The Record of the Saints Caliber

by M. David White

  Brandrir dodged back as Egret came in at him again, but each blow was countered by the other in quick time. In moments the entire courtyard was filled with the smell of ozone. Brandrir began to feel alive again. His mind was no longer clouded with rage; his thoughts no longer muddied by the night’s events. Despite the hum of his sword and crack of his shield, despite the thunder of Egret’s blade against his own, Brandrir’s mind was silent. His mind was his own. For the first time since he was away from the Grimwatch he felt like himself again.

  Sparks rained down as he parried a high blow from Egret and Brandrir found himself musing about how life was like that, like a spark in the night. More sparks erupted from their clashing blades, and Brandrir thought how futile their little lives were, here in a moment and gone forever in the next. The only thing that set them apart—that let you know they had even existed—was their brilliance. Some lingered like ghosts in his vision even after they had departed, but only the brightest did that.

  Brandrir’s mind pondered that, how if life were like a spark, the more brightly one glowed, the more one’s life would live on even after death. How many sparks had he made in his lifetime? All the brightest were at the Grimwatch. Even now he could see his lieutenants, Braken and Syrus, with the men of the Watch around a roaring fire, flagons of ale in their hands. He could hear them laughing about the battles they had shared, boasting of the Kald they had killed. He could see the young boys and the novice knights enthralled by the tales, just as he himself had once been enthralled by the tales of the old Captains of the Grimwatch. Yes, life was like a spark. It was short and burned quickly. All that mattered was how bright it glowed, and that glow measured how long it would live on in the eyes of others, even after death.

  In that moment Brandrir was once again sure of his place in Duroton. His place was at the Grimwatch where his spark’s light would linger on long after a Kald would rip him from this earth.

  Brandrir’s eyes flashed with new life and he moved in on Egret, trying to take the offensive, though he knew his strikes were becoming increasingly erratic. Although he could keep up with Egret, the Dark Star Knight’s blows were more powerful than he could contend with for much longer. Every strike was like trying to block a sledgehammer with a toothpick and the impacts coursed through his muscles and bones with agonizing repetition. Brandrir knew his one saving grace was that they were within the castle yard and there was no way Egret would unleash the full fury of his might. To do so could mean bringing down the very castle. Still, Brandrir was all too aware of the debris—stones, dirt, hay, gravel from the path—all floating in an eerie circular plane around Egret. His own footing felt at once too heavy and also too light in the gravity-field gone awry, and he was beginning to feel like he was balancing on the elevator at the Stellarium in a constant battle of moving up and down.

  Brandrir used his shield to throw a few more of Egret’s strikes away, and then under the cover of a shower of sparks, he tumbled backward and rolled back to his feet to gain a few feet of distance. The ruse worked, and before Egret could bring his sword back up Brandrir was on him, Raze thrumming through the air in an upward arc. Egret knew he couldn’t turn his sword in time for a parry and was forced to dodge to the side.

  Brandrir felt the satisfying bite of Raze as it contacted the man’s armor, sheering off the side of his upper arm like a knife peels the skin from an apple. The flayed steel of Egret’s armor went flying up in an arc and left the skin of his arm exposed. Brandrir felt as surprised as Egret looked by the sheer millimeter that had saved Egret’s arm from being as flayed as his armor. Brandrir was sure Egret was missing some arm hair, but there was no time to contemplate.

  Egret’s face now twisted in anger. Brandrir was certain that had been the Commander’s closest call in battle for many years—possibly ever. The man leapt back and thrust his sword forward, but Brandrir had already contemplated what was coming and raised his shield. The bolt of white lightning split the air, clawing its way toward Brandrir in the blink of an eye. It was caught by Brandrir’s shield and a sound like a granite boulder being split shook the very courtyard.

  Although Brandrir had successfully blocked the lightning strike, the force was too much and he tumbled himself backward to try and absorb some of the impact. By the time he rolled back to his feet Egret was already on him, Thundercracker sparkling and popping in an arc toward his face. Brandrir narrowly swept himself to one side to avoid the attack and spun out his left arm, striking Egret with a surprisingly solid blow with his shield. Sparks exploded off the Commander but he stood firm his ground, and with a yell of anguished anger, exploded his aura.

