The Record of the Saints Caliber Page 14

  Nuriel turned to the black serpent. It was far more terrifying than the red or white beast. It seemed far larger and there was something about its great maw that was beyond terrifying to her. Its scales were as black as the starless sky. Its fangs the very pillars of the heavens.

  Nuriel gasped. An image flashed in her head as she stared at its face. She could imagine being a speck of dust before it. Its eyes were crescents and somehow she got the idea that they were made of red suns, blazing hot. She saw herself insignificant and impotent before it. She imagined the beast feeding upon a star; its fangs biting into it and ripping it part. Nuriel’s hand reached out. She wanted to touch the beast. It was only a likeness in glass, but still her hand hesitated.

  “Nuriel!” Isley’s hot breath snapped Nuriel from her reverie. She turned to him, startled. From behind him she heard Tia snicker. Gamalael and Arric giggled like immature children. “Nuriel,” said Isley, whispering in her ear. “Pay attention. They’re asking you a question.”

  “Do you know him?” asked one of the Jinn. Nuriel was still not quite out of her reverie, but she could detect an overwrought seeking in its metallic voice. Something desperate. “Do you know him, young one?”

  Nuriel looked at the Jinn, then back at the giant mural. Darkendrog she thought. The very name chilled her, and she did not know how she knew it.

  “Young one, you must answer me,” repeated the Jinn. “Do you know him? Do you remember him?”

  Nuriel felt a little confused by the question, and even more confused that she knew the beast’s name. She looked back to the Jinn. They were all standing before her now, peering at her through those spooky, round, emerald lenses. “No,” she said softly. She shook her head. She looked at Isley. “No, of course not.”

  “Pay attention, Nuriel,” said Isley softly. He smiled down at her. She could still hear Tia and the others sniggering.

  Nuriel looked back at the giant stained glass murals. Past Darkendrog and Celacia there were a couple panels missing, but there was another down the way and it showed Darkendrog, the giant black serpent, bearing down on the Goddess, Aeoria.

  “The great black dragon is named Darkendrog,” said one of the Jinn. “The legends say he betrayed the Goddess, but we could not get Celacia to confirm anything.”

  Nuriel looked back to the Jinn. All seven of them stood there staring at her. She had the distinct feeling that they didn’t believe her when she said she didn’t know him.

  “If you know something of that dragon, you must tell us, Saint Nuriel. Time is very short.” said one of the Jinn.

  Nuriel looked at Isley and said, “No…” The Jinn looked upon one another and seemed to communicate without speaking. She looked at the Jinn. “No. Nothing.” Nuriel looked back at the picture of Darkendrog and a chill went up her spine. “It’s just…he…he scares me, is all.”

  Now she could really hear Gamalael and Arric laughing.

  “It’s ok, young one,” said one of the Jinn. “We have many speculations about the history of the Great Falling and we are ever in search of answers. Something in you seemed to stir at his sight. We want to show you one more.”

  From behind, Nuriel could hear Tia’s scratchy voice. “What the hell is so special about Nuriel?” she hissed. “What in Apollyon’s Hell do they think she knows, anyway?”

  The Jinn led Nuriel around the wall. There were a few more panels of stained glass, most too damaged to make out. But then there was one last mural, and it was in perfect condition. The Jinn stepped to the side and beckoned for Nuriel to pass. There, upon the wall, was an angel glorified in stained glass.

  Nuriel looked up in awe. She had hair the color of rubies, and her wings were just as red and outspread. She was armored in metal that seemed to glow as bright as a star, radiating pure, white light. In her hand she held a broadsword that radiated just as brilliantly.

  “Is…is that what the angels looked like?” asked Nuriel in awe of the beautiful creature. Nuriel knew the legend of the angels. Long ago, during the great wars, Aeoria called upon her angels to help fight against the minions of Apollyon. It was said she called them down from the very stars. The angels were Aeoria’s greatest protectors, and they guarded her and her Saints from Apollyon.

  “The legends say that during the battles of the Great Falling, Aeoria came here, to the Stellarium,” said one of the Jinn. “From here she called down her angels, each one the embodiment of a star and armored in its very light. When an angel fell in battle, its star fell out of the sky.”

