The Record of the Saints Caliber

by M. David White

  Celacia entered into a glorious and cavernous hall that was brilliantly lit from every wall and pillar by gleaming brass gaslamps. The cathedral was lined with fanciful pillars, spiraled with sculptured stars. They stretched up a hundred feet to an enormous domed ceiling of stained glass where depictions of angels with white wings spread wide looked down in silent prayer. Between each pillar was an enormous, arched pane of stained glass depicting some scene of the Goddess, Aeoria. Down the center of the chamber were three long and wide columns of pews, enough seating for the whole of the city, it seemed. At the head of the cathedral stood a raised pulpit with a beautiful altar. Beyond that, upon the far wall, was the single largest mural of glass Celacia had seen in a long time. It stretched from the floor to the ceiling one-hundred feet above, a stunning depiction of the beautiful Goddess. It was hard to tell if she was standing or laying down; if her eyes were closed in sleep or contemplation. She was young and beautiful and garbed in flowing white robes. Amethyst hair fell down like rivers over her shoulders. In her hands she clasped a brilliant, white, four-pointed star over her chest. Hanging down from either side of the mural were black curtains, speckled with white dots. Celacia remembered what they were from the days of yore, for they were the constellations that once adorned the night skies.

  Celacia shifted her eyes down from the mural to find a man draped in black sitting upon his knees before it. He seemed small and insignificant against its sheer size, but even from here Celacia could see his silver hair shining like chrome in the gaslight of the church.

  Celacia quietly walked down the length of the pews and up the steps to the pulpit. Here the stone of the flooring gave way to the hardwood flooring of the dais and Celacia stopped. She delicately placed one foot upon it, and after seeing the wood start to discolor and warp, quickly thought better of walking across the platform. She looked over at Isley who seemed to be lost in prayer, and loudly cleared her throat.

  Isley lifted his head and turned around. His silver eyes smiled along with his mouth when he saw her. “Celacia,” he said brightly, and stood up. He walked toward her, his black shroud flowing like liquid shadows upon his form.

  “I thought I might find you here.” said Celacia, meeting him at the foot of the steps. “Doing your Long Hours, are you?”

  Isley furled his brow. “Long Hours?”

  “Back in my day, Saints would spend many days and nights alone in silent prayer and meditation.” said Celacia. “They would search themselves for clarity and to cleanse themselves of their sins. They called it their Long Hours.”

  Isley looked at her blankly.

  Celacia sighed and rolled her eyes. “They really don’t teach you Saints anything anymore, do they?”

  “Saints cannot sin.” said Isley. “What clarity would be found?”

  Celacia huffed. “Saints who don’t think they can sin end up only one way.”

  “And what way is that?” asked Isley.

  Celacia motioned with her head toward the altar where a hefty, leather-bound tome lay open upon a lectern. “If that’s a real bible I’ll tell you a story. Bring it here.”

  Isley walked to the lectern and grabbed the giant book in his hands. He brought it over to Celacia and handed it to her, but she did not take it.

  “Ashes to ashes,” she said with a frown, holding up her hands. “Turn to Galitea 12:20”

  Isley opened the book and chuckled. He looked at Celacia. “Quite the team we make. You can’t touch it, and I can’t read it.”

  Celacia rolled her eyes. “Flip to the middle….keep going…keep going. Ah, stop. Next page. There we are.” Her eyes scanned down the page and she was quite happy to see that this was, in fact, a real bible. One as they were back in her day and not like the ones she had seen in Jerusa stripped of facts, watered down and adulterated. She began reading the passages aloud:

  And lo, before the people the Saint came and demanded tribute. “Pay me, for I have served as your guardian during this war. Many wounds have I suffered in battle for you, and my brethren have been lain dead. A tribute to me must now be made. Appease me and I shall be benevolent. Test me and I shall be a wrathful god unto you.”

  And so the people paid in gold and silver. But there were those who refused, saying, “You are a Saint of Aeoria and a servant to the righteous. Under what virtue come these threats?”

