The Record of the Saints Caliber (43 page)

Brandrir had never seen a phoenix hatch before. Like most people in Duroton, he had seen one or two fly up into the heavens from a distant, burning forest. His father had told him a long time ago that when a phoenix egg cracks it sounds like fracturing stone, and that the shell breaks cleanly apart and falls off in two large halves. But that wasn’t happening here. The egg remained together but entirely cracked, as if something near its base was preventing its full separation. From beyond the wall of licking flames Brandrir could see the large bird struggling. It kept forcing its black beak through the fracture, but it was not fully breaking open. And each time the creature retracted its head back in, the egg closed back up.

All around the flames lapped at the egg or swirled in a fiery vortex. The bird became more frantic and Brandrir could see it writhing about within the shell. One of the wings slipped through the crack. Beautiful crimson, orange and yellow feathers splayed out within the fire. Then, from the top of the egg, the creature’s beak broke, and a moment later its entire head popped out. The flames licked at its face but did not burn it. The phoenix was born with its feathers coated with a temporary protective film that allowed it to escape the fires it was born within. The bird cried out, its shrill voice piercing the night sky. It struggled, its wing flailing in the fires, its neck struggling and stretching, trying to force itself from the shell.

Something isn’t right.
That was all Brandrir could think. Even the Jinn seemed to notice it, and he caught them turning their heads at each other, as if they too were trying to figure out what was happening. Brandrir could sense tension in the crowd too. He couldn’t hear it, but he could almost feel the murmur rippling out amongst the bleachers.

Then the bird’s other wing poked through. It opened its beak wide and another tremulous screech rang out, but it sounded nothing like the first. It sounded somehow more desperate. The phoenix thrashed about and struggled and finally the two halves split apart fully, allowing the bird to free itself, though the two halves of the shell remained curiously connected in the bottom of the copper nest. The creature flapped out its wings, presenting its amazing span. Its dark eyes looked out to the night sky and its slender, crimson body stretched out. It screamed again and flapped its wings, sending waves of fiery heat toward Brandrir.

All around the bird the flames licked at it, and Brandrir began to notice the edges of some of its feathers starting to singe. It flapped again and again, its body flopping clumsily inside the copper nest. And that’s when Brandrir noticed its feet. Its black legs, devoid of feathers, did not end in long feet or talons. They were deformed clubs of misanthropic flesh, fused by bloody tissues to the sides of the egg.

The creature flapped and flopped but did not rise. The feathers upon its wings and body now began to smolder, and instead of sulfur Brandrir now got the unmistakable reek of burnt hair. The creature shrieked and flapped and fell clumsily out of the nest and into the fires of the giant, bronze crown. An audible gasp coursed through the stadium and even the Jinn backed up. The giant bird emerged from the flames, flapping, sending embers of burnt feathers wafting out in all directions. It screamed and screeched and struggled to rise, and then all at once was engulfed in a ball of fire. The bird crumpled and fell into the flames, lifeless, smoldering, popping and crackling as embers of feathers swirled up into the night sky.

In all of Durotonian history, never before had a phoenix failed to rise. As shock and horror spread through the stadium, the Jinn all began looking at each other in a stunned befuddlement Brandrir had never seen from them. The one with the crown clutched it to his chest and they all began exchanging glances amongst themselves and at Brandrir. He could hear chaos among the bleachers. The thousands of candles all began moving and flickering, many of them being extinguished. There were random shouts and screams. Brandrir looked to the seats where his father and brother and Council were. He could see the Councilmen all pointing toward the stadium, all of them in an uproar, with his brother struggling to keep the peace.

The Jinn now approached Brandrir, forming an arc before him. The one who clutched the crown to his breast looked at Brandrir, its emerald eyes sparkling in the firelight. It raised a gloved finger to him. “The Lands have denounced you!”

