Here Shines the Sun (29 page)

Ovid’s eyes flashed. “Rook Gatimarian? He is Jerusan, then?”

“Yes, at one time he was Jerusan.” said Gabidar. “He is a slave now in Bellus. Works as a blacksmith. He’s talented.”

“He would be.” said Ovid, almost to himself. His hand rubbed at the scar upon the base of his neck. Most of it was covered by his bodysuit, but a portion of disfigured, pink skin crawled toward his throat. “He would be talented, I suppose.” Ovid turned his black eyes back to Gabidar.

“You’re the one,” said Gabidar. “You’re the Saint he said he killed.”

Ovid’s eyes fixed on the man. “No. He did not kill me.”

Gabidar’s bloody face twisted into a gruesome smile. “He’ll finish the job. Trust me.”

“You said he had a sister.” said Ovid. “Where is she?”

Gabidar huffed a laugh and spit a wad of blood onto the dirt.

Ovid shook him. “Who is she?”

Gabidar’s eyes stood out in contrast to the blood that smeared his face as he looked at Ovid. “The Vampress of Valdasia. She is Agana, daughter of the King and Queen.”

Ovid’s lips furled into a wicked smile. He dragged Gabidar by the collar back to the wagons. He threw the bodies of Barabus and Kern into separate wagons, untied the horses, and set them away down the path. He turned back to Gabidar who leaned against the last wagon. “You said the boy lives in Bellus?”

“He ain’t a boy anymore.” said Gabidar. He picked up his fallen sword. “And if Apollyon don’t take you, he certainly will.” Gabidar moved in on Ovid, bringing his sword down in an arc. Ovid easily knocked the attack aside and pierced Gabidar through the chest.

“I’ll tell him you sent me.” growled Ovid. He ripped his sword from Gabidar, flinging blood across the field.

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

The summer sun was nearly gone beneath the horizon and the sky was set in murky, deep shades of blue when Hadraniel and Karinael exited the barn, followed by a procession of townsfolk. The lone star, once the brightest star in the constellation known as Aeoria’s Star, but now the brightest only by its virtue of being the only one in the heavens, sparkled brilliantly in that empty sea above.

“Thank you, Karinael and Hadraniel of the Generous Hand,” said one of the men. “We thank you. Aeoria bless you both.”

“Keep it all safe. Keep it all hidden down there.” said Karinael. “Tomorrow, at first light of dawn, pack what provisions you and your people can carry and go north to Gatopolis. It’s only about seventy-five miles north-east of here. You can meet with Saints Raziel and Gadrial, or Adonael if he is there. They’ll help you. But none of you must come back here until it’s safe.”

“Bless you. Bless you both.” said the man.

Karinael hugged him. “Now tell the others to go home and sleep well. You all have a long journey ahead of you tomorrow.”

Karinael and Hadraniel turned to leave as the people began to file out of the barn. Coming down the path Hadraniel noticed a black form carrying a torch. He froze, and suddenly all the others did as well. It was Saint Ovid of the Nine Days.

“Ah, the Saints of the Generous Hand.” said Ovid as he came down the path. Women began to scream, followed by the cries of their children. “I thought I might find you two here.”

Hadraniel frowned.

“Ovid,” said Karinael. “Leave these people alone. They’ve done nothing wrong.”

“King Gatima begs to differ.” said Ovid, coming to a halt before her. The light of the torch cast his pale face and dark eyes in a hellish light. “I’ve come to see his will fulfilled.”

“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 said, 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.