Eulalee stood from her desk and slipped off her gown. Beneath it she was already in her white bodysuit. She padded barefoot to her door and locked it. Then she hurried to her opened window and looked around at the yard below. There was nobody down there. With a deep breath, Eulalee hopped onto the windowsill and then, encompassed by the white glow of her Caliber, jumped down.
♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦
The Saints Garden was part of the Holy Palace and to get there Eulalee had to scale the sheer cliffs of Mount Empyrean and make her way past a number of gates and walls, all of which were heavily guarded by sentries, Oracles and Sin Eaters. It was a feat that was not wholly impossible, but one that would certainly daunt even the most clever and gifted of Saints. Eulalee had practice, however. She used to sneak into the Holy Palace when she was a child, much to the chagrin of the Mothers and Fathers who looked after her. But she had never been as far as the Saints Garden, and the walls that protected it were steep and soaring and polished smooth. They were impossible to scale and far too tall for even a Saints Caliber to jump.
But they weren’t too high for Eulalee. She waited as a trio of Holy Sentries in red, lacquered armor and crimson capes made their rounds. The moment their backs were to her she dashed to the wall and made a single, tremendous leap. Her bare feet landed as softly as feathers upon the top of the wall and she quickly found herself a secluded perch behind one of the ramparts.
It was a cozy nook, concealed behind the shimmering, white foliage of Stellabratus trees and the large, purple blooms of a flowering vine that had managed to crawl the dizzying heights of the wall and spread its way across the crenelations like some sort of alien spiderweb. Eulalee dangled her feet over the edge of the wall and then wiped her hand across the smooth, white marble of the rampart, collecting dirt and dust. She rubbed it over her breastplate to dull the sheen so that she might remain unseen.
The afternoon sky was a tapestry of billowy, white clouds with ominously dark bottoms. They spread out to eternity in all directions, their numbers broken by rivers of deep, blue sky. This high up on Mount Empyrean made Eulalee feel as if she could reach up and touch them. They filled the mountain air with an electricity that lent itself to the crowds of Sin Eaters, Oracles and Saints of the Holy Palace gathered below. From the top of the wall they all looked like figurines to Eulalee, but she could see that the Saints in attendance were a mixture of Mothers and Fathers in white gowns and steel breastplates, as well as a few Saints Caliber in their glassy, black Star-Armor. Eulalee did not recognize any of them, for very few Saints were allowed within the walls of the Holy Palace and much of its staff were unknown to the Saints of Sanctuary.
Tilting her head to see through the leaves and branches, Eulalee caught enticing glimpses of the Garden. It was a forest of Stellabratus trees whose perfectly straight, silver trunks reached higher than the walls to erupt into plumes of downy leaves that shimmered like stardust in the wind. Contrasting the pallid but glittering Stellabratus trees were sweeping, spiraling rows of red flowers, the likes of which Eulalee had never seen. Flowers and trees were a rare treat outside the grounds of the Holy Palace and Eulalee was in awe at the sight of so many. Sanctuary was a beautiful place of star-metal avenues and high, marble buildings, but in many ways, it was a sterile place and these gardens were dizzying to her senses. It was futile, she knew, but she took in a huge breath through her nose, trying to catch their fragrance. Although the perfume of those flowers would remain a mystery, she did detect the fresh, clean scent of water, and with it her ears became aware of a gentle rush.
Eulalee reached out and delicately bent a branch from her face. There was a colossal fountain at the center of the garden and it ascended in seven tiers, each shaped like the star of Aeoria. At each point was a magnificent Saint marbled in stone, each statue more than a dozen feet in height and acting as a pillar for the tier above it. Their hands were clasped around the points of the star, resting them upon their shoulders as if they were carrying its burden. Eulalee could not recognize any of the Saints depicted on the fountain, but she assumed they were of an ancient time. Aeoria herself looked down from the top of the fountain. Her marble arms were outstretched and in each she held a giant pitcher from which water cascaded. It flowed so gently down from each tier that the huge pool at the bottom was scarcely disturbed. In the rippling surface Eulalee could see the deep, dark hues of the sky reflecting, but there was also something else.
She leaned forward, gazing intently upon the water. Large, orange, yellow or white things stirred beneath the surface. Eulalee’s hand went to her mouth to stifle a laugh as she realized what they were, and her lips spread into a gigantic smile. They were fish. There were some kind of huge, colorful fish swimming in the pool of the fountain.
Eulalee’s eyes traced around the fountain and she found a wide pathway made of star-metal slabs. The walkway was easily wide enough for ten people to walk abreast, and it stretched its way from the fountain all the way to the Holy Atrium whose star-metal dome shone like black glass, some hundred yards away. Eulalee knew that the road was known as the Grand Walk. This was where Saints gathered when they received their Call to Guard, and they would walk its length with Holy Father to the Atrium where the ceremony was held to bind them to their Star-Armor.
