The Record of the Saints Caliber (50 page)

“Ten-thousand?” questioned Arric loudly. “This is going to be a large city to have to take with just us and a thousand men.”

“You can’t rightfully call it a city,” said Tarquin. “It’s fur tents and whale bone huts. Wood and stone are rare and valuable in the Icelands, which is why it was so devastating when the Crashingstone Isles were taken from them. It’s why we have had to pay them restitution for so long. They have a wall of snow and ice and little else. The closest thing to a fortress we’ll come across is their outpost right at the shores. Once we get through that it won’t be anything to take the city. They have no streets, no tall buildings to hide behind. Us and a thousand men will take them no problem. This is what you Saints do, right? Strike fear? Quell dissent? Keep cities in line?”

Tia sneered at Nuriel. “Some of us more than others.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.” said Gamalael with mock concern as he looked Nuriel in the eyes and rubbed her leg, surreptitiously moving it up toward her crotch.

Nuriel exhaled her disgust and pushed him off her. “Get off!”

Gamalael turned and looked at Arric and then Umbrial. “Maybe I will!” he bellowed and they all began laughing.

“Focus.” hissed Tarquin, quite unamused. “We have a job to do now.” He looked at Gamalael and Arric. “Besides, plunder and spoils go to the victors.” Here his lips turned up in a sinister little smile. “And there are a lot of women in that ten-thousand.”

Gamalael and Arric looked at each other and clanked their gauntleted fists together.

“Men and children too, if you’re into that kind of thing.” squeaked Tia, jabbing her elbow into Umbrial’s side.

The large man’s brow furled and he turned his eyes up.

“Well you didn’t partake of Nuriel,” she said. “And I haven’t seen your eyes on me. I don’t know, maybe you’re not into women?”

Umbrial grabbed the spiked mace from his side and clanked it loudly into his black, star-metal gauntlet, his tourmaline eyes acidic. “I’m into this,” he said, banging it into his hand again. Then he looked at Gamalael and Arric across from him and spoke loudly above the laboring engine. “You should all be a little more focused on this right now. Ten-thousand men is only ten men each for the soldiers to take, and that’s not considering how many we take out. Still, we’ve never dealt with barbarians and I’ve seen villagers take out a Saint who got too cocksure and let his guard down.”

Tarquin looked at Umbrial and gave a pleased nod, then addressed the others. “They are primitive but tough. Keep your guards up. You might be Saints, but one well-placed arrow or spear and you die just like any other. When we land, take my lead. Move quickly through the fray and take out as many as you can, as quickly as you can. The soldiers will follow behind as a mop-up crew. Remember, no survivors. No witnesses. Leave no one alive.” Tarquin paused and now his dark eyes found Nuriel. “That includes women and children.”

Nuriel felt her stomach lurch and looked away.

“Surprise, surprise. Nuriel doesn’t have the nerve for the job.” crowed Tia, eying her with disdain.

“I’ll stay back and keep an eye on her,” said Arric, hunching around Gamalael to look at Nuriel. He gave her a wink.

Nuriel didn’t look up but she could feel Tarquin’s cold eyes on her. “This is the job.” he said firmly. “Jobs like this are the entire reason for the Saints Alliance. The entire reason Celacia gave you to me. As I understand it, this is a job no different than anything you’d be asked to do in the southern kingdoms.”

Nuriel bit her lip as she stared down at the floor. She breathed deeply and closed her eyes, then exhaled long and slowly. Beside her she could hear Gamalael and Arric talking amongst themselves and chanced a glance over. Gamalael had a small leather folio opened on his lap and was trying to keep it steady as the ship crested wave after wave, jostling them all about. Arric helped hold the folio steady and Gamalael took out a syringe. It was a large thing with a slender glass tube and brass fittings for fingers at the end. The plunger had a brass thumbhole. Tia walked over and held onto the railing. Out of the small leather pouch at her side she produced a vial of clear liquid. Nuriel watched intently as Tia held it steady and Gamalael dipped the silver syringe into it and took up the liquid.

“Do me first.” Gamalael said. “Let’s just do our necks so we don’t have to get our armor off.” He handed Arric the injector.