  “They come under the virtue that I have been Sainted and you have not. My very hand is the law of Aeoria. My voice can be her comfort or her anger. An example of my power shall you become!” said the Saint, and he struck down all who would not pay him tribute. But the wealth of these people was not enough.

  “Bring your women to please me, for I have shown lenience to those who have paid me. Refuse me and you shall know the same vengeance as those who have tested me.”

  And many brought their wives and daughters before him, but there were some who would not bring their wives and daughters and they said, “You are a Saint of Aeoria and a servant to the righteous. Under what virtue come these threats?”

  “They come under the virtue that I have been Sainted and you have not. My very hand is the law of Aeoria. My voice can be her comfort or her anger. An example of my power shall you become!” said the Saint, and he struck down all who would not bring their women to him. But the women of these people was not enough.

  “Bring forth a sacrifice in my name. I have shown you my great power and I am a god unto you. A tribute in blood now comes due.”

  So cowed by the Saint’s show of power and vengeance, the people brought forth a lamb and slaughtered it. But the animals of these people was not enough.

  “One of your own must now be sacrificed!” declared the Saint.

  And lo, a horn sounded and upon the winds rode Saint Bryant. He came before the people and said, “Heed not the words of Saint Bulifer, for he is neither the hand nor the voice of the Goddess. Power gives not the right to do wickedness in Her name. Nay! The will of Aeoria is in the love for all and never in this shall it sway! Fear his words no more! I am the true will of Aeoria and I walk in Her footsteps. By my own actions you will know that Her will is mine. Only by actions will you know that one works in the Goddess’s hand. Fear Saint Bulifer no more and cast him out from amongst you, for in his actions he has shown you no love of the Goddess. Does not he make his face ever more ugly, so that you might not dare look upon it? Cast him out! Cast him out and be free of his wickedness!”

  Isley was silent for a moment, his face mild in consideration as he stared down at the pages. Then he looked up at Celacia and asked, “Is that really what it says?”

  “Well I didn’t make it all up out of nowhere, silly.” said Celacia. “That used to be a popular story. The story of Saint Bulifer and how he was corrupted by his own power. He always believed that power gave one the justification to do as they pleased.”

  “What happened to Saint Bulifer?” asked Isley. “I do not believe I have ever heard his name.”

  Celacia closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, she looked Isley in his silver eyes. “I killed him. Long ago when he was still a man. He raised an army against Aeoria, and I struck him down. He had promised all those who would follow him that great rewards would be granted. He promised his followers that his strength and power would dominate all the kingdoms and under his rule pleasure would be made the whole of the law. For Bulifer, might made right, and those who were strong would be allowed to do as they pleased.”

  “Was his death the will of the Goddess?” asked Isley.

  Celacia looked away. “No. It was the will of the cycle of good and evil.”

  Isley’s brow furled. “I’m not sure I understand.”

  “You wouldn’t.” said Celacia quietly, almost as if speaking to herself. “Cycles always turn. They must always turn. They are the only thing that lets me know that dawn is after the darkness; that there is life even after death. Cycles are the only thing that let me know change is inevitable.” Celacia wiped at her eye and then looked
back at Isley. “Learn to read.”

  Isley frowned. “Lord Egret is making me. And it’s torture.” He closed the book and smiled at Celacia. “Father Bellarifon has been teaching me.” Isley held out a hand and wiggled his fingers. “My knuckles are sore from being rapped by his stick.”

  “That’s good.” said Celacia. “Keep up with your studies.”

  Isley nodded. Now his face turned more somber. “Tell me, was it Nuriel who killed the others?”

  Celacia looked sidelong at Isley. “And how might you know about that?”

  “I never gave Lord Tarquin the Sanguinastrums.” said Isley. “I don’t much care for the man. I couldn’t help but notice that a few days ago, they all went black.”

  Celacia nodded her head. “She did.”

  Isley inhaled deeply, shaking his head. He blew the breath out and returned his gaze to Celacia. “Is she alright? I trust you gave her back her Sanguinastrum?”

  “She is, and I did.” said Celacia. “She’s gone back home.”

  “To Jerusa or Sanctuary?”

