9. Malorg #2
Malorg grunted in agreement. At the moment, however, he was more interested in Sarilian’s nearness than in discussing hypotheses concerning their combined magic.
Movement caught Malorg’s attention from the corner of his eye, and he broke away from Sarilian, turning to look.
The last voidspawn. Bereft of the rest of its brood, it had resettled into a tangle of branches in a vain attempt to conceal itself.
As if Malorg would allow anything that dared hurt Sarilian to escape.
Baring his teeth, he forged a duskflame dagger and took aim.
“Wait!” Sarilian rested a restraining hand on Malorg’s arm. “Allow me.”
Malorg opened his mouth to protest but reconsidered when Sarilian narrowed his eyes. “Fine,” he grumbled. “But just so you know, you have nothing to prove. Not to me.”
Even with his Infernal disguise in place, Sarilian’s answering smile sent jolts of electricity rippling across Malorg’s skin. “Thanks. For the record, neither do you. Although I must admit it was incredible watching you in your element. The way you moved with such deadly grace…”
Sarilian bit his lip, a spark of gold smoldering beneath his obscured eyes. The static charge sizzling Malorg’s skin burrowed straight to his core. He cleared his throat and directed his gaze back to the last voidspawn. “If you’re going to kill it, get on with it then.”
“Right. Of course.” Flickering dawnflame gathered around Sarilian as he fell into a crouch, a new spear coalescing in his grip. “There’s something I’ve wanted to try ever since my first battle. I’m not sure how well it’ll work in the Dusklands though, so I wouldn’t say no to a little boost.”
Frowning, Malorg studied Sarilian’s nascent spell. “What is it?”
A smirk curled Sarilian’s lips. “You’ll see.”
Malorg scowled, continuing his examination another beat before giving up. Whatever Sarilian was planning, the magic was too different from Malorg’s for him to decipher. Still, he didn’t need to know the spell’s purpose to align his duskflame with the dawnflame.
As soon as he had, Sarilian shoved off the ground and launched himself into the air.
Surprise flickered through Malorg when the rough outlines of wings sprouted from Sarilian’s back, blazing with a penumbra of gray and gold light.
The magic seemed to amplify the Celestial’s leap so that it carried him in an impressive arc toward the hidden voidspawn.
Once it realized it had been spotted, the creature attempted to flee, but Sarilian lashed out with his spear. His whoop of victory at impaling the voidspawn transformed into a startled shout when his crude wings abruptly evaporated, sending him spiraling downward.
Concern rippling through him, Malorg rushed to where Sarilian had crashed to the ground only to find the grinning Celestial already bounding to his feet.
“Did you see that? I got the idea from watching Darius, the Aspect of Justice. It’ll be a long time before I can sustain the spell like he can, but with some practice, I bet I can manage at least a controlled jump! ”
Malorg shook his head, exasperation mixing with fondness at Sarilian’s misguided enthusiasm. “No regular Immortal can hope to match the power of an Aspect, Sarilian.”
Seeming suddenly self-conscious, Sarilian kicked at the gray kaleidoscope of lines spiraling along the forest floor. Malorg’s heart sank. He hadn’t meant to dampen the Celestial’s good mood. As if he needed any more evidence that this relationship was a bad idea.
“You’re right.” Sarilian fixed Malorg with a determined gaze as he set his jaw.
“Which is why I intend to become an Aspect myself someday. I’ve seen how the other Celestials look up to Darius.
He’s more than a commander to them. His mere presence is enough to bolster their hope and embolden their spirits.
I want to inspire Immortals and mortals alike as he does—to put myself in a position where I can accomplish the greatest good. ”
Each impassioned word Sarilian spoke drove another razor-thin spike into Malorg’s chest. He had watched the pursuit of power corrupt his once-friend Pelorak until, by the time Pelorak earned a seat on the Dusk Council as the Aspect of Ambition, little remained of who he’d once been.
From Malorg’s limited experiences with the Dawn Council, they were little better. If Sarilian followed a similar path to ascend, how much of his noble aspirations would endure?
Squashing his churning unease, Malorg offered a nod along with a noncommittal shrug. He would not be the one to disabuse Sarilian of his folly—not yet, at any rate. Council seats rarely changed hands. He’d have decades, perhaps centuries, to help Sarilian see wisdom.
Assuming you’re still speaking to one another a month from now, let alone years.
“Whatever you think is best,” Malorg forced out. “Are you ready to bring this hunting trip to a close?”
