The Record of the Saints Caliber Read online

  More disconcerting than the knights, however, was the fact that they were accompanied by Saint Ramiel of the Hammer. Nuriel had never met Saint Ramiel, but she knew that his honorific had not been earned just because he fought with a warhammer. It was earned for his ability to quickly crush his opponents. Powerful Saints were a source of great pride to Kings and their kingdoms and Sanctuary often gifted them to the Exalteds. Nuriel remembered there had been much jealousy amongst the Exalteds of the realms when Sanctuary assigned Ramiel to Dimethica and the Golden Cockerel.

  Already Nuriel could pick Ramiel out at the head of the army. His pitch black Star-Armor amongst a sea of shining chrome gave him away. Upon his black horse he flew a red banner bearing his stellaglyph, a broad and powerful looking symbol that Nuriel thought would likely compliment his battle skills.

  But then things got worse.

  Nuriel’s heart skipped a beat and she could sense Isley tense up as well. Riding alongside Ramiel was a shrouded black figure upon a pale horse, the unmistakable gleam of a mirror-mask from its cloaked face. It was an Oracle.

  Nuriel inhaled deeply and bit her lip. She gently tapped Isley on the elbow. He looked at her but all Nuriel could do was look at the ground. “There’s an Oracle with them,” she said.

  “It’s ok,” Isley whispered into her ear. He gently stroked her golden hair. “Celacia now holds our Sanguinastrums. It won’t matter if it sees us.”

  Nuriel looked up at Isley and she could feel an unbidden tear in her golden eye. “I don’t want it to see me.”

  “What are you two whispering about?” chirped Celacia.

  Isley looked at Celacia. “Ramiel is accompanied by an Oracle,” he said. “If it sees—”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know,” squawked Celacia. “I find it odd that Admael keeps such tight tabs on you Saints.” Here she turned and looked at them with a smirk.

  Nuriel didn’t find anything humorous about the situation. If it saw her, there would be no chance that she could ever go back to Sanctuary.

  “Oh lighten up you two,” said Celacia, waving a dismissive hand. “So what if he sees you. Soon it’ll all be out in the open anyway. Might as well come clean now.”

  Nuriel looked at Isley, hoping he might protest, but her mentor remained silent with his silver eyes fixed on the approaching army. The Oracles had a way of knowing everything, and it was a small miracle Isley and Nuriel hadn’t been found out yet. Back in Jerusa they could be gone and go off on their own for short times, claiming to be on missions. Here in Dimethica, however, they had nobody to cover for them; no good reason to even be here.

  “I…I don’t want to be seen.” said Nuriel more assertively. Being seen by the Oracle would dash any hope of getting out of her current predicament. She’d be labeled a fallen Saint and be hunted down and killed. She hadn’t even wanted to be here. She hadn’t agreed to pledge her allegiance to Celacia. In fact, she was only here because of Isley. If she truly had it her way, she would have remained back in Jerusa to gladly carry out any assignments given to her by the King or Sanctuary. That’s what the Saints Caliber were supposed to do.

  Nuriel exhaled deeply and looked at Isley. “I don’t want to be seen. I don’t want Sanctuary to know.” she insisted.

  Celacia turned around and grimaced. “What happened to the Nuriel who helped pull my friend Felvurn from the lava, huh? I want that Nuriel back.”

  Nuriel swallowed hard and found it impossible to look Celacia in the face. She had to turn her head and wipe her nose with her hand. It was running again.

  Celacia released a sigh of annoyance and her usually chirpy voice bubbled with sarcasm as she said, “Ok, fine. You two go hide in the shadows of the tunnel and I’ll just stand here on this ledge, by myself, with my cape flapping in the wind, waiting for them to show up, so I can kill them all by myself.”

  Nuriel could feel Celacia’s emerald eyes piercing her but she couldn’t bring herself to look up at her.

  “Celacia,” began Isley. “Perhaps—”

  Celacia threw her arms up in annoyance. “Fine!” she snapped. She turned her back to them. “I’ll take care of it. Nuriel needs a good demonstration of my powers anyway. Besides, maybe it’s time Admael knows I’m awake. I’d like to see one of these Oracles you Saints are so afraid of.”

