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twenty-five

Sarilian

Together, they cracked open the door and slipped out into the hall—empty, thank the Light. Closing the door carefully behind him, Sarilian crept down the narrow passage, filled with a heady mix of adrenaline and elation.

Despite their current peril and the uncertainty gnawing at him over their future, Sarilian had only had to take one look at Malorg dangling from those chains to affirm that he’d made the right choice.

The Covenant would survive without him, Celestials and Infernals alike continuing their eternal war against the Void. But Malorg needed him. Whatever happened now, their fates were intertwined, and they would face what the universe threw at them together.

They reached an intersection. Sarilian paused, gazing uncertainly down each narrow corridor. “Malorg, are you there?” he whispered.

A voice replied from a couple paces to his left. “I’m here.”

Merciful Light, not being able to see each other made it tough to stick close. They’d need to be careful not to get separated. In fact… “Here, take my hand.”

After a few seconds of blind groping, they managed to link fingers. Goosebumps flitted over Sarilian’s skin at the icy touch. The connection would restrict their movement, but so long as they proceeded with care, that shouldn’t be a problem. Better limited mobility than risking losing one another in the dark.

“Which way?” Malorg asked.

Sarilian’s stomach sank. “I was hoping you’d know. I was too focused on not getting caught to memorize the route I took to reach you.”

“It’s been decades since I last visited this part of the Citadel.” Malorg hesitated before tugging him toward the rightmost corridor. “This way seems as good as any. Come on.”

They moved as swiftly as they could, stopping at each intersection they passed to take their best guess on which route would lead them to the stairs ascending to the upper levels.

For the first time since those early visits to Twilight, Sarilian found the city’s twisting, maze-like design suffocating. He felt like a rat in a maze, certain at any moment they’d hear the blaring of an alarm or the shouts of pursuit when someone realized Malorg was gone.

Several times, a dead-end or clearly wrong turn forced them to backtrack. Thankfully, however, the Infernal guards patrolling the dungeons seemed no more watchful than they had when Sarilian snuck inside.

He supposed their presence—like that of all guards in Twilight—was largely a formality, meant as a deterrent against Infernals who’d grown too ambitious in their scheming. By contrast, Daybreak employed no guards at all. Why bother when Celestials could be counted upon to always do the right thing?

A pang resonated in Sarilian’s chest at the thought of leaving the Dawnlands behind. But his place wasn’t there—not anymore. He had chosen to follow his own path.

With his and Malorg’s enhanced shrouds of invisibility, the Infernal patrols proved easy enough to avoid, even if they did occasionally have to squeeze flat against a wall to avoid colliding in a too-narrow corridor. They were doing so now, watching a pair of Infernals shuffle past while chatting idly, when a strange tremor suddenly racked Sarilian’s flesh.

He frowned, trying to identify the source of the sensation. Was his dawnflame already beginning to weaken? The tremor came again, more insistent this time, and he muffled a soft groan.

The passing Infernals paused. “Did you hear that?” one of them, a woman, asked. Her gaze swept right past Sarilian and Malorg as she scanned the hallway.

The other Infernal shrugged. “Hear what?”

Sarilian held his breath, willing them to continue along their route. Though it might have been his imagination, he swore he could feel the tension roiling off Malorg beside him.

The woman frowned, glancing about. “Forget it. Must have been my imagination. Too many Dark-cursed shifts wasted down here.”

The other Infernal snorted and shook his head. “Tell me about it.”

A slight exhale escaped Sarilian’s lips when the pair resumed moving. Merciful Light, that was a close call. He started to peel himself off the wall when his body shuddered uncontrollably. Black duskflame erupted from him, blanketing the corridor.

Dimly, Sarilian heard the Infernal guards crying out in surprise as he fell to his knees. His tremors subsided, and the duskflame cleared to reveal the pair of Infernals and Malorg.

He blinked, his dazed mind attempting to process what had happened. Then, it struck him. Merciful Light, I can see Malorg. And from the way everyone was staring right at Sarilian in wide-eyed shock, he had a sinking feeling that Malorg wasn’t the only one who’d lost his invisibility.

“Intruders!” the female guard yelled. Duskflame daggers akin to Malorg’s appeared in her hands.

There was no time to delve into what had happened. Shoving aside his spiraling questions, Sarilian forged dawnflame into dulled versions of his armor and spear, gritting his teeth at the extra effort even those simple spells required here in the Dusklands. Aiming for the woman, he lunged forward.

The tip of his spear passed through shadowed air as duskflame blurred her chest. She spun lithely around the blow, jamming her daggers into his breastplate. Black cracks spread across its lustrous surface, but his armor blessedly held.

He swung the shaft of his spear out, hoping to stagger the Infernal, but again she evaded the blow. It’s like fighting a Light-blinded ghost , he thought as dual impacts in his back marked another pair of swift strikes.

