Radiant Page 7

  He cursed as his member rose to attention.

  Snap. Crunch. Thump.

  He came to a stop, sniffing the air as a breeze swirled past his nose. It was gone before he could name the scent it carried but he had discerned one piece of information. He scanned the grove around him: the broken foliage on the ground, the fruits pulled from bushes, bitten into and left behind.

  Sundamar smelled... blood. It wasn’t fresh. It didn’t smell like valos sanguine nor a Sonhadra beast; it smelled... used, possibly tainted. He dropped to his knee and lifted one of the forgotten fruits to his face. There. A bite mark, similar to a valos’s bite but smaller. It can’t be a valos. First off, he knew no valos that readily feasted on poison fruit, secondly, he smelled none of the species in this glen nor nearby, and thirdly, the bite was far too small, delicate almost, as if the being who nipped it was afraid to and took the tiniest morsel possible.

  The female’s been here. He dropped the spoiled fruit and stood, one hand reaching back to clasp the hilt of his broadsword. Moments passed as his fingers twitched upon it, waiting for a possible trap to spring, but when the silence continued, only interrupted by the occasional forest song, he let it go with a sigh.

  I really want to stab something. His swelling organ twitched as though in agreement. Sundamar shifted on his feet before he forced himself to stop, refusing to acknowledge it.

  He perused the area and found more footprints amongst the slight drizzle of rain. He wasn’t a tracker by any means, having been raised to lead rather than follow, but he could easily make out the large footprints of the ak’rena and the smaller, more chaotic, prints of a small valos. Booted prints that may only be from a valos whelp, which meant either the Creators were back or one of the other species were breeding.

  Sundamar figured the former was more likely. It was the only explanation for the lifeforce flowing back through him. He moved to the center of the attack and that’s when he saw it, the blood he’d smelled earlier. A washed out trail that dragged off into the forest.

  He gritted his teeth, and with his hand back on the hilt of his broadsword, he followed the prints. The dried, muddled edges were rehydrating with rain and already washing away. He picked up his pace as he was led further and further from the attack site. His fingers tightened as he moved with caution because even though it was midday and the ak’rena were creatures of the night, it didn’t mean they wouldn’t awaken and attack him.

  The sword slipped silently out of its scabbard as the dank scent of wet dirt and reinvigorated blood heightened. There were no more small valos prints, none that had followed this trail, and he found a whisper of relief knowing that the pale girl from earlier hadn’t risked her life.

  Although every step he took on this path was one step farther from her, his heart beat wildly knowing he was close. She looked nothing like he had ever seen. This need to conquer won’t release its hold on me. It wasn’t simply the magnetized pull he felt with the female, it was also the mystery of the stone that lay before him. A stone that could finally make him whole.

  His eyes landed on a strip of tattered orange cloth. Blood glistened on the dirt around it.

  Sonhadra had undergone a change, one that he hadn’t seen nor known about until it had already happened.

  The blood path deepened, and the trail was no longer just on the ground, but dripping on the nearby plants and bushes.

  Splatter. The earthy scents strengthened and he swallowed down the bile in his throat. Another strip of strange orange cloth. Sundamar passed it all by, intent on what was ahead of him.

  His booted feet squished beneath him and the wind picked up. His skin prickled. He felt cut off, hidden away from the sun and all its glory. Even now, his temperance diminished and he teetered on the border of uneasiness. The gloom always had this effect on him, same as his brothers, but he felt it more than Galan, Quist, or any of the others had. Lusheenn detested all places blacked out and dark.

  His nostrils flared and he tossed a thick branch aside. A nest of sleeping ak’rena lay on the other side, their maws gored with the strange-smelling blood, and their bellies distended. In the middle were more pieces of cloth, drenched in murky rain and browned-out blood. Bones had been picked clean and limbs accompanied them. A head so alike a valos, with a toothy mouth poised in an endless roar, stared back at him.

