Here Solastron looked at Etheil. “Stroke my skin beneath the fur of my chest,” said the wolf.
Etheil placed his hand on Solastron’s chest and worked his fingers down beneath the fur. He could feel raised skin, a scar of some sort.
“Six Judges of Hell there are,” said Solastron. “And six scars do I bear upon my body. The one upon my chest is Anger, and it bit me the deepest of all. The sword that left it is named War and the Judge who wields it is more terrible than words can recount. I told you that I had spent many long years in the Blue Wilds hating mankind. It was this wound that itched most of all. To this day it is only by the memory of the light of Aeoria’s sword, Grace, that these wounds do not consume me.”
“I am truly sorry,” said Etheil. He rubbed Solastron’s chest. “I wish you had told me that you bore such terrible scars.”
Solastron rumbled. “Long too did Darkendrog last. He cradled the Goddess within his arms, absorbing the very fires of Hell that Apollyon threw at him. But though Darkendrog’s domain was death and destruction, not even he could withstand the sting of Sin. From the corner of my eye I saw Apollyon sink the sword of Hell into the Dragon’s chest. To his credit, Darkendrog still clutched the Goddess to him for many long minutes before he was finally broken by pain and torment. His crimes in the past were far greater than mine. I cannot fathom what the bite of that sword must have caused him.
“As the Goddess fell from his arms he raised his great maw to the very heavens and called out a terrible summons. Before Apollyon could move in upon his sister, Aeoria’s own star fell from the heavens and its guardian, the Angel Admael, appeared before us, blazing like starfire. Darkendrog had summoned him to Aeoria’s aid.
“It was then that Admael clashed swords with Apollyon and his Judges. I remember Darkendrog scooping Aeoria back into his hands and cradling her. To him she spoke unheard words. I know not what she said to him, but so distraught was the Dragon that tears fell from his eyes that turned the very stone of the cathedral to dust.
“But now Rallenar came flying across the plains. He too had heard Darkendrog’s cry. He saw Aeoria limp and her life fading in Darkendrog’s very hands and assumed that he had come to finish her off. I tried to call to Rallenar, but in his rage he did not hear me. He swooped in and the two Dragon Kings clashed. Darkendrog left Aeoria upon the floor and I came to her aid. As Admael fought against Apollyon and his Judges, and the Dragons fought in the heavens above us, I sat peacefully at Aeoria’s side. Her hands touched the six wounds left by the Judges and then blood no longer flowed from them. She asked me to fight no longer. She wanted only to feel my fur upon her cheek in her final moments. She held my paw as she lay there, and she spoke words of comfort to me that I shall not repeat.”
Etheil stroked Solastron as the wolf sat there silently for a while. At length the wolf wuffled and said, “Admael fought well, but greatly outnumbered was he. Just as I had come to terms with my fate and realized that Admael too would fall, I heard the long bay of Gallarhorn, the warhorn of Duroton. King Tharick and his men, all armored in crimson, came charging into the cathedral upon their great steeds. With them came a number of Aeoria’s Oracles, as well as Saint Israfel who was a guardian of King Tharick. In his hand, King Tharick held the Mard Grander high.”
Solastron paused and inhaled deeply through his nose before puffing. He looked at Etheil. “Much now have I told you. Should you wish me to continue, a grudge against me you may bear, for here the story as I have told you shall change for the worst.”
Etheil looked at Solastron and smiled softly. “Had I not been listening to your story earlier I might ask you to stop, but already your words have taught me much this day. There is no sin you might have committed that I will not pardon you of.”
“So be it, Etheil Freydir.” said Solastron. He turned his head from Etheil. “King Tharick and his men fought alongside the Angel Admael and Saint Israfel. In the heavens the two Dragons fought furiously against one another. I remember looking up through the sundered ceiling of the cathedral and seeing Rallenar’s tail coming down. It toppled a row of pillars that threatened both me and the Goddess. I was able to move Aeoria from their path, but upon me broke some of their stone and I fell to the ground as the darkness of unconsciousness overtook me.