Abandoning all subtlety, he channeled his dawnflame into a fiery burst centered on him. The blast caught the female Infernal, momentarily staggering her. Before she could recover, Sarilian stepped in and slammed the blunt end of his spear into her skull, reinforcing the blow with extra dawnflame. She crumpled at his feet like a sack of potatoes.

Searching the corridor, he found Malorg had easily overwhelmed the other guard, pinning him against the wall. “Wait!” Sarilian shouted as Malorg raised a dagger to the man’s throat. “Don’t kill him!”

Malorg stilled, his blade poised. After a brief pause, he jerked a nod and stabbed the dagger into the man’s side instead, dropping him. “He’ll live,” Malorg said at Sarilian’s questioning glance. His gaze flicked between the guards. “Thanks for stopping me. I’ve spent so long killing voidspawn that I forget not all beings are equally deserving of death.”

Sarilian dismissed his spear to conserve dawnflame and set about repairing his damaged armor. “We all have a duty to fulfill. They were merely performing theirs.” He furrowed his brow. “Though I wish I knew what happened. One moment, we were fine. The next, I was erupting with duskflame.”

“I think I know,” Malorg said, his voice grim. “Pelorak’s curse. Some portion of it must remain in you and the other Celestial dignitaries—enough, at least, to channel a spell through.” A grimace marred his face. “This is my fault. I should have considered the possibility sooner.”

“It’s fine.” Sarilian’s gut twisted at the thought of someone like Pelorak exercising any degree of control over him. “You’re not the only one to forget about it. Is there anything you can do to ensure he doesn’t pull another stunt like that?”

“I can suppress the curse again, like I did back at my apartment. Here.” Malorg pressed a hand to Sarilian’s chest. Sarilian shivered at the tingling duskflame that sank into his bones. “That should do the trick…though I fear the damage has already been done.”

Unease festered within Sarilian. “He knows we’re here.”

Malorg nodded, his expression hardening. “Which means we need to hurry.”

He held out a hand, which Sarilian quickly took. Here goes nothing. Even bracing himself, duskwalking still flipped his stomach. The maze-like dungeon blurred past them as they flitted along the floor like a stone skipped across a pond.

Word of their escape must have gotten out because the guards seemed to be on high alert. Several times, Malorg swerved to avoid an Infernal patrol, losing any pursuit with a series of zig-zagging turns. Sarilian vaguely recognized their surroundings now—they were closing in on the stairs leading to the surface. Of course, no doubt that’s where resistance would be strongest.

Sure enough, they eventually turned a corner to find the large, open room marking the dungeon’s entrance. A good dozen Infernals stood arrayed around the base of the staircase, with more positioned higher on the steps. Malorg materialized them out of sight in the corridor.

“Now what?” Sarilian asked, keeping his voice low while he refashioned his armor and spear. “Can you duskwalk us past them?”

The squirming knot in his chest grew when Malorg shook his head. “Not without leaving us too vulnerable to counterattack. Our only choice is to fight our way through.”

“But there’s so many of them!”

“And the longer we wait, the more of them there will be.”

Sarilian expelled a breath. Malorg was right. They couldn’t afford to delay—not if they wanted to escape before every Infernal in Twilight swarmed the Citadel looking for them.

But a dozen foes presented a challenge for even someone of Malorg’s prodigious skill, especially when his sole ally couldn’t fight at full strength. Unless…

Excitement thrummed through Sarilian as he spun to Malorg. “Do you remember that time we hunted voidspawn together?”

A furrow appeared in Malorg’s brow before abruptly clearing as his eyes widened. “You mean to utilize our combined magic to fight.”

Sarilian shrugged, his lips parting in a grin. “Why not? It might give us precisely the edge we need.” Or backfire spectacularly when we lose control of our magic, he thought but didn’t say.

Malorg sighed and shook his head. “I suppose there’s no sense keeping it a secret any longer, and our previous efforts were promising.” He raised a hand crackling with power. “Very well —let’s see what duskflame and dawnflame can accomplish when they cooperate.”

A handful of minutes passed as they prepared. Sarilian only hoped their efforts proved worth the delay.

When they’d finished, shadow laced his armor and spear along with a conjured shield, lending all three a dark sheen that stood in stark contrast to their usual bright gold. Malorg’s daggers appeared similarly altered, glowing with their own burnished light. A slew of extra dawnflame-infused blades lined a strap he’d formed across his chest.

“Ready?” Sarilian asked, hefting his shield and spear.

Malorg gave a silent nod in confirmation, and Sarilian took a steadying breath. Here we go.

They moved in unison, Sarilian charging around the corner in a blaze of black-slicked dawnflame while Malorg slipped silently along the wall as a living shadow. For several heartbeats, the gathered Infernals stared at Sarilian, struck dumb by his sudden appearance. Then, they burst into motion.

Tossed daggers and shadowy blasts filled the air as the Infernals divided their forces. A few hunkered down by the stairs while the rest duskwalked to intercept Sarilian’s charge.

