The Record of the Saints Caliber (19 page)

Here Egret turned and revealed the mark upon the back of his neck, and it indeed matched Tarquin’s. It was like a tilted disk with energy radiating from either side.

“It is fascinating how much the Saints and our Knights share in common,” said one of the Jinn. “But where our Knights are mortal humans, you Saints are something else entirely. We hope to learn much from you.”

Nuriel wasn’t that fascinated by stellaglyphs. Her attention immediately returned to the far wall. “What is that?” she asked as that great black dragon looked upon her with those blazing eyes.

The Jinn all turned. “Ah yes,” one of them said. They all began walking toward the section of the wall that bore the pictures. Nuriel followed, and the rest came behind her. “These entire walls were once lined with murals. It is said they depicted much of the history of the First Age. During the Great Falling when Apollyon and his minions overtook the Stellarium, they burned and destroyed much of the original records, and these few murals are all that remain as a record of the First Age.”

“The men of Duroton fought against Apollyon in this very chamber,” said Lord Tarquin. “It was the men of Duroton who won the wars of the Great Falling.”

The Jinn stopped before the wall, but Nuriel couldn’t help but approach it. The stained glass murals were of an awesome magnitude and Nuriel had to crane her neck up to see the entire thing. From the floor to the top of the wall where the star-metal dome started, the murals stood an entire 30-feet tall, made of intricate pieces of cut glass. Parts of it were broken and repaired, some pieces even missing. But of the five remaining panels Nuriel saw things she had never imagined before. The first panel was of a great red dragon. It was broken in a section, missing part of a warrior armored in red. To the right of the dragon was another, this one white, and there was a warrior in white armor next to it. And beside that was a titanic black dragon and the unmistakable stained glass depiction of Celacia.

“That is Celacia?” questioned Isley.

“Indeed it is,” said one of the Jinn. “It was said that the First Age was ruled by the Dragon Kings and their Avatars. It was always thought to be nothing more than legend. And then she showed up at our doorstep not too long ago.”

Nuriel was only half listening. The dragons were titanic. Even as pictures cast in glass they exuded power and terror. The great red serpent’s wings were flames, and Nuriel stared at it, picturing the skull from the volcano. “Felvurn. Felvurn of the Flames,” whispered Nuriel to herself, her hand touching the cold, red glass that made part of his leg.

She looked over to the great white dragon. He seemed a calmer beast than Felvurn, yet terrifying in his own right. The warrior next to him was in white armor. He was a handsome man with golden hair and blue eyes. His armor looked just like Celacia’s, finned and spiked; reminiscent of the dragon he stood before, but in white rather than black. And suddenly Nuriel had an epiphany. “Dragon scale.” she said aloud. “Her armor is made of one of its scales.”

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 their 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?”