Arric took the device in his hand. Gamalael presented his neck and tilted his head to one side. Very steadily, against the jostling ship, Arric pushed the needle into his carotid artery. Then, with a slow thumb, pushed the clear liquid into his body. Gamalael hissed as Arric took the needle out. He made a few deep breaths and cocked his neck back and forth. “Thank Aeoria! Feeling better already!”

“Here, do me.” said Arric, handing Gamalael the syringe. In the same fashion Gamalael injected Arric and then finally he did Tia.

“You guys want some Ev?” asked Gamalael. “We’ve got plenty.”

Tarquin looked at them with some amusement but shook his head.

Umbrial huffed a laugh and crossed his arms. “To me this is just another job. I never take that stuff.”

“Yeah, but, women and kids, man.” said Arric. He leaned back in his seat, looking up at the ceiling. He smiled brightly and exhaled loudly. “Kind of helps take the edge off.”

Tia rubbed at her neck and sat back down next to Umbrial. For the first time that Nuriel could remember the woman didn’t have a snotty look on her face and she actually looked contented. “Feels good,” she said, melting into her seat. “You don’t have to need it to like it, you know. Makes everything just go away.”

Umbrial looked at her and huffed another little laugh.

“So, you don’t care if there’s kids?” asked Gamalael, relaxing in his seat. “Babies too? It’s just a job to you?”

Umbrial looked at him and shrugged. “Just objects. They’re all just objects to be dealt with. Just like training back at Sanctuary. They’re all just wood and straw.”

Nuriel looked at Umbrial. “You just think of them all as objects?” she said. All heads suddenly turned to her.

Umbrial seemed a little shocked that Nuriel had spoken so abruptly, but he shrugged off her question nonetheless. “We all have to deal with the job somehow, Nuriel. Bear and endure. Bear and endure, Nuriel.”

Nuriel watched as Gamalael began packing up his folio and, almost surprising herself, she quietly said, “I want some.”

Gamalael stopped what he was doing and looked at her with glassy blue eyes. Arric leaned over too. “Huh?”

“Did she just say she wants some?” piped Tia, still melted in her seat and not bothering to really look at her.

Gamalael laughed. “Really? You really want some?”

Nuriel eyed the injector. She bit her lip and then looked at Gamalael. “Give me some.”

Umbrial raised an eyebrow and Tarquin watched her curiously but Nuriel didn’t care anymore. She repeated herself. “Just give me some.”

Gamalael looked at Arric and the two shrugged. “Ok,” said Gamalael, and he unpacked his injector again.

“Wow Nuriel,” said Tia as she looked up at the ceiling, reclining in her bench. “I didn’t think you had it in you. I’m actually impressed.”

“Don’t give her too much,” cautioned Umbrial. “Remember, she’s not used to it.”

“Yeah, I know.” said Gamalael as he drew some liquid up into the injector.

“You almost gave her way too much that last time.” reminded Umbrial.

Gamalael looked at Umbrial and then squeezed a little of the liquid back into the vial. He looked at Nuriel. “You ready?”

Nuriel scooted herself over to him. “Just…go slow.” she said.

Gamalael placed a hand on her forehead and tilted her head to the side. “Here, just hold still.”

Nuriel could feel the cold steel tap around her neck a couple times and then abruptly bite into her skin. She grit her teeth for a moment, but almost instantly a pleasing warmth washed over her and her stomach began to flutter with joyous excitement. It was the same feeling she had had as a child back at Sanctuary when Mother Brendaline would pass out berry tarts. She swore she could even taste them. She felt giddy. Overjoyed.

“Nuriel…Nuriel…” She became aware that Gamalael was tapping her shoulder. “Nuriel, are you alright?”

Nuriel looked Gamalael in those large, sapphire eyes of his and smiled brightly. Her leg began to bounce excitedly. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Gamalael and Arric laughed. Nuriel even heard Umbrial chuckle.

Tia cackled deep and long. “You excited, Nuriel?”

Nuriel shrugged and looked up at the ceiling. A few heavy drops of seawater fell on her forehead. She closed her eyes, taking in the sensation. It was cool and she remembered baths back at Sanctuary when she was a little girl. She could see and feel Mother Margret dipping the wooden cup into the bucket and gently pouring it over her scalp. Nuriel leaned back and exhaled contentedly, dearly wishing more water would drip upon her face.

