Within Celacia’s arms Nuriel’s back arched up and she let out a terrible moan. Celacia breathed calmly, still focused on the task at hand. Her power had always been a broadsword and here she was trying to use it as a scalpel. Nuriel’s veins all began to bubble to the surface of her skin, but still Celacia stayed focused. She imagined her aura trickling through Nuriel’s blood. The drug was surprisingly easy to feel within her. It had an acrid, artificiality about it and it stood out in stark contrast to the vivacity of her blood and organs. Celacia felt her own hand tighten around Nuriel’s wrist, and with a final deep breath, she let go of her aura in a slow and steady stream, trying to focus it into Nuriel’s blood. She sought out the drug wherever it was and it died within her, no longer a threat.
After a moment, Celacia felt something else stir inside the Saint. It was life. A pure and radiant life. And it cringed away from her. Celacia sighed and opened her eyes. Nuriel’s Caliber was shining brighter and brighter now. Celacia knew that she had done enough, and that Nuriel could now purge the rest on her own. And it was a good thing too, for Celacia felt herself starting to loose control of the slow trickle of her aura and it threatened to pour out and wash over the Saint. With a sigh of relief, Celacia retracted her aura, straining with a palpable pain to suppress it fully. She cradled Nuriel in her arms, until at last the Saint began to cough and she opened her eyes.
“Look who decided to wake up.” said Celacia with a smile.
Nuriel sat up slowly, all her joints ached and her skin felt thin and delicate. Despite how fuzzy her mind felt, she deduced it was probably from being so close to Celacia. She rubbed at her forehead and then her wrist. As the clouds of unconsciousness lifted their veil, Nuriel’s hand suddenly went up to the back of her neck.
“Don’t worry,” said Celacia, smiling at the wide-eyed Nuriel. “You never finished your bargain with Yig.”
Nuriel suddenly felt shame and her cheeks flushed as she looked down, diverting her eyes from Celacia. She noticed the ground around her was all desiccated and dead, and she became aware that her own skin looked yellowed and slightly withered. Her body ached fiercely. She scooted herself a few feet away from Celacia and shined her Caliber more brightly, just enough to ward off Celacia’s aura.
“So?” chirped Celacia.
Nuriel looked up at her. The woman sat cross-legged ahead of her, her emerald eyes beaming as if awaiting something.
When Nuriel didn’t answer, her lips pursed into a frown. “You’re not even going to say ‘thank you’ for having saved your life?”
Nuriel turned her head slightly, avoiding Celacia’s gaze. “Thanks,” she said softly, her voice smoking in the cold air.
Celacia’s lips screwed up, thoroughly unimpressed with the thanks she had received.
Nuriel hung her head low, looking at the ground. She brought her knees up to her chest as she sat in awkward silence, the entire time feeling Celacia’s steady gaze upon her. She sniffled and tucked her hair back behind her ear. Without looking at the woman, she asked, “So what now?”
Celacia didn’t answer immediately. “I know about what happened.” she said at last. “About what they did to you.”
Nuriel cringed. She tucked her legs even more tightly against her body.
“I’m sorry about that.” said Celacia. “I never wanted that for you.”
Nuriel sniffled and scowled. There was a long moment of silence during which Nuriel felt a twinge of anger rising in her. What exactly did Celacia want for her? Why exactly did they have to come to these Goddess-forsaken lands anyway? Nuriel bit her lip, her eyes narrowing. She hadn’t wanted any of this. She didn’t want to be Celacia’s servant. She hadn’t even wanted to come here with Isley. She wanted to be back in Jerusa where she had been assigned to King Gatima. She wanted to be back in the good graces of Sanctuary. She wanted to be a Saint. But that was impossible now, and she knew it. Nuriel tried to steel herself, to snap something in anger at Celacia, but her will failed her, and just like that, her anger crumbled into sadness and a lone tear ran down her cheek.
There was a soft chime as something hit the dead, desiccated earth beside her. Nuriel sniffled and looked down and felt her heart leap into her throat. She looked up and Celacia was sitting there, smiling at her. Nuriel looked down at the small, red, crystalline orb and scooped it up. Her hands trembled and she fumbled it around her palm to examine the marking. There, etched into the blood-filled crystal, was her stellaglyph.
