The Record of the Saints Caliber (6 page)

But right now she was trapped. Isley was her mentor and she could not betray him. And Celacia? Nuriel looked up at her and mused at how none of the soldiers dared stand anywhere near her. Celacia’s very presence was death. Even from here Nuriel could see the stone beneath her feet was decayed and cracked. The edges of Saint Erygion’s cape too had become withered and decayed from standing next to her for so long.

Nuriel frowned. Her head throbbed and her nose was dripping again. She sniffled and tucked her hair behind her ear.

“Come,” said Isley. “Let us report and see what Celacia has brought us here for.”

Nuriel followed behind Isley as they made their way across the cavernous belly of the volcano. She had not been privy to anything Celacia was up to, and Isley only seemed to tell her things on a need-to-know basis. She hadn’t even known Isley was taking her to this volcano until they reached the Firerims this morning. For the most part the lack of information had been fine with Nuriel. She figured the less she knew, the better. After all, she didn’t really intend to stick with Isley much longer. In fact, she was determined that after she got back to Jerusa she would seek out an Oracle and ask to be reassigned to somebody other than Isley, or better yet, get cleared to be on her own without a mentor. She wasn’t sure yet if she was going to inform them of what Isley had been up to, or even about Celacia. Isley had been kind to her and was a patient and caring mentor. Probably the best mentor she could have hoped for, other than the fact that he had coerced her into working for Celacia, of course. Still, she didn’t like the thought of him being recalled.

Nuriel sniffled. It was too much to think about right now. She would figure all that out later, after she got back to Jerusa. Right now, however, curiosity was starting to get the better of her. She figured that she had at least earned the right to know what Celacia was after, and the answer seemed to be in the molten belly of this volcano. Whatever it was, it was important enough that Celacia risked leading two-hundred soldiers a thousand miles from Jerusa. Unfortunately, in doing so, she had attracted the attention of Dimethica’s King. There was an army on the way, and there would be a showdown here very soon.

As they neared the fiery edge of the pit, Nuriel could feel the roar of churning magma in her chest and the sulfurous reek was overwhelming. Pressure waves of intense heat washed over her with every heave the volcano gave and she could see glowing, molten rocks being tossed at least fifty feet into the giant chimney above. But more than this, Nuriel could feel Celacia’s dread engulf her.

Celacia stood with her back to them, her cape fluttering in the waves of heat, and her strange Star-Armor far more opaque than the glassy blackness of all other suits. Nuriel guessed that the deathly aura of Celacia’s Caliber—the same aura that caused stone, trees and flesh to wither and die in her presence—played its part in dulling her star-metal armor.

Like Saint Erygion who stood next to her, Celacia wore a rare full suit of armor. The arms, legs and breastplate were smooth and shiny, made of concentric bands of the black metal that conformed to her lean, graceful form. At the forearms the armor flared slightly with wicked looking fins and the legs behind the calves had similar fins. The elbows and knees had curved spikes that reminded Nuriel of the claws of the mythological dragons of old. Celacia didn’t wear gauntlets or a helmet, but Nuriel thought her armor must have them since all the full suits of Star-Armor did. To Nuriel’s knowledge only the elite of Aeoria’s Guard—like Saint Erygion—had full suits. But Celacia was not part of Aeoria’s Guard so far as Nuriel knew. If she ever had been, her name had been wiped from the records and forgotten, and the name of Celacia and her strange stellaglyph were nowhere to be found in the records at Sanctuary.

Nuriel and Isley came closer, the dread of Celacia’s Caliber becoming ever more intense. Just before Nuriel could get close enough to see over the edge of the pit, to know what they had come all the way here for, Celacia and Saint Erygion turned around. The look of alarm on Erygion’s face was enough to stop Nuriel and Isley in their tracks, but the massive Saint also whipped the star-metal broadsword from his side, and Nuriel immediately knew he meant to kill them both.

Saint Erygion the Standard Bearer, like all of Aeoria’s Guard, was a titan of a man. Standing a hand taller than six-feet, Erygion was clad in the heavy Star-Armor of Aeoria’s Guard that covered him head to toe. His long, sapphire-blue hair could be seen through his bell-shaped helmet. His eyes were just as blue and looked at them with a terrifying intensity.

“Oh relax,” said Celacia in her chirpy little bird voice. It was a voice that Nuriel found quite at odds with the woman’s deadly Caliber. “Isley and Nuriel are with me.”

