The Record of the Saints Caliber

by M. David White

  Tarquin snarled and turned, and everything fell with a thud.

  Balin placed a hand on Tarquin’s shoulder. “You have proven yourself a valuable asset to this Council. Indeed, to the entire kingdom of Duroton. Do not lose sight of the true goal. Soon the Mard Grander will be reforged. Soon we’ll have our own Star-Armor. And then we shall take out Sanctuary. We shall march upon all the southern kingdoms. And I promise you, this Council will see you well rewarded.”

  “Hear! Hear!” cheered the others.

  Tarquin turned around and looked at Balin. “I want the Mard Grander. I want it out of Egret’s hands and into mine.”

  Balin pursed his lips and frowned. “That could be a tall order right now. Egret won’t give it up willingly, and Dagrir would see it in no others’ hands. Give me time to think.” He sighed and plopped himself down into a chair. He rapped his fingers on the table a few times and then said, “So, what do we do about Celacia?”

  There were some murmurs and heads shaking.

  “I’ll take her out.”

  The Councilmen all turned and looked up at Lord Tarquin. He stood there, his face dark and angry.

  “I’ll take her out.” he said again.

  Balin cocked an eyebrow. “Go on.”

  Lord Tarquin stepped forward. “Without my promised Saints Alliance, I have nothing. I am once again under the command of Lord Egret. I also have the most to lose if Celacia resents the loss of her Saints under my command. But I also have the most to gain by taking her out.” He paused and smiled darkly. “I want the Mard Grander. And I want control of the dragon skull. If I take her out, they’re mine. If I cannot have my Saints Alliance, then I shall be in command of Duroton’s new army. I shall head the legions of soldiers girded in Star-Armor. I shall be their Commander. I shall lead Duroton against the kingdoms of the south.” He scowled. “And Egret,” he spat. “He can keep his title. He can keep everything here in Duroton.” He looked right at Balin now. “But the rest of the world is mine for the taking. I shall command our armies.”

  Balin looked over his shoulder as the rest of the Councilmen whispered amongst each other. He turned and looked at Tarquin. “If you can take out Celacia—and that would seem to me to be a very large ‘if’—I am certain Dagrir would see you greatly rewarded.” He turned around and addressed the Council. “If you can do this, I and the rest of this Council would also see you hold the Mard Grander and lead our armies to victory upon the southern kingdoms.”

  “Hear! Hear!” cried Gefjon. “Lord Tarquin has always seen the will of his King and this Council done! Lord Tarquin has ever been a trustworthy ally to us. I say we shall see it done!”

  “Hear! Hear!” cried the other Councilmen in unison.

  “There’s just one problem,” said Balin. He turned around and looked at Tarquin. “Celacia is a foe quite beyond any of us. Quite beyond even our dear Lord Tarquin here. And even if she weren’t, she can’t be killed, so far as we know.”

  Tarquin smiled. “Who says I have to kill her?”

  “What are you getting at?” asked Balin.

  “In the bowels of the Stellarium is a forgotten place. A dungeon few know about.” said Tarquin. “The Jinn say that in the days when Aeoria walked this earth, it was used to hold angels who fell to the will of Apollyon, and demons and devils. It is a place that not even Celacia can escape. And the Jinn have speculated that it may have even been built specifically to contain her.”

  There were some murmurs through the Councilmen. Balin cocked his head and looked at Tarquin. “You speak of the Black Cells, like those found in this very castle? Surely Celacia cannot be contained, even there.”

  “No.” said Tarquin. “I speak of a darker place. A place only the Jinn and myself as Captain of the Stellarium Guard know of. They are called the Dark Holds. Cells made of solid star-metal, with no way out. And they shall become Celacia’s tomb.”

  Balin turned and looked at the rest of the Council. “And how exactly do you plan to get her into one of those? I can’t exactly picture her walking into a prison cell of her own accord.”

  Tarquin smiled and tapped the pommel of Whisper. “Leave that to me.”

  ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

  It was the small hours of the night and the moon was but a partial, pale disc, low in the stark blackness of the heavens. The brick roads of Durtania were cast in shadows by the tall, sleeping buildings that lined them, but every ten yards a lamppost cast puddles of yellow-green gaslight upon Celacia’s path. From down a side-street she could hear roars of laughter from a tavern and see its inviting light flickering upon the walls of a narrow alley. Part of her wished she could go there, to join in the merriment; share some laughs or taste ale and a warm meal and remember what all that was like. Maybe flirt or be approached by a handsome gentlemen even. But the other part of her wasn’t going to let her kid herself. She knew that was an impossible dream. Besides, she had some business with Isley.

  Celacia’s armored boots fell lightly upon the road, leaving a trail of dusty prints behind her that were swept away by the cool, night air. Ahead of her, the spires of a church came into view, silhouetted against the night sky. They protruded like the sharp tips of claws above the surrounding buildings which were cast in ruddy light, giving it the appearance of some hellish hand reaching up from the abyss. Celacia was amused by the imagery, and how timely demons always seemed to be.

  “Your payment comes due.” came the low, guttural voice of Bulifer from behind her. She could feel a hot wind blow through her hair.

  Celacia stopped in her tracks and turned around. The demon Bulifer stood in the center of the road, the very shadows of the surrounding buildings cringing against the veins of fiery light that emanated from his charred, bestial form. Waves of heat rippled the atmosphere around him, distorting his figure. His lips furled into a terrible smile.

  Celacia frowned. She had a feeling he would be showing up soon, though she had hoped he would have waited a few more days. She had wanted to check in on Nuriel before having to leave. It didn’t look like that would be happening now.

  “Don’t look so down,” said Bulifer, smiling wickedly. His infernal eyes glowed like hot coals. “Now comes the fun part.”

  Celacia glowered at the demon. She knew Bulifer had quite the bone to pick with her, and he was going to delight in this. She hated that she had made a pact with him; hated herself for having done it. Still, at the time, she had felt there was no other way. Indeed, there had been no other way. Isley had found her in the Womb of the World and she had awoken to this strange age. Nothing made sense to her; nothing was as she remembered it. There was no Goddess upon the earth; Saints were not as she remembered them; the very kingdoms were all alien to her and the night sky was a desert of black nothingness. She had felt like she was in some sort of strange nightmare from which there was no waking. She still felt like that. She couldn’t tell what was real any more; what was memory and what was fantasy dreamed in the darkness of that pit she was found in.

  Shortly after meeting Isley, she had gone to the Stellarium to seek answers, and there found only more confusion. It was no longer a stronghold for the Goddess and her Angels. Instead it was held by the people of Duroton and their Jinn. The Jinn reminded her of the Oracles that once served the Goddess—more so than the Oracles serving Sanctuary now—but even still, they felt foreign and strange to her. But it was there that the Jinn showed her the stained glass murals, and when her eyes fell upon the depiction of Rallenar and his Avatar, Calavar, memories stirred in her. They were memories of Calavar, and they were real. They weren’t vague, uncertain images subdued by doubt and dreamy ambiguity. The memories were not complete, but what she had was full of substance and certainty. Like those deep blue eyes of his. She knew she had peered into them many times before, looking into them with desire and hope, longing and devotion. She could remember his touch, the warmth of his arm around her; the heat from his lips upon hers. For a thousand years she slept in that dark pit an
d he had haunted all her dreams.

  But then the Jinn told her of the history of things. They told her how Darkendrog had betrayed the Goddess and killed all of the other Dragon Kings. They also told her of how history recorded her own dark deeds, such as how she had been the one to kill the Avatars. All the Avatars. Him included.

  And that’s when she remembered their blood. She remembered hatred burning in her core. She remembered the feelings of betrayal, shame and disgrace. She remembered dark places in her soul that she dared not touch upon. But most of all, she remembered that voice: the voice of Darkendrog whispering in her ear, telling her of their betrayal; of Aeoria’s betrayal. Something had been taken away from her—she could not remember what, and maybe she didn’t want to remember what—but something had been taken from her and she killed them all for it. She had killed the Avatars. And it was all written in the books of history collected by the Jinn.

