“Of course,” said the Oracle. “But if a person has caused you pain, it is perfectly normal to want them to suffer for it. Would you say that you would have liked to see him suffer just a little?”
“I… I don’t know,” cried Eulalee. “It… that doesn’t sound right.” She shook her head. “I… I don’t want anybody to have to suffer.”
“Interesting.” said the Oracle. “You do not feel that Preil deserved punishment?”
Eulalee sniffled and shook her head. “Maybe something, but not death.”
“I understand.” said the Oracle. “And what of Maximiel? Do you feel he should be punished?”
Eulalee nodded as she wiped at her eyes.
“Very interesting.” said the Oracle. “So, you wish punishment against the one who did you no wrong, but not against the one who caused you pain? Was Maximiel not trying to serve justice for you?”
Eulalee dug her face into her hands. “I don’t know!” she cried. “I… I don’t know!”
“Do you feel Maximiel should die?”
Eulalee choked on her tears and looked at the Oracle with wide eyes. “No!”
“You don’t feel the death of Preil should be repaid in kind?” persisted the Oracle.
“I… but, well… I don’t know! Why are you asking me these things?”
“We’re just trying to gauge your emotions.” said the Oracle. “I don’t think we have to go any further on the subject.”
Eulalee sniffled and wiped at her eyes, feeling somewhat relieved. She looked at the Oracle. “You’re not going to hurt him, are you?”
“Maximiel?” said the Oracle. “No. We have great plans for him. We just need to understand his motives. Do you like Maximiel?”
Eulalee sniffled. “I don’t know. I… I just wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to him is all. I don’t want bad things to happen to anybody.”
“I understand.” said the Oracle. “So, tell me, Eulalee, how is your training as a Saints Templar coming along?”
Eulalee hiked her shoulders and wiped the last of the tears from her eyes. “Okay, I guess.”
“Saint Galizur tells me you’re quite good at healing and that your Caliber is second to none. He tells me your Caliber outshines all others.”
Eulalee smiled faintly at that.
“You will make quite the Saints Caliber, I think.”
Eulalee felt her heart skip a beat. She looked at the Oracle. “Really?” she asked as she wiped her nose.
The Oracle nodded slightly. “Indeed.” it said. “As I understand it, there have been some complications in the field and some Star-Armor shall be returning home shortly. You’ll be receiving one of them.”
Eulalee started. “I… I will? But… did… did a Saint die…”
“Unfortunately, the Call to Guard for all Saints must come to an end one day.” said the Oracle. “You will carry on the honor and legacy of the Star-Armor given to you.”
“I… I don’t know what to say…”
The Oracle nodded slightly. “Tell me, Eulalee. Do you look forward to receiving your Call to Guard?”
“More than anything,” said Eulalee with some excitement. “I… but… I never want it to be because another Saint has fallen.”
“I understand.” said the Oracle. “Unfortunately, Star-Armor must cycle from Saint to Saint. That is why only the best Templars are chosen to receive their Call to Guard. Tell me, Eulalee, who is your favorite of the Saints Caliber?”
“That’s easy.” said Eulalee. “Saint Nuriel.”
“Nuriel?” asked the Oracle.
“Oh yes,” said Eulalee, sitting upright in her chair. “She killed two Infernals on her own and she’s gone up against countless Unbound. She was the youngest to ever make Saints Caliber and they say her Caliber is stronger than even those of Aeoria’s Guard.”
The Sin Eaters closed in about the Oracle and one of them seemed to whisper something into its ear. Eulalee suddenly felt nervous again.
“Do not worry.” said the Oracle. “They tell me they feel there is another reason you admire Saint Nuriel. What is it?”
Eulalee licked her lips. “Well, she’s also Holy Father’s personal Saint. And, well…” She felt herself blush.
“Go on. Don’t be shy.”
“Well, I really want to meet him.” she said. “I remember him holding me as a baby. I remember his warm hands and his smile. And well… I guess I… I’m a little jealous of Nuriel.” Eulalee chirped a little laugh and hid her face behind her hands for a moment. “I-I’m sorry.”