Erygion didn’t lower his weapon. “You said no Saints,” he growled, still looking like he might strike them dead at any moment. He could too, and Nuriel knew it. She and Isley together would be cut down in the blink of an eye if Erygion set his sword loose on them. Nuriel didn’t dare draw her own sword in defense, and Isley definitely knew better.

“Yeah, and you Saints were supposed to uphold the integrity of the world,” said Celacia. “So we’re even. Now put your sword away. These two won’t say anything. And besides, I like them and I’ve found them both quite useful thus far.”

Erygion cast Celacia a disapproving glance but obediently sheathed his sword. Erygion was part of Aeoria’s Guard, the most powerful and elite of all the Saints Caliber, and not even he dared defy Celacia. Nuriel didn’t know the extent of Celacia’s power, but the fact that Erygion would bow fealty to her spoke volumes.

“Saint Isley,” said Erygion, tipping his head slightly. Isley bowed his head in return. Erygion looked at Nuriel with something of a wicked little smile. “Saint Nuriel,” he said. “Is being a Saints Caliber everything you hoped and more?”

Nuriel forced a little smile but couldn’t help but look away as she scooped her hair up behind her ear.

“Saint Celacia,” said Isley, bowing his head to her. “Lord Briarthorn has reported that King Armigon has sent a small battalion of knights our way. They approach even as we speak.”

Celacia grimaced. Her bright, emerald eyes were quite striking against her pale complexion and the black of her hair and armor. Again, Nuriel found her beauty quite at odds with her Caliber. Nuriel also found her emerald green eyes something of a mystery. Saints all had eyes the same color as their hair; colors more vivid and gem-like than any mortal human would have. Celacia’s hair was as dark as wet coal, but her eyes were as green and vivid as cut emeralds. “How small is a small battalion?” she asked in her effusive, effervescent little voice.

“Four-hundred men,” said Isley. And then more cautiously added, “And they are accompanied by a Saint.”

Erygion’s face seemed to grow paler than Celacia’s before it twisted in anger. “This is no good,” said Erygion shaking his head. He turned to Celacia and yelled at her. “Nobody can know I’m here, Celacia! Already too many know I’m here!”

“Oh calm down,” said Celacia, giving a dismissive wave. “Trust me, it does me no good either if you’re found out. Just focus and leave it all to me. Besides, once you get this thing out for me you’re free to go.”

Nuriel couldn’t help herself any longer and took a couple steps and peered over the edge and into the vast, fiery lake below. She froze. Her stomach twisted into a knot and her limbs grew numb. She gasped and placed a hand over her mouth.

Celacia giggled. “Oh Nuriel, you’re always so timid. Come have a look, Isley.”

Isley walked over to the edge with Celacia and Erygion, but Nuriel was having a hard time getting her legs to cooperate. Her Star-Armor suddenly felt as intensely heavy as the day she first put it on and it took her a moment to compose herself before she could make herself move closer to the edge.

There, at the bottom of the pit, half submerged in churning, molten rock, was a titanic skull. It was huge and long and terrifying, with fangs larger than the massive stalactites that hung throughout the caverns. The back of the skull was fully submerged in the lava, but its eyes looked upwards, brought to life by the glowing magma within them. From its cavernous mouth sprays of lava shot up into the volcano’s chimney. At first Nuriel thought it was the skull of some monstrous wolf or hellish beast, but then it dawned on her.
It was the skull of a dragon.
But dragons were things of myth, weren’t they?

“What do you think, Nuriel?” said Erygion, holding out his hand, flicking his fingers at her and giving her that wicked little smile of his. “Come a little closer.”

“What…what is it?” asked Nuriel, not daring to get any closer to the edge than she already was. Nuriel had a notion that the thing gave life to the very volcano.

Celacia giggled. “You’re so funny, Nuriel. I think his name was Felvurn. Felvurn of the Flames if I remember right. I think I killed him a long time ago.”

Nuriel looked at Celacia. “You…killed him?”

“Well, to be fair, my master might have killed him,” chirped Celacia, fluttering her hands. “It was a long time ago and my memory is a little fuzzy.”

“You don’t remember if you killed him? How could you forget?” said Nuriel chancing a step closer. Seemed to her it would be impossible to forget such a feat. Judging by the size of that skull, the thing must have eaten herds of cattle for dinner. And if Celacia had a master, Nuriel didn’t dare ask about him.