“I know not how long I lay there before I finally came to. I recall my eyes opening to see only a sea of death and blood. Tharick’s knights and the Oracles lay fallen in heaps and Saint Israfel’s body lay headless. I saw the Goddess, and she lay unconscious upon the floor near to me. In the heavens the Dragon Kings still warred.” Solastron breathed deeply. Then he said, “I did not see Apollyon or his Judges of Hell. I know not what happened to any of them. But the sounds of battled still rang clear within the cathedral, and where I looked I saw King Tharick wielding the Mard Grander against none other then the Angel, Admael. And in Admael’s hand was Sin, the sword of Hell.
“The two clashed over and over again, neither giving the other any quarter, until at last the Angel Admael stumbled. I watched as Tharick brought the Mard Grander down upon his back in a long arc. As the hammer struck him it exploded with tremendous force and a burst of light like I had only seen upon the birth of stars. Tharick was thrown back and the hammer was sundered. As it split, from it fell five colored stones.”
Solastron paused and breathed deeply again. “So powerful was the strike of the Mard Grander that it sundered Admael’s wings. Like ancient stone they crumbled to dust. When he stood up, he was older, frailer. He was no longer the youthful and powerful Angel of Aeoria’s star. Much of his life-force the Mard Grander took from him, and the price was the hammer’s destruction. Admael’s face twisted in anger and he picked up Sin and dragged it to Tharick who lay stricken upon the ground. He sank Sin deep into Tharick’s breast, and after a moment, struck his head with a great stone to kill him. It was then that Admael turned and began dragging the sword of Hell toward the sleeping Goddess.
“That’s when I called out. With all my strength I let loose a howl that summoned the very moon to the skies, blocking out the sun. Rallenar beckoned to my call, and with a mighty heave, threw Darkendrog away and shot toward the Goddess like a blazing comet. As Admael raised the sword of Hell, Rallenar scooped the Goddess into his arms and Sin sank deep into the Dragon’s chest. The white Dragon fell upon the floor, clutching the Goddess to his belly, the sword of Hell still sticking from his chest.
“I tried to struggle to my feet but could not muster the strength. I saw Rallenar and Admael stare each other down. In their eyes they both spoke unheard words, and I know not what they were. But I recall the terrible scream unleashed by Rallenar as he himself plunged the sword of Hell all the way into his chest, consuming it into himself. Rallenar fell upon the floor, clutching Aeoria to him, shielding her within his arms. I remember hearing Admael scream out in a rage as black Hellfire sprung up from the ground. The flames consumed Rallenar and Aeoria and they sank into the earth, swallowed by a fiery abyss. Darkendrog too saw this, and his fearsome roar nearly drowned that of Admael’s own. I looked up, and Darkendrog, the great black serpent, disappeared into the heavens, never to be seen again.
“I summoned every ounce of strength I had left and stood, though I knew not what I was going to do. An anger stirred in me. The wounds of the Judges coursed in my blood now and I sought to exact a terrible vengeance upon Admael and the domains of man, for they had failed the goddess. But then a hand grabbed me around my foot. It was an Oracle. He was bleeding and near death. What he had to tell me was so dire that he had summoned all his will to claw himself over to me.”
Solastron paused and breathed deeply. He wuffled and looked at Etheil. “You will recall the breaking of the Mard Grander, and the five colored stones that fell from it. Those stones were red, yellow, brown, blue and gray. They were the Dragonstones; the spirits of the swords of the fallen Avatars that had been used to forge the Mard Grander and gave it its power. The Oracle told me that he knew Aeoria’s last charge to me
after I had accepted Grace’s forgiveness. He reminded me that I should watch over the domains of man. The Oracle told me, as that was my charge, I had to collect the Dragonstones before they fell to anyone else. His words to me were ‘Guard the stones for all time, until the Raven wields Dragonfire and Death walks the Earth’.”
Solastron looked away from Etheil. “But the wounds left by the Judges of Hell burned my very skin. I felt saliva dripping from my maw as my lips curled. My claws dug into the stone and I felt my thirst could only be quenched by blood. The hand of the Oracle tugged upon me one last time, and his final words to me were ‘Remember the light of Grace’. To this day I have not forgotten that, and to this day it is the memory of that light that stays the wounds placed upon me by Hell.”