“Interesting.” said the Oracle. “You draw dragons from your dreams and remember Holy Father holding you as a baby?”
Eulalee felt her cheeks flush. She smiled as she looked away from the Oracle. “I… well, yes, I suppose.”
“Very interesting.” said the Oracle, as if to itself. It sat in silent contemplation for a moment. Then it said to her, “You know, Saint Nuriel was much like you at your age. She was very kind and caring and the other Saints often picked on her.”
Eulalee nodded. “I know.”
“Does that also have something to do with your admiration of her?”
Eulalee nodded. “Yes. I mean, they said she could never make Saints Caliber because she wasn’t tough enough, but now she is Holy Father’s personal Saint. So, I guess, I also want to show others that you don’t have to be so mean just to make Saints Caliber.”
“Nuriel also had a fondness for Holy Father.” said the Oracle. “Even from a young age she was always seen staring at pictures of him.”
Eulalee smiled. “Really?”
The Oracle nodded. “Did you know that we did not want to give Nuriel her Call to Guard?” said the Oracle. “We actually advised Holy Father against it.”
“Really?”
The Oracle nodded. “But we were wrong about her. As you know, she has turned out to be quite the exemplary Saint. Truth be told, neither us nor the Bishops thought she would have turned out so well. Perhaps…” began the Oracle. “Perhaps she should be the one to apprentice you?”
Eulalee felt her heart practically explode from her breastplate. Her mouth hung agape and her crimson eyes went wide. “R-Really…”
“You both share a very powerful Caliber.” said the Oracle. “And you both share certain personality traits. With any luck Nuriel’s… aptitude as a Saints Caliber will rub off on you. Perhaps she can see to it that the same things that molded her will also shape you.”
“I, I don’t know what to say!”
“Don’t say anything yet.” said the Oracle. “We do not typically share such information. Keep this to yourself.” It regarded her for a moment. “Like Nuriel, you too will be the youngest to ever make Saints Caliber. Maybe that will give her a little something to be jealous about you?”
Eulalee blushed. “I… I… Thank you!”
“We shall be in touch.” said the Oracle. “It was a pleasure to speak with you, Eulalee. Just remember to keep our conversation to yourself.”
Eulalee placed her hands on her breast as she stood. “Thank you! Thank you so much! I will, I promise!”
“Have a good evening.” said the Oracle.
Eulalee turned, and she felt the entire universe revolving around her. She smiled brightly and strode for the door. She looked back and thanked the Oracle and Sin Eaters one more time, and then walked out. Standing in the hall was Saint Gabriel with Maximiel at his side.
“Hey Eulalee.” said Maximiel, his golden eyes fixing on her.
Eulalee looked up at him. “Oh, hey Max.”
“Max?” he said. “You know, you never called me that before.”
“Oh, um, I, I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.” said Maximiel. “I like it when you call me that.”
Eulalee cringed. “Oh, well…”
“
I’ll come by later, okay?”
“Um, well, I don’t—”
Maximiel brushed past her into the chamber.
♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦
“Ah, Maximiel,” said the Oracle as he strode in and took a seat at the table where Eulalee had been previously. The door clicked shut behind him. The Oracle waited for Maximiel to settle in comfortably before saying, “I understand there was a little mishap?”
“What do you mean?”
“Saint Preil.” said the Oracle. “You cut his arm off and threw him out a window to his death.”
“Yeah.” said Maximiel. “I did that.”
“Is there a reason?”
“He had it coming.” said Maximiel. “He pissed me off.”
“I see.” said the Oracle. “Did you enjoy killing him?”
Maximiel shrugged. “I won’t say it didn’t feel good. Like I said, he had it coming.”
“You remind me of a young Saint Umbrial.” said the Oracle. “But with a little something more.”
“I heard of him.” said Maximiel. “Out in Jerusa he got killed by an Unbound or something like that.”
“Yes,” said the Oracle. “Or something like that.”
“So what’s this all about?” asked Maximiel. “What am I here for?”