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

Etheil sat in the corner of his cell, Solastron sitting at his side. The Black Cells were a particularly lonesome section of the dungeons, far removed from the rest of the castle. They were made exclusively to hold Dark Star Knights, and to Etheil’s knowledge, he was the first to be locked in one in over a hundred years. Here, in the very roots of a forgotten basement, the walls were all made of black bricks, each one cast with a particular rune that glowed green in the darkness. There was a rumor amongst the Dark Star Knights that the bricks were black because they were made of fallen stars. Etheil didn’t know if it was true or not, but the bricks did all have a metallic feel to them and the cell smelled of spent gunpowder. The windowless, steel door was painted black as well and bore the same glowing rune on it. Here, in a Black Cell, not even the strongest Dark Star Knight could break free. The magic infused into the cell by the runes prevented any Dark Star power from taking hold and Etheil was as powerless and impotent as any man.

In the soft, green glow of the runic bricks Solastron’s shiny, blue fur seemed more turquoise and his purple stripes brown. Etheil saw his ears twitching and the giant wolf cocked his head slightly. “What is it your ears hear, old friend?”

Solastron rumbled a low growl, as if in contemplation. After a long moment he looked at Etheil and said very softly, “I believe the guards have gone.”

Etheil raised an eyebrow and stroked Solastron’s head. “You sure it’s safe for you to speak?”

The wolf’s ears twitched some more and Etheil could see his black nostrils flaring. “They are gone. All of them.”

Etheil and Solastron had a pact that was as old as their friendship. It was a simple one. Solastron had saved Etheil from the long night in the Blue Wilds, and in return, Etheil would keep Solastron’s secrets. In many ways, Etheil knew he had the better end of the bargain. Not only was his life saved, but he got an amazing companion out of the deal. As an 8-year old boy, having a giant blue and purple wolf who could speak would have been the envy of every child. All Etheil had to do was keep the speaking thing to himself. Even still, having a giant blue and purple wolf who (so far as anybody knew) couldn’t speak still proved to be the envy of everybody. So envious, in fact, that shortly after his return the kids all started calling him dog-boy, a monicker that stuck even to this day.

Etheil stood up and stretched out. He was still in his shroud and his armor but they had taken his sword, Firebrand, and the cell prevented any of his Dark Star powers from working. He could see many things were troubling his old friend and this was the fist time they could talk openly since they arrived in Durtania a few days ago. They had accompanied Brandrir to the city, and upon arriving Solastron bounded off, something the wolf was apt to do whenever they came to a new place or a location they had not been in a long time. The first time he had seen Solastron since arriving at the castle was when he burst through the King’s bedroom window.

“There is a great commotion outside,” rumbled Solastron. He released a slow, contemplative grumble.

“The Rising of the Phoenix has probably begun,” said Etheil. He walked over to the steel door and placed his ear to it, but he could hear nothing. “I’m sure the guards couldn’t help but sneak off to go see the phoenix hatch.”

“No,” said Solastron, padding over to Etheil. “Something is amiss.” He began sniffing at the bottom of the door, his ears focusing as if they could hear far beyond the steel barrier. He rumbled again and looked up. “There is much commotion outside the castle.”

Etheil placed a hand on Solastron’s head and rubbed his soft ears. He couldn’t help but think about the prophesy of the Jinn and the fact that the Council was vehemently opposed to Brandrir taking the throne. His mind flooded with a million different ideas about what all the commotion Solastron could hear was about.

“Do you remember the early days of me and you?” rumbled Solastron softly.

Etheil looked down at the sitting wolf. “Of course.”

“At first you thought I was the spirit of the Blue Wilds,” said Solastron. “But in time I told you the truth of who I am. We have not spoken of that truth in many years.”

Etheil nodded silently.

Solastron looked up at him with those frosted, sapphire eyes of his. “I fear that I hear the echo of my call to duty.”

Etheil’s brow furled as he tried to grasp Solastron’s meaning. He knew that Solastron had been Aeoria’s watchdog before the age of the Great Falling. It was said that if the Goddess was not awakened before the last of the stars faded from the sky, that a new age of death and destruction would come to pass. It was no secret that few stars remained. Most believed that the last of the stars would blink out within the next ten or fifteen years. Etheil wondered if what the Jinn prophesied of Brandrir played into that, and if Solastron was somehow alluding to it now.

