied at that moment, as Alamor was reluctant to speak to him, or even be near him. Alamor felt guilty over the dangerous occurrence with the Radia of Gallantry, and he was not sure if Tiroku might have held some contempt over it.
“You’re a little overdressed for the occasion, boys,” Rawner called out as the young two men approached the gathering.
Alamor did not immediately understand what Rawner meant before he glanced about. It was only then that Alamor noticed that the King’s Fangs—as well as Rawner and Tiroku—were not wearing their armor, but only the leggings and tunics that they would have normally worn underneath.
“I can see that, now,” Alamor said.
“You’re just going to sink if you go in there with your armor on,” Rawner added. “You’d be trudging along the ocean floor the whole way rather than swimming.”
“I never even thought of that…” Alamor admitted, embarrassed by his blunder. He clearly was not thinking very straight that morning. He began to remove his armor, and Tridian also chose to take off his long, purple coat. “You’re not taking a weapon, either?” Alamor asked Rawner.
“Nah, my poleax will be far too heavy to swim with, and the way that I see it, no other weapon is any better for me than these big arms of mine,” Rawner answered as he flexed one of his enormous biceps. “I’d say you keep your sword with you, though. You should be able to swim with that just fine. The same for you and your lance, your Highness.”
As Alamor finished removing his last piece of mail, Hinton and Pauma came forward to him and Tridian. “Here, lads, let us take all of that for you,” Hinton offered. “Might as well give me the shield, too, Alamor. You won’t want that weighing you down.”
Alamor handed his shield, along with every piece of his armor, over to Hinton, while Pauma took Tridian’s coat. “You’re not coming with us?” Tridian asked.
“Not out of cowardice, I assure you,” Pauma answered. “It’s just that we Bachus aren’t so good at swimming. Probably more accurate to say that we can’t swim, at all.”
Hinton nodded. “Aye. We can dig, climb, roll, you name it, but throw us in the water and we swim as well as rocks do.” He tucked all of Alamor’s belongings under his arm and pointed over his shoulder with a thumb. “Besides, I was nosing around here on the island, and I think I found some whale oil that the Onda keep that can help me fix my busted blast orbs.”
“Which means that while you lot are down there freeing that big monster the Onda have been talking about, we’ll hopefully be concocting more devices to blast something with!” Pauma added excitedly.
Hinton’s wide grin showed that he shared his wife’s enthusiasm. “If only I had a couple more days to experiment with all of the wild materials and elements here on
this island. Who knows, I might even be able to get the blast orbs to work underwater. You fellas would be able take them down with you to that cavern, then.”
“As useful as those may be,” Rawner broke in, “I think we’re in good enough shape for this little mission. I’ve got a feeling that whatever ploy Tiroku has come up with is all we need to bring the Onda’s guardian back with us.”
Not a moment after Rawner finished mentioning his name, Tiroku finished his conversation with Tsunari. He turned and began to wade through the crowd of Onda as he headed in Alamor’s and the others’ direction.
When Tiroku joined them, Alamor recognized the aura of calm that the Champion of Light carried with him. “Good to see that you two have finally joined us,” he greeted, his eyes falling upon Alamor and Tridian.
Alamor quickly dispelled his reservations about seeing Tiroku so shortly after their heated confrontation over the Radia of Gallantry. There was a peaceful, friendly demeanor over Tiroku, one that brought indescribable relief to Alamor’s worried mind.
“Did you sleep well last night, Alamor?” Tiroku asked.
“Well enough, just not anywhere near long enough,” Alamor replied, rolling his eyes with a brief sigh.
A subtle grin appeared within Tiroku’s white beard. “I’m sorry to hear, but you look fairly rested. I think you will be just fine going about this task today.”
As he finished, Sharq approached their group. While Alamor watched the Onda warrior shuffle across the beach, it was only then that he noticed a long, thick strand of kelp wrapped about each of Sharq’s ankles. Alamor looked to the other Onda scouts on the beach and noticed that they, too, wore the strands.
“Excuse me if I missed the answer while I was sleeping, but why do you all have kelp tied around your legs?” Alamor asked.
Sharq grinned. “So that this journey is as painless as possible for you humans,” the Onda answered. He lifted one leg and gestured to the kelp strand. “At best, you all would take days to swim to Waverock back and forth; at worst, you all would die of exhaustion. With this kelp, though, we Onda will tow you all the whole way.”
A Gleaming Path Page 10