“I believe that’s yours.” chirped Celacia.
Nuriel looked at Celacia, gripping the Sanguinastrum to her chest.
“I gave Isley his, and all the others.” said Celacia. “But I guess just you and Isley’s are worth anything now.” She winked at Nuriel.
“But…”
“I kind of like you, Nuriel.” said Celacia. “I’ve ransomed you from Sanctuary and any future servitude. I’m giving you your freedom. You can go back to Gatima and pretend nothing ever happened, or you can go out on your own. The choice is yours.”
Nuriel looked back down at her Sanguinastrum, still unable to believe that it could really be hers. “But…why?”
“Do you remember that day back at the volcano?” asked Celacia.
Nuriel looked up at Celacia. “Yes.”
“You touched me. Twice.” said Celacia. “Once on my arm when you felt my armor, and then when we were outside and you gently shook me from my memories.”
Nuriel bit her lip, unable to understand what Celacia was getting at.
Here, Celacia looked down at the ground and a sadness seemed to fall over her. She bit her lip and after a moment said, “There is only one person besides you who was never afraid to touch me.” She looked up at Nuriel, then said in a voice barely above a somber whisper, “After you touched me, I knew that it hadn’t all been a dream.”
Nuriel’s brow furled. “What do you mean?”
“There is somebody I once loved and I dearly miss him.” said Celacia softly, her eyes lost in a waking dream. “He would touch me, hold me.” She was silent for a moment. “Your touch reminded me of what a hand upon me felt like. It was real. More than anything else since I have awoken, your touch was real.”
Nuriel looked down, gripping her Sanguinastrum tightly. She didn’t know how to respond.
“I was wrong to bring you here.” said Celacia. “I thought all Saints were like Isley. I thought you all wanted the same thing.”
Nuriel looked at Celacia. “What does Isley want?”
“An age like there once was.” said Celacia, forcing a little smile. “An age like it was in my time.”
Nuriel frowned. “Who are you?”
“A ghost,” she said. “A ghost of a long-forgotten age. An age where my presence only paved the way for creation.”
“Why are you here?”
Celacia looked up at the starless night sky. She breathed deeply and sighed. “I want to go home.” she said, and Nuriel was certain she saw a tear trickle from her eye before it dried to nothingness upon her cheek. “I want to go home. I don’t belong here.”
Nuriel looked at the woman curiously. “Where is your home?”
Celacia was still gazing up at the dark heavens. “In another world. Another age.” she said quietly. “All I can do now is try to find what I can of it.”
Nuriel bit her lip. “Will you find it here, in Duroton?”
Celacia shrugged, still looking dreamily up at the sky. “Maybe. I intend to find out.” She was silent for a moment, and then looked down at Nuriel. “They’re going to try to stop me. They think that I will bring destruction to this world.”
Nuriel looked into Celacia’s emerald eyes. “Will you?”
Celacia shrugged again. “Probably.”
Nuriel’s face turned a slight scowl. “Is what you’re looking for so important as to risk everything? To risk all of this world?”
“Yes.”
Nuriel felt her scowl deepen. “Even if that means bringing destruction to this world?”
>
Celacia returned an even stare. “No matter what I do, or where I go, only death follows in my wake. Do you intend to stop me?”
“Probably. One day.” said Nuriel.
Celacia smiled. “I hope so. I’d like to see you again.”
There was a long moment of silence between the two. At length Celacia spoke. “You’re going to go back to Sanctuary, aren’t you?”
Nuriel regarded Celacia for a moment. “Yes.”
Celacia nodded softly. “If you play your cards right you might be able to get away with it.” Celacia looked at Nuriel for a moment and then added, “Can I give you some advice?”
Nuriel bit her lip but said nothing.
“Don’t give them your Sanguinastrum.” said Celacia. “Don’t let them know you have it. And don’t let them know of Erygion. If you go back, pretend none of this ever happened.”
