The Record of the Saints Caliber

by M. David White

  Nuriel looked Karinael up and down. “Stars above, Karinael, you’ve been made a Templar?” she asked, equal parts joy for her friend and disbelief. “When did this happen?”

  Karinael was beaming and hopped on her feet. “Just a few days ago! They said I had been showing a remarkable improvement in my Caliber. They’ve made me a Templar Novitiate and I’ve been training with the rest of the Templars. Can you believe it? Who knows, maybe in a couple years I could even make Saints Caliber?”

  Nuriel tried not to sound too disbelieving. “That’s…great.” she said, smiling, still looking Karinael over. Upon the fingerless gloves of Karinael’s hands were painted her stellaglyph in red; that familiar, fragmented eight-pointed star of hers. Karinael was not as thin and lithe as Nuriel, but she certainly looked made to wear armor. Deep down, however, Nuriel was thinking that there was no way Karinael could have made the Order of Templars. She loved Karinael as a true sister, but there was just no way she could have been promoted. It was not even a year ago when Nuriel had left Sanctuary to apprentice with Isley. Karinael was working the stables and caring for the animals while trying to get into engineering or one of the other trades. Nuriel didn’t want to ask for a demonstration, but when last they were together, Karinael could barely shine her Caliber to a visible glow. Apollyon below, how did she ever make Templar?

  Nuriel looked Karinael in the eyes again and smiled. She leaned in and hugged her one more time. As she did, Nuriel couldn’t help but notice a pair of red figures in the distance, standing in the shadows of a tower. There were a number of other Ecclesiastics walking the streets, going about their business, but the red robes and imposing stature of those two Bishops was unmistakable.

  The Bishops were unnaturally tall men, dressed in flowing red gowns, trimmed in gold. They wore black boots and gloves. Upon their heads they wore tall, crimson mitre hats with the golden star of Aeoria upon them. Concealing their faces were black masks with no discernible holes for their eyes or mouths. Just a smooth, obsidian-black mask without expression or features.

  Nuriel looked at them, and through those black masks she could feel their eyes upon her. It was not a comfortable feeling. It was intrusive and condemning. She saw them nod slightly at her, and then they turned in unison and seemed to float away down the road, their red robes billowing and waving until they were gone from view.

  “Do you have time?” asked Karinael, pulling away but still holding Nuriel’s hands. “Can you talk a while?”

  Nuriel looked at Karinael, trying to forget the eerie sight of the Bishops. “Yes,” she said, smiling faintly. “I don’t meet with Holy Father until tomorrow.”

  Karinael’s eyes went wide. “You’re meeting with Holy Father Admael?”

  Nuriel’s smile widened.

  “You have to tell me!” exclaimed Karinael. “Come on, we’ll go back to my dorm! I want to hear all about what it’s like out there as one of the Saints Caliber!”

  Nuriel and Karinael walked side by side down the wide avenues of Sanctuary. Karinael went on and on about what she had been doing in the months since Nuriel had left, but Nuriel found her own mind wandering as she looked up at the old, familiar buildings or saw a familiar face on the road. Before long, the towers of a castle-like structure of ivory stone came into view above the surrounding buildings. It was a building that Nuriel was well acquainted with. It was one of the three main dormitories for Saints, and she had called this one her home her entire youth.

  “Brother Malikiel took your old room,” said Karinael as they rounded the street corner, bringing the massive facade of the building into full view. It was something between a castle and an old gothic church, all constructed from that special ivory stone found only here in Sanctuary. There were a number of Brothers and Sisters milling about the avenue or standing around talking upon the ivory steps leading up to the massive front doors.

  As they approached, a few heads turned their way. A pair of ruby eyes and a pair of golden eyes locked on them. It was Brother Geil and Brother Chaniel. They were leaning against one of the pillars leading up to the doors of the building. Their lips turned up in malicious smirks. Both of them were Saints Templar and wore something very similar to Karinael’s outfit. Nuriel had trained with the two bullies and was certain they’d make Saints Caliber in a couple years when they turned twenty-five or twenty-six. Nuriel could sense Karinael cringe as they came down the steps toward them.