  But those memories of Calavar always came to the surface. Even now she felt as if she could slip her hand into his. Even now she felt she could go home and find him waiting for her. Even now she felt his hot breath in her ears, his lips upon her body. Had she really killed him? Had she really done such a dark deed? She didn’t want to believe it. She couldn’t believe it. If the love she felt in her dreams was real, could she really have killed him? Celacia had to know, and so it was that she left the Stellarium to try to seek the truth. But there was nothing in this world that was right. There was nothing of how she remembered things. She had no allies. She had no friends. There was nothing for her in this strange, new world. And so it was, as a last hope to find some shred of truth, that she had called upon the one demonic name she could remember: Bulifer.

  And he was all too eager to oblige her. He knew what happened. He had answers. And he would give them to her for a price. All he wanted was time, and she had plenty. She had just woken from an age-old slumber. What was time in exchange for answers? He had given her three questions, and he answered them all with curt frankness: Calavar had been real; She could find him in the Abyss; To get him, all she needed was the Mard Grander.

  Looking back now, with her mind slightly more lucid, she wished she maybe had asked different questions. Did she kill Calavar? Was he still alive? Were her memories of him real or imagined? Those were the questions she should have asked. Then again, did she really have the courage to ask them? No, even thinking about it now, she wouldn’t have worded her questions differently. She wasn’t ready to know those answers. And it didn’t matter anyway. She had sold her time to Bulifer for three questions, and she had asked them and received their answers. She felt no closer to the truth; no closer to anything; no more certain than before of what was real or imagined. She was no different than mortal men who sold their souls to demons. She had overpaid to get nothing. But a deal was a deal, and she knew payment was due.

  Bulifer’s laugh held a cruel, mocking edge. “Look at you. So broken. So lost. So unsure of everything. Your memories and dreams are nothing but shattered fragments that you struggle to piece together. You find things that fit, but can never be certain if they belong to the same puzzle. Funny what time does to memories, is it not? Truth becomes fantasy, and fantasy becomes truth. Truth becomes what we want to remember, doesn’t it?” Bulifer’s eyes glowed white-hot as he stared into hers. “You remember your King, the great Black Dragon, whispering in your ear. He told you of great betrayals against you by your peers. And you remember killing them, don’t you?”

  Celacia turned away from him. Bulifer was finally getting his due upon her, and he was going to savor every moment. And she had been stupid enough to let him take his due on her.

  Bulifer chuckled, fiery ash floating off his body. “Tell me, do you remember how you got down into that pit they found you in?”

  Celacia looked up at him. “Enough. Our deal was my time for your answers. If you’ve come to settle payment, then let’s settle it.”

  “You don’t remember, do you?” asked Bulifer with cruel delight. “I’ll give you one more answer, this one on the house. You threw yourself into that pit. You tried to end your guilt and suffering and threw yourself into that bottomless darkness, hoping that peace might be found in its depths. But death can never have you, can it? You’re your own curse, and you’ve doomed yourself to an eternity of shame. For a long age you slept alone in that blackness. Tell me, were your dreams filled with memories of your life as they were? Or were they filled with tangled abstract fallacies imagined by a mind so wracked with guilt it cannot face the truth?”

  Celacia pursed her lips and looked away from Bulifer.

  The demon delighted in her torment, laughing cruelly. “Don’t look so glum. We all make mistakes, don’t we?”

  Celacia turned her emerald eyes to his. The ground beneath her feet began to crumble. Webs of decaying stone spread out from her and began to creep up the walls of nearby buildings. The very air before her went stale.

  “Now, now.” said Bulifer. “No getting upset. You came to me. You wanted to know if he had been real, where he was and how to get him, and I told you. It’s a shame you didn’t ask for more. You sold your time for so little.”

  “Is he alive?” asked Celacia. “Tell me that much at least.”

  Bulifer smiled, baring his fangs that glowed with infernal heat. “Are you certain you want to find out? If he is, would you go to him? Do you really think if you find him alive he will want anything to do with you? You, who helped betray the Goddess. You, who betrayed all the Dragon Kings. You, who killed the Avatars?” He laughed cruelly. “If you want to know if he lives, go to the Abyss. Should you ever make it there, I suspect you will find many sent by your own hand, and many who would like nothing more than to keep you there in torment with them. Do you really think if you find Calavar he will want you? Do you really think your precious little memories are anything more than delusions born of your guilt? You’re nothing but Death, Celacia. Think of all those you’ve killed.”

