Blightmage: Kataklysm, #1

By T.R. Magnus and Theophilus Monroe

Embrace the (B)light...

 

It has been fifty years since the sun died over Ashathar.

 

Blaike was born in the blight. As one of the "touched" he is devoid of power.

He is forbidden from following the Lightweaver Path.

The "touched" still serve the brightlands, working the mines to extract sunstone; to deliver it to the Lightweavers, the saviors, preservers, and rulers of Ashathar.

The largest sunstone ever extracted from the mines has been found. It could empower the brightlands for months. When it is discovered that someone stole the sunstone's power, Blaike is exiled from the brightlands. Was he really to blame? Can he survive the blight? Or, is there a larger threat than the Lightweavers ever realized that could destroy Ashathar once and for all?

Ming Yue is the daughter of a brewer. The Ming clan's elixirs have supported those on the Lightweaver path for a half-century.

Yue's twin brother was taken by the blighted when they were children. But when she's denied access to the Lightweaver path, since she is not the first-born child of her clan, Yue's father tasks her to create an elixir that might save her brother from the blight.

He's the only chance the Ming clan has to remain prominent amongst the brightborn, to produce a Lightweaver who might protect Ashathar for years to come.

But there is no guarantee that Yue's brother has survived among the blighted. Would he remember her at all? Is the mysterious figure, found in the blight, truly her brother--or is he someone else, someone who might challenge the dominance of the Lightweavers and the security of Ashathar?

Blightmage is the first book in Kataklysm, an action packed epic progression fantasy series. Fans of progression/cultivation epic fantasies, unique magic systems, and immersive epics like Will Wight's Cradle series or Brandon Sanderson's Stormlight Archive where the hero starts weak but gains power over time will also enjoy this expansive saga.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Theophilus Monroe
• Release date: Sep 12, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223750819

Book preview

Copyright © 2022 by T.R. Magnus and Theophilus Monroe.

All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

Cover Design by Deranged Doctor Design

Proofreading/Editing by Mel: https://getproofreader.co.uk/

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. 

 For information: 

www.theophilusmonroe.com

www.trmagnus.com

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PART I

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CHAPTER ONE

Blaike dragged a rag across his brow. A combination of sweat, soot, and limestone dust formed what was commonly called miner’s muck.

You’re short of quota, pathless.

It was the fourth time that day that Vikal reminded him of the obvious. One would think that the taskmaster would get a little creative about the ways he reminded someone of his impending exile.

Blaike gripped his pickaxe with his calloused and bloodied hands. His body used to ache. Now he was numb. The body can only endure so much abuse before the mind intervenes and shuts it out. Blaike screamed as he swung his axe and struck the stone wall. A hunk of shale fell at his feet. Blaike examined the scarred wall for the slightest shimmer or glow.

Antaboga’s breath!

Taskmaster Vikal laughed in the distance. Cursing the world serpent’s name won’t make sunstone appear, pathless.

Blaike dropped his pickaxe on the ground and clenched his fists. You think you’re better than me?

Vikal stepped up to Blaike and spit in his face. "I’m Ember. You are pathless. You’ll never ascend because you’re an abomination. You’re lucky you’re allowed to live in the Brightlands. Mining for sunstone is a privilege. If you don’t meet quota this month, it will be your third black mark this year."

Blaike wiped Vikal’s saliva off his cheek with his muck-covered rag. He thought about hurling his fist directly at Vikal’s aquiline nose. Blaike had won his share of brawls in the past, but his best hook would hurt an Ember about as much as a feather falling on a heifer. Vikal’s counter-punch at half strength would easily crack Blaike’s skull. Blaike was no coward, but he’d seen a fair number of miners lose their tempers with their Ember taskmasters before. The ones who weren’t killed two seconds later were exiled to the blight. A fate as good as death. A fate that stared Blaike in the face if he missed his quota again.

Blaike bent over and picked up his pickaxe. Vikal walked away, chuckling under his breath.

Blaike swung again at the slate rock, picturing Vikal’s smug face on the spot where his axe struck. He was in the deepest part of the Sudveil mine, so far beneath the surface it was colder than the blight.

The deeper mines weren’t as stable as those closer to the surface. Desperate times called for riskier endeavors. To make quota, Blaike had to harvest more sunstone in the next week than he had the previous three weeks combined.