  Nuriel looked at Isley. She had never heard that before. That wasn’t something they were ever told back at Sanctuary. Judging by Isley’s face, this was news to him too. “The stars go out to show how much time we have left to awaken the goddess,” said Nuriel, looking at the Jinn.

  “That, or the angels are still being called down,” said one of the Jinn.

  “Only the Goddess herself can call down an angel,” said Isley. “And she is in her eternal slumber.”

  “And even if she were calling them down, where are they going, and what are they doing?” asked Umbrial. “That makes no sense.”

  “Perhaps not,” said the Jinn. “Unless they are being called to another place, other than earth. Such as Apollyon’s Hell.”

  “No,” said Isley, shaking his head. “That makes no sense.”

  “Just speculation,” said one of the Jinn. They all looked at Nuriel. “We were curious if the picture stirred anything within you?”

  Nuriel shook her head and gazed back up at the stained glass mural. She had always dreamed of flying; of how great it would be to soar on wings like an angel. Other than the awe of such a magnificent being as an angel, the picture stirred nothing out of the ordinary.

  “Very well,” said one of the Jinn. All seven now turned to Egret and made a slight bow. “We shall leave you to your business, Lord Egret.”

  Egret made a slight bow as well and the Jinn walked off as a singular group. As they left, one of them raised it’s hand and made a gesture. The blazing sun that gave light to the chamber slowly sank down and out of sight, giving rise to an ancient, starry sky. A massive moon bathed the entire chamber in soft, silver light.

  Egret looked at Isley. “We have matters to discuss,” he said. He looked up to the domed sky filled with stars and waved his hand as if presenting it. “This is the night sky as it was above this very spot when Duroton reclaimed the Stellarium from Apollyon and his demons. Amongst the Knights of the Dark Star, this is the most sacred of all skies.”

  He looked Isley and the rest of the Saints square in the eyes. “In Duroton we have a saying. When matters of great importance or honor are discussed, we say that we must speak beneath the Duroton sky. Meetings are held outdoors, or in chambers with glass ceilings so that the lands of Duroton might take witness of our words. Here in the Stellarium, above this most sacred of skies, we, the Knights of the Dark Stars make sacred vows and covenants. The words we speak must be true and all promises we make must be upheld under pain of death. Beneath the Duroton sky we bind ourselves to the Lands of Duroton and She shall judge us by our words and actions.”

  Isley bowed his head slightly but Nuriel wasn’t at all sure she liked this. She had already made vows and pacts to Sanctuary. Already she was so far astray that it was nearing the impossible to come back. She found her nose running again and surreptitiously wiped it on her cloak, stifling her sniffling. She hung her head low.

  Tarquin now looked upon them all, his face much harder than Egret’s, his eyes not as trusting. “If any amongst you would not speak beneath the Duroton sky, say so now.”

  For some reason Nuriel felt as if all eyes were on her. She sniffled and coughed. She looked up, inhaling deeply. Out of the corner of her eye she caught a glimpse of the angel. She was bathed in the silver light of the stars and her armor seemed alive within the glass. Nuriel’s stomach flopped. Almost against her own will, her arm raised up slightly. Tarquin and Egret took immediate notice, transfixing her with thei
r steely gaze.

  Isley turned around and looked at her and seemed shocked that she held her hand up. She heard Arric and Gamalael whispering. From the corner of her eye she could see Umbrial fold his massive arms across his chest and shake his head. She felt Tia’s foot hit her with a loud clank on the back of her ankle. “Apollyon below, Nuriel,” she hissed.

  Egret held up his hand. “Let her speak.”

  Nuriel now felt extremely uncomfortable and for the first time she could even sense disappointment from her mentor. She could even see it in his eyes. Nuriel looked down and bit her lip. “I…I’ve already given myself to Sanctuary.”

  “Speak up,” demanded Lord Tarquin.

  “She said she’s already given herself to Sanctuary,” snapped Tia. Nuriel could hear Gamalael and Arric giggling and calling her an idiot.

  “Beneath the Duroton sky, nobody talks for another.” stated Egret. “Only the individual is responsible for his or her words. You must speak loud and boldly, young one.”

