The Record of the Saints Caliber (88 page)

Nuriel breathed deep and looked at Karinael. Part of her wanted to just break down and tell Karinael that they had wasted their youths dreaming of a life that never existed. She wanted to tell Karinael about the burning villagers, about the arrogance and maliciousness of the Exalteds, and about the corruption and depravity. She wanted to tell Karinael that the biggest threat was not Unbounds and Infernals, but they themselves and the Exalteds and Kings they were forced to serve. And then, another part of her wanted to tell her about Celacia and Duroton. She wanted to tell her that she had her own Sanguinastrum; That she had come close to abandoning Aeoria, Sanctuary and even Holy Father. There was just too much. Too many things she couldn’t tell her; couldn’t
ever
tell her. Nuriel rubbed her face into her hands, reconsidering her choice not to take anymore Ev.

“Is something wrong?” asked Karinael, her voice now taking on an edge of deep concern. She turned on the bed and placed her hands on Nuriel’s shoulders. “What’s wrong, Nuriel? Are… Are you in trouble?”

Nuriel sighed and looked at Karinael. “No… It’s just…” Nuriel sighed. “I don’t know.”

Karinael rubbed Nuriel’s back. “You know,” said Karinael playfully. “There’s rumors you killed
two
Infernals all by yourself.”

Nuriel looked up. Karinael was smiling at her.

“Rumors that you totally kick the butt out of Apollyon out there…”

Nuriel couldn’t help but smile herself now. “What other rumors?”

“Well, let’s see,” said Karinael. “There’s the rumors that you and a bunch of other Saints fought against an Unbound.” Karinael paused. Then she said more softly, “And that your mentor, Isley, died in the fight.”

Nuriel bit her lip and looked down. She tucked her hair behind her ear. She really wanted to tell Karinael everything, but she knew there was no way she could. She hated lying to her friend, even more than she hated lying to the Oracles and Sin Eaters. Unfortunately, Nuriel knew these were things she could never tell Karinael. Not only would it put herself into danger, but it would put Karinael into danger as well. Her actions might have already put Karinael into danger. Nuriel rubbed her arm. Already those pleasant dreams were beginning to mix with the bitter poison of reality.

“Is it true?” asked Karinael.

Nuriel didn’t look at her. She just nodded her head. She felt Karinael’s arms wrap around her and her body press against her’s.

“I’m so sorry,” said Karinael. She kissed Nuriel on the head and held her close. “I heard Isley was very kind. Do you want to talk about it?”

Nuriel shook her head.

“Is…Is that what the Holy Few wanted to speak with you about?” asked Karinael.

“More or less.” said Nuriel.

“So, did they just drill you about it this whole time?” asked Karinael. “I’ve heard the Oracles can be kind of a bother about things.”

Nuriel really didn’t want to discuss it anymore. Already she felt dangerously close to spilling everything to her friend, and she just couldn’t do that to Karinael. Not only that, but part of Nuriel wanted Karinael to be able to hold on to those dreams they had once shared; those pleasant dreams of how they thought life in the Saints Caliber would be.

Nuriel shook her head. “No.” she said. “After the meeting I just needed some time so I found this empty hall with a stained glass window of Holy Father, and I stayed there a while.”

Karinael rubbed Nuriel’s back. “I understand. I heard that Isley was kind and patient.”

“I met a little girl.” said Nuriel, hoping Karinael wouldn’t mind the change of subject. “A little girl with the brightest, deepest red hair and eyes I’ve ever seen on a Saint. She couldn’t have been more than five.”

Karinael smiled. “She was in the Holy Palace?”

“Yeah.” said Nuriel, smiling herself as she remembered the girl’s round face and beaming eyes. “She was cute. Said her name was Eulalee. She had caught a little mouse. Said it was hurt but that she healed it.”

Karinael laughed. “Remember when we used to pretend we had Caliber powers and we’d go around pretending to save people?”

Nuriel nodded. “Only this little girl really did.”

“No way!” said Karinael, her mouth spreading into a wide smile.