Sarilian’s eyes widened. “But we’ve barely even begun! There are still so many joint spells I’d like to try, from a blinding light to—”
“I think we’ve experimented enough for one day.”
“All right, no more experiments. But that doesn’t mean we can’t slaughter a few more voidspawn for good measure.
” When Malorg hesitated, Sarilian made a show of begging, complete with puppy dog eyes, quivering lips, and excessive sniffling.
“Pleeease. Don’t you want to spend more time together while we can? ”
Malorg scowled. Way to fight dirty. “Fine. But,” he added in response to Sarilian’s immediate grin, “only if we shift our hunt to the Dawnlands.”
Sarilian’s smile dampened. “But that will leave you more vulnerable.”
“Precisely.” Malorg set off in the direction of the border. They were already close, having traveled as far as they could from Twilight to lessen the odds that they’d cross paths with other Infernals. “I have centuries of experience on you. Better for me to be the one at increased risk.”
Sarilian nodded, though Malorg could tell he wasn’t thrilled with the decision. He followed in silence for a time before chuckling quietly to himself out of nowhere.
Malorg eyed him askance. “What?”
Sarilian shook his head, an amused smirk playing over his lips. “Nothing. Just thinking over what you said about your centuries of experience…old man.”
Malorg tried to pin the laughing Celestial with a glare, but his heart wasn’t in it. For better or worse, he was beginning to suspect that organ already belonged to the Celestial in question.
Sarilian kept up a stream of easy chatter as they travelled, seeming determined to draw Malorg out of his shell.
When Malorg offered to duskwalk them across the border, he declined, taking Malorg’s hand instead and insisting that he’d rather go slow to enjoy their stroll.
The soft smile he’d given Malorg had threatened to make his heart bound right out of his chest.
The rolling silver plains of the Dawnlands proved precisely as boring as Malorg remembered…minus the company, of course. Just like in the forest, having Sarilian with him made even the tedious task of tracking stray voidspawn across the barren expanse more enjoyable.
Despite his weakened duskflame, Malorg insisted on taking the lead, much to Sarilian’s chagrin. Anything he could do to keep Sarilian safe.
Though the Dawnlands’ perpetual glow left no easy way to track the passage of time, several hours must have elapsed before Sarilian let out a loud groan, stretching his back.
“Merciful Light, how many voidspawn does that make for today?”
“Thirty-five,” Malorg replied, trying not to let his exhaustion show.
Sarilian scrunched his brow. “That’s it? Feels like more.”
“That’s it—unless you count that voidspawn with too many tentacles as multiple.”
Sarilian snorted a laugh. “Which one? They all have too many tentacles!”
A faint smile flickered over Malorg’s face. “Fair enough.” Glancing around at the near-identical landscape stretching in every direction, he asked, “Do you want a lift somewhere?”
“Nah, I’m good. The nearest dawnbeam waypoint isn’t far from here, and I don’t want to risk another Celestial spotting us if you duskwalk too close.”
Malorg scratched at the back of his neck. An anxious buzzing filled his gut. “Right. Well, I guess this is where we part ways, then.”
“I guess so.”
Sarilian gave him a fond smile. Before Malorg could settle on what to do next, Sarilian was pressed against him, stealing his breath with an intoxicating kiss.
“Thanks for the date,” Sarilian murmured. He trailed more kisses along the sharp line of Malorg’s jaw. “I look forward to the next one.”
Malorg struggled to maintain his stoic composure as they parted. “As do I. The usual time and place?”
Sarilian nodded. “Sounds good. Perhaps we can continue experimenting with our magics.”
“Perhaps,” Malorg agreed reluctantly.
It wasn’t that he saw no possible applications for their efforts—he’d been mulling over what Sarilian had said about a protective infusion all day. But if the last disastrous Accords had taught him anything, it was the danger of false hope.
Sarilian must’ve sensed his hesitation. “I know you think defeating the Void is an impossible dream, but nothing is impossible so long as we don’t give up. Together, we’ll find a way to fulfill the Covenant once and for all—you’ll see.”
Malorg wished he could believe him. Still, despite his doubts, he didn’t want to once again be the reason Sarilian’s joy faded. Let the Celestial cling to his naivety as long as he could. And who knew? Maybe someday, he’d prove Malorg wrong.
But even after they’d said their goodbyes, Sarilian’s whispered Until we meet again echoing in his ears and their parting kiss lingering on his lips, Malorg couldn’t shake his rising sense of foreboding or the terrible premonition that, like everything else tainted by the Covenant, their newfound happiness was destined to end in nothing but pain and regret.