  With her eyes already turned downward Nuriel couldn’t help but watch the decaying ground spread further from Celacia’s feet. Nuriel had become aware that the woman’s deathly aura seemed to grow the more annoyed or excited she became. She didn’t dare think what might happen should she ever lose her temper completely. Nuriel backed a few steps to avoid the spreading death of the earth. She had never supposed dirt and rock could die, but watching the stone and soil as it withered and decayed made her think that maybe everything had a lifeforce that could be taken from it.

  “Come, Nuriel,” said Isley softly, breaking Nuriel from her reverie. He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder and walked her into the shadows of the tunnel.

  ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

  It wasn’t long before the thunder of four-hundred horses echoed deep into the cavern. Nuriel stood across the tunnel from Isley, her back propped up against the wall as she anxiously scraped the tip of her boot back and forth across the floor. They were just deep enough into the cavern that the shadows obscured them from view, and the outcroppings of stone provided further cover to hide behind. It was as good a place to hide as any, at least until the Oracle was dispatched of. Until that thing was gone Nuriel wouldn’t feel the slightest bit comfortable. In fact, until this whole ordeal was over and she was back in Jerusa she wouldn’t feel comfortable. But now that Celacia held her’s and Isley’s Sanguinastrums she wondered if going back to Jerusa would even be an option. Worse, she wondered if going back to being a Saints Caliber was even an option.

  No, it had to be an option.

  In her mind, Nuriel resolved to somehow get her Sanguinastrum back from Celacia and return it to Sanctuary. She didn’t know how she would do it yet, or how she would get it back to Sanctuary, but she would. Then she could go back to being a Saints Caliber. One day, maybe she would even be granted Eremiticy. She’d be a Saints Caliber, but she wouldn’t be bound to any King or Exalted. She’d be free to wander the world on her own, striking down the Unbound and Infernals as she found them.

  Being an Eremitic. That would be her new dream, she thought. After she got her Sanguinastrum back, after she could put behind her all this nonsense that Isley had gotten her tangled up in, she would try to prove herself worthy of Eremiticy.

  Nuriel sniffled and coughed. She chanced a look up at Isley who forced a gentle smile at her. She didn’t return it in kind, and instead craned her neck up and around the large boulder she stood behind to see outside.

  On the plateau Celacia held her ground, looking down upon the approaching army with her lips screwed up as she appraised them. The majority were the rank and file knights of Dimethica in full plate armor riding atop their horses. Unlike Jerusan knights, King Armigon’s soldiers were armored in burnished steel of highest quality and the weapons they carried were all in good repair.

  They were led by Golden Cockerel the Exalted, easily identified by his gaudy, golden, armor that was bejeweled with large diamonds throughout. His crested helmet flowed with plumes of exotic feathers and sported two large rubies on either side of it, giving him the appearance of an oversized rooster. He was draped in a cape of gold that bore the griffin crest of Dimethica, but it was so laden with jewels that it did not make the slightest flutter in the wind. His face, neck and hands were all painted in gold dust, making him look like an unnatural effigy. Even his horse was dusted mane to tail in gold.

  The Golden Cockerel was flanked on either side by four lieutenants in silver armor flying the banners of the kingdom. They wore similarly crested helms and white capes but had none of the jewels. Behind them came Saint Ramiel and the Oracle, blights of blackness against the sea of gold and chrome.

  As the
army gathered around the foot of the mountain some few-hundred yards off, the Exalted with his gem-laden cape broke off, escorted by his four lieutenants in shining armor and flanked by Saint Ramiel and the Oracle. The Exalted’s lieutenants all had the heavy steel rifles known as bolt-throwers slung around their chests and they kept their right hands wrapped around the handles as they rode.

  The squad trotted up the path. The Exalted rode high upon his golden horse with his chin seemingly resting upon a cloud, a look of smug arrogance upon his golden, shimmering face. He seemed larger than was natural, as did his horse. It was a difference in size and scope that was at once subtle but profound. Whether this was a trick of his gaudy armor and crested helm was hard to tell.

  His lieutenants all appeared quite anxious beneath their armor, though they did a good job trying to disguise it by sitting high in their saddles and keeping their giant guns at the ready. Saint Ramiel, on the other hand, looked stern and hard, his dark eyes angry slits as he studied Celacia. The Oracle too was studying her, though it only looked upon the world through a polished silver mask that shined brilliantly in the sun.