Solastron exhaled deeply out his nose. “Thus it was that with the last of my strength I gathered up the Dragonstones and I took the sundered hammer. I know not what happened to Apollyon. I know not why Tharick and Admael fought. I know not why Admael tried to strike down the Goddess. But I knew that the Mard Grander rightfully belonged to the men of Duroton. As an honor to them, I returned the broken hammer and left it before the castle of Durtania. But the Dragonstones I kept. I have kept them hidden and safe for a long age, never understanding the words that Oracle spoke to me.”
Solastron wuffled again and looked at Etheil. “Guard the stones for all time, until the Raven wields Dragonfire and Death walks the Earth.” said Solastron. “Such was my charge.”
Etheil looked deep into Solastron’s eyes and stroked his head. “My friend,” said Etheil. “I fear you tell me all this because your charge becomes due.”
Solastron rumbled and nodded his head. “When we returned to Durtania I caught the scent of Death in the air. It was a scent not unlike that of Darkendrog, but it was more ancient to me and less familiar, for it was the scent of a creature of a time even before my own. I followed it back to the Stellarium.” Solastron paused and rumbled. He looked up at Etheil and at length said, “The scent was that of Celacia, Darkendrog’s ancient Avatar. She has awakened. Death now walks the earth.”
“Who is the Raven who wields Dragonfire?” asked Etheil.
Solastron rumbled. “I know not what that means yet.” He looked at Etheil. “The stars are nearly gone. If the Goddess is not returned before the last star fades from the sky, the last age of man shall come to pass. I know not how that prophecy began, but in my heart I believe it to be true.
“Etheil Freydir, I fear that age is upon us. The final age where a great destruction shall be visited upon the earth. You know the tales of Celacia. You know of how she betrayed and killed the Avatars. She walks the earth again, and even I now despair.”
“What can I do for you, old friend?” asked Etheil.
Solastron looked long and deep into Etheil’s eyes. “One of the Judges of Hell whose name is Greed and Gluttony wields a sword named Fear.” said Solastron. “Upon that day I told you of, it stung me upon my side. Perhaps it is its wound that now itches me and wills me to ask this of you…” Solastron paused and looked away for a moment. Then he returned his gaze and rumbled, “Once the Raven who wields Dragonfire becomes known to me, my charge shall come due. Upon that day I shall set off to retrieve the Dragonstones. Etheil Freydir, I would ask you to accompany me, for it would comfort me to know that you are with me upon my death.”
Etheil looked the big wolf in those large, blue eyes of his and smiled despite the unbidden tears that rolled from his cheeks. “My friend, if death is your burden, I shall help bear its weight and even carry it for you if I must. I was a boy, naked and alone upon a long night in the Blue Wilds. My life has been on loan to you ever since. I do not fear death, if that is the interest I must pay on this loan.”
Solastron bowed his head. “I ask no interest,” said the wolf. “I seek only your hand to comfort me in my final hour.”
“Then before the clock strikes that final hour, we shall cry havoc together upon our foes one last time.” said Etheil. “I would have it no other way.”
— 12 —
SCHISM
The walk back to the portcullis seemed a thousand miles and Brandrir swore he could hear every gasp, every whisper, every comment of disbelief from the crowd. He walked as fast as he could because somehow running made the walk even more humiliating. He clenched his jaw and could feel his face flushing red. His mind flooded with a thousand questions, but the one that kept bobbing to the surface was, Had he been set up or did the Lands truly denounce him as King?
Brandrir entered the portcullis, his steel boots biting into the stone floor as he rushed down the long hall, lit by the glow of gaslamps. A quick glance behind revealed nobody had followed him, although he could see Egret running down the path toward him, his black shroud fluttering in the night. Brandrir scowled. He had no desire to speak about this and the only thing he wanted to do right now was get back to the Grimwatch. He wanted to put this entire ordeal behind him. He pursed his lips, cursing his brother for having talked him into staying. “I knew I should have just let him take the crown!” he spat.
“Brandrir!” cried Egret, and Brandrir could now hear the loud clomp of the man’s boots enter into the castle corridor.
Brandrir ignored him and quickly took the first couple twists and bends to try to lose him, but it was no use. Egret came loping behind quickly, calling to him.
Brandrir grit his teeth and inwardly cursed as he stopped and turned around.