  Nuriel looked up. She hated Tarquin’s constant stares. Egret’s face was stern but much more forgiving and the man at least gave her a sense of honor and respect. She looked at him, staring into his icy blue eyes. “I’ve already given myself to Sanctuary,” she said, her voice wavering under the unbearable weight of everybody’s eyes. She inhaled deeply and then looked at Isley. “We all have.”

  Isley ran over to her and took her around the shoulder, leading her a few paces away. “Nuriel, Celacia has ransomed us from Sanctuary.” he said softly. “She is the holder of our Sanguinastrums, and therefore we have given ourselves to her fully. Her will was for us to come here.”

  Nuriel flinched away from Isley and she could hear the mumblings of Tia and the others. It all at once got under her skin. “I never agreed to any of this,” she snapped. She turned her head from Isley, suddenly disgusted even with him. “The only person I’ve ever given vows to was Holy Father. I never once promised myself to Celacia, and I won’t promise myself to Duroton.”

  “Nuriel,” said Isley, taking her by the shoulders. “You misunderstand. We are still servants of Aeoria. All our actions, all our deeds, everything we do is her will. Don’t you see, Nuriel? It does not matter—”

  Nuriel spun around, looking Isley in his eyes, a sudden fire in her own. “Yes. It. Does.”

  “Saint Nuriel,” said Egret loudly and in such a manner that it brought everybody to attention. “The choice is yours and yours alone. Will you speak with us beneath the Duroton sky?”

  Nuriel tore herself away from Isley and stepped into full view of Egret. “No.”

  A murmur rippled through Umbrial and the other Saints, each of them scowling with contempt at her. Lord Tarquin’s face curled into a sneer and he said, “Celacia promised us loyal Saints.” he looked at Egret and fumed. “Already the deal turns sour!”

  Egret pursed his lips and folded his arms over his chest, eyes fixed on Nuriel. She tried to steel herself again by looking at the stained glass mural of the angel as it bathed in the starlight, but for some reason it was the picture of Darkendrog that now captured her eyes. Nuriel felt a shudder through her body, unsure if it was from the sight of the black serpent or the hateful stares from the others. Nuriel felt her right hand readying itself to draw her claymore should it come to that.

  It was then that she noticed a change in Egret’s face. He seemed to soften as he looked upon her. Something in those icy eyes of his almost seemed to praise her even. “No man of Duroton can make a promise on behalf of another.” he said at last. “A vow not made by oneself is no vow at all to the Lands of Duroton. I know not what vows and promises you have made in the past, Saint Nuriel. Those belong to you and the lands you have come from. Duroton is a crown that sits upon the heads of the other kingdoms. A promise to Duroton cannot be broken. Many have been sent to spend a long night in the Blue Wilds for their broken words. If you will not speak beneath the Duroton sky, then so be it.”

  Here Egret addressed all those before him. “Saint Nuriel shall not speak with us this day beneath the Duroton sky, and therefore the lands of Duroton shall take no witness of her.”

  Nuriel could see the displeasure of this in Tarquin’s eyes, and all the Saints but Isley seemed taken aback by Egret’s leniency. Egret now looked back at Nuriel and addressed her alone. Beneath his stern demeanor and words spoken with great authority, he almost seemed to be smiling at her. It was something she could sense from him within her very Caliber. It was not mocking; it was not disdain. It was, in fact, a great respect.

  “Saint Nuriel,” he said. “Since you shall not speak with us beneath the Duroton sky, you shall be taken to the Chamber of the Unwitnessed to await our adjournment.”

  Nuriel nodded softly. She had no idea what the Chamber of the Unwitnessed was, but somehow the fact that they had one made her feel better. Perhaps it was not uncommon for people to decline speaking beneath their sky, she thought.

  “Lord Tarquin,” said Egret, addressing his lieutenant. “Take Saint Nuriel to the Chamber of the Unwitnessed.”

  Tarquin bowed his head slightly and turned away and Nuriel could see his scowl. He looked at the other Saints and gestured with his hand. “Come.” he ordered.

  Isley and the rest looked at each other with some confusion. Umbrial shrugged his shoulders and began following Tarquin, and the rest followed suit.

  “Not Isley,” said Egret. Tarquin stopped in his tracks but did not turn around. “Saint Isley shall remain under my command. The rest of the Saints are yours.”