The Oracle turned his head and looked at the Sin Eaters for a moment. Then his mirror mask turned to face Maximiel again. “I think we have even greater plans for you than we first thought.”
“You mean the Saints Caliber?” asked Maximiel. “I already know I’m getting in. I deserve it.”
“What if we told you that you could be something even greater?” said the Oracle. “What if we told you that you could be one of the Chosen Ones?”
“What’s a Chosen One?”
“It’s something great. Something beyond your wildest imagination. Tell me, Maximiel,” said the Oracle. “What is the world out there to you?”
“It’s a land of gods and monsters.” said Maximiel.
“Interesting.” said the Oracle. “And who are the gods?”
“The Kings.” said Maximiel.
“And what are the Saints?” asked the Oracle. “The monsters?”
“No.” said Maximiel. “We’re the angels. The angels sent by the gods to do their work.”
“I see.” said the Oracle. “Then who are the monsters?”
“Everyone else.” said Maximiel.
“Yes.” said the Oracle. “You are definitely a Chosen One.”
— 26 —
Apollyon’s Child
It was cold, Rook thought, for a summer morning. Though the sun rose above the hills casting its drowsy, golden light upon the dewy fields, a layer of dark clouds drifted in the west, adding a damp briskness to the breeze. Within the confines of Sierla’s wildflower garden, just beyond Rook’s smithy, the Saints were all gathered near a small, Narberethan magnolia tree that was in a spectacular bloom of pink flowers. Beneath it, a four-pointed star of Aeoria, crudely made of bound wood, was planted. Before it laid Karinael’s star-metal broadsword upon the freshly dug earth, all sprinkled with pink flowers. Saint Hadraniel knelt beside the grave where the armor of his beloved would forever rest. His eyes were red and tears dampened his cheeks. Saint Ertrael stood beside him and Saints Cabiel and Loganiel stood nearby in silence.
Cabiel and Loganiel were Saints like Rook had known all his life: aloof, indifferent and standoffish. At least, to everybody other than Hadraniel and Ertrael. The two had not spoken a word to him or anybody else and had wanted nothing to do with Diotus. In fact, Cabiel and Loganiel had eyed Diotus with such disdain that Ertrael suggested the old man remain out of their sight for a while. Even with Ertrael and Hadraniel the two seemed more interested in obtaining information about their own sanguinastrums than in making friends. They were slightly more friendly with Ertrael but had helped Hadraniel dig a grave for Karinael so long as the information about what had been happening with the sanguinastrums and Sanctuary’s inability to recall Saints kept coming.
Cabiel and Loganiel eyed Rook suspiciously as he approached with Kierza, Callad and Sierla. They each tossed a rose upon the grave. “She’ll be missed.” said Kierza. She leaned down over Hadraniel and kissed him upon his brow. Rook could see that Cabiel and Loganiel were not entirely comfortable with them. Cabiel especially seemed taken aback by Kierza giving Hadraniel a kiss.
Rook said a silent prayer, asking Aeoria to guide her soul to whatever lay beyond for Saints. He patted Hadraniel on the shoulder. “I’m sorry.” he said. Sierla whispered something into Hadraniel’s ear and he nodded. Callad didn’t say anything, but patted Hadraniel on the shoulder just as Rook had. After a moment of silence, Rook and his family took their leave and Ertrael came up to Rook.
“I must speak with you.” said Ertrael softly.
Rook nodded.
“Me and your mother will get some food prepared.” said Callad. He looked at Kierza. “Come, help me draw some water from the well for them. They’ve had a long night.”
Kierza nodded.
“And you,” said Sierla, wagging a finger at Ertrael. “You should not stay out so late. Let me know if you won’t be home for dinner next time.”
Rook blushed, embarrassed that his mother would scold a Saint like that. It took Ertrael a moment to realize Sierla had been speaking to him, and then he started.
“That’s right.” said Sierla as Callad smirked and shook his head. “No staying out so late.”
Ertrael smiled and chuckled. “Yes, mother.”
