Here Shines the Sun

by M. David White

  “You leave them alone.” said Karinael, her voice turning cold.

  Ovid chuckled a deep, cruel laugh. “Or what, Karinael of the Generous Hand? Still, I’m not unreasonable.” He reached out and stroked a finger across Karinael’s lips, making her flinch away. “I might be persuaded to leave them alone.”

  “Ovid,” warned Hadraniel.

  Ovid’s dark eyes found him. “Hadraniel, Hadraniel.” he said, shaking his head. “It seems you and your girlfriend have been up to no good.” He walked around Hadraniel, his torch flickering and roaring with each step. “I would think that you two would be a little concerned about getting recalled?” Here Ovid swiped a finger across the back of Hadraniel’s neck where his stellaglyph was permanently scarred. “But that doesn’t seem to be the case. Why is that?”

  Hadraniel turned around to face him.

  “Talk with us.” said Karinael. “There are other ways to serve Aeoria than to follow the will of Gatima.”

  Ovid chuckled. “Who said I had any issues following the will of Gatima?”

  “Leave these people alone.” said Karinael.

  Ovid cast his torch’s light about the crowds of cowering people. “Tell me, Karinael. What are their lives worth to you?”

  “We can help you.” said Karinael. Hadraniel looked at her and shook his head. She turned from him and looked at Ovid. “Let the people be and we can help you.”

  “How did you get them?” asked Ovid. “You have your Sanguinastrums. How did you get them?”

  “Karin,” warned Hadraniel, but she ignored him.

  “Let these people be.” said Karinael. “Prove to me you can be loyal to Aeoria. Prove to me that your loyalty is not with Gatima and Sanctuary, and I can help you get yours.”

  Hadraniel silently cursed to himself. Ovid could not be trusted.

  Ovid chuckled. “I knew it. Tell me how you got them. Who is helping you? Is it Nuriel?”

  “No,” said Karinael. “It’s not Nuriel.”

  Ovid eyed the townspeople with contempt. He looked back at Karinael. “I want mine.”

  “Why?” said Hadraniel. “For what purpose? And how can we trust you?”

  Ovid’s eyes narrowed as he looked at Hadraniel. “I have a pressing matter to attend to in Narbereth. I’d much rather be on my way than to stay here slaughtering these people. But I will. Give me my Sanguinastrum.”

  “You have to promise,” said Karinael. “You have to promise to help us. If we get you your Sanguinastrum, you have to promise not to hurt people anymore.”

  Ovid looked down at his boots. Then he looked back up at Karinael. “Too late now.”

  Hadraniel and Karinael looked down. They backed up from him. At Ovid’s feet dark waters began to surface from the ground.

  Ovid eyed them. “Hydra sees all. It’s too late.”

  Slinking down a path that wound around the thatched-roof homes came the seven women collectively known as Leviathan Hydra. Despite the shadows of evening dusk they seemed illuminated by ubiquitous gaslight. At their feet pools of water followed them and flowed forward to herald their path. Their serpentine eyes found Hadraniel and Karinael and they approached like a band of snakes, their bodies weaving and bobbing even as they walked.

  The townspeople began to scream. They huddled close to one another, fathers and mothers clutching their children close. Hadraniel inched closer to Karinael. “Now what?” he whispered in her ear.

  Ovid chuckled behind them, his voice as deep and dark as the skies above. “Delight in her.” he said. “And appreciate that nothing escapes her eyes.”

  “Deeds done in darkness. What are they? What are they?” their unnatural voices seemed to be whispers upon the cool, night air, coming from every direction.

  Ovid bowed as they approached. “Most Exalted Leviathan Hydra. We have gathered the townsfolk for you.”

  Their seven sets of eyes focused on Ovid. Their vertical pupils seemed to narrow. They came closer, and now Hadraniel felt the waters rush up over his and Karinael’s boots as their imposing forms loomed over them. Karinael and Hadraniel both shifted on their feet. Hadraniel found himself looking away from the terrible women. Ovid, however, stood tall and unmoving, his black eyes never betraying him. “Most Exalted Leviathan Hydra, as your servant, may I have the honor of claiming their deaths for our King?”