  In an instant Brandrir was hit with a force that felt like a star had slammed down on his shoulders from the very heights of the heavens, and he fell to a knee. Egret thrust out his sword, and Brandrir feebly moved Raze up in defense, but he was slowed by the enormity of the gravitational pull that was trying to crush him into the very earth. Egret’s sword glanced off Brandrir’s left shoulder and lightning sparked and popped upon his armor.

  Brandrir cried out as the force sent him tumbling backward. He scrambled to his feet, the effort agonizing by the sheer weight of Egret’s steadily increasing aura. The debris field that had once floated casually around the Commander now swirled angrily and Brandrir was forced to tuck his face between his arms as rocks, hay and dust pelted him from both sides. He could sense Egret charging him, and with blind timing that was uncanny enough to surprise Brandrir himself, he flung himself at the ground just as Egret came in at him. Brandrir felt the man’s legs buckle under his weight and fall over him. He heard Egret curse, but he rolled past him and then rolled again to try and gain more ground before springing back to his feet.

  Brandrir took a step forward but fell to a knee. He hadn’t realized the toll those blows had taken on him. It had been a long time since he had fought a Dark Star Knight in a true battle and not some playful sparring match back at the Grimwatch. And truth be told, be had never fought a Dark Star Knight as powerful as Egret.

  He chanced a quick glance to the side and caught sight of Etheil and Gregin. Mist lingered and rolled between them as their swords clashed, fire hissing through water, water spitting through fire. Etheil’s sword, Firebrand, was ablaze in intense reds and yellows that lit up the night sky. Gregin’s sword was like shimmering water, sparkling in the fires of Etheil’s sword. The blade wavered through the air, every clash sending a spray of water and mist. Between them and around them their gravitational fields mingled with the debris of the field and the roiling fog kicked up by their clashing weapons. It hung waist-high between them, swirling up as they moved in and out from each other, exchanging swift and powerful strikes. Brandrir could see that Etheil was on the offensive. Gregin was good as far as Dark Star Knights went—he was Egret’s lieutenant, after all—but Etheil was in a class all his own and part of Brandrir wondered if he was just toying with Gregin to avoid having to kill him.

  It began to occur to Brandrir that he did not see Solastron, but he had no more time to think. Movement flashed in his peripheral vision and he knew it was Egret. He turned, raising his sword, just in time to be pelted by the swirling debris of Egret’s angry aura. Brandrir brought his sword up but it was a stupid attempt and easily tossed aside. He felt a stone impact his face, and swirling dust stung his eyes. He tried to raise his shield but knew he’d be too late. He was ready to eat the blade of Thundercracker when suddenly there was a roar and a flash of blue and Egret went tumbling to the ground, Solastron atop him, biting at the back of his neck.

  Egret spun on his back, his face twisted in a snarl as menacing as Solastron’s own. The wolf was upon his chest in a minute, giant jaws clamping down onto Egret’s arm, white fangs scraping paint and lacquer from the armor. With a roar and a heave Egret tossed the giant blue wolf off of him and scrambled to his feet. Solastron nimbly landed at Brandrir’s side, his head bowed and ears back, snarling and barking. Brandrir was about to move back in to strike when the gro
und began to shake beneath the marching of many feet.

  Brandrir, Solastron and Egret exchanged a glance and they all gave each other mutual pause as they looked out past the stables. Running down the path was Dagrir, and behind him came a contingent of more than one-hundred Royal Guard, headed by the shrouded forms of three more Dark Star Knights.

  “Enough!” Brandrir could hear his brother screaming as he came running. “Enough, all of you!”

  Brandrir looked over at Etheil. He and Gregin had stopped fighting as well. Upon seeing Brandrir, Etheil ran over towards him and Solastron, extinguishing his blade and sheathing it as he came. “You two all right?” he asked.

  Solastron barked in response and Brandrir nodded his head.

  Etheil looked over at Egret and seemed to take notice of the flayed steel of his upper arm. Egret caught Etheil’s eyes and the two stared each other down for a brief moment before Etheil said, “Rough night, huh?”

