The Record of the Saints Caliber

by M. David White

  Nuriel nodded. She turned to face Erygion. She tucked her hair behind her ear and was about to speak when Erygion cut her off.

  “Why’d you come back, Nuriel? Why didn’t you stay in Duroton with Isley?”

  Nuriel looked Erygion in the eyes. “I am a Saint. I am loyal to Sanctuary. I swore an oath. As did you.”

  Erygion’s gaze never faltered. “It is an oath I uphold to this day.”

  “By betraying Holy Father?” said Nuriel sharply. “By plotting and scheming with Celacia? By serving her will?”

  “Aeoria’s Guard serve only Aeoria.” said Erygion. “Never forget that.”

  “You told me that before. Seems to me you’re serving Celacia.” said Nuriel.

  “May I tell you something?”

  “No.” said Nuriel. “I don’t want to know anything else from you.” She stepped into Erygion’s space and grabbed his hand and placed something into it.

  Erygion eyed her suspiciously and then opened his hand. It was Nuriel’s Sanguinastrum. He looked back at her with some disbelief. “Most Saints Caliber would do just about anything to get their hands on their own Sanguinastrum, and you’re giving yours back to me?”

  Nuriel fixed him with her eyes. “I’m loyal to Holy Father. I have no need for that.”

  Erygion shook his head slowly. “Why, Nuriel? Why give this up? Why come back here?”

  “I want to be a Saints Caliber, and that’s all I’ve ever wanted.” said Nuriel bitterly. “I wanted nothing to do with Duroton. I wanted nothing to do with that dragon skull. I wanted nothing to do with Celacia. I never wanted anything to do with any of that. And, truth be told, I want nothing more to do with you, either.”

  “And yet here you are.” said Erygion.

  Nuriel fixed him with her stare and exhaled through her nose. She braced herself for the bitter taste of her own words. “I have a proposition.”

  Erygion looked at the Sanguinastrum in his hand. He looked back at her, shaking his head. He crossed his arms over his giant chest. “What proposition.”

  “When I helped you lift that dragon skull out of the lava, I touched you and our Calibers combined.” said Nuriel. “Can that be done from a distance?”

  Erygion’s eyebrow raised.

  “Projecting Caliber is your specialty” said Nuriel. “Few can do it as well as you.”

  “And fewer still can use their own Caliber to bolster another’s.” said Erygion. “But you did.”

  Nuriel kept her eyes fixed on Erygion. “Tell me if it can be done from a distance.”

  “Is that a question or a demand?” asked Erygion.

  Nuriel wasn’t amused.

  Erygion’s sapphire eyes regarded her steadily for a moment. He took off his helmet, letting his long, crystal-blue hair fall over his shoulders. He exhaled loudly as he nodded his head. “I’ve done it once or twice before.” he said. “I’ve helped to build many of these newer buildings here in Sanctuary. Saint Akriel is almost as powerful as I am when it comes to lifting with Caliber strength. Me and him have combined efforts to lift some of the slabs and pillars that make up these buildings.”

  “Teach me how.” said Nuriel.

  Erygion walked over to one of the crystal walls and stood before it, looking out into sky, gently rolling Nuriel’s Sanguinastrum between his fingers. “I already know they’ve given Karinael her Call to Guard. As keeper of the Sanguinastrums, I have to know about all new Calls to Guard. In two weeks, she’ll be undergoing the ceremony and her Sanguinastrum will be made and she’ll be bonded to Star-Armor. I hear she’s getting Saint Sariel’s old armor. She died in Penatallia four months ago. Report was that somebody sniped her. She took a bolt to the head.”

  Nuriel knew of Saint Sariel. Saint Sariel of the Sands. She always carried a minute glass with her. She had been made a Saints Caliber about a decade ago. Nuriel heard that she was rather unhinged. She’d always give herself until the sands of her minute glass ran out to finish a fight. The stories were that she said if she didn’t win before the time ran out, she’d perform Se Evicero, a forbidden form of suicide where a Saint uses his own weapon to disembowel himself. Nuriel was partly glad to hear she at least hadn’t died by her own hand.

  Erygion turned away from the window to face Nuriel again. “You’re planning to help her withstand the armor.”

  Nuriel didn’t say anything.

  “That’s forbidden.” said Erygion.