Nuriel looked at Karinael. “For real. I didn’t believe it either. She put the mouse in my hand and showed me how she did it. She shined her Caliber as white and bright as I can shine mine. I felt it. She really did heal it.”

“For real?” asked Karinael. “Wow! Looks like you might have some competition in a few years!”

“Yeah, tell me about it.” said Nuriel. “And then one of the Mothers came running up and scolded her. It was funny, the Mother asked her how she had gotten into the palace. The little girl just looked up at her and said, as if it were no big deal, ‘I jumped up the cliffs’.”

Karinael laughed. “For real?!”

Nuriel smiled and nodded. “And then the Mother dragged her off and she was moaning about how she didn’t want to go back and play with the others because they’re all mean.”

“What a cutie!” said Karinael. “I remember two other little girls with that same attitude.”

Nuriel looked at Karinael and smiled. “Do you remember Mother Margret?”

Karinael laughed. “You mean the baths she’d give us?”

Nuriel laughed. “Yeah. She had big, ruby eyes too. I was thinking about her not too long ago. Remember how we’d pull her hair and she’d pretend not to know which one of us did it?”

“She’d always get the bath water just right for us.” said Karinael fondly.

“And remember Mother Brendaline’s berry tarts?”

“Oh, those were the best!” said Karinael. “Remember that time you got us in trouble by sneaking an entire plate of them into your room?”

Nuriel laughed. “Yeah. We had berry all over our faces and stood there denying we ever took them.”

“We?!” shot Karinael with a chuckle. “
You’re
the one who denied it! You blamed me!”

Nuriel breathed deep, smiling at the flood of memories of all the Mothers that had looked after them. She knew that many of them were probably still working in the youth dorms. “Do you think it’s true?”

“What? That you stole the tarts and then tried blaming it on me?”

“No.” said Nuriel. “About where we come from. Where Saints are born.”

A puzzled look came over Karinael. “You mean in the Stellanatarium?” She shrugged her shoulders. “Yeah. I mean, where else would we come from? We’re not humans. It’s not like we have parents.”

Nuriel twisted her lips, thinking to herself. Within the Holy Palace, beyond the tops of the clouds, the highest tower was known as the Stellanatarium. Only on the most cloudless of days could it be seen from the streets of Sanctuary. It was domed by pure crystal and it was said that the moon’s silver rays always shined upon it by night. Within its confines was a golden statue of the Goddess, Aeoria, with her arms held out, holding a bassinet. Within the nightly heavens the stars recorded the deeds of Saints, and whenever a great deed had been accomplished they would send down their blessings to Sanctuary in the form of a baby Saint. The moon’s rays would shine upon the golden bassinet in Aeoria’s arms and a child would be born within it, steel breastplate upon it already.

Of course, only the six Holy Mothers were ever allowed within the Stellanatarium. They looked much like the Bishops, tall and in red with black masks. Nuriel had never seen them in person. She remembered a picture of them when she was a child. It was hung upon one of the walls in the youth dorms. There was also a fountain there that surrounded golden statues of them. The six Holy Mothers were said to be the sole care providers for the baby Saints until they were three-years old. At the age of three, young Saints were moved to the youth dorms to be looked after and cared for by the Mothers there.

Periodically, as they outgrew their steel breastplates, they’d be taken to be fitted with new ones. It was always something of a traumatic event that no child Saint ever looked forward to. They’d be taken by the Oracles and Sin Eaters to a special chamber. There they’d be made to kneel upon their hands and knees on the stone floor. The Sin Eaters would drape them in black shrouds and they’d be blindfolded as they cut the old breastplate from their back and fitted and welded a new one in place. All the while the Oracles would be chanting strange prayers in the ancient language.

The silver, steel breastplates were supposedly a symbol of their origins as a blessing from the stars. Saints were born with a breastplate and died with one. Removing it was forbidden and punishable by death. As far as Nuriel knew, there was never an instance of a Saint removing their breastplate on their own. Only the Saints Caliber ever received star-metal breastplates. Those were given during the Call to Guard Ceremony. Once on, the star-metal breastplate was permanent. Nuriel knew she would die with it on. Karinael would die in her steel one, unless she was made a Saints Caliber and given Star-Armor.

