Chapter 4 Sariel
SARIEL
S ariel carefully watched his brother’s reaction to the tale, a hand resting on Redemption’s hilt. He needed an ally, and while he loved Faron, he did not trust him. Sentimentality and idealization were both too strong in his heart.
“Luminary?” Faron said after a time. “The Astral Kingdom? This… No, he wouldn’t. It isn’t like him.”
“Except it is,” Sariel said, the past burning hot in his breast. “I stopped him once. This time, he succeeded.”
Faron looked to him, and it was such a strange mix, that soft heart and handsome face upon a body so strong and muscled.
“Why didn’t you prevent this?”
Sariel glared.
“You know damn well why. My hope was that he would come to his senses, but matters have only worsened as his church spreads. He’s too strong now, too well protected inside his Tower Majestic. I need help. I need you.”
“What of Aylah?” Faron asked. “I can’t believe she would stand idly by while Eder broke one of our sacred vows.”
“I haven’t seen her for several decades,” Sariel said. “And Eist has vanished into seclusion for twice as long. With you recovering, it left only Calluna and me, and she is no warrior. We both know that.”
Faron picked up a nearby stone and tossed it into the fire. His frown deepened.
“Why would Eder seek to harm me?” he asked.
“He needs time,” Sariel answered. “For what, I do not know, but I suspect he believed you would disapprove of what he has built.”
“And what of you? Are you also hunted?”
The years flew by in Sariel’s mind. Little nudges here and there, whispered words into the ears of royals about the dangers of the newly founded Church of Stars. It hadn’t been enough. He’d used a soft touch when brutality was required.
“I have kept my machinations hidden,” he said simply. “Eder does not know I plan against him.”
“And just what are those plans of yours?”
Sariel grinned, and he felt a glimmer of the joy that sometimes awakened in him when in Faron’s presence.
“I mean to kill him, break his kingdom, and end his sadistic religion.”
His younger brother laughed. “Is that all?”
“It is a start. Will you aid me, or have you a hundred more questions to ask first?”
This was it. Sariel had spent the last decade learning the current politics of the far realms, and their various lords and ladies, in preparation for the coming war.
And it would be a war. The Astral Kingdom reached its greedy fingers across the Sapphire Mountains, and at last, they would come back bloodied.
Sariel’s chest tightened as he waited for an answer. His grip tightened on Redemption. No matter the decision, a hard road lay ahead of him, but at least he might not walk it alone. And if Faron refused, well… another twenty years or so recovering in a cave might do him good.
“I still wish to learn more,” Faron said, breaking the silence. “But if what you told me is true, Eder has much to answer for. No crowns. No thrones. That was our vow. And if he is willing to murder me over it, then something vile has entered his heart. Yes, Sariel. I shall help you.”
Sariel slowly exhaled and relaxed his fingers about his sword hilt.
“Head east from here, to the village of Clovelly,” he said. “I trust you can convince a family there to shelter you as we prepare for our journey. I will follow you shortly after.”
“Will you not come with me?”
He smiled at his brother.
“Forgive me, but there is business in this forest I must first attend.”
Sariel needed no woodland training to track his prey, not with a faint line of radiance glittering gold in the midnight air. He followed it, slowly, steadily, his bone sword resting comfortably across his shoulder.
A mile later, he found the new camp of the preacher Russell.
“Faron?” the man asked, startling from his seat beside his fire. “Wait, you’re not—”
Sariel slammed his sword straight through Russell’s chest. The impact toppled the preacher off his feet, and he hit the ground in a clutter of leaves and a splash of blood. He screamed in pain, instinctively grabbing at the sword, only to flay the flesh of his fingers.
It was not lethal, not yet. Sariel had been careful with his aim. No quick death for one who would attempt to slay his family.
“I am not so kind as my brother,” he said, grabbing the jar of insects from the preacher’s hands. “Nor am I so forgiving.”
One good shake set the bugs to swarming. He felt the radiance inside the jar, garish and golden. Vile. Tainted. One twist, and he removed the lid. Before any insects could escape, he ripped his sword free, flipped the jar, and pressed the rim against the gaping wound.
“We swore a vow,” Sariel said as the insects swarmed the blood and crawled into flesh. “Radiance would never again be given to humanity.”
Russell howled as the little creatures feasted.
“Your precious Luminary has broken that vow.”
Sariel grabbed Russell by the throat to still his writhing.
Cold anger iced over his mind, and he felt a subtle change come over his body.
His irises would no longer be the striking silver that people remembered.
They would be the pattern of stars across a darkened plane, swirling with glowing radiance.
His call thundered into the earth, commanding the squirming, crawling things with a power they could not resist. He fed it with his anger. He shaped it with his fury.
“Tonight, you will suffer in his stead.”
The worms were the first to arrive, crawling up from the soil.
Ants came next, then the larger bugs, racing along the ground and over the leaves.
Flies descended from the treetops by the dozens.
They bit and dug, seeking wet, moist, and dark places to feast and lay their eggs.
Russell thrashed and howled and pleaded for mercy, but Sariel would not give it.
Radiance did not belong in the hands of humanity.
Hours later, once Russell was dead and his corpse a decomposing mess of meat and insects, Sariel stood and offered the closest thing to a prayer he would give the preacher’s soul.
“Be reborn a better man, for in this life, you were wretched.”