“You’re what? Twenty-five?” asked Celacia.

“Twenty-one,” said Nuriel, too proud not to correct Celacia. Nuriel was the youngest to ever be accepted into the Saints Caliber and she was quite proud of that fact.

“Wow, you are young,” chirped Celacia. “Isley told me you were something special. I can’t wait to see you in action. But anyway, my point is, you’re twenty-one and you probably can’t even remember being born, can you? I’d say that’s a pretty big event.”

Nuriel frowned. She supposed being born was a pretty big event and she couldn’t remember a single detail of it. No Saint could remember any of that so far as Nuriel knew. “Well, no…” said Nuriel.

“Well, Felvurn here died a lot longer than twenty-one years ago,” said Celacia. “Forgive me if I can’t remember all the details from a thousand years ago.”

“A thousand years ago…” Nuriel was stunned. That was back when the Goddess herself walked the earth. Could it be possible that Celacia was really that old? “Who…who are you?”

Isley looked at Celacia, his silver eyes alight with piqued curiosity as well. Erygion chuckled with mocking knowingness.

“Oh stop it, Erygion.” said Celacia. “You didn’t know either. They really don’t teach you Saints anything these days. You’ll all thank me once Admael is gone. Now come on. Let’s get this thing out of here.”

Nuriel’s heart skipped a beat.
Once Admael’s gone?
Did she mean to kill Holy Father Admael? Nuriel’s head wagged of its own accord. That wouldn’t happen. Not in a million years. Nuriel was a Saint of Aeoria; one of the Saints Caliber. Holy Father Admael was beloved and blessed; the one who could speak to the sleeping goddess. Nuriel backed up a couple steps, her hand reaching to the handle of the large, star-metal claymore strapped to her back.

Isley looked at her with great alarm and shook his head and wagged a finger.

Celacia clucked her tongue. “Oh please,” she said, waving her hand dismissively. “You wouldn’t last ten seconds against me. Now come on and watch Erygion lift this thing out.”

Nuriel couldn’t move. She could hardly breathe. It felt like her Star-Armor breastplate was consuming her, crushing her chest. She shook her head. Was it really to end like this for her? Youngest to ever make Saints Caliber, youngest to ever die in the field? She backed up a few more feet and turned. The soldiers were all blocking the way now. If she had to, Nuriel could blow through them all, and Aeoria help the ones that got in her way.

A familiar hand grabbed her from behind. “Don’t do this,” warned Isley. “Please, Nuriel.”

Nuriel turned around and looked Isley in those molten silver eyes of his. Past him, at the edge of the pit, Erygion and Celacia waved at her, both of them smiling.

“Please, Nuriel,” said Isley, his voice soft and calm. “Trust me. Nobody is more loyal to the sleeping goddess than Aeoria’s Guard, and Erygion himself is here. I said it before, Nuriel, that there are things you don’t know…that I don’t even know yet. Stay the course with me, Nuriel.
Please.
Celacia is on our side, trust me on this.”

Nuriel had to turn her eyes away. She looked down at her hand, at the stellaglyph emblazoned upon it. She bit her lip. “What is it?” she asked, looking back up at Isley. “What is that skull?”

“I don’t know.” admitted Isley.

Nuriel looked down again and shook her head. She wiped at her nose. It was running again. She was definitely catching a cold. She buried her head in her hands for a moment. She didn’t know what to do; what to think or what to know.

“Oh, come on, Nuriel,” called Celacia. “You’re going to miss all the fun!”

Nuriel looked back up at Isley. His eyes were sincere, but urging. “Trust me,” he said, grabbing her around the shoulders. Those caring eyes of his turned up in a faint smile along with his mouth.

Nuriel bit her lip and looked down, exhaling deeply. Reluctantly she took Isley’s hand.

Nuriel and Isley stood behind Celacia at the edge of the pit. Nuriel couldn’t help but notice how the stone beneath Celacia’s feet crumbled and deteriorated wherever she stepped. All throughout the cavern were trails of gray, desiccated earth and even upon the walls there were a couple large patches of dead stone where Nuriel thought she must have leaned up against at some point. Nuriel didn’t know who—or maybe what—Celacia was. Everything about her was so similar to all the Saints Nuriel had ever known, yet at the same time she was so different and foreign.