  Egret scowled at him and extinguished his blade as well, sheathing it at his side. Only Brandrir’s sword and shield still thrummed in the night air.

  Dagrir came running up, huffing and out of breath, his face red and his dark eyes piercing. Although it was unnecessary at this point, Dagrir pushed Egret in the chest and then bowled himself into Brandrir, pushing them away, as if he were trying to break up some sort of schoolyard fight. “Enough from all of you!” he snarled.

  “Your Grace,” said Egret with a slight bow of the head. Gregin came running up. “Your father has named Etheil an enemy of Duroton. Me and my lieutenant, Lord Gregin, were—”

  “I don’t care!” shot Dagrir. “This is madness!” He turned his dark eyes to Brandrir. “What in all the Lands are you thinking?”

  “I was thinking of going back to the Grimwatch.” said Brandrir with a smirk.

  Dagrir’s eyes flashed. His brother was obviously not amused. “Turn off your sword and shield. You need to come with me.”

  “Extinguish,” corrected Brandrir, as he extinguished the shield from his arm and placed his sword into its sheath. “Crystallic swords are ignited and extinguished, not turned on and off.”

  Dagrir shot him a hard look, his eyes angrier and darker than Brandrir had ever seen them. “Father and the Council need to speak with you. Right now.”

  “I’m not going before father and the Council,” said Brandrir. “I’m returning to the Grimwatch with my Captain.”

  “Dog-boy ain’t going anywhere.” added Gregin.

  “If that’s over your dead body I’ll arrange it right now.” spat Brandrir.

  Dagrir shot Brandrir a fiery gaze and then turned it on Gregin, pointing a finger at him. “You, Lord Gregin, are dismissed from my presence.”

  Gregin’s face betrayed some surprise and he shot Egret a quick glance.

  “Leave!” roared Dagrir.

  Gregin scowled and bowed slightly. “Yes, your Grace.” He turned and walked off brusquely.

  “You too, Egret.” said Dagrir, a little less harshly. “You’re dismissed.”

  “With all due respect,” began Egret as the three shrouded Dark Star Knights and their contingent of Royal Guards came thundering up and to an abrupt halt behind Dagrir. “Your father—”

  “I. Don’t. Care.” said Dagrir with such venomous sincerity that it almost gave Brandrir the chills. “I will not tell you again, Lord Egret. You are dismissed.”

  “Yes, your Grace.” said Egret with a bow. He cast Brandrir and Etheil one last hard look and then strode off.

  “You left a piece of your armor over there,” called Brandrir, but before he could get anything else out he felt his brother’s hands squarely jab him in the chest.

  “Enough!” shouted Dagrir. “Enough, Brandrir!” he shouted again, spit flying from his mouth. He pushed Brandrir hard in the chest again. “Killing a Royal Guard?” He pushed Brandrir again. “Fighting with Egret?”

  “They started it.” said Brandrir, not really trying to be amusing, but battles always left him feeling a little cocky.

  Dagrir’s face turned a disgusting shade of purple as he threw his arms up, his fingers curling into claws as they trembled and shook in the air. “Lands be damned, Brandrir! This isn’t some stupid game you play at the Grimwatch! This isn’t some stupid quarrel between soldiers! Lands be damned, Brandrir! No wonder the Lands denounced you!”

  Those last words bit into Brandrir’s chest even before they were finished. He felt his face flush with anger and humiliation and he pushed his brother hard on one shoulder, nearly spinning him on his feet. “I’m leaving.” said Brandrir, brushing past his brother. “Etheil, we’re leaving for the Grimwatch.”

  The three Dark Star Knights moved into his way and the contingent of knights did as well in a single, loud, clank of armor.

  “I will cut down every last one of you if I have to.” warned Brandrir. He unsheathed his sword and ignited it. The silver blade thrummed in the air.

  “Brother,” warned Dagrir. “Calm down. You’re coming with me.”

  “No,” shot Brandrir, turning his stormy eyes to his brother. “I never should have come back. I never should have even listened to you…” suddenly Brandrir had an epiphany and he felt his own face light up. He looked at his brother and said, “In fact, I gave the crown to you beneath the Duroton sky in front of the entire Council. That’s why the phoenix failed to rise.” The words had barely escaped his lips but already he was feeling better about the situation. “The crown’s yours. I’m leaving.”

