The Record of the Saints Caliber (54 page)

Isley looked again at all the open papers on the table and made a little scowl. He had been made to feel very uncomfortable by Egret over his complete lack of understanding of the written word. Despite that, part of him felt even more uncomfortable with the notion of having to learn it. In fact, Isley found that he dreaded the thought of having to learn it. Egret had already scheduled him time with some of the castle’s scholars, and learning all the letters of the alphabet seemed a task more daunting than being sent out to face down one of Apollyon’s Unbound.

Isley’s silver eyes glanced over to Egret who stood like a black specter beside Balin’s chair. Egret seemed a fair and just commander. More fair and more just than any King or Exalted he had ever had to work for. Despite that, Isley found himself torn about the man. Egret, like everybody he had met in Duroton, seemed to hold a loyalty to the country that surpassed any loyalty to the Goddess, Aeoria. They made vows and pacts and swore oaths to the name of Duroton, yet never did he hear a single prayer to the Goddess. Egret had assured him that the people of Duroton knew of Her and held great love for the Goddess, and that there were churches to Her throughout the country. Even still, everybody seemed to worship the country of Duroton, to hold it in greater esteem and respect than the very Goddess.

Isley wondered if it had anything to do with their ability to read and write and calculate numbers. Perhaps in their books was hidden the sway of Apollyon, and over the ages it had slowly led them all astray from the Goddess. Isley found himself very curious to visit one of their churches, to see if their teachings were the same; to see if the people of Duroton held as great a love and respect for Aeoria as those of the southern kingdoms.

Isley chewed his lip in quiet contemplation. He wondered if Egret’s desire to have him learn to read and write was a secret ploy to get him to fall from Aeoria’s graces and to the will of Apollyon. As long as Isley could remember, he had always been told that the lands of Duroton were evil and forbidden. It was their people, after all, who betrayed the Goddess and caused her to fall to her eternal slumber. Thus far, Isley did not immediately see anything that made him believe that the people of Duroton were all servants of Apollyon, but then again, he had only been here eight days.

Isley breathed deep and focused on his original intention. He reminded himself that whether Duroton was a place of good or evil was irrelevant. He was here because he believed in Celacia’s promise to him, that in Duroton lied the key to awakening the Goddess. Even if that chance were remote; even if that chance turned out to be false, he had to try. He had to be here in Duroton and follow his fate. To stay in the southern kingdoms—to do as Sanctuary had done for ages—would reap the same fate as all other Saints before him, and that was a Goddess who remained sleeping. As a Saint, Isley truly believed it was his duty to awaken the sleeping Goddess, and here in Duroton he perhaps had that chance. Once again Isley felt his worries and doubts washing away as he found his resolve. He would stay the course here in Duroton. He would stay the course with Celacia. And if that meant aligning himself with Egret and his King and this Council, then so be it. He breathed deep and exhaled. Even if it meant having to learn words and letters.

“So, Saint Isley,” said Balin over the dying smalltalk of the Councilmen. He straightened a stack of documents and then leaned back in his chair and looked up at Isley. “I hear Lord Egret has employed our scholars to your service?”

Isley looked down at Balin and nodded his head softly. “He has.”

“Tell me,” said Balin. “How are your studies coming along?”

Isley tried but failed to contain his frown. He breathed deeply and said, “There are more letters than I can remember. I see no point in reading words that men can clearly speak.”

Balin smirked and craned his neck over to Egret. “Lord Egret, you don’t feel you’re wasting valuable castle resources on such an old student? Most begin their studies before their sixth winter.”

Part of Isley hoped that Balin’s words might push a change of heart in his commander, but Egret stood motionless and said, “All men beneath my command should be learned.”

“Truth be told, I’m not so certain any warrior should be learned.” said Balin, sitting upright in his chair. “I think a soldier’s talent should be in his ability to swing a sword at the opponent his commander tells him, and not in his ability to recite the philosophies of Argostle or the poems of Chaldain.”

“I believe my soldiers should know the Oaths of Old and the Rights of the Sons and Daughters of Duroton just as well as they know their swords.” said Egret.