“Why do you ask?” said Karinael.

Nuriel shrugged. “It’s just, there’s not many stars left. Not as many blessings.”

Karinael nodded solemnly. “They say that all the stars will be gone in less than twenty years. Once that happens, there won’t be any more Saints born.”

Nuriel bit her lip and looked down at the floor. “We’re living in the end times, Karinael. We are Saints of the final age.”

Karinael pushed Nuriel on the shoulder playfully. “Well that’s why you need to be out there figuring out how to awaken the Goddess!”

Nuriel looked up at Karinael. She was smiling at her. Nuriel smiled too and tapped Karinael’s breastplate. “You’re a Templar now. You’re going to be out there helping me soon.”

Karinael’s smile failed her and she looked down. “I doubt it.”

“Don’t say that.” said Nuriel. “They made you a Templar Novitiate for a reason.”

“Yeah, for the reason you just mentioned.” said Karinael. “You said it yourself, there’s not too many of us left. Geil and Chaniel are jerks, but they were right. Sanctuary is desperate. We both know I could never make Saints Caliber.”

Nuriel frowned. She didn’t want to crush Karinael and say she was right. But at the same time, she really didn’t want Karinael to make Saints Caliber. Nuriel knew it was selfish, but she liked Karinael the way she was. She couldn’t bear the thought of her having to go through everything she had. There was a good reason Saints like her and Karinael never made Saints Caliber. She knew that now. It was the Saints like Ovid, Umbrial, Tia, Gamalael and Arric that made Saints Caliber, and for good reason. The world beyond Mount Empyrean was cruel. Perhaps Holy Father had his reasons for subjecting Nuriel to it. Nuriel thought that maybe she would even find out what that reason was tomorrow. In her mind, Nuriel thought that maybe, just maybe, it was Holy Father’s love that made him stay Saints like Karinael from the Saints Caliber. Perhaps there were good reasons that jerks like Geil and Chaniel moved on while the kind and caring like Karinael stayed here.

“See,” said Karinael. “Even you know it’s true.”

Nuriel put her arm around Karinael. “It’s not like that.”

“Then what is it like?”

Nuriel stood up and walked over to the window. Warm evening sunlight filtered through the red curtain and Nuriel drew it aside. About twenty stories below she could see the training yard where the more experienced Templars trained. This was the view that she and Karinael had looked out upon their entire youths. It was the view that made them wish they were down there training to fight the Unbounds, training to become Saints Caliber and awaken the sleeping Goddess. Nobody was out there in the yard now, but the straw dummies were all set up and she could see the racks of gleaming weapons against the walls. Nuriel could remember her and Karinael watching the older boys and girls learning how to hold their weapons, drilling in different combat stances. She remembered how they ‘oohed’ and ‘ahhed’ as the instructors shouted at the trainees and they whirled into the masses of training dummies, wood and straw flying as they tore through them like a hurricane through a field of reeds. Nuriel thought how naïve they had been to think that they were training to fight demons. Once again Saint Ramiel’s words echoed in her mind,
“…do you think we Saints are the heroes the little children all pretend to be, or are we the monsters they set off to slay with their wooden swords?”

Nuriel stood there, looking out the window. She thought she caught the whiff of burning flesh. She closed her eyes. She could see the child burning in the flames, his hand reaching out to her. She could hear the mother’s screams as flames engulfed her and her baby.

“Admit it, Nuriel.” said Karinael from the bed. “I’m not cut out for the Saints Caliber.”

“You don’t want it anyway.” said Nuriel. “You’re better off here.”

Karinael huffed. “Easy for you to say,” she said, her voice taking on a slightly venomous edge. “You get to be out there. You get to see the world. I stay here and hear about how you single-handedly killed two Infernals and took out an Unbound.”

Nuriel turned and looked at Karinael. She shook her head. “It’s not like that.”

“No?” said Karinael with an upset chirp. She stood up and slapped her hands on her thighs. “So, you think I could make Saints Caliber? You think I could be out there with you, fighting Unbounds?”