  “No,” said Karinael, stepping forward. The seven women froze, their heads and eyes all snapping toward her. Karinael looked upon the nearest of them. “I shall burn them. They should burn for their treachery.”

  Some of the townswomen began to wail and cry. A man called out, begging for mercy.

  “Yes. Yes. The treacherous must burn. Cleanse them from this earth.”

  Hadraniel wasn’t quite sure what Karinael had in mind. He watched as she looked upon the cowering people and barked at them. “All of you, into the barn. Now!” She turned and grabbed the blazing torch from Ovid’s hand.

  “Please! Mercy! Mercy!” cried a woman. She ran up and fell to her knees before Karinael. “Mercy! Please! I know mercy is in your heart, Karinael of the Gen—”

  Karinael strode forth and picked her up by her arm. “Move it! Now!” She tossed the woman forward. The woman stumbled and fell and then hobbled back up. “Move it!” Karinael yelled more forcefully.

  Hadraniel followed Karinael as she herded the people into the barn. He chanced a glance back and saw that Ovid and the seven women were standing and watching them. “What are you doing?” he asked into her ear.

  “Hurry!” she yelled. “Into the barn!”

  As the last of the people gathered inside Karinael stepped into the door. “Quickly!” she hissed at them. “All of you, into the cellar, now!”

  The people looked skeptically upon one another. Some of the women called out again for mercy as they clutched their crying children.

  “Hurry! Trust me!” she hissed more frantically. She pulled out her sword to the intensified screams of the people.

  “Karin,” Hadraniel spoke through clenched teeth into her ear. Outside he could see the watching eyes of Leviathan Hydra. “What are you doing?”

  “Quickly!” yelled Karinael, more loudly this time as she brandished her sword. Then she yelled more softly, “All of you, hurry! Get down there!”

  The people looked at one another and then began filing toward the back where the ladder led down into the secret cellar.

  “What are you doing?” hissed Hadraniel, pushing her inside further, away from the prying eyes of Ovid and Hydra.

  Karinael looked at him. “We burn the barn. They’ll all be safe down there. Come morning, they can all make their way to Gatopolis.”

  Hadraniel shook his head. “You heard what Ovid said, Karin. Hydra sees all. It’s over. Let’s run. Me and you. We can leave, right now. We can go someplace. We can just be together. We’ve done all we can.”

  Karinael reached up and placed her hands on his cheeks. Her amber eyes peered into his. “We can’t abandon these people. We can’t abandon Aeoria. Hadi, we can win. We’re not alone. We can see the Goddess awakened.”

  Hadraniel closed his eyes and shook his head. “Look at the sky, Karin. There’s too much darkness now. And we’re too small to matter.”

  “In the darkness, tiny lights shine the brightest.” said Karinael. She leaned in and kissed him. “We are Saints of Aeoria. We must never forget that, even if we are the only ones who remember.”

  Karinael ran forward and grabbed the first man she came to. “You must all stay down there. Do not come out until morning. Do you understand?”

  The man nodded his head, his eyes wide with fright.

  “Tell the others. Tell them we are going to burn the barn, but you’ll all be safe down there.”

  “Aeoria have mercy!” he cried.

  Karinael took him by the shoulders. “Trust me.” she s
aid, looking him in the eyes. “Please, trust me. You’ll all be safe. Do not come out until morning. And when you do, make for Gatopolis. Seek out Gadrial, Raziel or Adonael. At least one of them should be there. They’ll help you, I promise.”

  The man made a hasty nod. Karinael released him and strode back to the door, Hadraniel following her. She closed the door and it made an unsettling thud. She slid the timber locking beam across the door, and then she set the torch to it. The fires began to take. Wood smoldered and smoked, and then fingers of flame crawled up the door. From within people began to scream.

  “Karin,” Hadraniel hissed into her ear. At his and Karinael’s feet was a puddle of water. “This is a bad idea.”

  Karinael ignored him, moving the torch up the walls of the barn. Slowly, more and more flames began to take, and within a few minutes the entire structure was crawling with fire. Within they could hear the muffled screams of the people, and Hadraniel silently hoped they’d be smart enough to quiet down. He and Karin looked up as billows of black smoke poured from the roof. Curls of fire began to lick up from the thatched roof and in a moment the intense flames lit up the night. From within the barn the people had begun to quiet, and Hadraniel silently thanked the Goddess.