  “No it’s not.” said Nuriel. “I’ve never heard it said that it cannot be done.”

  “I think it’s silently implied that a Saint must withstand the Star-Armor on their own.”

  Nuriel eyed the hand Erygion held her Sanguinastrum in. “It’s forbidden to give those out.”

  Erygion looked at the fist he gripped it in and then returned his gaze to Nuriel. “I heard Saint Ovid of the Nine Days was to apprentice Karinael. Has that changed?”

  Nuriel stepped over to Erygion. “Holy Father granted me Eremiticy, and I gave it up to apprentice her.”

  Erygion handed the Sanguinastrum back to Nuriel. “This is better than Eremiticy. Take it back.”

  Nuriel’s eyes narrowed. “No.” She shoved his hand away. “Teach me how to save Karinael.”

  “So is that your proposition?” asked Erygion. “I show you how to bolster her Caliber from a distance, and you’re going to keep quiet about the Sanguinastrums?”

  “Something like that.” said Nuriel. “You teach me, and you buy my silence regarding the past. I’ll forget everything. I’ll forget I ever saw you in the volcanic pit. I’ll forget I ever saw you with Celacia. I’ll forget you ever gave her all our Sanguinastrums and I’ll forget that you were a traitor to Sanctuary.”

  “That I was a traitor?” Erygion raised his eyebrow and gave Nuriel a wicked little smile.

  “Yes.” said Nuriel. “That you were a traitor. Make no mistake, if I find out that you betray Sanctuary in the future, or that you are helping Celacia or Duroton or doing anything else you’re not supposed to be doing, our swords will meet.”

  “And what if I tell you I have no plans to stop what I am doing?” asked Erygion. “What if I tell you that I plan to make sure the gears that have been put into motion, stay in motion?”

  “Then never involve me.” said Nuriel. “Never let me find out. Do we have a deal?”

  Erygion regarded Nuriel steadily for a moment. “You have the most remarkable ability to lie to yourself, you know that?”

  Nuriel’s voice held an undertone of threat as she spoke, “Do we have a deal?”

  “You’re pretty bold to speak like that to the one who holds your Sanguinastrum in their hand.” said Erygion.

  “Do we have a deal?” growled Nuriel.

  Erygion puffed out through his nose. He looked down at Nuriel with something like distaste. “You really have no idea, do you?”

  Nuriel’s eyes narrowed. “About what?”

  “Anything.” said Erygion. He turned his back to her. “Tell me, how many stars are left?”

  “I don’t know.” said Nuriel. “A few dozen.”

  Nuriel saw his head nod slightly. “A few dozen.” he said. “They say we have ten, maybe twenty years left. That’s it.” He turned back to face Nuriel. “Would you see the Goddess awakened?”

  “Of course.” said Nuriel. “I’m a Saint.”

  “If you thought you had a chance to do that, but it required betraying Sanctuary, wouldn’t you take it?”

  “Never.” said Nuriel.

  “That’s where me and you differ.” said Erygion.

  “We both swore oaths to Sanctuary.” said Nuriel.

  “No,” said Erygion. “Above all, we swore our oaths to the Goddess.”

  Nuriel shook her head. “I’ll never betray Sanctuary. If the Goddess is to be awakened, it won’t be because we betrayed Holy Father. Sanctuary is ours. This is our world. Out there, that world, that belongs to the people, not us. It’s their will and their own actions that have made it what it is. I won’t betr
ay Admael over a world that those people out there made for themselves. Like Holy Father told me, all we can do as Saints is fulfill their will. If the Age of Destruction falls upon this earth, it won’t be by our hands. We are only keepers of this world and the will of the people. But Sanctuary is ours and we have to stick together. No matter what happens out there in that world, we need to have Sanctuary to come back to.”

  “Is that what you really believe?” asked Erygion. “Do you really believe we stand apart from what that world out there is? Do you really believe we had no part in it?”

  “Yes.”

  Erygion huffed a disgusted laugh. “Let me show you something.”

  He led her across the chamber to the other set of star-metal doors. He pushed them opened and they entered into an ivory chamber that was well lit by gaslamps upon all the pillars. Before them were shelves carved right out of the ivory stone. Lining them were small, crystalline orbs filled with blood. Sanguinastrums. There were hundreds of them. Here and there Nuriel couldn’t help but notice some where black. Many spots were missing orbs. At the center of the room was an ivory table, and set upon it in a neat row were a number of heavy tomes that appeared to be bound in star-metal.