“So I take it you’re with us?” asked Umbrial, completely amused by her.

Nuriel smiled, her eyes still closed, and she nodded gently. “Mmm.” She could hear the chuckles of the others, and she too began to laugh but didn’t bother to open her eyes. She loved Mother Margret. Those big, sparkling, ruby eyes of hers. Nuriel extended her arm and swore she could feel Margret’s glistening ruby hair in her tiny fingers. In her mind she was laughing with Karinael and they both made a game in the bath of tugging at Margret’s long hair and she indulged them by pretending not to know which one did it.

“There’s my girl,” she heard Tarquin say. “There’s the Saint I was promised.”

Nuriel felt something cold and heavy laid upon her chest. She opened her eyes and saw Tarquin looming over her. Her star-metal claymore was resting across her body.

“Your sword.” he said. “I’m going to trust that you’ll do your job.”

Nuriel smiled and closed her eyes, her arms tightening around her sword as she hugged it. In her mind it was Karinael, older now. They were grown. It was the hug they had exchanged when she had found out she was accepted into the Saints Caliber. She remembered how happy and sad they had both been that day. She raised a finger to wipe the tear from Karinael’s cheek. She began laughing and kicking her legs out.

Umbrial and the others all laughed.

“Well, I knew you’d be happy to get it back.” said Tarquin with a chuckle. Then, taking on a more serious tone said, “Alright. We’re fifteen minutes out. Remember, I’ll take the lead. I want you all to follow and just move as quickly as you can. I’ll bring down the outpost, you take out the survivors. Once the outpost is out of the way, we move quickly to Orün. Remember, there can be no survivors.”

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

Tarquin stood near the front of the ship, sword in hand and a long, black cloak bundled about him, worn over his black armor. The Saints all stood behind him wrapped in similar cloaks that would provide some proof against the biting north winds. Beyond the steel confines of the ship came a series of long, baleful notes; primitive horns calling out a warning. Nuriel felt the ship jar and slow abruptly, a terrible scraping sound erupting from beneath the steel floor. The forward wall of the ship fell open and the subdued light of the early evening sun rushed in. The ramp impacted the rocky shore with a terrible shudder and led out onto the icy beach.

Nuriel squinted her eyes as she looked out. White snow and drifts frozen into strange patterns were spread out as far as the eye could see, and she felt mesmerized by them. Tarquin rushed from the ramp, hopping over the large stones of the shore that were crusted with clumps of white ice. Umbrial came quickly behind him, followed by the rest, and Nuriel came upon their heels. Over her shoulder Nuriel could see the churning, gray ocean spread out beneath the murky skies. The dark forms of the other nine ships were about a mile out, coming in quickly.

Hanging low upon the western horizon sat the sun. It was a pale disc desperately trying to burn its way through the relentless gray clouds that floated in layers and seemed to churn as much as the seas. There were some canoes and longboats made of whale bone and seal skin that lolled and clanked from their moorings nearby. Ahead of them, about fifty yards out, stood a pair of tall towers erected from the long trunks of felled pines. Surrounding the towers was a wall of timbers carved into jagged, forward-facing spikes.

Nuriel’s mind flopped around a bit at the sight, her mind in awe, thinking how like the maw of the dragon skull it looked. Each timber was a tooth, and its throat even began to flicker with fiery life. From the tops of the towers haggard men in fur pelts sounded the horns again, but in Nuriel’s mind she saw the dragon’s mouth open, letting loose a terrible roar.

Nuriel was jarred back to reality by Umbrial. “Hey, you alright?” he pushed her hard on the shoulder again.

Nuriel shook her head and looked around at the others. She sniffled and tucked her golden hair behind her ear. She smiled. “Oh, yeah. I’m fine.” She pointed out to the fortress outpost. “Doesn’t it look like the skull?”

“Apollyon below,” snarled Umbrial, now giving Gamalael a harsh shove on the shoulder. “She’s hallucinating. You gave her too much.”

“How the fuck am I supposed to know how much to give her?” retorted Gamalael. “I ain’t used to doing new Saints. Maybe she’s—”