  “Look what we have here,” said Chaniel, raking his hand through his long, golden hair. “Couldn’t hack it out in the field, Nuriel? No surprise, really.”

  Nuriel sighed and rolled her eyes. They were the same idiots as they ever were.

  Geil grinned coarsely at Karinael, his crimson eyes gleaming like gemstones. “Or maybe she couldn’t believe how low the Saints Templar have lowered the bar and came to see it for herself.”

  “Shut up, Geil.” said Karinael.

  “No, for real, Nuriel. Look how low the bar’s been set.” said Geil. He pushed Karinael on the shoulder. “Go on, shine that Caliber of yours. If you can.”

  “She already knows how low the bar is,” said Chaniel. “Look how low she set it for the Saints Caliber.”

  They both laughed.

  Nuriel’s eyes narrowed. “Both of you, get lost.”

  “Oh ho!” laughed Geil. “Time out in the fields must of hardened her nipples.”

  Karinael rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Come on, Nuriel.” She started to push her way past the two but Geil grabbed her right shoulder and Chaniel grabbed her left.

  “Not so fast,” said Geil. “Come on, we just want to see if you’ve been practicing your proper combat stances like Saint Galizur showed you.”

  “Enough,” groaned Karinael. “Let me go.”

  Like a flash of lightning, Geil hooked his foot behind Karinael’s left leg and with his hand pushed her right shoulder. With a yelp Karinael’s legs flew up from under her and she fell with a clatter upon the star-metal street.

  Chaniel laughed. “Yep. You need more practice.”

  Nuriel helped Karinael back to her feet.

  “Thanks,” said Karinael, brushing off her outfit. “Come on, Nuriel, let’s go.”

  “Not so fast.” said Nuriel. She got in front of Karinael and stepped right up into Geil’s face.

  “Sorry, Nuriel,” said Geil with a smug little smirk. He rolled his shoulders in a shrug. “As you can see, your friend’s just not cut out for the Templars.”

  “There’s always a reason for promotion.” said Nuriel. She grabbed Geil by the collar of his steel breastplate and pulled him into her. “Just like there is a reason I made Saints Caliber and you haven’t.” Nuriel’s Caliber flared a brilliant yellow as she threw Geil into Chaniel with such force that the two went tumbling across the street, their steel armor sparking on the star-metal slabs that made up the road.

  The two used the momentum and rolled back up onto their feet. Geil snarled some sort of obscenity and charged toward Nuriel, his own Caliber flaring around him. Geil’s gauntleted fist swung out but Nuriel caught it in her hand. She drew him into her just as she brought her knee up into his chest so hard that it dented his breastplate. She tossed him aside as Chaniel now came at her, throwing a rapid succession of punches that Nuriel easily ducked and dodged before grabbing him by the arm and flipping him over her shoulder.

  Chaniel landed hard on the star-metal road but got right back to his feet and dashed in at her, drawing the sword from his scabbard as he came. His golden eyes flashed with the steel of his sword, but Nuriel side-stepped the strike and locked her arm around his neck. He began to choke as she brought him down to her knee. Then she grabbed his wrist with her free hand, and to the crunch of breaking wrist-bones, twisted the sword from his grip. Chaniel snarled in pain as she tossed him aside and then snapped his sword in two over the star-metal armor of her leg, the fragments of shattered steel tinkling on the road.

  She turned just as Geil leapt at her with his sword coming d
own in an arc toward her face. With a flare of her Caliber she tumbled beneath him before he could land, and then coming up behind him, kicked her foot between his legs and brought him down hard upon the street, face-first. Nuriel got on top of him, her star-metal boot crunching down on his sword hand, crushing it. He growled in pain as he released the blade. Nuriel picked up the sword and bent it into worthlessness over her leg. Then she grabbed him by his crimson hair and smashed his face into the unforgiving star-metal street a couple times before getting off him.

  Nuriel looked around her. All the Brothers and Sisters were standing in stunned silence, watching. A few were smirking and giggling. She saw a couple old faces that she might like to teach a lesson to as well. “Anybody else want to learn why I made Saints Caliber?”