He’d mined the safer tunnels. A half dozen other miners who shared Blaike’s desperation were already there, chipping away. A whole day’s work in those tunnels never yielded more than a few sunstone flecks. It was simple arithmetic. Blaike could swing his pickaxe in those tunnels around the clock and he’d still fall far short of his quota.

His only chance was to find a solid sunstone rock. The last time Blaike turned one up, it covered his quota for three months. That was five years ago. The Lightweavers used it to power one of their spires for almost a year. The spires were all that preserved the Brightlands. Everything beyond the spires was blight. It had been that way since the Kataklysm, since Ashathar’s sun went dormant. That was a half century ago, thirty years before Blaike was born.

Two more swings of his pickaxe and Blaike removed a large slab of slate from the tunnel wall. Behind it was a pocket of loose scree. That was usually a good sign. According to the legends, if anyone still believed they were true, the first Lightweaver, Qal-Mal Tannen, harnessed the last of the sun’s energy and blasted it into the earth. Power like that burns hot. Where sunstone formed, the surrounding rock shattered.

Blaike used his axe to pull away the scree. It piled up around his feet. A brilliant light shone from somewhere deep in the hole. As Blaike removed more of the scree, he couldn’t believe his eyes. It might have been five times larger than any sunstone he’d ever seen. He couldn’t reach in and grab it. It would melt his flesh to bone the second he touched it.

This find was bigger than quotas. It was enough that Blaike might even earn adoption into an Ashatharian clan. Only the firstborn of a generation is permitted to pursue the Lightweaver path. Most of them reach Ember when they come of age. An Ember is strong, but not resilient enough to handle a sunstone. Most reached Luminary eventually. The dedicated might attain the level of a Radiant. Only one in a hundred of any who began the Lightweaver path ever reached the level of Lightweaver, the ability to harness the power of sunstone, to illuminate the spires, and preserve what remained of Ashathar. There were only three Lightweavers in Ashathar at present. Any of them could elevate Blaike beyond the status of clanless. He’d still be pathless, but adoption into a noble clan would spare him a life in the mines.

Blaike removed his shirt. With a few swings of his pickaxe he freed the sunstone. He wrapped it in his shirt and hauled it out of the mine. He couldn’t turn it over to Vikal. He’d never give Blaike credit for a sunstone of this magnitude. He had to wait until the royal actuary arrived and deliver it to him directly.

Getting the large sunstone out of the mines would not be easy. The rock was big enough that it stretched Blaike’s shirt to the limit, the bright light emanating from the stone only partially dampened by the burlap. If he ran into Vikal, he’d have no choice but to turn it in and pray to Antaboga that Vikal reported it properly. It wasn’t likely. It didn’t matter to Vikal’s reputation among the Luminaries. Blaike was born in the blight. That meant he had Tensian blood. Blaike didn’t know how much. The Tensians were once a powerful race. It was rumored that they were far advanced in the pursuit of the path long before the secret of advancement came to Ashathar. After the Kataklysm, they vanished. The only people who remained in the blight were mixed-breeds. Some were born to Tensian women, courtesy of the Ashatharian soldiers who raided their villages in the years before the Kataklysm. Others were born during the era of peace when Tensians and Ashatharians worked together. The Tensians helped the Ashatharians learn the Lightweaver path in exchange for sunstone. That was when the mines were still rich in the luminescent mineral. As the supply became scarce, and the Ashatharians had already learned what they could from the Tensians, exports of sunstone to the Tensians ceased. The half breeds who still lived in the blight survived, but they lived as primitive, uncivilized people. When they encroached on the Brightlands, the Ashatharian legions fought them off, killed the adults, and raised the children to work the mines.

Blaike was raised by a clanless hermit on the edge of the Brightlands. Taman was an eccentric but noble man, an outcast on account of his clanless status and his superstitions. He had a lame leg. Since his condition meant he couldn’t work the mines, he served Ashathar by raising Blaike to do the job he couldn’t. Taman was old enough to remember the world before and all that had happened since.

