A few more dirty soldiers in ragtag armor came up, one leading a scrawny dog upon a leash.
Nuriel sniffled and looked out at the church. “I need to speak with an Oracle.”
“Aye,” said the first guard. “We’re to send word the moment we spot any of you.” He turned and greeted the new men as they came up. He looked to the man leading the dog. “Send the quick-hound for the Oracle. We got Saint Nuriel.”
The man with the dog nodded and yanked hard on the leash, causing the scrawny creature to squeal. Quick-hounds were large, shaggy, rawboned dogs with long, lanky legs. This one was the typical silver-gray variety but was scrawny even for its breed. Despite its long fur, Nuriel could see the poor thing’s ribs. It whined nervously, sticking its long, pointed nose into the man’s hands as it sidled up to him, tail flailing every direction. The man reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled sheet of paper and a char-stick for writing. “What’s your star?” he asked.
Nuriel turned her neck and held her hair from the back of her neck. The man took a quick look at the stellaglyph scarred upon her flesh. She watched as he tore off a small piece of the paper, and using his leg as a table, used the char-stick to smudge a crude picture of the gate on it and a hasty likeness of her stellaglyph. He rolled the fragment of paper up and stuffed it into a pocket on the dog’s collar.
“Oracle!” shouted the man, grabbing the creature’s long, narrow snout. He shook it. “Oracle, go!” The man released the creature and unhooked it from the leash. The dog turned and its long legs almost seemed to spin into action as it tore away, its claws scraping and throwing up dirt before finally finding purchase. In the blink of an eye, the thing was gone.
The first man with the torch looked at Nuriel, but his eyes flicked down to the leather bag she wore upon her hip. He licked his lips. “Don’t suppose you got anything in there for a man loyal to Aeoria? …Bread? Dried meat?” He licked his lips again.
Nuriel buried her head into her hands for a moment, her head feeling as if it was spinning. She hadn’t seen an incredible much of Duroton, but it was enough that the contrast between its cities and peoples and what was here in Jerusa was overwhelming. Even the brief glimpses of what she saw in Narbereth as she covertly dashed her way across the countryside to get here was worlds different. Nuriel found herself wishing she had saved more of her Ev, but that diminishing little voice in her mind wondered if there wasn’t enough Ev in the world to drown out some things.
Nuriel sniffed and opened her bag. Immediately all the men began to push in around her. Before she left Duroton, Nuriel had procured herself plenty of rations for the road. One of the things about Ev was that it never made her feel hungry and she still had plenty of hardtack, dried meat and fruits.
She reached into her bag and noticed a small group of townsfolk cautiously approaching. One of the guards turned and saw them and started barking at them to get back, to go back home and get out of here. Nuriel started handing out the rations from her bag, the mens’ hands grasping and snatching it all up quicker than she could pull it out. They hungrily shoved it in their mouths as they reached for more, but within seconds Nuriel’s supplies were gone.
Nuriel looked at the first man she had spoken to and discreetly pulled out her empty vial of Ev. “I…I need more.”
The man chewed ravenously on the dried meat in his mouth as he spoke. “Church. They always got some of that for you Saints. I’m sure the others there will have some.”
“Others?” asked Nuriel.
“Three of ‘em.” said the man. He swallowed and tore into another piece of meat. “Keep to the road here.” he said, pointing at the darkened street. “It’ll lead you right up to that church. They’ll be coming for you, though, I’m sure.”
Nuriel nodded. “Thank you,” she said quietly. She tucked her hair behind her ear and started down the road. She hadn’t walked far before she saw a number of oil lanterns lighting up the road ahead of her. She could hear armor clanking and knew that it was probably Clerical Guard. She stopped and waited for the lights to approach her. As they came she could see that it was an Oracle leading a number of Sin Eaters, accompanied by a handful of Clerical Guard. The Sin Eaters in their beaked masks and billowy black robes were like a flock of ravens following the Oracle. They each held a lantern high, the yellow-green light reflecting eerily upon their green goggles and off the Oracle’s silver mask. The Clerical Guard wore their shiny red armor with grilled visors and held heavy bolt-throwers in their hands.