  “Let’s go.” said Karinael, her voice soft and somber. “They’ll be fine.”

  They turned and strode up the path. Ovid was standing there, surrounded by the seven unnaturally tall women. All eyes were fixed on them as they came, Karinael in the lead. She took to a knee before Ovid and Hydra. “Our King’s bidding has been done.”

  The seven sets of serpentine eyes narrowed at her. “Yes. Yes. Dark deeds are done. But does the flesh burn?” In the near distance the barn’s timbers cracked and popped as the fires raged. Upon the roof vortexes of embers swirled up into the dark heavens. The seven circled Karinael and Hadraniel, their constant whispers everywhere at once. “Does flesh burn? What burns? What burns?”

  Hadraniel felt an uneasiness rising in his gut as Karinael stood back to her feet. He swallowed hard, finding it impossible to look upon the seven women.

  “Exalted Hydra,” said Ovid. “I shall take witness of their deeds.”

  Hadraniel cast Ovid a quick glance. The black-haired Saint’s lips spread in a wicked smile. He strode toward the burning barn. The seven women slunk and slithered near Karinael and Hadraniel. Hadraniel wanted to take Karin’s hand into his own but thought better of it. He watched as Ovid, encompassed by the glow of his Caliber energy, kicked in the blazing door. He strode into the flames, and then a moment later, reemerged. He approached Leviathan Hydra and made a slight bow to the seven women who began looming over him, hissing their whispers.

  “The deed has been done.” said Ovid. “A hundred and more bodies burn. Their deaths have been made the King’s.”

  The women eyed Ovid suspiciously for a moment, and then all seven sets of eyes focused on Karinael and Hadraniel. “Burn the rest.” The seven bobbed and weaved as their eyes darted about the surrounding homes. “Burn it. Burn it all.” Then their serpentine eyes found Karinael and Hadraniel again, this time with a glimmer of something more vile; more treacherous. “Treachery’s debt is paid in fire.” Their whispered voices seemed to fill the night from all corners of the surrounding woods and it gave Hadraniel a terrible dread. He was certain they were going to lash out at him, but then they turned and began slinking away, their black waters trailing after them.

  Ovid looked at Karinael and mouthed the words, “My Sanguinastrum,” then he turned and followed after his masters.

  Karinael and Hadraniel stood there a while in silence, watching as the barn burned. When it was finally reduced to its smoldering frame in the stillness of the night, they began to hear the whimper of children and the cries of babies from the cellar. Certain the people were all right, they then set to work putting the rest of the village to the torch.

  When they had finished the moon shown high above and the single, lone star glimmered in the north-west. Karin’s hand found Hadraniel’s and they walked together through the forest, down the only small path that led away from the city. For a short time only silence remained between them. Hadraniel could feel Karinael’s Caliber from without and within him, that strange way it had always played upon him like no other Saint’s Caliber ever had. He took what he could of its warmth and comfort, but she had little to offer right now.

  Hadraniel’s mind raced with ideas both frightening and terrible. In his heart he knew Leviathan Hydra did not buy Karinael’s little show. And what was possibly worse, Ovid knew their secrets. Ovid could not be trusted. Hadraniel had no doubt he wanted to get his Sanguinastrum, but for what ends that laid in Narbereth, he had no idea. Nor did he want to know. But Hadraniel was certain of one thing: once Ovid got his Sanguinastrum he would betray them.

  “We should leave, Karin.” he said at last, his words soft in the surrounding night. Ahead the forest began to open up. The trail led up a hill where, at the top, what looked like a pair of thin and straight saplings were silhouetted against the moon.

  “We can’t.” said Karinael, her voice subdued by the same gloom that Hadraniel could feel from her Caliber.

  Hadraniel stopped on the trail. He took her hands in his. “Karin, she knew we were lying. We can’t go back. For all we know Gatima is sending the word to Sanctuary to have us recalled right now. And if that happens, everything falls apart. Erygion will be exposed.”

  Karinael chewed on her lip for a moment, her eyes turned down.

  “Let’s leave.” said Hadraniel, his voice taking on a more urgent tone. “Let’s just be together. Me and you and none of this. We’ll find a place and we can stay there.”