“Your Grace, please wait.” said Egret, but as the man jogged up to him and Brandrir’s eyes caught his, that feeling of humiliation washed over him again and there was no way Brandrir could stand and talk about anything right now.
Brandrir scowled and turned, his cape fluttering as he rushed down the corridor. He could hear Egret’s strides keeping pace with his own.
“Your Grace,” said Egret. “I am sorry, but your father has requested you in the Council room at once.”
Brandrir did not answer and hopped up a flight of stone stairs. In his mind he had already resolved to get back to his room, grab his few belongings, and ride for the Grimwatch this very night. Luckily he was already wearing everything that was important to him, so aside from throwing a few changes of clothes into a bag, he was already good to go. He’d worry about food and water on the road. He had no desire to stick around any longer than he had to. Although, he was now reminded again of Etheil and wondered where he and Solastron had been. He had not seen either of them in the audience.
“Your Grace, please come with me.” said Egret again, this time a little more sternly.
Brandrir did not break stride as he rushed down corridors and up stairs, making his way as quickly as he could toward the castle proper. “Where is Etheil.”
“Your Grace, I am sorry, but you must come with me.” said Egret, placing a hand on Brandrir’s right shoulder.
Brandrir was not a Knight of the Dark Stars. As Royal Bloodline, it was regrettably against the laws of Duroton to allow him to be Knighted as one. Despite that, Brandrir could move nearly as fast as they. In the blink of an eye he ignited the power shield within his mechanical arm, twisted around, and used it to throw Egret off of him. The shield sparked and cracked loudly as it impacted Egret’s shrouded breastplate, causing him to stumble clumsily backward, giving Brandrir all the time he needed to draw and ignite Raze in his right hand. The sword hummed menacingly as Brandrir looked upon the shocked Egret with fiery eyes, the corridor filling with the smell of ozone.
“Tell my father that the crown can go to my brother,” growled Brandrir. “I am leaving for the Grimwatch.”
Egret scowled and took up a more defensive stance, but did not draw his sword. “Don’t do this.”
“Go back to my father,” said Brandrir, his eyes piercing and severe. “Go back to my father now and tell him I am leaving. But I warn you, I shall see this castle fall before I let you so much as place another finger upon me.”
“Brandrir, this is madness,” said Egret. “You know
I am sworn to the King’s service, and you are not King. If I must draw my steel to see his will done, then draw it I shall, even against you.”
Brandrir’s eyes flashed and Raze hummed as he flourished it. He raised his left arm and the electrical shield buzzed and crackled before him. Brandrir kept his piercing gaze upon Egret’s eyes and he knew he had just called the Commander of the Durotonian Guard’s bluff. The man would never draw steel against him unless he was specifically ordered to do so.
Egret shook his head. The echo of many steel boots now floated through the corridors and Brandrir knew the Royal Guard were coming. “Please, your Grace. Meet with your father and the Council. I am asking you as a friend.”
Brandrir did not remove his gaze, nor did he let down his sword or shield. “Where is Lord Etheil?” There was the slightest waver in Egret’s gaze. The march of armored soldiers was getting closer. “I may not be King, but I am still your Grace.” said Brandrir with great severity. “I command you to tell me where Etheil is.”
A contingent of Royal Guard now came down the hall, their white armor sparkling in the dim gaslight. Egret looked Brandrir in the eyes and said, “Your father named him an enemy of Duroton. He has been taken to the Black Cells.”
Brandrir felt his grip tightening around the handle of Raze and his jaw clenched to the point of pain. He could feel his face flushing and twisting with anger. Against his own will, his anger released in a roar and his fist impacted the wall so hard that fragments of stone chipped away. It must have been quite the show of intimidation, for the Royal Guard all stopped in their tracks.
Brandrir roared out again, this time sinking Raze deep into the wall and tearing it out with such force that the hewn stones broke apart, raining fragments upon the floor. He turned his fiery eyes upon Egret and even the Dark Star Knight took a step back. With a scowl, Brandrir pushed past Egret, throwing him against the wall. The white-faced soldiers all broke to either side of the corridor as Brandrir tore past them, hitting the last one across the chest with his electric shield, sending the man flying into his peers in a shower of sparks.
The Record of the Saints Caliber Page 33