  “This is the Hall of Saints.” said Erygion, sweeping his hand around. “These Sanguinastrums represent all the current Saints Caliber, or any Saint given Star-Armor. As you can see, there are a couple black ones this morning.” He walked over to the table and picked up the first of the books bound in star-metal. He flipped some pages. “These books record the names and stellaglyphs of every Saint who is or ever was. This is the first of them, and its record began with Saint Yezriel the Standard Bearer who came twice before me, first of the Standard Bearers after the fall of Aeoria.” He set it down and walked down the length of the table and picked up the last book. He handed it to Nuriel.

  She took it and looked at Erygion.

  “Look at the end.” he said.

  Hesitantly, Nuriel opened the book. She flipped through some of the pages, her eyes scanning numerous stellaglyphs. She turned to the end. She saw her own stellaglyph, as well as those of the others who received their Call to Guard with her. There were a few others after that as well, and then the last few pages were all blank.

  “That is the last book. Those are the last few blank pages. We’re at the end of our time.” said Erygion. “When I record the last of the Saints Caliber, if the Goddess has not awakened, it will be as the legends say. A new age of destruction will be visited upon this world. It will all belong to Apollyon.”

  Erygion took the book back and set it on the table. “We’re relics of a bygone age, Nuriel. Even you, as young as you are. We’re out of time.”

  “I won’t believe that.” said Nuriel. “As long as there are stars in the sky, we still have a chance.”

  Erygion gazed upon Nuriel. “Then reconsider. Go back to Duroton. Go back to Isley and Celacia. Work with them.”

  “Never.” said Nuriel. “I believe in Holy Father.”

  “You’ve been out there.” said Erygion. “You’ve seen what it’s like. You’ve seen the corruption, the depravity of the Kings and their Exalteds. How can you tell me you still believe in anything? Tell me Nuriel, the Infernals you killed, they weren’t just Infernals, were they? They were something else, weren’t they? Something on a frail leash held by King Gatima?”

  “How did you…”

  “You’re not the only one with secrets, Nuriel.” said Erygion. “So tell me, Sanctuary knew about it, didn’t they?”

  “No.” said Nuriel. “They didn’t…they don’t.”

  Erygion huffed. “You really don’t think they knew that Behemoth Kraken was an Infernal? And what about this new one I hear, Leviathan Hydra I believe they are calling her.”

  “After I killed him, me and Hadraniel went back to Gatimaria to report.” said Nuriel. “We both made a pact to keep quiet about it, to pretend that Kraken was killed by the Infernals. Me and Hadraniel watched the reaction of King Gatima and the Oracle when we told them. Gatima knew. I could see it in his fat face. When we told him that Kraken had been killed by the Infernals, he knew we were lying, and he knew that we knew. But the Oracle, he didn’t. There was no way. Neither me nor Hadraniel believe that Sanctuary knew about it. When I’m back in Jerusa, I’ll be keeping a close eye on Gatima.”

  Nuriel looked past Erygion, to the shelves of Sanguinastrums. “If Sanctuary knew, don’t you think they would have recalled Hadraniel? Wouldn’t they have tried to recall me?”

  “Perhaps.” said Erygion. “Perhaps not, if it suits their need. Maybe they figure you and Hadraniel knowing about it helps keep Gatima in check. Maybe they figure—”

  “I will keep him in check. And just because some are evil, does not mean all are.” said Nuriel. “And I’ll never believe that Holy Father could be a part of any of that.”

  Erygion crossed his arms and stared at Nuriel for a moment. He held out her Sanguinastrum. “Take it back, Nuriel. Trust me on this.”

  “No.” said Nuriel. “I’m done with all of that.”

  Erygion exhaled loudly and walked over to the shelf. He took down Nuriel’s fake Sanguinastrum and placed her real one back on the shelf. He held the fake between his fingers and looked at Nuriel as he dropped it.

  It hit the floor with a tiny crash that made Nuriel cringe. For a moment she was certain she would be consumed by her armor. Nuriel looked back at Erygion. “How many of those are fakes? How many Saints know about this? About what you’re doing?”