“Saint Nuriel, what a pleasant surprise.” The Oracle’s voice reverberated strangely from behind its mirror mask. He stopped a few paces from her and bowed slightly. “We’ve had a sudden rash of missing Saints and it’s good to know that at least one of them is safe and sound. You were mentoring with Saint Isley, were you not?”
Nuriel bowed her head slightly and tried to ignore the large number of creepy Sin Eater eyes probing her. She somehow felt naked before them, as if they could see right through her armor, right through her flesh and into her soul. She felt exposed; vulnerable. There was so little Ev in her that she struggled to find its warmth in their presence. She tried to steel herself and swallowed hard. She wondered if she had it in her to lie to the Oracle, to actually pull off her story. Her Ev-muddled mind flopped over a few times before she finally began to speak. “I…we…there was trouble…”
The Sin Eaters suddenly flocked around the Oracle, crouching and bobbing, their beaked masks to the night air, as if sniffing at it. Nuriel could hear their hushed whispers as they spoke secretly between themselves, their green goggles all peering at her. “Sinner! Sinner!” she could hear them hissing.
The Oracle tilted its head slightly. “Trouble, you say?”
Nuriel swallowed and tucked her hair behind her ear. Apollyon below, why hadn’t she saved more of the Ev? She shook her head. Her eyes diverted from the Oracle. “Isley was…we were in the wilderness and met up with Saints Umbrial, Tia, Gamalael and Arric.” she said quietly, almost inaudibly. She sniffled and tried looking back at the Oracle but found it impossible to look the thing in its glaring mirror mask. And the eyes of the Sin Eaters—those green crystalline eyes—were all probing her. She heard their voices hissing in her head, Sinner! Sinner! “Isley was…they said they were after an Unbound and Isley wanted to go along with them and show me.”
“I see,” said the Oracle. “Where are the other Saints now?”
“They…we found the demon.” said Nuriel. “It…Yig…Its name was Yig.”
Now the Sin Eaters became far more animated as they flocked before the Oracle, bobbing up and down, hissing at one another. The Oracle stood there, its mirror mask cast in the glow of the lanterns as it seemed to peer through her.
“We fought it…and…but…” Nuriel felt flustered by all the whispers and the unflinching mask of the Oracle. She wiped a hand down her face and desperately sought the last remnants of the Ev within her. She started to huff and puff, unable to get another word out, completely aggravated by the whispers of Sinner! Sinner! Sinner! that came from the flock of Sin Eaters.
“And this demon named Yig killed all the others?” prompted the Oracle.
Nuriel looked down at the dark road and nodded her head. She bit her lip. All she could hear were the Sin Eaters hissing at one another, Sinner! Sinner! Sinner!
“Take your time, Nuriel.” said the Oracle. “Tell me exactly what happened. Did you help fight this demon?”
“I…yes, we fought him.” said Nuriel, annoyed. She sniffled and tried to look back up at the Oracle but found she couldn’t and turned her head.
“Did all the others fall fighting him?”
“Isley…well, they…it was Umbrial who…”
“Take your time,” said the Oracle patiently. “You’ve been through quite a lot it seems.”
Nuriel paused a moment and closed her eyes. She held her head in her hands. She breathed deeply a few times. Then she opened her eyes and looked back at the Oracle. “No,” she sa
id, forcing herself to just recount the story she had devised over the last few days. “Umbrial and Isley struck down Yig. But there was another Saint.”
The Oracle tilted its head. “Another Saint, you say?”
Nuriel bit her lip. “Yes. She was…she was different. None of us knew her.”
“Different? In what way?”
“I…I don’t know.” said Nuriel. “She…she was…”
“What was her name?”
Nuriel bit her lip and looked at the Oracle. “She said her name was Celacia.”
Suddenly the Sin Eaters went silent and even the Oracle seemed to become more attentive. Nuriel looked down at the dirt road and with her foot scraped out Celacia’s strange stellaglyph. “That was her star.”
The Oracle looked down at it silently and the Sin Eaters cringed and seemed to withdraw behind the Oracle as they huddled and whispered in the night.