  Dagrir rubbed his face into his hands, trying to contain his anger. He looked back up at his brother. “It is no longer that simple, brother.” He bit his lip and wagged his head. “You have to come before father and the Council. Immediately.”

  Brandrir started, feeling as if that was the most feeble attempt at a threat he had ever had levied upon him. “Come, Etheil.” he said. “To the Grimwatch.”

  “Please Brandrir,” said Etheil. “I beg you. Have a word with me in private.”

  Brandrir scowled. “What? No! Come on, let’s go.” He turned to leave, pushing past the three Dark Star Knights.

  “Please, talk with me in private.” pleaded Etheil as he and Solastron fell in line with Brandrir.

  “No,” shot Dagrir abruptly. “There’s no private talks. There’s no more waiting. This is all over. Brandrir, if you walk away—”

  “You’ll what?” spat Brandrir, his venom once again focusing on his brother. “You’ll sick more men on me?” He turned back to Etheil. “Let’s go. That’s an order.”

  “I’m not sure anybody has to take orders from you right now,” said Dagrir. “I don’t think you understand the gravity of the situation. Brandrir, you killed one of the Royal Guard. You attacked Egret.”

  Brandrir turned back to his brother. He stormed over to him and pushed him on the chest. “So it’s all my fault!”

  Dagrir bit his lip and closed his eyes, letting out a long breath. “Brandrir, I will not tell you again. Come with me now.”

  “Whatever,” said Brandrir. He turned his back to his brother and began to walk off.

  “Arrest him!” barked Dagrir, pointing at his brother.

  Brandrir spun around, eyes wide as he looked at his brother. Without thought, completely unbidden, his right arm swung out and his gauntlet bit deep and hard into Dagrir’s cheek, sending his brother stumbling, falling upon his back.

  Dagrir looked up, holding his cheek. Blood trickled out the corner of his mouth and from one nostril. He sat up on the ground. He moved his hand and a few teeth fell out.

  Dagrir looked at Brandrir. A tear streamed down the side of his face. “Now you’re going to fight me too? You want to kill? Go on, then! Kill me! Kill me, Brandrir! Kill your own brother!”

  Brandrir pursed his lips. He looked away. The three shrouded Dark Star Knights moved in on him, as did the Royal Guardsmen. Brandrir raised his sword, his eyes flashing.

  “Let him go!” barked Dagrir, standing back up. “Get out of here, Brandrir! Go! Run away
! Go back on your word again!”

  Brandrir sighed. He looked back at Dagrir. “Brother…”

  “Just get out of here!” roared Dagrir, tears in his eyes. He rushed Brandrir and drove his hands into his chest. “You want to leave? You want to run away like you always do! Run! Run! Get out of here!” Dagrir kept yelling at him and pushing him and shoving him.

  Brandrir drove his fist into Dagrir’s face, cutting his lip wide open. Dagrir fell to the ground, his face a smear of blood and tears.

  “Go! Leave!” Dagrir roared with such anger that even the Royal Guard all stepped back.

  Brandrir pursed his lips and turned from his brother. He looked at Etheil. “Let’s go.”

  ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

  Dagrir wiped the blood from his cheek as he watched Stormwild kick up a cloud of dust and rear up on his hind legs with a long, baleful whinny. Brandrir’s crimson armor, as dinged up as it was, shone like the very fire of the torches that bathed him. He urged his horse down, and they tore off up the path. A moment later, Etheil upon his own horse tore out of the stables after him with Solastron on his heels.

  “Your Grace, shall we pursue?” asked Lord Dactys, one of the Dark Star Knights.

  Dagrir turned. Lord Dactys and the other two Dark Star Knights stood before him, their weapons at the ready.

  Dagrir pursed his lips and wiped at his bleeding mouth. He looked back up the road but his brother, Etheil and Solastron were gone. He shook his head and then looked at Lord Dactys. “No.” he said. He removed his hand from his mouth and wiped away more blood and tears from his face.