Blaike didn’t find Vikal in the mines. He’d probably turned in for the night. Vikal wasn’t under the same pressure. He didn’t have a quota. So far as the Luminaries were concerned, a few miners who failed to meet quota weren’t a significant loss. With sunstone scarce, they were only more mouths to feed. They needed a more efficient operation. Those who produced had the privilege to go on working long and thankless days in the mines. Those who didn’t weren’t worth the resources it took to sustain them.

Any miners left in the tunnels at that late hour were as desperate as Blaike. If they saw him leaving with his sunstone, they’d kill him and fight over it for themselves.

Blaike grabbed a cart from another tunnel and wheeled it back to where he harvested the sunstone. He put the stone, still wrapped in his shirt, in the bottom of the cart and covered it with debris.

Leaving the mines with a cart full of scree wouldn’t draw any attention from the other miners. After a long day’s work, if a miner turned up empty-handed, he’d often gather whatever fragments he could find and sift it for sunstone. A cart full of scree never yielded more than a gram or two. Still, something was better than nothing.

Blaike pushed his cart casually past the other miners. They were so busy chipping at the rock, they didn’t even acknowledge him. The wheels on his cart squealed as he left the mineshaft. The firepit at the center of the circle of the taskmasters’ tents had simmered down to embers. Vikal and the other taskmasters must have retired for the night. Any other night, with a cart full of rubble, Blaike would spend another hour sifting through it.

The light from the nearest spire blazed in the distance. Blaike dumped the detritus in his cart in a pile of rubble. A silhouette of a four-legged animal and a long tail watched from a distance. There weren’t many beasts left in the Brightlands. It looked like an enormous cat. Its eyes glowed with a golden hue that matched the light emanating from the spire.

Blaike couldn’t turn away. Something about that cat’s gaze caught his eye. A warmth flushed through Blaike’s body.

What do you have here, pathless?

Vikal’s voice shocked Blaike out of the trance. I thought you were in bed. I was going to weigh in my find later.

Did you think you could carry a sunstone of that magnitude through the camp and every Ember here wouldn’t know it?

Blaike shrugged. I don’t know what it’s like to be an Ember.

Vikal huffed. Of course you don’t. Asleep or not, you should have brought this to me.

I was just dumping my refuse.

Vikal pushed Blaike aside and reached into his cart. He grabbed the shirt that Blaike had wrapped around the sunstone and held it in front of his face. Incredible.

Blaike sighed. Since you’re up, can we weigh it in?

Vikal smirked. I’ll weigh it in the morning.

Blaike shook his head. This can’t wait. I need this, Vikal.

I said I’ll record it in the morning.

"This is my find, Vikal. It better go under my name on the ledger."

Vikal raised an eyebrow. You’ve been falling behind more and more each day. Do you really think you deserve credit just because you had one lucky take?

I dug this stone out fair and square!

"I’ll give the credit to someone who deserves it."

Who deserves it more than me? I’m the one who went into the deep mines. I took all the risk.

Shavac is a better miner than you. He’s beaten your take every day for a month straight, but he’s short of quota. If I can save one of my miners with this find, it will be Shavac.

Blaike clenched his fists. He reached for the sunstone. Vikal backhanded Blaike across the cheek.

The strike should have sent Blaike to the ground. He barely felt it. Vikal’s eyes widened in shock.

Before Blaike realized it, his right fist met Vikal’s jaw. The taskmaster flew back several meters and hit the ground.

Blaike gasped. What have I done?

Blaike ran over to Vikal and knelt beside him. His eyes were closed. How was this possible? A pathless knocking out an Ember cold? It was unheard of.

At least Vikal was still breathing. If he’d killed a taskmaster, he’d be lucky if all he got was exile. Any miner who’d ever assaulted a taskmaster in the past was either killed on the spot or was hung from the gallows.

Blaike’s heart was racing. He looked back toward where the cat had stood before. It was gone. In a panic, Blaike picked up the sunstone and ran away from the camp. He only now hoped that if he turned the sunstone into the Luminaries, they might overlook his momentary indiscretion. Then again, perhaps Vikal wouldn’t report it. An Ember, bested by a pathless? It was inconceivable. Vikal wouldn’t want to suffer the embarrassment.

Whatever happened, Blaike had to get home. Taman would know what to do.