  The Exalted and his lieutenants stopped their horses just short of the plateau while Ramiel and the Oracle brought their horses up behind them. All the horses were quite uneasy, nervously stepping and shaking their heads. The Exalted seemed to take notice of the withered earth beneath Celacia’s feet and humphed. He kicked his horse hard and forced it forward.

  “I am the Exalted Golden Cockerel, Lord of Dawn’s Sun, who is at once glorious and profound to you,” he proclaimed quite plainly from atop his steed. The sun sparkled and reflected from the hundreds of gemstones embedded within his golden armor and he glittered obnoxiously before Celacia. The horse stepped nervously from right to left, causing Golden Cockerel to scowl. He yanked hard on the jewel-encrusted reins and continued.

  “I am accompanied by King Armigon’s Southern Forces and my personal Saint, Saint Ramiel of the Hammer, who is the most powerful Saint in all Dimethica, and most likely, all the kingdoms.” Even as he spoke so coolly and smugly the horse backed a few paces, shaking its head stubbornly. At this point Golden Cockerel was getting visibly upset with his horse and he kicked it hard, trying to get it to confront Celacia.

  Celacia stared at him coolly. She took a step back and that seemed to help put the beast at ease.

  Golden Cockerel the Exalted looked at her suspiciously from beneath his crested helmet and glittering face, then lifted his chin high. “Bow to me. Then state your name, as plainly as is fitting for a mere Saint, and tell me where you are from and what business you have here in my glorious kingdom with these petty soldiers of yours. Then I, the glorious and Exalted Golden Cockerel, Lord of Dawn’s Sun, shall decide your fate. And perhaps, if I so fancy, I shall take you upon my servitude.”

  Celacia screwed her lips up and took a step forward, causing Golden Cockerel’s horse to kick up slightly and back away nervously, putting him back in the awkward position of trying to look authoritative and smug atop his anxious steed. Then she said, “Oh, I’m just picking up a little something for myself. It was just taking up space in your volcano, and I didn’t think you’d mind if we helped ourselves to it.”

  Golden Cockerel dug his armored heels into his horse’s sides and jerked at the reins as he scowled down at Celacia. “From what kingdom are you and your poorly outfitted soldiers?”

  “Nowhere in particular,” said Celacia.

  Golden Cockerel seemed to take great offense to her answer and tone of voice. He humphed and composed himself, resting his nose back upon some unseen cloud. “Certainly, you are from a kingdom far less glorious than Dimethica. By your ragtag lot, I assume Jerusa. Certainly you have no claim to anything within the glorious and exalted lands of King Armigon.” He clapped twice quickly. “I command you to put all your soldiers to the sword at once. Then you shall come before me for your own punishment.”

  Celacia’s brow furled. “Are you for real?” She looked past him, to Saint Ramiel. “Is he for real?”

  Ramiel just stared coldly at her and spit on the ground.

  Golden Cockerel looked down at Celacia from his horse, his golden face glittering in the sun. “I take pity on you that such profundity as myself is lost within your realm of reality. Be that as it may, I command you to put your soldiers to the sword.”

  “No.” chirped Celacia.

  Golden Cockerel the Exalted had obviously never heard such a brazen insult as the word ‘no’ in his life. His head popped up and his mouth hung agape.

  Celacia turned to leave.

  “How dare you turn your back to the Lord of Dawn’s Sun!” he screamed, almost shrieking. “Did I not tell you that I am the glorious and Exalted Golden Cockerel?” He craned his neck around to his four lieutenants and pointed to three of them in quick succession and then clapped his hands twice. “You three. Seize her at once!”

  Immediately the three armored horsemen at his side dismounted and rushed forward, hiking up their giant bolt-throwers. Celacia stopped but did not turn around. The first of the lieutenants dashed ahead and grabbed her, but no sooner had his gauntleted hand landed on her shoulder than rust overtook the armor, instantly climbing its way up his arm, over and around his shoulders, and spreading instantly across his chest, back and down his legs. He started to scream but it was choked off. He fell to his knees, his armor clanking on the hard earth, crumbling off in rusted clumps as he fell backward in a limp heap. His desiccated and frightful face stared up at the heavens through dead, white eyes.

