The Record of the Saints Caliber (10 page)

“Death,” said the Oracle. It was a thin, frail figure shrouded in pitch black robes. Ramiel glanced at the Oracle with uncertainty. Behind him, the Golden Cockerel stood looking at himself in disbelief. His dirty armor and boots, and his soiled golden cape seemed too much for him to bear. He began huffing and puffing like a spoiled child, completely unable to speak.

The remaining lieutenant stepped forward, the giant gun barrel visibly shaking in his hands as he trained it upon Celacia.

Celacia rolled her eyes. “You mortals with your newfangled weapons,” she said. “Do those things even work on Saints?”

“Quite effectively, actually.” said the Oracle.

“But far less effective than this,” growled Ramiel, taking the warhammer from his back. He now stood with his heavily armored left side facing Celacia as he flourished the hammer in his right hand.

“Patience, Saint Ramiel,” spoke the Oracle calmly. “This one isn’t missing her stellaglyph because she sold her soul. She’s something quite out of the ordinary.” It approached Celacia but stopped just short of the area of decayed earth that surrounded her. “Tell me, Celacia, how long have you been awake? Quite recently I assume?”

She smirked. “Let’s just say I’m all rested and ready for battle.” she chirped.

“I see,” said the Oracle. “Tell me, what brings you and a small army of men all the way to Mount Rendral?”

“I’d like to tell you that one too, but like I said, then I’d have to kill you.” said Celacia, eying the Oracle with some disdain. It seemed to try and focus its gaze past her and into the tunnel. “You know, you Oracles really are kind of nosy. Are you still trying to figure out who I brought with me?”

Celacia tisked. “I can see you have no plans to mind your own business. No point in prolonging the inevitable.” Celacia strode forward and grabbed the Oracle by its mirror-mask. Instantly the silver finish tarnished and began rusting. It clutched at Celacia with its gloved hands, trying to free its face to no avail.

Ramiel was about to spring forward when Celacia raised her free hand and said, “I wouldn’t if I were you,” and that stayed him for the moment. “Just watch what I can do.”

Immediately the Oracle began to scream. The scream of an Oracle was a sound no man or Saint had ever heard before. The Oracle’s black robes began to rot and decay, its mirror mask rusting and flaking off in clumps between Celacia’s fingers. The thing struggled and writhed but within moments it was all over and Celacia was left holding the last remains of the crumbling mask as the decayed body and robes blew away as dust in the wind.

Celacia turned to Ramiel and tossed aside the clump of rust she held. She clapped her hands of the offending red dust.

“What are you?” demanded Ramiel.

“Didn’t you hear your friend? He said I was Death,” chirped Celacia. “It might be true. To be honest, I’ve kind of forgotten who I am. I have a vague idea. It’s been so long, you know. But I think calling me Death is being a little overly dramatic. I mean,” here she stopped and giggled. “After all, do I look like the grim reaper? You Saints really should have done a better job preserving history.”

“This is an outrage!” squealed Golden Cockerel the Exalted. He was completely red-gold in the face, his armor covered in dust.

Celacia looked at Ramiel. “And you have to serve this brat’s every command?”

“Seize her!” he screeched. He jumped and stomped on the ground. “Seize her immediately!”

Ramiel flourished his warhammer as if about to strike but Celacia held up a finger. “Hold that thought.” She stepped to the side and looked at Golden Cockerel. “Why don’t you turn around and go back home? If we’re going to fight, that makes this a battleground, and that’s really no place for spoiled children to hang out.”

Golden Cockerel’s jaw dropped. He clenched his fists and began trembling. His last lieutenant stepped forward, the giant bolt-thrower rattling in his shaking hands. “You…you’re under arrest,” he said as the gun barrel trembled in his hands.

Celacia rolled her eyes. “Oh please,” she said.

There was a thunderous, metallic
JINK
that echoed through the mountains as the bolt-thrower went off. Like a flash of lightning Celacia turned her head and raised her hand defensively. Immediately a steel bolt—a heavy spike of metal about the size and shape of a railroad spike—impacted her hand and exploded in a puff of rust.

