The Record of the Saints Caliber (13 page)

As Ramiel stumbled back Celacia spun her body around, delivering a swift kick right to his chest. It sent him flying backwards into the side of the mountain where he crashed with such force that his star-metal breastplate dug deep into the stone and he was held there, imprinted into the very side of the volcano.

It took Ramiel a second to register what had happened. With a grunt he peeled himself from the stone wall and fell to the ground on his knees, loose rubble raining down and bouncing off his armor, blood from his cut face falling in heavy drops upon the ground. He stumbled back to his feet and stood. He shook his head and wiped a gauntleted hand across his face and flung the blood to the ground. He looked at Celacia and scowled, his chest heaving.

“Don’t be too upset with yourself,” chirped Celacia as she walked up to him. “I mean, there is a reason I don’t even bother carrying a weapon. It just wouldn’t be fair.”

Ramiel grit his teeth and presented his heavily armored left side again. He flourished his warhammer. This time it was Celacia who moved in fast. She swung a couple punches, presenting the deadly-sharp fins of her armored forearms. Ramiel dodged each in turn and countered with a quick swing of his hammer. Like lightning Celacia ducked the blow, spinning on one leg and bringing the other around, delivering a powerful kick right to Ramiel’s hand that sent the hammer spinning away. It impacted the earth like a small bomb, throwing up dirt and stone as it slid.

Celacia pushed forward with more slicing punches. Ramiel was able to avoid the first few but eventually one caught him across the left cheek, tearing another huge gash of flesh from his face. He stumbled and Celacia moved in close, hugging him to her body. Immediately Ramiel’s appearance was that deathly reflection and his back arched and he screamed out. Celacia brought her knee up, the spiked end finding the unarmored side of his right thigh. When she tore her knee away blood rushed out of Ramiel’s thigh in a steady flow, pouring down his leg and onto the ground. Wherever the blood touched Celacia’s armor it decayed into dust.

Nuriel looked on in horror as Ramiel fell to the ground at Celacia’s feet, a quickly spreading pool of blood beneath him. Celacia moved forward, the bloody pool drying and decaying around her feet. She grabbed him by the collar of his breastplate and the skin at the nape of his neck yellowed and began to crack like dead flesh. She dragged him behind her as she walked toward the glowing maw of the dragon skull, leaving an horrific trail of blood and dead earth in her wake.

“Come on guys,” chirped Celacia. “Time for your demonstration.”

Nuriel looked up at Isley who returned a grimace. “Come, Nuriel,” he said.

She and Isley strode up to the skull as the Jerusan soldiers gathered around as well, making sure to keep extra distance from Celacia. Nuriel looked upon Ramiel’s pale, nearly lifeless face, wondering why he was still clinging to life and if he really thought he might break free from death’s very clutches. Nuriel found herself dreading what Celacia’s demonstration might be, and found herself hating Ramiel for not just letting go and dying already.

Within the gaping maw of the dragon skull a lake of bubbling magma sat, waves of heat radiating from it and blowing at Celacia’s long, black hair. With a grunt she whipped Ramiel around to her front and he moaned again but didn’t move. No more blood escaped his wounds, and Nuriel could feel his Caliber fading fast as he lay propped up against one of the enormous fangs jutting up from the jaw.

“You Saints are so heavy in that armor of yours,” said Celacia, almost panting. She rested her hands on her knees. “It’s a wonder to me how you Saints can wear that stuff night and day.”

The remark didn’t seem to make sense to Nuriel. Wasn’t Celacia’s armor made of star-metal?

Celacia stood back up and looked at Nuriel and Isley, seemingly puzzled that they were still bound.

“Runic binds,” said Isley. “An invention of the Jinn.”

Celacia screwed her lips up and turned Isley around. Around his wrists were steel shackles, ordinary and unremarkable but for the glowing blue runes that lined them. “Interesting,” she said. She casually placed a hand upon the shackles and within a moment they rusted to dust and Isley was free. She did the same service for Nuriel. Celacia then turned her attention back to Ramiel who lay limply against the enormous fang, breathing his last.

“Just kill him,” said Nuriel, rubbing her numb wrists. The energy of the runic binds was slightly painful, like a constant, vibrating buzz. Nuriel had heard about them back at Sanctuary. They were one of the only things that a Saint could not break free from. “You at least owe him a quick death.”