  “There are a few.” said Erygion. “A very few.” He walked back over to Nuriel.

  “Do we have a deal?” asked Nuriel.

  “You’re going to forget all this?” asked Erygion, doubtfully.

  “I’m forgetting everything I know up to the point I leave this room.” said Nuriel. “Anything I find out after that, and me and you might have to have words.”

  Erygion sighed. “I’ll teach you.” said Erygion. “For Karinael’s sake. She’s a good girl. I’ll be glad to see her out in the field.”

  “That makes one of us.” said Nuriel. “So, it can be done? Will I be able to bolster her Caliber enough that she isn’t killed by the armor? Can I do it without her or anybody else knowing?”

  “Probably.” said Erygion. “It’s never been done to help somebody wear Star-Armor, at least to my knowledge. If it works, it’s going to be tiring for you, and you’ll have to do it for a few days until she fully syncs with the armor. If you can give her enough to last two or three days, I imagine she’ll be fine.”

  Nuriel puffed. More doubts to shadow her roads. “Understood.”

  “Promise me something though.” said Erygion.

  “What?” asked Nuriel.

  “Watch out for her.” he said. “She’s a good girl. You know that. We need her out there. We need more like her out there. I once thought you were one of them.”

  Nuriel frowned. “The Holy Few believe she will betray Sanctuary. That she will betray Admael. Believe me, I will be watching her.”

  Erygion cast Nuriel a level look. “They said the same about you.”

  Nuriel looked away.

  “Do you believe she will?” asked Erygion.

  Nuriel pursed her lips. “I don’t know.”

  “You watch out for her.” said Erygion.

  Nuriel looked at him. “I’ll do what I can for her. But after this, I’m done with secrets. I’m done betraying Sanctuary.”

  — 24 —

  A CHANGE OF HANDS

  The afternoon sun was subdued by gray clouds, casting the council room in dreary light. The gaslamps on the wall were all turned up, but Isley thought their yellow-green light only made the room seem even more gloomy. Isley had become accustomed to wearing a black shroud over his armor whenever he was away from the church, and he stood patiently beside Lord Egret in it now. It was a piece of wardrobe he found completely unnecessary, though he wore it without complaint only because Lord Egret asked him to. He supposed lif
e in Duroton required him to observe certain customs, no matter how ridiculous they seemed. He also supposed it was a small price to pay, considering he was enjoying himself here. Well, except for the reading and writing. He still hated all that and found it even less necessary than the shroud. But Isley had come to respect Lord Egret and even considered him a friend at this point, so he endured the petty torments that observing Duroton’s customs and learning to read and write brought. Isley sighed. Council meetings were another one of those torments he hated. Possibly even more than reading and writing.

  As they waited for Balin to bring the Council to order, Isley couldn’t help but notice the lack of idle chit-chat amongst the Councilmen. They were all present, save for King Dagrir, but not even Balin or Gefjon made any smalltalk. The old man, Rankin Parvailes, was in his red robes looking quite dour as he absently toyed with his abacus. Gefjon, Jord, Aldur and the others all sat around the table looking down at the papers and documents before them, though Isley could see that none of them were actually reading or doing anything other than just sitting there quietly. Even Balin just sat at the head of the table, lost in personal thoughts. Even though he and Egret were rarely invited, Isley had become accustomed to the mood and mannerisms of the Council, and he could feel a tension in the room.

  The door opened and Lord Tarquin entered, his black shroud flowing like shadows around him in the breeze of the door. He said nothing and didn’t even acknowledge Lord Egret or Balin with so much as a polite bow. Isley’s silver eyes tracked him as he made his way to the far end of the table, taking a place standing in a dimly lit corner of the room. There was nothing odd about his bitter expression, permanent scowl or piercing eyes. The man always looked put off and in the mood for a fight. But there was something about the way he stood away from the light and the way his black shroud hung over his body that was just not right.

  Balin stood up from his seat and began calling the Council to order, but Isley kept his gaze fixed on Tarquin. There was definitely something off about him; definitely something not quite right. Isley focused on the man’s stance and the way the shroud fell over his body. It was something about the way it draped over his shoulders…and hung differently on his left side. Isley’s eyes narrowed as he came to a sudden realization.