“Ow! That did kind of hurt!” she said, shaking her hand as if she had just been stung by a bee. She looked up and both the lieutenant and Ramiel seemed surprised that her hand and face hadn’t been reduced to mangled hamburger. Celacia looked at the lieutenant blankly. “Oh…oh, I’m sorry,” she said and giggled at him. “Was that supposed to kill me?”

“Kill her! Kill her now!” squealed Golden Cockerel from behind as he stomped around. “I won’t have this anymore! Kill her or I’ll have you all put to the sword! Kill her now! I demand it!”

The stark white and wide-eyed lieutenant raised the trembling gun again, taking aim at Celacia’s face. Her emerald eyes narrowed into slits. In an instant an unseen energy flared around her. The ground for thirty-feet in all directions decayed, the very walls of the mountain splitting and cracking with desiccated rock as if death itself washed over the land.

Ramiel was forced to raise his arms defensively, his Caliber energy flaring a brilliant yellow around him in protection, but even still the white leather of his bodysuit withered ever so slightly and he was wracked with an unworldly pain and fell to his hands and knees. The lieutenant screamed out, dropping the bolt-thrower, but it didn’t even hit the ground before he was vaporized into blowing dust.

Celacia looked at Golden Cockerel the Exalted. He looked around, but he had no more lieutenants and Ramiel was on his hands and knees. He looked back at Celacia and then put his nose to the sky. “You are under arrest,” he said smugly. “I have four-hundred soldiers at my dispense. Now come. Come with me.” He clapped his hands twice.

Celacia scowled. She approached him, the ground beneath her feet desiccating and turning to gray dust. Golden Cockerel must have become aware of the sensation of death engulfing him and looked down. His golden armor began to tarnish, the gems embedded in it became cloudy and the ends of his cape began to decay. Celacia stepped closer and he raised his hands to his face where they began to wither before his very eyes. His fingers curled like dead twigs and his mouth fell open in horror, revealing yellowing teeth. He fell to his knees, the armor cracking and rusting even as he wore it. He looked up at Celacia and released an horrific scream.

Celacia seemed to withdraw the unseen aura and Golden Cockerel remained upon the ground, his pale hands shaking before him. He looked at Celacia and caught a glimpse of his face reflecting in her black armor and he screamed out again. His hair was white and thin now, his armor pocked with rust. His face was pallid, the flesh thin and withered. His eyes were sunken and yellowed. He was a man touched by death, but not lucky enough to have died.

Celacia looked down at him and chirped, “See, I live in the real world where you have to back up your authority.” She scowled at him as he lay there moaning and screaming and staring at his withered hands. She huffed. “No more clapping? No more orders for me, huh? Very well then.” Celacia placed her boot upon his chest. It took only a moment for Golden Cockerel to be reduced to ashes blowing in the wind.

Celacia turned around. Ramiel was now back on his feet and looked at Celacia with wide eyes. She looked at him and giggled and did a little curtsy. “So anyway, now you’ve seen what I can do. You know, I feel like I’ve woken up in some sort of strange, outlandish world. There’s far too many Saints, and not one of you seems to be able to do anything worthwhile. And what’s the deal with Sanctuary these days, huh? This Admael guy likes to keep you all on a short leash.”

Ramiel scowled and flourished his hammer. He spit upon the ground.

“Ah-ah-ah,” warned Celacia, wagging her finger. “I won’t go easy on you like I did with that idiot. I can’t fault you for wanting to try to beat me, but now that you know what you’re getting into, I would think you’d understand that I am a foe quite beyond you. Besides, Isley and Nuriel are here. They’re not quite to your level, but I imagine both of them together will give you a challenge.”

Ramiel looked into the cave. Slowly Isley and Nuriel stepped from the shadows.

Nuriel looked upon Ramiel as she came from the cavern. His lips furled and she felt as if his topaz eyes were burning into her soul. She bit her lip and averted her eyes from his. She sniffed and tucked her hair behind her ear. She suddenly felt ashamed of herself. Only fallen Saints fought other Saints.

Isley nodded cordially at Ramiel. “Old friend,” he said and unsheathed the long, sharply tapered bastard sword of star-metal from his side.

Ramiel scowled. “I always knew you’d fall, Isley.” He spit upon the ground. He turned his fiery gaze to Nuriel but she couldn’t look at him. “Where’s your sword, love?”

Nuriel looked at him and he smirked.