  “Hadi…”

  “I can’t lose you.”

  Karinael looked up at him. “We’ll find Erygion. We’ll ask him what to do.”

  Hadraniel breathed out deeply. She was finally understanding their danger, he thought. He nodded.

  “What do we do in the meantime?” she asked.

  Hadraniel moved his fingers down her cheek, peering into her eyes. He leaned down and kissed her on the lips. She returned it, more forcefully. His arms wrapped around her, his hands moving down her unremoveable breastplate and finding the smooth, tight leather of her bodysuit upon the small of her back. His hands continued downward, over the smooth plates of star-metal at her waist, and then stroking the back of her leg where only her leather bodysuit covered.

  Karinael’s lips locked upon his. Her hands moving over the chest of his breastplate. Her hand found the back of his neck, then her fingers ran through his chrome hair. “I love you,” she breathed, and his hungry lips began to trail down her neck.

  “Saints of the Generous Hand,” came a voice.

  Karinael and Hadraniel started at the sound and turned around. Standing upon the hilltop, between the two tall saplings set against the moon, was Saint Ithuriel of the Violet Fires. He strode forward, and Hadraniel realized that they were not saplings, but his two tall pikes stuck into the ground. From the scabbard at his side he drew forth a long, narrow-bladed greatsword whose handle, hilt and blade formed something like the shape of Aeoria’s four-pointed star. Its black star-metal glinted ominously in the moonlight.

  “Holy Father restores my soul,” he spoke as he came down the path, his voice droning with a frightening edge of passion. “He guides me in the path of righteousness for His name’s sake. Though I walk upon roads shadowed by death, I fear no evil, for I am my brother’s keeper and He is with me. His name comforts me. He prepares a table for me in the presence of my enemies. My cup overflows.”

  Hadraniel drew his star-metal broadsword. “Karin, run!”

  “What?”

  “Run, now!” he said, pushing past her as Ithuriel strode with ardent purpose toward them, flourishing his sword as he continued chanting his prayers.

  “Hadi—”

  “Run!” Hadraniel pu
shed her hard with one hand, gripping his sword in the other. He crouched in a defensive stance and then sprang forward, his sword whirling.

  Star-metal cracked like thunder in the night. Hadraniel’s sword swept up and down as he tried to press in on Ithuriel, but the sapphire-haired Saint was deft on his feet and gave no ground, even as his own large sword crashed against Hadraniel’s.

  “I dwell in the house of Sanctuary,” chanted Ithuriel, whirling his blade and deflecting Hadraniel’s. Purple sparks of star-metal lit his calm face. “Only His love and virtue pursue me.”

  Hadraniel spun, sweeping his sword in but Ithuriel flourished his blade and the two swords were deflected in an ear-splitting crack.

  “I walk in Holy Father’s hand and He provides for me.” Ithuriel spun in, his sword whirling like a tornado, and it cut across Hadraniel’s breastplate, staggering him as more purple sparks exploded. “For He is my shepherd, and I shall not want.” Ithuriel’s sword came down in a deadly, angled arc. Hadraniel tried to raise his own sword but the motion was clumsy and slow. In that split second Hadraniel knew that Ithuriel’s blade would get beneath his and his eyes clenched as he prepared to feel the bite of star-metal in his neck. But then there was a crack of star-metal against star-metal as Karinael whirled in, her sword raised against Ithuriel’s.

  Karinael yelped as the force of the strike knocked her sword down hard and it thundered upon her own pauldron. Hadraniel recovered quickly and moved in with all the ferocity he could muster. His body was alight in golden Caliber energy. His blade moved up and down, in and out as Ithuriel parried each attack with skilled precision. Ithuriel too was encompassed in a bright, white glow of Caliber that washed out the sparks as star-metal weapons exploded against each other with every attack. Then Ithuriel spun in low, sweeping his sword out at the last second.

  Hadraniel shifted, trying to dodge the attack, but he felt the sting of star-metal as the leather bodysuit at his abdomen split. He tumbled back, rolling up to his feet to try to gain distance, but Ithuriel was already back on him. Hadraniel could not look down, but he could feel the warmth of blood trickling beneath his bodysuit and every motion made his belly burn.