  The other two lieutenants came to an abrupt halt and gasped.

  Celacia turned around and smiled at them, her emerald eyes gleaming in the sun. “Hi boys,” she said with a wink.

  They raised their bolt-throwers to her, taking aim. One of them began to shout “Halt!” but something unseen flared around Celacia. The earth beneath Celacia’s feet cracked and withered; the armor upon the fallen soldier at her heels tinkled as it crumbled to rusty powder, leaving nothing but a ghastly skeleton that was also quickly dissolving. The remaining lieutenants dropped their guns as Celacia’s aura washed over them. Their backs arched and they wailed horrific death screams. They fell to the earth as their hands and arms curled with a macabre rigor until they all lay in a cadaverous heap with pallid, withered faces and sunken eyes staring out at nothing.

  The horses of the three fallen lieutenants reared up and screamed, tearing off down the slope as Golden Cockerel, Ramiel and the Oracle struggled to keep their own horses under control.

  “This is an outrage!” wailed Golden Cockerel, backing his horse up behind his last lieutenant, Ramiel and the Oracle. He looked at his remaining lieutenant and said, “Dispose of her at once!” He clapped his hands twice and then put his nose to the sky. “Quickly. I demand she be dispatched.”

  The lieutenant fumbled to lift his bolt-thrower as he struggled with his horse, but Celacia stepped forward wagging a finger. “Ah-ah-ah,” she warned.

  Ramiel spit then grunted and whipped his anxious horse around. His topaz eyes burned angrily. He scowled as he drove his horse forward, overtaking the lieutenant who was becoming more worthless with every cowing Celacia dished out.

  Most Saints were young and fair of complexion, appearing to be in their early or late twenties. Ramiel looked rougher and older, partly due to his scruffy facial hair and partly due to the large, pink scar that ran diagonally from his left eye, across his nose, and off the bottom of his square jaw. His eyes and hair were like crystalline topaz, ruddy and brown, though his left eye was more white and looked damaged from whatever had left the nasty scar. He gazed upon Celacia with cold appraisal before his eyes chanced a glance at the strange stellaglyph emblazoned upon the buckles that held her cape to the top of her breastplate. For the briefest of moments Ramiel’s face betrayed a hint of puzzlement.

  “Name yourself, Saint.” ordered Ramiel, his star-metal gauntlets gripping the reins of his horse tightly as the beast nervously shuffled about. The Or
acle’s pale horse was equally uncooperative and whinnied nervously as it bobbed its head up and down, looking at Celacia with wide eyes.

  Celacia turned her emerald eyes to the Oracle and chirped out, “You know, it’s quite insulting that none of your Saints know who I am. Or have I been sleeping so long you forgot about me too?”

  Ramiel cast Celacia a stone-cold glare. “Name yourself,” he ordered.

  “And that’s the other thing,” she chirped. “You Saints Caliber types are way too serious.” She looked at the shrouded figure upon the pale horse that gazed upon her with its ovular, silver mask. “So, you’re an Oracle, huh?”

  “Celacia, it’s been a very long time,” spoke the Oracle quite calmly, its voice strange and metallic from behind the mask. “Tell me, who are the Saints here with you today? I can sense their presence but cannot quite make out who they are.”

  “Did nobody hear me say I want her dispatched?” shrieked Golden Cockerel from atop his steed. He pointed his nose up and said, “Ramiel, you shall dispatch her immediately.” He clapped his hands twice.

  Celacia looked at Ramiel and rolled her eyes. Then she looked back at Golden Cockerel. “Or what?”

  Golden Cockerel’s face was overcome by shock. His mouth fell open. “Wh…what? What…what is the meaning of this? How…how dare you!”

  Ramiel scowled and spit on the ground. He looked Celacia square in the face. “Who are the Saints with you?”

  “Ramiel!” squealed Golden Cockerel. His face was red even beneath the glittering gold dust. “Dispatch her now! Do you not hear me speaking to you?! I shall have you flogged!”

  Celacia held up a hand to Ramiel and looked at Golden Cockerel. “Adults are talking here. It’s not polite to keep interrupting.” She looked back at Ramiel. “Now, what were you asking?”