“You’re going to have to draw it, love.” he said. “I won’t let you go.” He spit on the ground.

Nuriel frowned. She unsheathed the star-metal claymore from her back.

“You know,” said Celacia with some disgust. “You have a nasty spitting habit. I wonder if I won’t be able to teach you some manners. I’ll tell you what, if you beat Nuriel and Isley here, you can have a go at it with me. Just don’t kill them, because if you do there will be no anger that I am not.” Here Celacia turned and faced Isley and Nuriel. “I’m going to go attend to my old friend Felvurn. Try not to lose.” She walked past them and into the tunnel.

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

At the bottom of the mountain Nuriel could see the army was forming up lines. No doubt they had seen what happened to the Oracle, Golden Cockerel and his lieutenants. They’d only wait so long for Ramiel to issue orders before acting on their own.

“So Isley,” said Ramiel, disgust oozing from his throat. “What’d it take for you to betray Sanctuary? Most Saints fall for power, but you I’m thinking something else. Something more interesting. Something offered by whatever creature that woman is.”

“Truth,” said Isley. “Celacia offers us the truth. Join with us, Ramiel. There are things you should know.”

Ramiel huffed and spat upon the ground. “We all know there are hidden truths that Sanctuary doesn’t let us in on. And to be honest, they can keep them. I don’t want them. And I don’t care who that woman is, or what you think she knows. I have it good right where I am.” Ramiel scowled and spit on the ground. “You were always a fool, Isley. Always seeking higher ideals. It’s a shame you had to drag your apprentice into this. I hate to kill one so green.”

Nuriel bit her lip and looked up at Ramiel. He would be tough if it came to a fight. And she was still tired from helping to lift that skull.

“Nuriel, isn’t it?” said Ramiel, looking dead at her with those fiery topaz eyes. “You’re stronger than him, you know. I can feel your Caliber and you are stronger. Don’t fall with him.”

“She is quite powerful,” said Isley. “But truth is stronger still. We don’t have to fight. Hear me out, Ramiel.”

Ramiel huffed. “The truth? The truth is the Saints Caliber are long bereft of any honor. You two are just two more in a long list of fallen Saints who’ve sold their soul for a taste of freedom.”

Isley craned his head around to show Ramiel the silver tattoo of his stellaglyph that was still proudly worn upon the back of his neck. “We didn’t have to sell our souls for freedom, Ramiel.”

Ramiel spit on the ground and shook his head with a wicked grin. “Still bound to Sanctuary, are we? You’re stupider than I thought, Isley. If I don’t kill you, it’s only a matter of time before you’re found out and recalled by Holy Father. If you’re going to betray Sanctuary it’s better to sell your soul and not have to worry about getting recalled. Either way, you’ll spend your afterlife burning with Apollyon.”

“Ramiel, it’s not how you think,” said Isley softly. “Please, hear me out.”

“Just listen,” added Nuriel quickly. Ramiel’s eyes turned to her. She desperately did not want this to come to a fight. Ramiel would be a tough opponent, but it was not the fear of losing that was eating at her. If it came to a fight with him, if it came to them killing him, she’d be starting down a path that would be impossible to come back from. Already she was in deeper than she wanted to be; already it would be hard enough for her to return to the Saints Caliber.

Ramiel looked at Nuriel and smirked. “I know all about you, love. Youngest to ever make Saints Caliber. But you didn’t exactly qualify, did you?”

Nuriel frowned. The truth always stung. She had hoped that once she was out here in the field the torments of being known as “too soft” would end.

Ramiel chuckled at her and then spit on the ground. “Tell me Nuriel, did you ever really think you’d make the Saints Caliber? Be honest, love. You’re powerful and you know it. Even still, there’s a reason you never thought you’d make it, isn’t there?”

Nuriel looked up, not quite sure what to make of that question, especially since he was right. “None of us ever think we’ll make it,” said Nuriel. “There’s only so many suits of Star-Armor.”

Ramiel chuckled again. He spat on the ground. “No, no, love. You know what I mean. You’re not like the rest. You’re the type that falls too easily and for the wrong reasons. Same with Isley here. It’s a wonder they ever put you two together. I guess Sanctuary hoped some of Isley’s blind devotion might rub off on you.”