3. Sarilian #2
Something about the Infernal called to Sarilian. Perhaps it had been his blunt pessimism, so unlike the mix of cheerful friendliness and brusque professionalism common among Sarilian’s own people. Or perhaps it was the blatant contradiction between his words and actions.
I will fight until my last breath, Malorg had told him.
But when my end finally comes, I will welcome it with open arms. The Infernal might have thought he believed his words, but something in Malorg’s expression and demeanor made Sarilian question their sincerity.
If anything, he suspected that Malorg was searching for a reason to go on.
That he wanted someone to defy his despair.
And that was something Sarilian found himself increasingly eager to do.
That was how he’d ended up on this latest scouting mission, one of four Celestials sent to patrol a section of the outskirts for voidspawn left over after a recent battle. Their position should put them close to where Sarilian had first encountered the alluring Infernal.
Alluring? Sarilian chided himself as they traversed the silver plains. Where had that word come from? Sure, Malorg had been handsome, in a tall, dark, and brooding sort of way. And obviously, he was highly skilled, which was admirable. But—
“Target, dead ahead,” Faeris, the squad leader, said, snapping Sarilian from his reverie. He fell in with the others behind her, trusting her keen sight.
His heartbeat quickened as they drew closer.
The border with the Dusklands extended along their right flank, no more than five minutes distant.
Could it possibly be Malorg up ahead? If it was, that meant the stubborn Infernal hadn’t heeded Sarilian’s words and was once again risking his life fighting weakened in the Dawnlands.
Still, Sarilian supposed he could forgive him if it meant an opportunity to talk again.
The target wasn’t Malorg, of course—just a tentacled voidspawn they dispatched with surgical precision. Afterward, Faeris surveyed the area, narrowing her amber eyes. “Where there’s one, there’s almost certainly more. We should sweep the area for other stragglers.”
Sarilian’s gaze flicked longingly in the direction of the Dusklands. This is my chance. “Let’s split up,” he suggested, drawing the rest of the squad’s attention. “If we each take a different cardinal direction, we can cover more ground in less time.”
“It’s risky to divide our forces when we don’t know what’s out there,” Faeris said.
Sarilian muffled his growing excitement.
That hadn’t been a no. “As long as none of us venture too far, we should be able to use our dawnflame to send for aid if needed.” He gestured to where the voidspawn they’d slain had been.
“Besides, those are the only things we’re likely to encounter—nothing we can’t handle on our own. ”
The rest of the squad, Gallan and Kyrian, glanced between him and Faeris, seeming uncertain. Faeris frowned. “Standard procedure states that we remain together while in the field.”
“Standard procedure represents guidelines more than strict rules,” Sarilian argued.
It was true enough, even if the same could be claimed for almost every facet of Celestial society.
Why bother making a rule you knew no one would ever break?
“Besides,” he added when Faeris continued to hesitate, “standard procedure also values efficiency. Otherwise, prudence risks begetting cowardice, which becomes an excuse for inaction.”
He hadn’t meant it as an insult, merely parroting one of Darius’ many sayings. But by the way Faeris tensed, she seemed to have taken it as such. Unlike most of his peers, she’d never quite warmed to him, his sunny optimism clashing too much with her reserved pragmatism.
He opened his mouth to apologize, but before he could, she snapped, “Very well. As you say, nothing we’ve seen so far suggests we’ll face any real danger.
But if you encounter anything you can’t handle, don’t hesitate to retreat and call for aid.
” She fixed Sarilian with a stern look one step removed from a glare.
“Too much prudence may risk cowardice, but too little can lead to recklessness, and that is the purview of foolhardy Infernals, not Celestials.”
Gallan and Kyrian chuckled. Sarilian managed a faint grin even as inwardly he bristled.
It wasn’t until his encounter with Malorg that he’d begun to notice how common such offhanded insults were.
Any chance to put down the Infernals and imply Celestial superiority.
But why? Were they not united in their shared duty to uphold the Covenant?
He stayed silent, however, taking his victory and setting off toward the border.
He kept his spear summoned just in case, but he encountered no further voidspawn.
Perhaps the one they’d slain really had been the only one in the region.
When he reached the edge of the Dusklands, he hesitated, staring at the border.
Such a stark divide. On one side, the rolling silver plains and endless light of the Dawnlands. On the other, near-utter darkness. Squinting, Sarilian could barely make out the gnarled branches of hunched trees, their bark and leaves painted a dull, listless gray.
The unnerving sight sapped some of his resolve. Was he really going to do this?
He pictured Malorg’s scowling face. If he could just talk to the Infernal one more time, he could excise his ridiculous curiosity and return his focus to the Covenant where it belonged. Squaring his shoulders, he took his first halting step into the Dusklands.