  There were some murmurs and grumblings as the crowd dispersed.

  Nuriel looked back down at Geil and Chaniel. Geil was on his back, holding his crushed hand in his other and trying to heal it. Blood as red as his hair and eyes trickled down his forehead and onto the street. Chaniel sat on the road holding his broken wrist, glowering up at Nuriel with his golden eyes. She rolled her shoulders in a shrug. “Look’s like you two aren’t cut out for the Saints Caliber.” She kicked Geil’s foot. “Now get out of my sight before I tell Saint Galizur you raised your sword to a superior. And if you two ever try anything like this again, I’ll make sure you’ll both need more than just your own Caliber to heal your wounds.”

  Chaniel got back to his feet and helped Geil to his and the two slunk off down the road.

  Nuriel turned her head and saw Karinael’s amber eyes looking at her with equal parts shock and disapproval. “A little heavy-handed, don’t you think?”

  Nuriel hiked her shoulder and looked away. “They had it coming.”

  Karinael frowned. “I know they’re jerks, but breaking their bones? Smashing his face into the street? I mean…that’s not like you, Nuriel. They only pushed me down. What happened to turning the other cheek?”

  Nuriel frowned and shrugged her shoulders.

  Coming down the road was a group in red robes. Nuriel felt her stomach twist a little. It was the Holy Few. Nuriel bit her lip. These were the personal Oracle and Sin Eaters to the Bishops and Holy Father. She wondered why they were coming to meet her, and she feared being taken away for questioning by them. She had had a hard enough time convincing the Oracle back in Gatimaria of her story. She wondered if she’d be able to fool the Holy Few. Nuriel breathed deeply, trying to clear her mind and steel her nerves.

  “That was quite the show, Saint Nuriel.” said the Oracle as his group approached. Like other Oracles, it wore the same type of silver mirror mask and was followed by a group of Sin Eaters in black, beaked masks with round, green-lensed goggles. But unlike other Oracles and Sin Eaters, the Holy Few all wore crimson gowns.

  Nuriel bowed slightly and from the corner of her eye she caught Karinael bowing rather more deeply. She could see the look of concern on Karinael’s face, and could even feel Karinael’s anxiety in her Caliber. The Holy Fews’ presence out in the streets was not common here in Sanctuary. The group rarely left the Holy Palace and almost never spoke to any but Holy Father and the Bishops. When they did, it was only for something incredibly important or incredibly dire. Nuriel couldn’t help but think both situations might fit with her and she wondered which had brought them all the way from the Holy Palace.

  “Good afternoon, Sister Karinael.” said the Oracle, giving a slight bow of his head. Behind him, the flock of Sin Eaters crouched and bobbed, their beaked faces casting unnerving glances upon Karinael and Nuriel, but mostly Nuriel.

  “Good afternoon,” said Karinael, meekly.

  “I trust your training with the Templars is going well?” asked the Oracle.

  “Yes, very well.” said Karinael.

  At her words the Sin Eaters seemed to become agitated and more animated, bobbing up and down and even slinking past the Oracle slightly.

  “W-Well… er… it… it could be going better, I suppose.” corrected Karinael.

  “I understand.” said the Oracle. “I am certain you will make a fine Templar. Would you agree, Saint Nuriel?”

  Nuriel’s eyes flicked to Karinael and then back to the Oracle. She tucked her golden hair behind her ear and looked down, nodding her head. “Yes.”

  All the Sin Eaters turned and focused their round, emerald lenses on Nuriel.

  “Sister Karinael, if you would forgive our intrusion, we would like to speak with Nuriel regarding a private matter.”

  “Yes, certainly,” said Karinael, bowing. She looked over at Nuriel and took her hand. “Come see me when you’re done, ok?”

  Nuriel nodded her head. She felt Karinael’s grip slip from hers and watched as Karinael hopped up the steps to the castle-like dormitory. She opened the giant, wooden doors and disappeared beyond them.