  “You mean like Yig?” asked Celacia. Then with a wink added, “Or yourself?”

  Bulifer snarled. He looked at his hulking arms, veined with fire. “You did me a favor by helping me shed my mortal skin.” He turned his blazing eyes to her. “And I’ll be doing you one. I’ll spare you the heartache of finding Calavar. Your payment comes due now, and you paid with time. You think the last age you spent sleeping was long? This next one shall be a lonely eternity. Look around you, all that you see will be dust by the time you get out. Mountains will have weathered to hills. When all the wars of this world have been fought and won, fought and lost; when all the stars in the heavens have faded from memory and the very sun in the sky is but a cold, indifferent rock, you will still be here, alone, waiting for the very universe to come to an end.”

  Celacia glowered at the demon. She really hated making deals with them. In fact, this was her first. She had no idea what it was scheming to do with her, but she knew it wasn’t going to be pleasant. She only hoped that she might outsmart his plan and be a little more clever than him, and that she hadn’t made some sort of dire miscalculation. She really had no intention to give up more than a year or two.

  “Let’s get one thing straight,” said Celacia. “All I’m paying you and your Master is time, and I’ve got plenty of it. And I believe my exact phrase was ‘time upon this earth’. So if you think I’m going to let you spirit me away to some forgotten dungeon in Hell, think again. You’ll meet the same fate I dealt you before…the first time, that is. Not the second when you slunk away with your new tail between your legs. And don’t think for one minute I don’t know that what you really bought was from me. You bought enough time to keep me from the Mard Grander.”

  Bulifer started. Then he cracked an infernal smile. His eyes burned white-hot. “You are perceptive. But I think you underestimate the amount of time we plan to take from you. And yes, it will be upon this earth.”

  “We’ll see, big boy.” chirped Celacia. “Terms were simply ‘time’. Whether I give up a
minute or a millennia remains to be seen.”

  Bulifer laughed wickedly. “A millennia? Like I said, you underestimate what we have for you.”

  “And like I said, we’ll see, big boy.” said Celacia. “It’ll be up to you to keep me.”

  “Enough talk. Your payment is due.” said Bulifer.

  Celacia’s lips screwed up. She was really hoping to speak with Isley one last time. She looked over her shoulder to the church. “Fine. A deal’s a deal, I guess. Can I at least go say goodbye to Isley?”

  Bulifer laughed. “You might have time, if you hurry.”

  “What do you want?” asked Celacia. “Where do I go?”

  Bulifer smiled. “Lord Tarquin is looking for you. When he finds you, you must go with him. Once you go with him, your payment is made whole.”

  Celacia raised an eyebrow. “That’s it?”

  Bulifer laughed. “That’s it.” And with that, the demon was swallowed by flames and vanished.

  Celacia puffed out a long breath and then frowned. She really hated deals with demons and she was beginning to think that maybe she had underestimated Bulifer’s cleverness. Or overestimated her own. Possibly both. She screwed her lips up. “What’s done is done, I suppose.”

  Celacia turned and walked down the dark, empty streets until she came to a courtyard where the church of Aeoria stood like a castle amongst the surrounding buildings. It was a magnificent church, large, lofty and replete with flying buttresses, towering spires and archways. It was brightly lit from within, the myriad of stained glass windows casting rainbows of light upon the courtyard. Yet, for all its size, it was not an imposing structure. It even had a certain charm and welcoming. It was a church like the ones Celacia remembered.

  Celacia stood in the darkness just beyond the courtyard and took a deep breath. She closed her eyes and focused on suppressing her aura. She could feel it contracting around her, but it was painful, like trying to lift something that was too heavy. It was a pain she’d have to try and endure, though for all her effort, her footfalls still left imprints of desiccated stone upon the stairs of the church, and where her hand gripped the brass handle of the enormous doors, they tarnished.