Sarilian ducked behind his shield, using it to absorb the volley. Several blades lodged in place, and he was pleased to see that his shield’s duskflame infusion thwarted the usual spread of curses, keeping it hale and hearty. He made it about halfway across the room before the first of the duskwalking Infernals reached him, forcing him to halt and meet their assault.

They traded a flurry of strikes, Sarilian relying on his shield and armor to blunt any blows that slipped past his guard while he swept his spear around him in wide arcs. His strategy worked. Though his far more agile foes landed hit after hit, none managed to penetrate his reinforced armor. Conversely, the Infernals struggled to evade his counterattacks thanks to the duskflame within his spear that allowed his blows to bypass their own duskflame shrouds.

Within moments, several guards lay sprawled around him. Those that remained scrambled to retreat and regroup. They were used to fighting unintelligent voidspawn, not a skilled opponent who could negate their advantages. Given enough time, they might have been able to adjust their strategy to overwhelm him via magic. Thankfully, they didn’t get the chance.

Sarilian’s distraction had served its purpose, allowing Malorg to move into position unseen. He erupted from the shadows, a whirling dervish of death flinging dawnflame-infused blades that erupted with holy fire on impact. By the time the Infernals realized what was happening, most had already fallen. Sarilian darted forward to help Malorg finish off the rest.

They didn’t have time to celebrate their victory, however, not with the remaining guards still stationed by the stairs. While he and Malorg had dispatched their brethren, they’d channeled their magic toward forging a barrier. The wall of solid darkness stretched above and around them, blocking off access to the stairwell. Each passing moment only added to its strength.

“Grab onto me,” Sarilian said, gauging the distance between them and the top of the barrier. “And get ready to bolster my spell with duskflame.”

Malorg raised a brow but didn’t question him, drawing in close to his side. Relishing the Infernal’s touch as he always did, Sarilian hunkered down. Then, he called upon his dawnflame and hurled himself into the air.

Faint golden wings unfurled from his back as his magic propelled him upward. Malorg’s grip on him tightened. Duskflame poured from him into Sarilian’s spell, lacing the wings’ bright spans with black threads. Sarilian ignored the transformation, focusing all his attention on the wall and the waiting guards below.

The Infernals shouted warnings, scrambling to marshal a response. Hurled daggers pinged off Sarilian’s armor, followed soon after by unfocused blasts of duskflame that sent dark energy washing over him, sapping his strength.

Still, he continued his assent, maintaining his grip on his spell until he’d cleared the barrier. Only then did he release his hold on the magic, attempting to bring them down in a gradual arc that passed well above the guards’ heads.

With heavy thumps, he and Malorg landed halfway up the staircase. That leap had exhausted a good chunk of his reserve, but only a single pair of guards remained in their way, positioned a handful of paces further up the stairs. All he and Malorg had to do was get past them while the guards below regrouped, and freedom lay within their grasp.

Malorg must have been just as eager because the instant they landed, he duskwalked forward, slipping up the steps. Sarilian hustled to catch up. He watched as Malorg emerged from the shadows, poised to strike…and froze.

Confusion wrinkled Sarilian’s brow. As he neared, he heard one of the guards speak.

“—been practicing what you taught us. Soon, the voidspawn will fear us the same way they do you!”

To Sarilian’s utter astonishment, Malorg quirked his lips, giving the guard a covert pat on the back. “I’m sure they will, Qurth.” His eyes met Sarilian’s, his expression turning sheepish. “But I’m afraid we don’t have time to stay and chat.”

The guard—Qurth—glanced at Sarilian. Rather than disgust or hostility, he wore a look of open curiosity. “You’re the Dawn Emissary.”

“Was,” Sarilian corrected, his head still reeling. “Not anymore.”

Qurth nodded, resolve firming his youthful face. “Well, for what it’s worth, I think you and Malorg had the right idea. Anything to defeat the Void.” He nudged the other guard. “Hiliaj agrees.”

Hiliaj nodded as shouts echoed behind them.

Malorg glanced down the stairs before beckoning to Sarilian. “While I appreciate your support, we’ve got to go. Sarilian here is going to knock you out now so you don’t get in trouble for helping us.” Something flickered over Malorg’s face, and he set his jaw. “But whatever happens after we’re gone, remember what you said. Light and Dark, Celestial and Infernal—none of those distinctions matter. In the end, it’s all of us against the Void.”

The guards murmured their assent. They were still staring at Malorg with something akin to awe when Sarilian slammed his spear shaft into the backs of their heads, letting their unconscious bodies crumple to sprawl across the stairs.

“What the Light was that about?” he demanded as they resumed their climb.

Malorg shrugged. “Just some recruits I helped out on a hunt a while back.” Sarilian didn’t miss the hint of a smile that flickered over his face. “Perhaps there’s hope for my kind yet.”

Sarilian pondered Malorg’s words as he followed the Infernal up the remaining stairs toward the exit…and whatever awaited them beyond.