Balin exhaled loudly out his nose. “Be that as it may, we can’t afford to teach every Saint in the Saints Alliance how to read and write. If all goes as Celacia says it will, we’ll need an army of teachers.”

“The Saints Alliance is under the command of Lord Tarquin.” said Egret. “Whether or not he wishes them to learn is his concern. All those beneath my command must be learned.”

“I suppose it is your right as Commander of the Durotonian Guard.” said Balin with a dismissive tone. Then more loudly he said, “Let us come to order.” The murmurs throughout the table died down and Balin said, “Let us come to order beneath the Duroton sky.” Balin adjusted his stack of papers as he casually spoke, “The King’s Council is now convened. If any would not speak beneath the Duroton sky, let him be excused so that the Lands take no heed.” He craned his neck around and looked expectantly at Isley.

Isley’s chrome hair shone brilliantly in the sun as he returned a stern gaze but said nothing. Inwardly, however, he couldn’t help but think they were Aeoria’s skies, not Duroton’s. These men all thought it was their beloved lands they owed their allegiance and loyalty to. He found it very insular of them to speak more devoutly of their skies than of the very Goddess who created them.

“Very well,” said Balin, turning back around. He stood up and pushed his seat in. “I, Balin Yagdril, Council of Nobles, shall act as Standing Speaker.” Balin went down the line addressing the rest of the Council by name and title and Isley inwardly praised himself for having gotten them all right, including Aldur and Hymnar. Finally Balin concluded by saying, “We have with us Lord Egret and Saint Isley as Standing Guests of this Council. Now, let us come to order for the Lands of Duroton.”

“For the Lands of Duroton.” spoke the entire Council, including Egret and Isley, more or less as one voice.

“Let’s get right down to business, shall we?” said Balin, sounding rather perfunctory with the entire matter of the Council. He didn’t bother to divert his attention from his own stack of papers even as he addressed Egret. “Lord Egret, it has been five days since the failed Rising ceremony. Our King is looking for an update on the status of a new phoenix egg, and as Captain of the Durotonian Guard, the responsibility of its procurement ultimately rests upon your shoulders.”

“I have the Land’s best huntsmen all out in force, Lord Balin.” said Egret. “It’s just a matter of time.”

“Time that our dear King does not have, and time that our nobles cannot spare.” said Balin, still hunched over his stacks of papers as he stood. He set them down and turned to Egret. “We need that egg, quick as can be. It is the will of King Garidrir and this Council that a Rising ceremony be held for Dagrir immediately. We expect a new egg to be found within the next day or two. We have all the nobles on hold here at the castle, but many cannot stay away from their own cities much longer.”

“It’s also a financial strain.” added Jord, and Rankin Parvailes nodded silently from his seat as he scribbled in a ledger.

Egret bowed his head slightly. “Understood.”

Balin looked Egret in his blue eyes and exhaled loudly, as if frustrated. “I certainly hope so.” He stood and chewed his lip for a moment and then said, “Celacia shall be arriving with the skull shortly. How is its home coming along?”

“Done and ready.” said Egret. “We’ve cleared the space in the Yotun mines and we’ve carved out the chamber to hold it. The Jinn are installing the levitation crystals to keep it off the floor even as we speak.”

Balin nodded, a pleased look finally melting his soured features. “Very good, Lord Egret.”

“What of the roads?” asked Hymnar, the Councilman of Domestic Affairs, from his spot on the table. “Have they been cleared?”

“Mostly.” said Egret. “I have a half-legion of soldiers stationed in Graystone awaiting Celacia’s arrival. Once the ship lands they shall escort the skull to Mount Yotun. Advance parties will clear the road a day ahead.”

“Very good,” said Hymnar. “The skull is not yet common knowledge amongst our nobles. Lord Argyle of Graystone knows of it, since his port is receiving it. Other than him, we’d like to keep this under wraps for a while.”

“How much has this cost?” asked Jord.

Egret shrugged. “The skull has not arrived at Mount Yotun yet. I estimate the coffer for this project is still about half full.”