Celacia grimaced but before she could act Ramiel’s chest heaved and Nuriel could feel the last of his Caliber fade out. The next moment Ramiel’s body cracked as if some unseen force was crushing him. Nuriel’s hand went to her mouth and she gasped. Ramiel’s body crumpled horrifically and was consumed into his breastplate.

Nuriel had heard about the way Star-Armor consumes its wearer upon death. It was quite the grotesque sight and Nuriel thought that it was not at all an appealing way to go. It was also the same fate should their Sanguinastrum ever be broken; if ever they were recalled. All that remained of Ramiel’s existence was his armor, laying there in pieces. Not even a bone to bury. Under normal circumstances the armor would be returned to Sanctuary so that it could be given to a new Saint. Somehow, Nuriel knew this armor would never again see another Saint.

“That’s kind of gross,” chirped Celacia. She bent down and grabbed the empty breastplate and immediately strained. “Unholy minions of Apollyon!” she groaned, struggling for a moment to lift it. “Aeoria on a broomstick!” she looked at Nuriel, red in the face as she struggled to hold the thing at her waist. “How is it possible these are even heavier without a Saint in it!” Celacia cursed and then dropped the breastplate. It landed with an incredibly loud thud that cracked the very stone beneath it.

Celacia bent down and picked up the much lighter gauntlet but even that weighed like a boulder in her hand. “Star-Armor,” she mused, holding the glassy-black metal in her hand. “I don’t really remember this stuff.”

“Once the Saint whose Caliber is bound to the armor is no more, the armor becomes much heavier.” said Isley. “It takes new Saints a few days to adjust to the armor, and some have even been consumed by it while trying to adjust.” Then Isley said more cautiously, “Is your armor not star-metal?”

Celacia laughed. “This old thing? Oh no. You Saints can have your Star-Armor, it’s far too heavy for me. It took all I had just to drag him all the way over here after that fight. And truth be told, blocking those blows from that hammer of his kind of hurt.”

Nuriel was puzzled by this revelation, and she could see that Isley was too. If Celacia wasn’t wearing Star-Armor, then what was it? It certainly wasn’t steel. Nuriel had known the first time she saw Celacia that there was something different about her armor, that it was more opaque than the glassy, blackness of star-metal, but she had decided that it was probably due to her deathly aura playing upon it. Still, if it wasn’t star-metal, it was certainly just as strong. She had seen Celacia block Ramiel’s hammer with her bracers. Nothing was stronger or heavier than star-metal—at least, nothing that anybody knew about. Had Celacia’s armor been made of anything less than star-metal it would have shattered. Most mortals couldn’t even lift star-metal, so the fact that Celacia could withstand attacks from a Saint in Star-Armor, and drag him all the way here meant that she had to be a Saint…or possibly, something just as powerful.

It was at that moment, as Celacia stood there holding Ramiel’s empty gauntlet, that Nuriel noticed there was a crease in the side of Celacia’s breastplate, and small buckles made of the same material as the armor. Nuriel almost gasped. “You…you can take yours off?” she asked.

Celacia cast Nuriel a curious, blank-faced stare and then looked down at her breastplate. “Oh, my armor? Of course silly.” Celacia said. “I forget you newfangled Saints can’t take your breastplates off. Hmm, I can’t seem to remember why that is?” Celacia tapped her lips with a finger. She sighed. “There’s so much I’ve forgotten over the centuries.” She turned around and shook an accusing finger at Isley and Nuriel. “See, this is exactly why you Saints should have been protecting history.” She laughed again and looked up at the skull and then sighed. “I hate to waste star-metal, but I suppose we do need a demonstration.”

“Does the skull still possess the powers of fire?” asked Isley.

Celacia turned around and smiled, her green eyes sparkling frightfully in the glow of magma. “It’s better than that. Felvurn was the Dragon King of Fire. His breath was the very fire of the sun. It could vaporize water, incinerate wood and flesh and he could melt stone and steel.” Celacia looked up at the enormous fangs of the skull looming high overhead. Then she looked back to Nuriel and Isley with a curious grin on her face. “He once even got so mad that he vaporized a star. And, being that this is star-metal…” Celacia took a deep breath and with a grunt and a heave, tossed the gauntlet into the skull’s gaping maw.