Kierza held her veil over her face as she stifled a laugh and followed Callad and Sierla back to what remained of the cottage. Though the living room and dining room walls were destroyed, enough of the kitchen remained to be useful. The bedrooms as well were pretty much intact and Rook had been thankful that they had been able to sleep in their own beds last night.
“I’m sorry about that.” said Rook.
Ertrael chuckled as he led Rook a short distance from the garden. “No worries. I suppose if I am staying here, I ought to obey the rules of the house.” Ertrael cleared his throat and then took on a more serious demeanor. “I couldn’t find any sign of Asteroth or the others.” he said. “And I worry for Hadraniel and what is to become of Cabiel and Loganiel.”
Rook nodded. They stopped near the cottage and Rook watched curiously as Cabiel handed Hadraniel a small pack. He had seen them all injecting themselves with something from it last night but had thought it would be in poor-taste to inquire about it at the time. “No sign of Ovid either?”
Ertrael shook his head. “I wandered the city for a time late last night and I checked in with Diotus early this morning before the sun rose. Not a single Saint.”
Rook watched as Hadraniel took off his left bracer and rolled up the leather sleeve of his bodysuit. Cabiel held what looked like an injector. Rook couldn’t contain his curiosity any longer. “What are they giving Hadraniel?”
“It’s called Evanescence. Ev. It’s a drug many Saints use.” said Ertrael.
“Do you use it?”
“Sometimes.” admitted Ertrael. “Karinael never used it, and would never allow any Saint to use it around her.”
“Should you stop him?” asked Rook.
Ertrael shook his head. “Hadraniel has much to sort out. I don’t know him well enough to get involved. And Cabiel and Loganiel are here only by a thread. I don’t think they’ll stick around.”
“I know Karinael was intent on making it to Duroton with the others.” said Rook. “Do you think Hadraniel will still go?”
Ertrael hiked his shoulders. “Hard to say. Maybe if I can find the others there is a chance. Otherwise…”
Rook looked at Ertrael. “Are you going to Duroton?”
Ertrael sighed. He didn’t answer immediately. “I don’t know. I have m
uch to sort out as well.”
The sound of footsteps coming up the dirt road caught Rook’s attention. He turned and saw Marisal Notaro coming up the path toward him. Her eyes looked desperate and distant. Her simple, blue dress looked as tired and worn out as she. She held her black veil upon her face as the wind swept the road and she called out to him.
Rook bit his lip and waved to her. His stomach fluttered. “That’s Marisal,” Rook said, his voice uneasy. “Gabidar’s wife.”
Ertrael nodded with understanding and patted Rook on the shoulder. “I am going to go back to Diotus. Perhaps together we can find the others, or Ovid. And tell your mother I’ll make sure I am home in time for dinner.”
Rook tried not to blush as he nodded. “Be careful.” Ertrael departed as Marisal approached him.
“Rook! Rook!” she called. She seemed a little frantic and Rook noticed she did not have her three children with her. He hoped nothing had happened to them. He knew that the news of her husband’s death would shatter her, and he didn’t think he’d have the heart to tell her if something had now happened to her children during the fighting. He already felt responsible for Gabidar’s death and didn’t know if his conscience could handle anymore bad news from the family. He blew out a long breath.
“Marisal, are you all right?” Rook came up to her. Her eyes were red and puffy. She looked as if she hadn’t slept for days. Something was definitely wrong. “Where are the little ones?”
“Rook, you must come with me,” she pleaded. “Little Galen has fallen ill. Our ships were damaged in all the fighting. I haven’t heard from Gabidar and I just don’t know what to do.”
Rook embraced her, but inside he was full of terror. He’d have to tell her that her husband was dead; that her husband was killed in Jerusa, where he had sent him; that Gabidar was murdered by Saint Ovid, a Saint who was now here in Bellus looking for him. He may as well tell her that he had killed Gabidar himself. A huge weight settled on his shoulders, forcing a long breath from his mouth. “Come.” said Rook. “There is much I need to speak with you about. We’ll stop by Diotus’s shop and get medicine for Galen.”
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