  “I’ve been told she returned briefly to Jerusa.” said Celacia. “She met up with an Oracle and some Sin Eaters and, as I understand it, they ordered her back to Sanctuary to report. I’ve also been told she single-handedly slew a pair of Infernals, but that’s all I know.”

  Isley nodded. “She is a powerful Saint. But she is very conflicted. I was hoping to get her to see the wisdom in setting upon a solid path. I fear she still seeks a road to follow, and wanders them all aimlessly. She’s a good girl. She’s got heart. Unfortunately, I fear she puts her heart in the wrong places. She places her love in Sanctuary and it should be in Aeoria.” Isley shook his head. “I fear what will happen to her when she returns to Sanctuary. She’s young and naïve. She has no idea how much danger she is in if she returns there. It’s that heart of hers; it belongs to Sanctuary and it won’t allow her to deceive the Oracles and Sin Eaters. Back at Sanctuary, she’ll be eaten alive.”

  Celacia looked at Isley and smiled. “She’s strong. She’ll be fine, I think.”

  Isley didn’t look too certain. “Nuriel is very strong, but her own strength cannot save her from herself. She is her own worst enemy. Tell me, how do you know she took out two Infernals?”

  Celacia wagged a finger. “Ah-ah-ah,” she chirped. “That would be telling.”

  “You hold too many secrets, Celacia.” said Isley with a smile.

  She giggled.

  “Hopefully Nuriel will find what she is looking for one day.” said Isley.

  Celacia’s eyes turned down. “Hopefully we all will.”

  “The Goddess shall not lead us astray.” said Isley, assuredly. “Can you stay? The church has become my new home when I am not with Lord Egret at the castle. Stay and let us talk. There are plenty of extra rooms available. Mother Terese is usually up as late as I am, I’m certain she’d be happy to make up a room for you.”

  Celacia frowned. “I wish I could. Unfortunately, I’m going away for a while.”

  “Where to?” asked Isley. “How long?”

  Celacia screwed her lips up. “You know, I don’t know on either account. Hopefully not very far and hopefully for not very long.”

  “It’s never good to not know your path.” said Isley. “Perhaps I can be of assistance? Perhaps we might spend these Long Hours you speak of and find your clarity?”

  “No,” said Celacia, shaking her head. “I appreciate your offer, but I have a debt to pay and I need you here. Now more than ever, actually.”

  Isley eyed Celacia speculatively.

  Celacia looked him in the eyes, her own face becoming more serious than was usual for her. “I need to ask you something, Isley. Do you like it here? Here in Duroton?”

  Isley nodded. “I do, actually. I enjoy my long talks with Father Bellarifon here at the church. I’ve been learning much about the history of Aeoria. Things become more clear to me every day. I also enjoy Lord Egret’s company. He is a good man, and we both share a passion to see the Goddess awakened.”

  Celacia exhaled, feeling quite relieved. “In that case, I need to ask you a favor.”

  “How might I be of service?”

  “I need you to make sure the Mard Grander remains safe.” said Celacia. “I need you to make sure it does not fall into the wrong hands.”

  Isley eyed Celacia suspiciously. “And how do I know whose hands are the right hands?” he asked. “I’m still not quite certain they are yours.”

  “Fair enough.” said Celacia. “But certainly you trust your own hands, and I tend to trust them as well.”

  “You’re asking me to take the Mard Grander?” asked Isley. “I’m not sure that is entirely within my ability.”

  “You don’t need to take it,” said Celacia. “Just watch over it. Make sure nobody like Lord Tarquin gets it. Make sure no other Saint gets it. And above all, make sure no demon takes it.”

  “Why me?” asked Isley. “Why do you come to me?”

  Celacia looked Isley in the eyes. “I need to know the Mard Grander is in the hands of somebody loyal to Aeoria, and as far as I can tell, that leaves only you and Erygion. But I need Erygion at Sanctuary.”

  “Me and Lord Egret have the Mard Grander hidden away.” said Isley. “There are only three people—I and Egret amongst that—who know its location, if that will assuage your fears.”