Nuriel looked at Celacia, chewing everything over in her mind. “Why?” she asked at last. “Why should I allow a traitor amid the ranks of Aeoria’s Guard? Why should I keep secrets from Holy Father for your benefit?”
“It won’t be for my benefit.” said Celacia. She gave Nuriel a little wink. “My advice to you is to go back to Jerusa. Pretend none of this ever happened. You haven’t been gone too long, and with any luck you’re not even being missed yet. Tell them that you and Isley and the others ran into some trouble and you’re the soul survivor. Maybe throw Yig’s name out there. The Oracles ought to be able to confirm an Unbound is dead.”
Nuriel remained silent.
Celacia looked at Nuriel, but Nuriel couldn’t bring herself to return the eye contact. “At the very least,” said Celacia. “Go out and see the world before you decide what to tell Sanctuary.”
Nuriel bit her lip and then returned Celacia’s gaze. “I know this world might be in bad shape. I know the Kings and nobles might all be evil men. But Holy Father is good. I met him on the day I received my Call to Guard. He’s a good man, and has kindness in his heart. He wants this world to be a better place. And in the end, I believe he will succeed.”
Celacia shrugged. “Maybe. He came after my time as I understand events. For all I know he is holier than Aeoria. Even still, can you say the same for the rest of Sanctuary?”
Nuriel looked away and frowned.
“Keep your freedom.” said Celacia. “Freedom was the single greatest gift Aeoria gave to mankind. Don’t throw it away.”
Nuriel looked at Celacia cautiously. “Did…did you know Aeoria?”
Celacia stared at Nuriel for a moment and then turned her head away from her. She was silent for a moment, and then said quite sharply, “Knowledge must be earned. What I know of the Goddess was not earned by this world.”
Nuriel felt her brow furl.
Celacia sighed and stood up. “Let’s go.” she said. “I have old Felvurn to attend to and you have Sanctuary to get back to. I have a ship waiting. Once we get back across the sea, you can go your own way and I’ll go mine. Unless, of course, I can convince you to stay here with me and Isley?”
“My loyalty is, and always will be, to Sanctuary and Holy Father Admael.” said Nuriel.
“Well,” said Celacia with a sigh. “My offer will always be open to you.”
Nuriel breathed deep and exhaled, her breath smoking. She nodded her head. She stood up and picked up her sword, placing it back in its scabbard upon her back. Then, more surreptitiously, she collected her leather purse that held the folio and injector.
— 16 —
OF FALLING STARS
It had taken her five days of nearly non-stop running, but Nuriel was back in Jerusa. She was exhausted and dirty from the road (or rather, lack of roads), but she was back where she was supposed to be. There was no time to stop, though. She had to get to Gatimaria, to King Gatima. If she could play her cards right—and if there had not been any attempts to recall her yet—she could pretend she had been here the whole time. It was entirely possible she hadn’t even been missed. She was apprenticing with Isley after all, and it was conceivable that nobody had even come looking for them. It was common to leave a master alone with his apprentice for a while and Nuriel was hopeful she could pretend she had never even left Jerusa.
The narrow stretch of land that connected Jerusa to the rest of the world was empty and only sparsely wooded and Nuriel shined her Caliber brightly as she blazed across the vast tracts before her. Another full day of running and forests began to close in on her. She was in familiar territory now. She knew these lands and knew where the cities and roads were. To the north were the Gatimarian Mountains and the city of Gatimaria was at the Eastern end of them. She was close. She could be there tomorrow. But tonight she needed a break, and as the forests around her dimmed with the fading light of day, she veered south to where she knew a worn road cut through the forests and connected a handful of larger cities to Gatimaria.
It was late spring and the air of each morning and night had been frigid and wet, but she had avoided every city and town she had passed the last few days. Now, however, the sway of a soft bed and warm bath was too much for her to resist. Besides, she would have to clean herself up before presenting herself to King Gatima and she needed to take a moment to collect herself and get her story together. With any luck she wouldn’t run into any Oracles or Sin Eaters here. She knew there was a chance, but right now it was a chance she was willing to take in order to procure a warm bed and bath.