  “Saint Nuriel, it is good to have you back.” said the Oracle, its mirror mask focused directly on her. She could see herself reflecting back in it. “If you would please come with us?”

  ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

  Very few Brothers and Sisters ever saw the interior of the Holy Palace. It sat at the far edge of Sanctuary, against the very peak of the mountain. It was a sprawling, beautiful, but looming presence amongst the clouds. Its highest towers were even lost beyond them. The only time Nuriel had ever been within its confines was during the Call to Guard Ceremony when she was accepted into the Order of the Saints Caliber. That day had not even been a year ago, but it felt so distant, as if it had been in a different life. Even still, Nuriel could remember it well. It had just rained and the Saints Garden smelled so pleasantly of wet soil and the perfume of its many flowers. The silver bark of the Stellabratus trees—trees that grew no other place in the world—sparkled like polished steel as the sun emerged from the passing storm clouds, revealing the azure skies above. Their shiny white leaves twinkled as the wind swept through their branches. The Holy Fountain flowed with rushing water and the Bishops and the Holy Few were lined up down the Grand Walk that led from the garden to the Holy Atrium outside the palace walls. It was all such a beautiful sight—breathtaking, really—and Nuriel hadn’t felt so happy and proud in as long as she could remember.

  And then she had seen Holy Father Admael walking down the path toward her, and her heart fluttered and her knees almost gave out.

  Before that day, Nuriel had never laid eyes upon him. Like most at Sanctuary, she had only seen the oil paintings of him upon the walls and seen the statues and busts of him. Yet, despite that, there was something so familiar and dear about him. There was something Nuriel couldn’t quite put her finger on. It was like she knew him and he knew her, and Nuriel had longed to meet him her whole life.

  Nuriel could still remember how he had come down the Grand Walk wearing the familiar white and gold gown he was so often depicted in. Upon his head was the tall mitre crown of white gold that symbolized the throne of Sanctuary. The crown had four sharp spires, one for each point of Aeoria’s star, and they stood tall and straight and sparkled like icicles in the sun. Emblazoned upon the front was Aeoria’s star inset with sparkling rubies. Nuriel could remember how slowly he walked, using his golden staff to help support him. Nuriel remembered the kindly smile that stretched the wrinkles of his face and even made those tender, silver eyes of his smile. But most of all, Nuriel remembered his hand. It was old and frail, spotted and boney, but when he placed it on her shoulder she had felt a warmth and love she had never known before. It was something tangible that coursed through her, and it was more pleasing and comforting than even a hug from Karinael.

  It had taken Nuriel many days to sort out what she had felt from him, and she never really understood it until she had gone to Jerusa with Isley. There, in the cities and caers, she had seen parents with their children for the first time. And then she knew what it was she had felt from Holy Father. What she had felt from him was real love. She had felt the love of a parent. She ha
d felt love that was unconditional and unwavering. She felt love like she had seen when a father held his daughter close, or like a mother protecting her baby. That was what Holy Father Admael was. Nuriel knew it. He was her father, and he loved her despite anything and everything. It was the one constant she could hold on to; the one constant she had held on to. Holy Father was love. And even now, despite everything she had gone through, everything she had seen, Nuriel knew that tomorrow, when she talked to Holy Father, all would be forgiven.

  Nuriel exhaled deeply, shaking herself from those pleasant memories. That day, nearly a year ago, she had been excited and scared in the most wonderful of ways. Today, however, she was also scared, but it was not in a wonderful way. She was not outside in the garden where the pleasing scent of rain and flowers filled the air. She was in a dimly lit hall of the palace, being led down narrow corridors of pale, arched stone. At the end was a door that seemed all the more imposing for its plain simplicity.

  The Oracle opened the door. There was a windowless, circular chamber beyond, occupied by an ornate, round table with decorative high-backed chairs. Seated around the table like motionless statues were the six Bishops. They sat still and rigid, their slender, robed forms spooky in how tall they were, and made taller still by the mitre hats upon their heads. They looked upon her with those black, featureless masks. Nuriel could feel her stomach flutter and her heart quicken.