  “It does, a little.” said Celacia. “But I need you to promise me you’ll keep it safe until I return.”

  “I will.” said Isley. “If it is as you say, that the Mard Grander is the only thing that can awaken the Goddess, I would see it in nobody’s hand but my own once it is reforged.”

  “It won’t be getting reforged for a while.” said Celacia.

  “Is not the dragon skull already upon these shores?” asked Isley. “It is my understanding that they plan to have it reforged as soon as it is ready.”

  Celacia giggled. “I may have forgotten to mention to them that it’s missing something. Until they have it, it can’t be reforged.”

  “What’s missing something?” asked Isley, sounding a little annoyed. “The skull or the hammer?”

  “Ah-ah-ah,” chirped Celacia. “That would be telling.”

  Isley didn’t look too happy.

  “I trust I have your promise?” asked Celacia.

  “Yes.” said Isley. “And I still hold to the last promise I made to you. As long as our paths walk parallel, I shall follow you. But, if our paths should cross and I find you standing in the way of awakening the Goddess, I will see you dead. I would ask you again, Celacia: will you see the Mard Grander used to awaken the Goddess, or do you seek it for your own desires?”

  Celacia’s emerald eyes gleamed in the lamplight. “I will use it to awaken the Goddess. But truth be told, I just need to use it for one other thing first.”

  Isley’s face hardened and he eyed her skeptically.

  “Watch over it.” said Celacia. “I’ll see you when I return.” She looked Isley up and down one last time. “Be careful. And learn to read.” She smiled faintly at him, and with a sigh, she began to walk away.

  “Are you sure you can’t tell me where you’re going?”

  Celacia stopped in her tracks. She turned. “I can’t.” she said. “But if I’m not back in…oh, let’s say a few years, or by the time they figure out how to reforge the Mard Grander, would you mind coming to look for me?”

  “A few years? Anywhere I might start that search?”

  Celacia screwed her lips up and thought. She looked back over at Isley. “No. Nowhere comes to mind.”

  Isley breathed deep, shaking his head. “Very well then. A few years, or when the Mard Grander is reforged.”

  “Thanks.” chirped Celacia, and she turned and walked out of the church.

  The eastern sky was a gradient of dark blues with the approaching dawn. Celacia stood upon the steps of the church for a moment, taking in the cool night air. She hopped down the steps and began crossing the court
yard when she saw a shrouded form approaching her.

  “Celacia!” called Lord Tarquin as he marched across the yard. “We have been looking for you for days. I thought I might find you here.”

  Celacia sighed and rolled her eyes as Tarquin approached. She felt confident that no matter what he had planned for her, she could get out of it. After all, there wasn’t really anything that could contain her. At least, not that she knew of. Some runic bindings? Some star-metal shackles they found in the Stellarium? Worst they could do was contain her for a short while. Her powers could extend quite far, and given time, there was little that could hold her for long.

  Ah well, she thought. At least I had time to speak with Isley. She felt confident he would see the Mard Grander kept safe. Best to get this over with quickly, she thought. And all I have to do is go with this jerk? That sounded easy enough.

  “I’ve been away on pressing business.” chirped Celacia. “Just got back into town.”

  Tarquin marched up to her and bowed slightly. She noticed it was a more polite bow than was usually accustomed by him. “Business in the Icelands?” he asked, his eyes betraying some wariness.

  “Just some business in the north.” said Celacia, returning his gaze. “Rumor up there was you got all my Saints killed.”

  Tarquin scowled. “Not all of them.” he said, looking past her to the church suspiciously. “And now you’re back catching up with an old friend, perhaps?”

  “Just asking Isley how he likes it here.” chirped Celacia. “He said Egret’s a nice guy and managed not to get him killed. He didn’t have much to say about you, though.” She winked at him.

  Tarquin’s face darkened. “I need you to come with me back to the castle. We need a full report.”

  “Lead the way.” said Celacia, bowing and sweeping her hand out.

  “You’ve had a long journey.” said Tarquin. He brushed aside his shroud, revealing his sword. “May I?”