The road curved through a thick area of forest before opening up into a sea of deforested farmland whose freshly turned soil was bathed in the fiery light of the setting sun. Nuriel sniffled and the scent of damp earth filled her nose. The road cut through the fields and wound around some lolling hills where the distant walls of Gatopolis were silhouetted against what seemed a palisade of darkening forest. Gatopolis was the largest city west of Gatimaria and marked the western boundary of where King Gatima allowed his subjects to settle. Though Gatopolis could hardly pass for a large city in Duroton or the other kingdoms, here in Jerusa it was considered quite bustling.
Nuriel made her way across the freshly planted fields and stopped about a hundred yards out from the looming city walls. The sun had now fully set behind her and the ancient stones of the city wall were cold and dark but for a handful of torches held by those patrolling its top, some thirty-feet high. In Jerusa, candles and torches were expensive commodities and not even the aging city gates were illuminated, giving the entire place a forgotten, haunted, demeanor. At some point in the distant past, Nuriel figured that the city was once a grand place that bustled with activity. Its walls would have been lined with torches, its gates brightly lit. Flags and banners would have flapped in the winds and the spires of churches, mansions and even the castle would have clawed their way up from the tops of the walls. But in King Gatima’s Jerusa all splendor had long vanished.
Nuriel looked up at the starless black sky and exhaled deeply. She leaned her back against an old oak and rested for a moment to compose herself. If there were any Oracles and Sin Eaters here, they would no doubt ask why she was so far west and without Isley. It was time for her to start putting her story together and she knew that one slip of the tongue might mean the difference between staying in with Sanctuary or being labeled a Fallen Saint. She chewed her bottom lip as she organized her thoughts and then shook her head, completely diffident with her ability to deceive the Oracles.
She sniffled and tucked her golden hair behind her ear and fumbled in her hip-sack for the leather folio. She blew out a long breath as she took out her last vial of Ev and held it up to the moon. There were but a few drops left in it. A little voice in her mind asked if maybe this was the real reason for her wanting to stop tonight, and asked if maybe she could quit right now it wouldn’t be too late. But it was a voice that had become increasingly easier to brush away and she hardly paid it any mind as she sunk her injector into the vial and took up the remaining liquid.
Holding the injector between her legs, she rolled up the leather sle
eve on her left arm and then quickly plunged the needle into her vein. She exhaled slowly as the pleasing warmth spread through her body. It hugged her, made her feel that everything was alright, and her anxiety melted away into forgotten nothingness. She sniffled and then rolled her sleeve back down and walked the remaining distance to the city wall where only darkness ruled.
Not a single sentry was there to hail her. The gate was nothing more than an iron portcullis set before a thick, wooden door. With her forearm she banged a few times on the rusty steel, her heavy Star-Armor rattling it loudly. “Saint Nuriel,” she yelled as loudly as she could. “Open the gate.”
There was a moment of muffled speak from beyond the gate before the portcullis rattled its way up and the heavy, wooden door swung outward. A pair of rough looking soldiers in simple leather armor greeted her. One held a dwindling torch in his hand, the other an old sword. “Saint Nuriel?” barked the man with the torch.
Nuriel looked at the man and nodded slightly as she tucked her hair behind her ear.
The man grunted. “You’re one of the ones they’ve been looking for.”
The men stepped aside and Nuriel entered into the darkened city. The scent of moldy wood and filth was thick in the air. Ramshackle buildings that leaned to and fro lined all the streets, but only the occasional candle could be seen flickering in a window. In every alleyway crude tents of fabric had been erected and here and there Nuriel could make out shadowy groups of people huddled around miserable fires stoked with rubbish or rotten house timbers. Holes in roofs stood out like black voids and in the distance the remnants of a half-dismantled castle shown against the night sky. Where once its towers stood tall and proud, now only jagged nubs remained. The castle itself was nothing but a disjointed series of walls in dwindling step patterns where it had been pilfered of its bricks and timbers over the years. Everything was dark and empty. All the streets seemed lifeless despite the shadowy forms that moved among them. But off to the right shone one building like a beacon. It had steep spires and warm light shone through its stained glass windows. It was a church of Aeoria.
The Record of the Saints Caliber Page 44