“I have told you the history of the Mard Grander, have I not?” said Solastron.

“You have,” said Etheil. “I remember it well.” Even before his father, Fameil, betrayed King Garidrir, Etheil had always loved history and the tales of legend and myth. But of all the books he had ever read—of all the tales he had heard from his father and mother—no records had ever been so complete as the ones told by Solastron. The giant wolf loved to reminisce, and it was something of a torture to Etheil that he was not allowed to share the stories with anybody. History was Solastron’s secret, and Etheil was bound by their pact to keep it that way. The wolf’s roots in history ran nearly as deep as the tales of the ancient Dragon Kings, and Etheil had lain awake many nights listening to him recount forgotten histories and tales.

Solastron’s own tale began in the very First Age, after Aeoria had lit the stars in the heavens for the Dragon Kings. The Dragons arranged all the stars into the constellations, and in the north-western sky, above what is now Sanctuary where it was said Aeoria first set foot upon the mortal earth, the Dragons arranged one special constellation. It was a formation of eight stars arranged in a cross that made up the four-pointed constellation known as the Star of Aeoria. Making up the constellation was a star for each of the seven Dragon Kings, and the eighth star at the heart of the formation was the brightest star in the sky, and it was known as Aeoria’s Star.

But, unbeknownst to all, there was a secret, ninth star just beyond Aeoria’s own. It was dim and outshined by the Goddess’s, and thus it remained hidden to all but the most perceptive eyes. It was the star known as Stella Canis, the Dog Star, and it was Solastron’s own. The Dragon’s used some of their powers to channel the star’s life-force unto the earth, and thus Solastron was born. The Dragon’s charged Solastron to be Aeoria’s watchdog; to be ever vigilant of her and to guard her with his life. Like the star that followed Aeoria’s own, Solastron could often be seen chasing at her heels.

But the story of the Mard Grander that Solastron was asking about started in the Second Age, during the times of the Great Falling. The First Age ended after the Great Mother and Father had left the mortal world forever to become the realms of Heaven and Hell. They had gifted to the people of Duroton the Mard Grander. An age of peace began, and thus started the Second Age.

Apollyon had been banished from the earth in defeat. Darkendrog had fled in shame and hid from the world. Aeoria came to rule as the Goddess Upon the Earth from Mount Empyrean. There, a great fortress-cathedral was built and it became known as Sanctuary. All the kingdoms of man flourished. Peace and prosperity abounded.

But Apollyon brooded in Hell. He lamented the death of Formos, the great blue Dragon of water and ice. He sat upon his throne hating his sister, hating the world of man, even coming to hate the Kald and the Kaldenthrax who both had now forsaken him. The more he brooded, the more he began to delight in tormenting the souls bound to Hell. Twisted in pain and agony, these souls of men became the demons and devils. Apollyon became known as the God Beneath the Earth and ruled from the Infernal Palace which was said to lie across the River of the Damned. At his side were his six Judges of Hell and they commanded his armies of demons. Occasionally they would mount attacks upon the earth, sometimes overtly and sometimes more covertly. In any way he could, Apollyon sought to subvert the peace and harmony that Aeoria brought to the world. By degrees his evil took hold of men and he began to regain a foothold upon the mortal realms once more.

Aeoria, however, was not idle. At her side was Rallenar, the last of the Dragon Kings, and a small number of loyal men and women who she had blessed and sainted. These men and women, the first of the Saints, became known as Aeoria’s Guard, and they were the great protectors of Sanctuary. Upon Mount Cloudborn, at the edge of the Lands of Duroton, Aeoria had the Stellarium built. From there her Oracles watched and foretold her of all Apollyon’s evils and schemes. She sent her Saints out to the world as the great protectors and they fought against the minions of Apollyon.

After a long age, Apollyon’s grip had tightened enough upon the mortal world that he could now bring his ultimate plans to fruition. No longer content with the torment of those bound to his Hell or his petty attacks upon the earth, Apollyon now sought to visit a final destruction on all those he believed had done him wrong, especially Aeoria and her Saints.