  Sundamar pressed a finger to his lips, unsure why he enjoyed seeing the dismembered being. It was dead but he taunted it all the same.

  The girl who held his heart had escaped this. She still lived and was nearby. He knew because he felt it. If his body wasn’t drawn to her, his broadsword was.

  But first, he had a mess to clean up and a nest to clear out. He raised his sword, now ablaze with white light, opening the skies, and severed the first head.

  One bloodcurdling slice and the soul of the beast sank into the ground.

  One arching swipe and two more joined the first.

  It was only during the rare moments of battle did he appreciate not having a pair of wings of his own. Only during battle could he spin his giant sword and sever Sonhadra in half.

  Wings be damned.

  YAHIRO

  She dreamed of sparkles. Not the gaudy store-bought ones, but the ones that were created by the light. Sparkles that reflected off of a cubic zirconia window-chime, the likes of which her little sister collected when they were children. They hung next to toy unicorns, fake wands covered in gemstones, and the nag champa incense piles always found in their foyer.

  But these sparkles were different. They were a million little spotlights created by the sun’s rays moving through the trees. The breeze shifted the leaves like an exodus of monarchs, making the trees glitter although when in reality, it was an illusion. It didn’t stop her from becoming mesmerized.

  “What’s on your mind, Yahiro-chan?”

  She peeled her gaze away from the trees to look at her papa. It took her a moment to blink the sunspots from her eyes. “The sun.”

  “It’s a beautiful one.” He lifted a cup to his lips.

  “There’s only one sun.” She felt smart correcting her otou-chan. He was her everything, her parents were everything, and her younger sister held her love. Yahiro loved them to the point of pain. She loved them like she loved the fake sparkles just then.

  “If you think so. Your world is large, yes?”

  Yahiro tilted her head. “Yes.”

  “Is this the same sun you saw yesterday when you went to bed?”

  She played at her lips, confused by Papa’s questioning. “Yes.”

  “Will it be the same one you see tomorrow?”

  Yahiro thought about it but knew that Papa was leading her toward something she wasn’t going to grasp. It was his way.

  “Yes,” she answered confidently.

  “Ah.”

  She narrowed her eyes and continued to watch him as he silently sipped his morning tea. Not far away, the loud sounds of her mama picked up: the garbage disposal running and a stressed voice talking to herself. The fleeting peace Yahiro held without knowing was quickly coming to an end. She watched it like she watched the end credits to a movie but with a cacophony of dishes rather than music.

  “There’s only one sun, otou-chan,” Yahiro stated, more to reassure herself.

  “Then what do you call that?” He pointed before them and she followed his finger. She blinked but only saw grey clouds. But behind those clouds was a golden-red orb. It wasn’t the sun; it was much too large, much too red. She lifted her hand and rubbed her eyes with a shiver.

  “Awake.”

  The voice wasn’t Papa’s. It was his, and as he came into view, her father receded and vanished.

  Yahiro moved away feeling sad. “Sorry, I must’ve dozed off. How long have I been out?”

  “Out?”

  “Asleep,” she corrected, climbing out of Quist’s lap and away from his heat. The canopy of wings shifted to stay over her head.

  “A little less than a noon’s rising w
orth.”

  That told her nothing but she didn’t care, didn’t ask, accepting it like how she was coming to accept everything else. Instead, she looked around, feeling disparaged and itchy. Her eyes landed on the rippling brook. It looks so fresh... so clean. The sweat, dirt, and grime under her awful skin-tight prison uniform quickly became unbearable. The phena waded undisturbed below the surface.

  “Is that safe?” She pointed at the water. “Can I clean myself in it?” He followed her finger not unlike she had moments before in her dream and nodded.

  She tentatively stepped out into the rain and Quist drew his wings back but not before he shook them out, sending the excess water flying. The squelch of water sliding underneath her uniform, lukewarm and uncomfortable, made her wish she could trade her left arm for a long bath and spa day. But she only had a running brook on an alien world to sate her needs and she wasn’t going to look a gift-horse in the mouth.