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CHAPTER TWO

Ming Yue sat between three boiling cauldrons, each with a variation on mixtures of sunstone, herbs and oils, meant to support pathwalkers as they ascend the Lightweaver path. Ming Boskoro, Yue’s father, was one of only three Lightweavers in Ashathar. He was advanced in age. No one had completed the path and reached Lightweaver in two decades.

The Ming clan served old Ashathar for centuries as brewers of elixirs. Since the Kataklysm, their efforts shifted toward supporting pathwalkers. If an Ember matured and was ready to become a Luminary, or a Luminary was ready to ascend to Radiant, an elixir could trigger their ascent. When a firstborn was admitted to the path, the College of Radiants provided a Ming elixir to start the evolution to Ember.

Yue’s brother, Ming Eka, was admitted to the path but was abducted by the blighted one week before his initiation. The blighted often raided the Brightlands. They rarely reached Sudveil, the capital of New Ashathar.

One year had passed since it happened. The Radiants looked for Eka, but called off their search two months later. There was no way a pureblood Ashatharian like Eka could survive the blight for so long—even if the blighted kept him alive.

The College of Radiants was gathering at present. Ming Boskoro was making his case to allow Yue admittance to the path. While she was only minutes younger than her missing twin-brother, she was not the firstborn. Traditionally, the College of Radiants forbade her from pursuing the path. Boskoro hoped to secure an exception. The Ming clan was one of Ashathar’s most respected and prominent clans, no doubt on account of the fact that their patriarch was a Lightweaver. If they refused to admit Yue to the path, one of her cousins might be accepted in her stead. None of her cousins, though, were raised by a pathwalker. They didn’t know the path. Yue was at the table when Boskoro taught his son the elementary principles of the path, what it meant to become an Ember, the responsibilities of Luminaires, Radiants, and Lightweavers.

The argument was simple. Yue was the best chance the Ming clan could offer to produce a Lightweaver. Ashathar needed Lightweavers as much as it depended on sunstone.

Everything depended on the College of Radiants, who alone determined the admittance of new pathwalkers. Boskoro’s argument was that necessity should take priority over tradition. It was hard to argue with that. Besides, Yue’s own skill as a brewer was undeniable. Many of the Radiants, themselves, would still be Luminaries, maybe even Embers, if not for her elixirs.

Yue walked between the cauldrons, examining their contents. They’d have to remain at a boil for a day before they’d be ready. The trick was maintaining the temperature. It had to stay at a rolling boil without boiling over. That meant tending the flames carefully. Half the art of a good brewer was knowing how to manage a fire. If the boil settled to simmer, she’d have to start again from scratch. If too much boiled over, it wasn’t that she might lose some of the elixir. If an elixir boiled over it was a sign that it was too hot which could destroy the properties of the key ingredients. Yue didn’t even know if these concoctions would work. She’d done this same experiment a half-dozen times before without success.

A carriage approached in the distance, led by her father’s horse. He hadn’t left in a carriage. He rode to the college on horseback. Maybe he was bringing the Radiants with him, perhaps the other Lightweavers, so that they might interview Yue. Interviews were standard procedure prior to admittance to the path. Then again, they had their own horses.

Yue added a little firewood to each of her fires. Not enough to stoke the fire too much, but plenty to maintain a rolling boil.

Yue’s father pulled the carriage up next to their house. It was a larger abode than they required. Such were the perks of having a Lightweaver as the head of the household. The walls were made of stone and the doors were thick, hewn from the finest acacia.

Father! Yue ran up to the carriage as Boskoro climbed down from the carriage. What did they say?

Boskoro placed his hand on his daughter’s shoulder. I have wonderful news.

They accepted? A wide grin split Yue’s face.

Better news than that. I’ve brought your brother home.

Yue tilted her head. Eka is in the back?

Boskoro nodded.

Yue ran around to the back of the carriage. Why wasn’t Eka climbing out to greet her? He’d been in the blight for a year. He’d probably been tortured by the blighted. It was understandable if he wasn’t entirely of right mind.

Yue pulled a hide off the back of the carriage. A mangled and disfigured body laid in the back. He was breathing, but his skin was so charred and torn she didn’t recognize him. He wasn’t conscious.

Dad, are you sure that’s Eka?

Boskoro sighed. "He’s the same height. His hair is the same color, albeit longer than the last time we saw him. There’s no one else who