14. Sarilian #2
Indeed, Sarilian could already hear the disapproving murmurs from the guards and sense Darius’ rising tension. The Dawn Council might be magnanimous, but even they wouldn’t commit to talks they believed a waste of time.
If Sarilian wasn’t careful, these negotiations might collapse before they’d even begun.
He tightened his jaw. “I take that as a yes,” he said dryly.
“First, we feel it important to clarify that we view any proposed alliance as a partnership between equals. Thus, while we are happy to offer our aid against any present or future voidspawn threat, we would expect the Dusk Council to respond in turn: an equal exchange for an equal exchange. It is only fair.”
To Sarilian’s astonishment, Malorg instantly shook his head.
“Impossible. Our estimates place your numbers at nearly three times our own, with a higher percentage of them dedicated to combat. Should we be required to match that contribution, we’d need to dedicate a far greater portion of our population.
Equal, perhaps, but hardly fair. If you have three times as many soldiers, then you should field three times as many in each battle. ”
The whispers around Sarilian intensified.
His temples throbbed with the beginnings of a headache as he struggled to rein in his growing frustration.
“With all due respect, Emissary, it sounds like you are asking us to risk three Celestial lives for every one Infernal while fighting against voidspawn within your own territory.”
Malorg raised a brow. “With all due respect to you, Emissary, did you not just espouse your commitment to facing this threat in ‘united harmony’? Or was all that talk about defending the realm little more than empty rhetoric?”
Darius shifted beside Sarilian like he wanted to leap to his feet in protest. Sarilian had to fight down the same impulse. This was absurd! The Dusk Council couldn’t honestly expect the Celestials to entertain so ludicrous a notion.
This first point was supposed to be easy—a good segue into more difficult topics like logistics or how to navigate clashing cultures. Yet, Malorg was already proving stubbornly intractable.
Sarilian expelled his breath, pressing his lips together in an approximation of a smile.
“The Dawn Council does not make it a habit to lie, Emissary.” He left the implied corollary unsaid, though he took a certain satisfaction from the irritation that flashed across Malorg’s face.
“Nevertheless, we can return to this point later. Can we at least agree that any alliance will require some method of integrating our forces?”
Malorg gave a reluctant nod.
“Then, perhaps it is best to move on and discuss some of our other main concerns.”
The next several hours passed in a frustrating blur. Sarilian carefully outlined everything Darius and he had considered, from potential training arrangements to cultural exchanges to the sharing of tactics and supplies. And each time, Malorg met him with nothing but obstruction.
So far as Sarilian could glean, the Dusk Council had no set agenda, or if it did, Malorg had tossed it out the window. It was almost as if his sole goal was to provoke Sarilian as much as possible.
“I think it best we conclude the Accords for today,” Sarilian said. His head throbbed from how tightly he’d been clenching his jaw. “Clearly, we both need more time to reassess our current priorities.”
“Clearly,” Malorg replied. “Hopefully, next time you’ll return with a better plan.”
Sarilian stared after the departing Infernal as he rose and slipped out the doors. How dare Malorg question their planning when he outright refused to suggest his own alternatives!
Ignoring Darius’s shout, Sarilian barreled past the other Infernal delegates and a startled pair of guards out into the hall. A flash of movement to the left guided him, and he rushed forward, rounding a corner and running straight into Malorg.
For an instant, they stood pressed against each other, Sarilian’s hand on Malorg’s chest. Both of them froze, the only sound in the near darkness their heavy breaths. Then, reason reasserted itself, and Sarilian stepped back, crossing his arms with a glare.
“What the Merciful Light was that in there, Mal? Do you want these Accords to fail?”
Malorg loomed over him, elongated shadows making him seem taller than he really was. “Don’t call me that,” he growled. “And I was only following my orders from the Dusk Council. It’s not my fault that your proposals need work.”
“This had nothing to do with the Dusk Council or my proposals!” Sarilian’s dawnflame lantern flared brighter as he set his shoulders. “You’re angry, and you’re taking it out on me.”
“Of course, I’m angry!” Malorg leaned in closer, his dark eyes smoldering coals.
“You made your choice and broke off all contact for over a year, only to blindside me with this assignment. Pelorak said you asked for me by name. Why in the Dark would you do that after everything that happened? To rub salt into the wound?”
Sarilian’s eyes widened. “Of course not! Merciful Light, do you really think so little of me?” When Malorg didn’t reply, he muffled a wince and barreled on.
“I asked for you because I thought you cared about this as much as I do.” And because I wanted to see you.
“Whatever else lies between us now, surely that hasn’t changed.
These Accords may be the single most important thing to happen in the Immortal Realm since the original forging of the Covenant! Don’t you want to be a part of that?”
Malorg’s uncertain expression wavered before hardening into an icy mask devoid of any emotion.
“What I want is no longer your concern. However, I assure you that I have every intention of seeing these Accords through to their completion, as is my duty. Now, unless you have any other official business to discuss, I think it best you return to your delegation. Good day, Emissary.”
With that, Malorg strode down the hall until he vanished from view.
Sarilian stared after him, stunned into stillness. A flurry of emotions churned within him, regret chief among them. Malorg might have pushed him away, but Sarilian had been the one to take the offered out and end things between them. To choose duty over what they might have been.
And judging by Malorg’s reaction, he was no more over their relationship than Sarilian was. It might have been a year since they last met, but that didn’t stop Sarilian from recognizing the hurt and sorrow Malorg kept buried beneath his ire.
“Are you all right?”
Darius’ gruff voice caught Sarilian by surprise, and he jumped a little before spinning to face the Aspect with a crisp salute.
“Yes, sir.” His gaze flicked past Darius, Faeris, and the rest of their delegation back to the empty hallway where Malorg had been.
“Just having a quick chat with the Dusk Emissary before he departed.”
“I see.” Sarilian’s skin prickled at the appraising look Darius gave him. After a moment, the Aspect gestured. “At ease, son. There’s no need to follow protocol so strictly while we’re here. After all, as the Dawn Emissary you outrank me in these proceedings.”
Sarilian relaxed his tensed posture while Faeris shifted beside Darius, her brow twitching.
Despite Sarilian’s best efforts, a year had done little to lessen her animosity toward him.
Having to follow his lead here probably irked her to no end.
He gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile.
“What did you think of our first meeting, Faeris?”
Her narrowed eyes scanned the dark corridor, and she wrinkled her nose. “Perhaps such questions would be better saved for our return to the Dawnlands, Emissary, so that we might speak in comfort…and without the fear of prying ears?”
Sarilian muffled a sigh. “Of course. Come, let us depart.”
With him, Darius, and Faeris taking the lead and their honor guard trailing behind, they charted a course through the Dusk Citadel beneath the wary gazes of the Infernal guards. As they walked, Sarilian’s mind returned to Malorg.
Perhaps it had been a mistake to involve him in these new Accords. At the very least, he should have tried to warn the Infernal first so that he wouldn’t be so caught off guard by Sarilian’s presence.
But the damage had already been done. All Sarilian could do now was attempt to put Malorg at ease, continue upon this path he’d set them on, and pray he hadn’t made a colossal mistake.