  Not a gift-horse... The brook was the best thing to happen to her in awhile.

  Yahiro hobbled to the edge and sat down, checking her foot, and to her amazement, found it pink and half-healed. She ran her finger over Quist’s feather and looked back at him. He remained seated under a tree canopy several yards away, watching her intently. In his sights. She took a deep breath and looked back at the water, subconsciously reaching for a gun that still was not there.

  “I’m going to take a bath,” she stated.

  “Why?”

  She peeked back over her shoulder at the alien. “Because I’m dirty and disgusting. Why else?”

  “You have Sonhadra all over you.” His eyes roamed slowly over her body making her swallow.

  “Which means I’m dirty,” Yahiro replied dryly. “I also have blood, sweat, and tears on me as well. Don’t you bathe?”

  His lips quirked up into a coy smile. “With water? No. Not unless Sonhadra tries to return me to the dirt early. The sun keeps me clean.”

  “And if there’s no sun?”

  “Hmm...”

  She looked away and chewed on her lower lip, gnawed on it until it was raw and red. Her fingers itched to tear off her clothes but she didn’t know how the alien would react. Has he seen a nude woman before? Will he be repulsed by me? Am I opening myself to something that I’ll have no control over?

  Does his kind rape?

  Yahiro combed her drenched hair away from her face, wishing Quist was a human because she at least knew the outcomes of baring oneself in front of a human man.

  And although Quist looked like a desert warrior, angel nomad, he also looked dangerous and at times, angry.

  Yahiro played with the snap of her pants. “Would you give me privacy?”

  “Privacy?”

  “Eerrr. Uuh. Aloneness? Can you let me bathe alone?”

  “Yes.”

  She let out a long breath of thanks and waited for Quist to leave, glancing over her shoulder a minute later when he hadn’t moved. “Well?”

  He shook his head in question, his eyes never leaving her.

  “Aren’t you leaving?”

  “No. I promised you life. And my eyes, Yahiro of Quist.”

  “But you said I could bathe alone!”

  “You will. I have no need to wash. I’ll wait for the clouds to disperse.”

  She fumbled with the snap, dying to open it and tear off her disgusting clothing, but didn’t want to lead the alien on in any way. What if nudity means...? She wasn’t shy, she’d been naked in front of countless men, a way for the Snake to crawl under her skin, but she didn’t want to digress into culture shock any more than she wanted to keep her clothes on.

  More time passed without her decision.

  “Do you need help? Are you hurt?” Quist came toward her and crouched at her side. Her heart pounded.

  “No.” Yahiro curved into herself. “I’m just trying to protect myself...”

  “From what?” His hand settled on the whip at his side. After a moment of narrowed perusal, he returned his gaze to her. “We’re safe. They’re no ak’rena nearby, although my brot—”

  “Have you seen a-a naked female of your kind before?” she blurted out.

  “—brother—There are no light female valos.”

  No females? Too many philosophical questions came to mind. “How is that possible? How do you even know what a female is then?”

  He smiled down at her, his hand still poised on his weapon. “Other valos have females. Lusheenn has a sister, the Creator of blazes, but the light is only populated by males.” He spat the last part, his brow furrowing in anger. “He gave us sex organs,” Quist grasped the bulge between his parted knees, “but no place to put them, no way to use them, instead gleeing when we’re forced to use our hands. He created us as half of a whole and for that... he must die!”

  Yahiro flinched back but was caught with a powerful grip on her wrist. She tugged, but he kept her trapped.

  “Galan, my older brother, has suffered the most. He was created when Lusheenn was hard as Sundamar has told us. The miserable, endless need in him has never left, not in the hundreds of thousands of dawns, noons, and dusks that have passed. Our Creator spoiled us from the inside out, rotting with whatever whim he had the day he made us. There was no mercy, no forgiveness, and it’s my duty to seek him out and deliver his death. Even if it means killing the sun above and sending my brothers and me back into the abyss.”

