2. Malorg #2
“If you make it back with that wound and your weakened magic.” The Celestial’s appraising gaze roved over Malorg from head to toe in a way that left him vaguely unsettled.
Something akin to nerves fluttered in his belly.
“Besides,” the Celestial continued, his tense posture relaxing, “I don’t think you’ll abandon me. ”
Malorg barked an incredulous laugh over the oncoming voidspawn’s growl. “And why is that?”
To Malorg’s astonishment, the wounded Celestial managed an exhausted smirk. “You wouldn’t have run all the way here from the Dusklands to save me if you were the kind of person to just give up.”
The Celestial’s words slugged Malorg like a punch to the gut. Before he could muster a retort, the voidspawn howled and began a laborious charge across the last of the distance separating them.
Malorg peppered it with a barrage of daggers, but as he’d feared, this foe didn’t fall as easily as the others. Even with multiple blades turning its rounded back into a pincushion and jagged cracks of cursed shadow rippling along its carapace, the voidspawn barreled on.
Malorg fell into a crouch beside the Celestial with his latest daggers in hand. It seemed they’d have no choice but to fight in close combat. Maybe I’ll get my wish to pass on sooner rather than later.
For some reason, the thought didn’t please him nearly as much as he’d expected. Instead of relief at the idea of rest, all he could think of was the unarmed Celestial at his side who would suffer the same grisly fate if he failed.
“Stick close to me,” he said. “If I go down, run.”
The Celestial didn’t reply, and Malorg glanced over to see his golden forehead furrowed in intense concentration. Had the Celestial been mortal, sweat would’ve been beaded there.
“What are you doing?” Malorg demanded. “It’s almost here!”
“I. Know,” the Celestial said through gritted teeth. He raised his right hand to point toward the voidspawn. “Just give me. One more minute. And—”
The Celestial gasped as dawnflame burst from his raised hand. It wasn’t much—barely a trickle. Malorg watched skeptically as the weak magic streamed toward the voidspawn. If his cursed blades hadn’t been enough to drop the beast, that tiny amount of dawnflame wouldn’t either.
Yet, the turtle-like abomination didn’t appear to be the Celestial’s target.
Shock widened Malorg’s eyes when the dawnflame instead flowed into one of his daggers still embedded in the voidspawn’s back. The dagger erupted with golden light. Flames spread down the black cracks Malorg’s magic had left.
The voidspawn staggered to a halt, shrieking as the infusion of dawnflame somehow jumpstarted the duskflame curse, sending more black tendrils fanning outward to carry golden fire in their wake. Within seconds, the flames had engulfed the voidspawn until nothing remained but violet ash.
Malorg spun toward the Celestial. “Eternal Dark, how did you do that?”
The Celestial slumped to the ground, his exhaustion overtaking him now that the immediate threat had passed.
Still, he found the strength to grin. “Light if I know. I figured since I didn’t have enough magic left to do much on my own, maybe I could somehow strengthen yours.
I wasn’t expecting it to work so well, though. ”
“It shouldn’t have! Dawnflame and duskflame are polar opposites. Light and dark, Celestial and Infernal—they’re not intended to ever mix!”
The Celestial’s grin faded, his brow knitting. “What does it matter how or why it worked? The important thing is that it did. Besides, you’re here in the Dawnlands, so the two must not be entirely anathema to one another.”
Malorg spun away, shaking his head. “The only Infernal that would willingly come here is one with a death wish!”
He regretted the words as soon as they’d left his mouth. The Celestial was right: victory was victory. So, why did he still feel so on edge?
You wouldn’t have run all the way here from the Dusklands to save me if you were the kind of person to just give up.
He tensed as the Celestial sidled up behind him.
“A death wish, huh?” The Celestial’s voice was soft, any hint of joviality gone.
If Malorg were mortal, he might have flushed at the quiet accusation. As it was, he felt his body stiffen as he silently cursed his loose lips. He hadn’t meant to give so much away, especially not to a Celestial.
“Forget it.” He strode back the way he’d come, toward the border with the Dusklands. “I assume your comrades will be looking for you.” Unlike Infernals, Celestials rarely if ever hunted alone.
“I expect so,” the Celestial replied. “But what about you?”
The concern in the Celestial’s tone almost broke Malorg’s stride. “I, for one, have had enough of this Dark-cursed light,” he said without turning.
The Celestial’s chuckle sent a prickle of warmth through Malorg he wasn’t sure he liked. “I meant, what about your comrades? Are they waiting for you at the border?”
“I hunt alone.”
Footsteps sounded on the silver earth, and Malorg startled when the Celestial appeared beside him, limping slightly as he favored his wounded right leg. “Really? This far along the outskirts? Do you come here often?”
Malorg jerked an impatient nod.
“But there are all sorts of random voidspawn hiding this close to the Void.”
Malorg did his best to tamp down his annoyance. He had fought alongside the Celestial—he could put up with a few questions. “That’s the idea. Plentiful prey.”
“Right.” The Celestial bobbed his head. “Makes sense.” His bright golden eyes studied Malorg’s profile, and Malorg had to stop himself from turning to stare into their scintillating depths. “If, that is, you have a death wish.”
Malorg whirled, grabbing the Celestial by the front of his battered armor. Ignoring the Celestial’s surprised squawk and the faint burning he felt from direct contact with the hardened dawnflame, he leaned in until a mere hand’s breadth separated them.
“Unless I miss my guess, I have been fighting since long before your mortal self was even born. I have watched countless comrades fall to the Void and sent countless more voidspawn back there myself. Do not presume to judge me!”
The Celestial swallowed, never taking his eyes off Malorg’s face. “I wasn’t. Though, I admit I am curious what happened to make you abandon hope.”
Malorg had to hand it to the Celestial—he had guts. Of course, that should have been obvious when Malorg had found him taking on multiple voidspawn with his bare hands.
“I will fight until my last breath,” Malorg said, forcing down his guilt at the half-lie. “But when my end finally comes, I will welcome it with open arms. Once you have lived as long as I have, you will do the same.”
Releasing the Celestial’s armor, he shoved him a step back and resumed his trek toward the Dusklands. This time, the Celestial didn’t follow, and Malorg was surprised by the thread of disappointment that wove through him at the absence.
“Maybe you’re right!” the Celestial called after him. “If I’d been through what you have, maybe I’d be tired of fighting, too. But there’s more to this existence than war and death!”
Like what? Malorg didn’t dare ask the question, though he wasn’t sure if it was because he feared he wouldn’t receive an answer…or because he feared he would.
He’d thought the Celestial gone, off to return to his own people, when he heard him shout, “My name is Sarilian.”
Sarilian. As pretentious a name as any. Definitely suitable for the naive young Celestial.
“Malorg,” he surprised himself by replying.
“Well, Malorg, until we meet again!”
I seriously doubt that day will ever come.
Still, even after Malorg had crossed back into the Dusklands, relishing the shadows’ cool embrace, the annoying Celestial’s parting words continued to rattle around his head.
And, as unlikely as such a reunion was, he found a part of him longed for it all the same.