  Nuriel could clearly see Tarquin as he pursed his lips, his eyes narrowing in anger.

  “Saint Nuriel,” said Egret. He looked at her more sternly than before now, and she almost sensed a type of apology coming from him. “Before you go there is something you must know. Lord Tarquin has been made Captain of the Saints Alliance. You and all Saints within Duroton shall fall under his command.”

  Nuriel bit her lip and looked up. She could see Lord Tarquin sneering at her. Tia smirked. She looked at Isley briefly, who returned a soft smile to her. She looked at Egret and nodded softly.

  Lord Tarquin approached her and brusquely grabbed her around her arm. Umbrial, Tia, Gamalael and Arric all followed as Tarquin led her across the Stellarium. At the other end of the chamber there was a steel door. Tarquin threw it open and pushed Nuriel inside. There was a long hall carved out of the very mountain with various wooden doors on either side, lit along its length with gaslamps.

  “Move,” demanded Tarquin, pushing Nuriel forward.

  She looked back for a brief moment to see Gamalael and Arric giggling and Tia smirking at her. Umbrial looked upon her with indifference. “Move!” shot Tarquin, pushing her forward.

  Nuriel grimaced and walked forward. Tarquin exuded none of the honor or respect that Egret did and she found herself feeling very uncomfortable in this lonely hall with only him and the others without even Isley to keep the order.

  “You’re a pretty little thing. But that was really stupid.” said Tarquin between his teeth.

  “Yeah Nuriel,” squawked Tia. “What’s up with your attitude? You better not be getting the rest of us in trouble.”

  “Why do we have to come down here?” asked Umbrial, his deep voice resonating loudly in the stone hall.

  “I want you all to see the Chamber of the Unwitnessed.” said Tarquin. “To see where this one shall spend her time, and to see a place in which the lands of Duroton take no heed.”

  Spending time in a lone chamber did not bother Nuriel, even though she now had an inkling that her stay in the chamber might not be so brief. It was something about the way Tarquin said that it was a room in which the lands took no heed that bothered her. A chamber of the unwitnessed; a place given no heed by the lands these men all seemed to hold so dear. Nuriel’s mind conjured some sort of infernal dungeon where dark things occurred; where terrible things were done to others and it could be made ok because the lands took no heed. Nuriel’s legs suddenly felt heavier and
she began to wonder if she should be letting this strange man, this Lord Tarquin, take her anywhere.

  “Move,” commanded Tarquin. He pushed Nuriel on the shoulder again, urging her further down the hall. Nuriel steeled herself and moved forward. At the end was what appeared to be a large mirror and Nuriel could see herself reflecting in it. She could also see the face of Tarquin behind her, twisted in anger, and the ever smirking idiots, Gamalael and Arric whispering in each others’ ears. As she neared, she came to realize that it was not a mirror per se, but rather a door made of solid, polished silver. Above the door, engraved into the very stone, were words that Nuriel could not read, but she hazard a guess that it said it was the Chamber of the Unwitnessed.

  “In the Chamber of the Unwitnessed the lands of Duroton take no heed of anything.” said Tarquin. In the perfect reflection Nuriel could see Lord Tarquin’s face clearly. He had a wicked sort of smile that did not sit well with her. He extended a hand and Nuriel could feel him release some sort of power and the door swung open, revealing a room of mirror-polished silver. Upon the back wall was a plain wooden bench, and jutting from the silver wall was a pair of burning gaslights.

  Tarquin pushed Nuriel inside. She stumbled in. The floor, the ceiling, all the walls were made of solid polished silver and her star-metal boots chimed like bells upon it. It was awkward seeing her reflection in every direction; in patterns of a million identical scenes that faded into infinity. It was strange and disorienting. She turned and looked at Tarquin and the rest.

  “Let me ask you something, my pretty little bundle of spirited defiance,” said Tarquin venomously. “Why do you think Celacia sent you here with the rest?”

  Tia was smirking and Gamalael and Arric were snickering to each other. Umbrial folded his arms over his chest and looked upon Nuriel as if he knew something and was waiting to see if she did too. Nuriel bit her lip and then looked at Tarquin. “We’re supposed to be helping to deliver a gift,” she said, completely unsure of her answer. “The dragon skull.”