  She had stopped fighting him, hearing his words but not understanding them. And I thought I would cause culture shock with my nudity but this... Him... Quist and this alien world are nothing, nothing like home. Her mind reeled.

  The only thing she could think of to say was, “I’m sorry.” And she truly was. Her concerns were miniscule compared to his.

  He let her go. “Why?”

  “I’m trying to understand but... this,” she waved her hand around her, “confuses me. You confuse me,” she finished in a whisper. “I wanted to take a bath, to clean myself, focused on the now, but-but here you are, an alien, one on a planet god-knows-where, with more on his mind than survival and I’m afraid stripping naked in front of you would get me—us hurt. I guess I’m sorry because I don’t understand and—” She took a quaky breath. “All I can think about is getting out of this uniform and sinking into that water. You’re thinking about destroying the—the sun.”

  Oh god.

  She missed her papa in that moment more than she ever had when she was still on Earth. More than the endless months kept prisoner underground and in outer space.

  Quist sat back, the anger melting from his face, his hand still cupping the now obviously erect alien dick in his hand. “A bath is important to you, Yahiro of Quist. My vengeance has spanned the ages of Sonhadra and can span another day. Bathe and know that when you’re in my sights, nothing will harm you, and that I won’t harm you. I keep my oaths.”

  That makes one of us. She glanced back at the twinkling water. “Promise?”

  “Oathed?”

  “Yes.”

  She turned away from him and stepped into the water, loving and hating the cool feel of it over her skin. Loving and hating it as much as her turmoiled emotions. Once she was crouched with her waist below the shallow middle, she tugged off her orange pants and clutched the material in her hands while she dared a look back at the alien.

  His eyes bore into her and his wings were as stiff as two towers at his sides. “What does nudity mean in your world?” she asked, her belly rolling and her heart racing, her fingers playing at the bottom edge of her shirt.

  “It has no meaning.”

  “So this,” she indicated herself, “has no meaning?” Yahiro hoped.

  “It does and it doesn’t.”

  “I don’t understand?”

  “I’ve never wanted to see what happens next so much as I do now.”

  “That helps not at all,” she sighed, loving the water against her bare legs. She sank further in.

  “My body feels connected to yours and yet I don’t know what
to expect. All I know is that my member has swelled for you. That I hope to see a place where it’s meant to be, and that this is all for naught.”

  Yahiro coughed and sputtered and turned fully away from him. The knot in her belly grew worse and she tried to ignore it, but his presence made it hard for her to do so. She looked down and watched the water sweep the dirt away from her skin.

  “And if you find that... place?” she asked.

  His voice was directly behind her, caressing her ear. “Then I’ll have a little hope.”

  Her skin prickled and she rubbed her palms over her bare thighs. “I won’t show you,” she whispered hoarsely, refusing to turn around and face him.

  “Don’t you feel the connection?” His finger caught a lank of her hair and tugged it lightly, his nearness burning her from the inside out. “This is obvious.”

  You make it sound so simple.

  You... you have no idea. Nothing about me is simple. I’m used up, chewed up, spit on and spat out. I’ve been shot at, stomped on, cut, beaten, and urinated on. She wanted to cry but didn’t. She wanted to stop the thoughts but couldn’t. They broke me apart... until I was as horrible as they were.

  There were two types of evil men in the world: those who were born evil, their horror embedded in their very soulless cells, and those who were made evil. She had been by the heads of both.

  “Please,” she said it so softly she barely heard herself. “Please don’t.”

  Her hair was let go, and with it, her breath. Yahiro heard the flutter of Quist’s wings flap behind her as she bowed into herself. The pressure lifted and he moved away. Without turning to face him, she unzipped her shirt and let it drop, watching it flow a few feet away and catch on a rock.

  Her underwear went next and then she lowered her entire body beneath the shallow water, forgetting the world around her, luxuriating in the clean, fresh feeling of water over her unclean skin.