The star-metal gauntlet landed with a heavy splash in the molten pool where it seemed to float for a second. Nuriel gasped as the black armor began to show veins of fiery red, as if the metal was cracking. Another moment and those veins had spread until the entire thing was pulsing with reds, oranges and whites before unceremoniously melting down into sludge and mingling with the bubbling, molten earth around it.

“You see,” said Celacia. “There is nothing that old Felvurn here cannot melt. Well, except for this stuff.” She clacked her arms together. Nuriel became aware that it did not have the same metallic clang as star-metal. Celacia looked at Nuriel and Isley and giggled. “This stuff came from my master, and his dominion outranks fire.”

“What…what is it?” Nuriel couldn’t help herself. She reached out and touched Celacia’s armor. Her finger glowed white with Caliber energy but even still she saw her fingernail yellow and crack as she touched Celacia’s arm.

Celacia’s armor wasn’t cold. It did not feel glassy or metallic. It felt slick and thin and light. Nuriel’s whole hand began to throb now. She felt as if her very bones were withering. Still, she could not help herself. With her entire palm she stroked Celacia’s arm, marveling at how slick and incredibly light it felt.

Nuriel was ripped from her reverie as Isley tore her arm away. Nuriel looked at her hand, stifling her cringe by biting her bottom lip. The flesh of her hand was brown, taut and mummified. She clutched it to her breast, shining her Caliber. Her entire hand throbbed but it slowly healed back to normal.

Celacia looked at Nuriel with some surprise. “Wow Nuriel. I like your no-fear attitude. It shows up here and there whenever you decide to come out of your shell.”

Nuriel sniffled and combed her hair back over her ear. “Your armor’s not metal.”

Celacia giggled. She clacked her arms together again. “This here is made out of the same stuff old Felvurn there was once covered in. Well, not Felvurn in particular. It came off my master.”

Nuriel felt her stomach drop as she looked at Celacia. “Your…master?” she said. “Is…is he still alive?”

“Oh well now I’ve gone and said too much,” chirped Celacia. She turned and patted one of the giant, stoney fangs of the skull. “Time to get Felvurn to his new home.”

Celacia turned and addressed the soldiers who were milling about the skull and yelled, “I suggest all of you get to work getting this thing propped up and wheeled out of here. If this thing sits on the ground too long we’re going to have another lava pit to get this out of.” She looked back up at the enormous skull and tapped her chin as she stood there puzzling over things in her mind. “Good thing we got Ramiel’s armor. I suppose we can use that to keep Felvurn off the ship’s deck.” She turned back to Nuriel and Isley. “You know, getting Felvurn from here to Duroton is going to be a lot harder than I thought. Oh well, I guess nothing worthwhile is ever easy.”

“To…Duroton?” questioned Nuriel. She bit her lip. Duroton was forbidden land for all Saints. No Saint had set foot in Duroton for hundreds of years. Duroton was the birthplace of the Jinn; home of the Kald; ruled by ruthless Kings who had fallen from Aeoria’s grace; Kings who had slaughtered Saints during the Great Falling and turned against the Goddess. Duroton was forbidden and shunned even by the other kingdoms.

“Of course silly,” chirped Celacia. “Didn’t Isley tell you? You, him and four of your friends back in Jerusa are going and doing a little gift exchange for me. I didn’t go through all the trouble of getting all your Sanguin…what the heck are these dog collars called again?” she asked tapping at the small black case that she wore at her waist.

“Sanguinastrums,” said Isley. “Our Bloodstars.”

“Yeah, those things.” said Celacia.

“If I may ask, Celacia, what exactly are we exchanging?” asked Isley. “Are we to bring this skull?

“I personally will be seeing old Felvurn home,” said Celacia. “Duroton’s ships should already be waiting for me. You two and the rest are going to meet me there.”

Nuriel inhaled deeply and sniffled. She tucked her hair back behind her ear. She had absolutely no desire to go to Duroton. Everything seemed to be spiraling out of control so fast. Her head was swimming now. How would she get herself back to Sanctuary? How would she get her Sanguinastrum back? Did Sanctuary know everything already? Celacia had, after all, killed an Oracle. Had Gatima noticed her and Isley’s disappearance? Certainly he would be asking the Oracles for their whereabouts.