Jord leaned in and started whispering to Rankin Parvailes. Balin sighed and looked at Isley, as if appraising him. Then he turned his gaze back to Egret and asked, almost cautiously, “And the…
artifact?
”

“Saint Isley knows of the Mard Grander.” spoke Egret. “And it is safe and sound in my possession.”

Balin scowled and there were some hushed murmurs amongst the table. Balin bit his lip and shook his head, looking away from Egret. He cast his wary eyes back to Isley and asked, “And what exactly does Saint Isley know about the Mard Grander?”

“With all due respect,” said Egret. “Saint Isley is—”

“The understanding was that nobody was to know.” said Gefjon Jolori, quite severely. He tapped his fingers on the table.

Isley fidgeted as he stood, feeling slightly uncomfortable now.

“Saint Isley’s cause is aligned with ours.” assured Egret. “He is as resolute as I am in assuring that it does not fall to Celacia’s hands.”

Balin pursed his lips into a frown as he looked Isley up and down.

“I may have come here under the banner of Celacia,” said Isley softly and sincerely. “But my allegiance is unwaveringly to the sleeping Goddess. If Celacia intends to use it against my Goddess, then I shall stand steadfast in her way.”

Balin sighed, still frowning. “Celacia holds his Sanguinastrum. How loyal to
our
cause can he possibly be?” he muttered.

“I am fully loyal.” stated Isley, his silver eyes shining like steel in the sunlight streaming from the ceiling. “I am committed to making sure Duroton remains the possessor of the Mard Grander, and not Celacia.”

“You are speaking beneath the Duroton sky,” reminded Gefjon, holding up a finger, almost accusingly.

“I am speaking beneath Aeoria’s sky.” said Isley, his voice soft but sharply edged.

“How much does he know, Lord Egret?” Gefjon was almost yelling. The Councilmen at the table all leaned in and began whispering to one another, their faces red, angry.

“Saint Isley is my lieutenant. As my lieutenant I have shared what I know about Celacia and the Mard Grander with him.” said Egret to some gasps from the table.

“This is dangerously close to treason, Lord Egret.” warned Balin.

“Councilmen,” said Isley. “The Mard Grander was never a secret to me. I knew from the day I followed Celacia here that her intent was to claim this ancient relic from you, and as I understand it, you promised it to her beneath this sky of yours.”

Balin’s dark eyes flashed, but Isley began again before he could get a word out.

“But I shall not fault you for seeking to betray her.” said Isley. “In fact, you can do no less.”

There were some angry whispers and raised voices amongst the Councilmen. Balin regarded Egret severely and said, “This could be considered treason. Isley is not even a citizen of Duroton and you share with him the secrets of this Council? Lord Egret, this is completely unacceptable.”

“Saint Isley is sworn to me.” said Egret, standing as a motionless specter. “I trust his loyalty completely.”

“You are renowned in your ability to judge the character of others, Lord Egret,” cracked the ancient voice of Rankin Parvailes. “But Saints are not men like you and me. You cannot be steadfast in your trust of him.” There were some murmurs of concurrment amongst the men at the table.

“Celacia told me of the Kald, and their demonic god, the Kaldenthrax.” spoke Isley above the angry mumbling of the Councilmen. “Like she told your people, she told me that they had once betrayed her master, and that she had unfinished business with them and sought their demise. However, she also told me that the hammer had the power to awaken the Goddess and that she would see the task done. In that, I never believed her.

“Like Egret and your Jinn, I do not believe she intends to destroy the Kald or awaken the Goddess. I believe, as Egret does, that she is the herald of the final prophecy. Every night I look to the sky and the few stars that remain. Within a decade the last of the stars will be gone. Celacia is here to herald the final age, the age of chaos and destruction. So, if it shall assuage you of your fears and doubts of me, I say to you, beneath this Duroton sky you hold so dear, that I shall not let that come to pass. And, upon my own terms, I swear to you upon the last remaining stars of our Goddess that same oath.”

There were some exchanges of wary glances amongst the Councilmen. Balin looked at Isley. “You know this to be certain? That Celacia is the herald of the final age?”