“She…she killed the others.” said Nuriel. “I…I tried to fight her but…but when I touched her my hand withered. She…she killed everybody without even touching them. I…I tried to fight her but…I…I don’t remember…”
The Oracle looked back at Nuriel and she could see her warped reflection in its silver mask. She bit her lip, trying to figure out if it believed her or not. It betrayed no hint of anything. It just stood there looking at her with that faceless, silver mask.
“You don’t remember what?” prompted the Oracle at last.
“I…I just remember falling and then everything going black.” said Nuriel. “I thought I was dead, but then I woke up a few days later.”
“I see.” said the Oracle. “The news of this…rogue Saint named Celacia is disconcerting to say the least. I am afraid we are going to have to take you back to Sanctuary, Nuriel.”
Nuriel felt her stomach drop out. Did it believe her? Did it know she was lying? Worse, did it know the truth? “I…but…I mean…you, believe me, right?”
“We did detect the death of an Unbound demon recently,” said the Oracle. “However, the news of—”
Just then there was an intense brightness in the night sky. Nuriel looked up, and in the southern sky there was a white streak that was gone in an instant, followed by what sounded like the roar of a dragon. Nuriel’s mouth opened.
It was a falling star.
She knew it. She had seen a falling star. Another star had fallen from the sky, and she had actually seen it happen. She had heard about them, but never before had she seen one.
“It would seem our trip to Sanctuary must now be delayed, Saint Nuriel.” said the Oracle. The Sin Eaters all began pulling papers and brass compasses from their robes and looking at the sky with astrolabes and other tools. The Oracle looked at the Sin Eaters and said with some haste, “South by south-west, three-degrees. Two-hundred miles. The star was Draco-Novem.” The Oracle looked at the two Clerical Guardsmen and said, “Inform the church. Tell father Erinys to send word to Sanctuary. Tell him it was Draco-Novem that fell. We’ll need horses ready. We must leave tonight.”
“Yes, sir!” said the guards in unison, and with a clap of their armor they turned and hurried down the street.
“What…what’s going on?” asked Nuriel. “Was…was that a falling star? Did we just see a star fall from the sky?”
The Oracle turned to Nuriel. It seemed to mull something over in its mind momentarily before saying, “Saint Nuriel, there have been a number of uprisings throughout Jerusa as of late. The people didn’t take too kindly to Gatima declaring a steel shortage last month. There is a caer—a small town—just south-east from here. Caer Gatima. Seems the people there have done quite a job taking the city for themselves. They’ve already burned the church and killed Father Tarask and his clerics. Saints Adonael, Ovid and Hadraniel are here, on their way there in the morning. I would like you to join their constellation and quell the uprising there.”
Nuriel pursed her lips. The name Adonael was a familiar one. He was the boy who tossed her cat out the window. Being as no Saints ever shared the same name, not even after death, it had to be the same Adonael.
“They’re at the church house now, I believe.” said the Oracle. “Please, meet up with them tonight and report for duty.”
“But…what about Gatima and Sanctuary?” asked Nuriel. “I…I don’t want to be recalled.”
“Don’t worry about that.” said the Oracle. “I’ll send word to Gatima and Sanctuary about what you’ve told me. Eventually, however, we’re going to have to get some more information from you. The news of this Saint you call Celacia is quite troubling.”
Nuriel nodded. “Understood.”
“Thank you very much, Nuriel.” said the Oracle with a slight bow. “I’m sorry for the loss of your mentor, as well as the others. I’m sure it’s been quite hard on you.”
Nuriel diverted her eyes and nodded slightly. “Thank you.”
“Once you finish your work in Caer Gatima, report directly to Gatimaria.” said the Oracle. “And Nuriel, do not speak a word of what you have told me to anybody. Not even King Gatima. If anybody asks, the others died fighting the demon Yig, and you narrowly escaped.”
♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦
A long fence of rusty iron spikes, patrolled by a large number of Clerical Guard, separated the church from the rest of the city. Here the roads were paved with nice stones and illuminated by lamp posts that flickered with yellow-green gaslight. The surrounding homes were brightly lit and inviting and Nuriel knew that the clergy, their guards and higher ranking city officials all lived here. The church was definitely original construction to the city and was the only such structure still completely intact. Its gothic demeanor and high spires seemed at odds with the surrounding homes of more modern timber and brick construction. Upon its front, beneath the bell tower, was a large, circular stained glass picture of Aeoria with her arms spread wide. Lining the walls were tall, narrow stained glass windows depicting modern Saints, including one of Umbrial that made Nuriel cringe. She looked away but she swore she could feel his accusing eyes following her as she went around to the back of the church.
Most churches had a residence for Saints, as did this one. A set of stone steps led up to a large building of original construction that was connected to the church. There was a pair of heavy, oaken doors banded with decorative bronze straps, and above it, a gold plaque with the Star of Aeoria upon it. Nuriel pulled them open and stepped into a spacious chamber.
A fire blazed in a giant fireplace and a wooden table was set with freshly cooked foods and a couple decanters of water and wine. Sitting around the table were three Saints in their leather bodysuits and black Star-Armor. Two of them—one with hair and eyes as shiny and black as polished obsidian, and the other with hair and eyes as silver as Isley’s—sat reclining in their chairs as they watched a number of half-starved naked women attempting to dance provocatively for them. The third Saint was laughing as he sat reclined in his chair, his star-metal boots up on the table. He tossed a grape at one of the dancing women and it bounced off her forehead. She looked down at it hungrily as it fell to the stone floor.
“Go ahead, eat it you dumb bitch.” said Adonael. His hair and eyes were as ruby-red as Nuriel remembered. The woman began to bend over for the grape when Adonael yelled at her. “Turn around so we can see your ass.” He threw a few more and they bounced off her boney butt cheeks. He laughed as she scrambled to pick the grapes up, shoving them in her mouth as fast as she could. The other women looked on expectantly—ravenously—through their long, dirty hair. They stood around the room swaying and twisting sheepishly, their skeletal frames and withered breasts leaving little to desire.
The Saint with the chrome hair and eyes grabbed a couple rolls from the table and tossed them at the women. Five scrambled for them, fighting and pushing and clawing over the two measly buns.
The Saint with the black hair and eyes grabbed a few more rolls and tossed them out for the others. “Eat.” he said, his voice as deep and cold as the ocean d
epths.
Adonael laughed as the women clutched greedily at the rolls, shoving them into their mouths as fast as they could. They cautiously eyed the Saints, as if they feared their meal might be ripped from their grasps. “If that bread makes you thirsty I’ve got something for you to drink,” said Adonael, motioning at his crotch as he lay reclined with his legs on the table. “They call it milk of the Saints. Good for what ails you.” He laughed and grabbed a vine of grapes and threw it at one of the women. “Come suck me off and I’ll give you some of this here—”
Adonael toppled into the table and it all came crashing down on him as Nuriel’s fist slammed into his cheek with all the force of Caliber she could muster. She thought she might have even felt his jaw break. The other two Saints shot up from their chairs in the blink of an eye, their weapons drawn, as the surprised women—still bold enough to take their food with them—all scuttled into the corner near the fireplace.
“That’s for my cat.” spat Nuriel. She kicked the downed Adonael in the ribs, her star-metal boot clanking loudly against his breastplate. “And that’s just because I don’t like you.”
Adonael’s red eyes shone wide with stunned surprise as he looked up from the floor and mess of food he was covered in. His surprise quickly melted into a smile as he came to recognize Nuriel’s snarling face. He stood up and wiped the splattered food from his armor, the whole time looking at Nuriel, smiling brightly. He was about a foot taller than she, and taller than the other two Saints as well. He rubbed his jaw, encompassing it with golden Caliber energy as he healed the bruised tissue and broken bone.
“Nuriel. Long time no see.” he said when at last his jaw was back to normal. He opened and closed his mouth a few times to test it out. He shook his head and looked back down at her. “You’re still upset with me I can see, but seems you’ve grown bold enough to at least tell me so.”
“Ex-girlfriend?” asked the Saint with silver hair as he sheathed his sword. His companion with the obsidian hair did the same.
The Record of the Saints Caliber Page 45