There were a number of Saints at the foot of the Grand Walk. Eulalee bobbed her head around, peering through the leaves and branches of the tree she sat behind until she found Nuriel. She was standing in the center of the Grand Walk, right in front of the fountain. She was unmistakable with that massive, star-metal claymore on her back, and it twinkled with the leaves of Stellabratus trees above her. She was beautiful; lithe and tall in her Star-Armor. There was a weariness about her, Eulalee thought, but Nuriel had always looked a bit tired.
Eulalee still remembered the day she first met Nuriel, and the weight that seemed to permeate her Caliber and the darkness that shadowed those golden eyes of hers. Eulalee was just five at the time. She had snuck into the Holy Palace, chasing after a little mouse that was injured. That’s when she saw the prettiest, most golden-haired Saint standing before a stained glass picture of Admael holding the fallen Goddess. Eulalee recalled how kind Nuriel seemed; the way she greeted her and talked with her. Eulalee smiled as she remembered the look of surprise on Nuriel’s face when she had told her that she had healed the mouse. At that age, most Saints did not have a Caliber strong enough to heal, so it was no wonder Nuriel had a hard time believing her. Eulalee felt warmed by the memory. Nuriel was so unlike the other Saints Calibers she had encountered, and after that day Eulalee was convinced that she too could remain kind and caring and still follow her dream to make Saints Caliber.
Mother Pabel made her let the mouse go and hauled her away before she could finish speaking with Nuriel, but she spent a lot of time learning all she could about her after that. She had never met Nuriel again, but to this day she followed all the news about her that made its way into Sanctuary. Eulalee remembered telling Nuriel that she wanted to be a Saints Caliber, just like her. Nuriel had smiled at her and said that maybe they would meet again one day. Eulalee exhaled deeply as she stared down at her in the garden. She wondered if Nuriel would remember her, and if she did, how surprised she would be once they met at her Call to Guard ceremony.
With those pleasant memories still playing on her mind, Eulalee noticed that Nuriel was flanked by the Holy Few and the rarely seen Saints of Aeoria’s Guard. They were unmistakable in their full suits of Star-Armor, standing like rigid, black monuments. Although their names were celebrated within Sanctuary, Eulalee realized that very little was actually known about any of them. Aeoria’s Guard kept mostly to themselves at the Holy Palace, or within their own towers that guarded the Angel’s Walk leading up Mount Empyrean. Eulalee could see Akriel of the Architects who had built many of the newer buildings within Sanctuary. He was of an ancient line of Aeoria’s Guard, the earliest of which had built the very found
ations of Sanctuary and the Holy Palace. There was Jeduthon and Seraphiel, the Keepers of the Holy Gates; Nanael of the Bright Hand, the only female of Aeoria’s Guard, and Holy Father’s personal physician. Nanael’s healing powers were beyond compare and it was said that she could even resurrect the dead. There was Thronus of the Balances and Sabriel of the Heavens. Finally, there was Abadon the Champion, the largest and most imposing of all the Saints of Aeoria’s Guard. Abadon was Sanctuary’s champion; its guardian. His tower was at the foot of Mount Empyrean and any who wished harm upon Sanctuary would have to get through him. He was the very symbol of Sanctuary’s strength and might, and it was quite irrefutable in the way he towered above everybody else. Upon his back was a star-metal sword unlike any other; bigger even than Nuriel’s claymore. It was as large as the man himself, and less a sword than a cold, giant, slab of sharpened star-metal sitting upon a handle.
Eulalee did not see Gabriel of the Watchtower, though she knew he must be somewhere in attendance. Erygion, of course, was not there, and Eulalee wondered if anybody besides her knew he was gone. Certainly Holy Father and the Oracles would know, but they seemed to have kept the knowledge to themselves. His peers would probably know too, but she doubted that any other Saint was aware he had left. There were no rumors; no talk of one of Aeoria’s Guard having fled. There was definitely no talk about Erygion having stolen away with all the sanguinastrums. The knowledge made Eulalee feel isolated from her peers, more so than she usually felt.
Eulalee let the branch move back into place as she chewed her bottom lip and thought about Erygion. Over the last couple years she and Erygion had become something of secret friends. He had caught her snooping around his tower one evening, but rather than turn her in for punishment, he had taken her in. He had told her that he had seen her sneaking around the grounds of the Holy Palace before, or out on the Angel’s Walk where she shouldn’t be. Eulalee remembered her embarrassment in admitting that she had hoped to catch a glimpse of Holy Father, but she also remembered her shock when Erygion warned her that if she ever did meet him, she would come to regret it. At the time Eulalee thought his words were a dire threat about the trouble she would get into if she were caught, but as she got to know Erygion better she came to realize it was a much deeper and perplexing message. She never fully understood that warning, but on some level it had resonated with her and after that day she stopped sneaking into the Holy Palace. Her desire to meet Admael never waned, but she had become apprehensive about doing so by means that might get her into trouble.
But even though she considered Erygion a friend—and she always looked forward to the days he would help her to unlock the potentials of her Caliber—she often felt herself at odds with the things he tried to tell her. He held a certain animosity toward Sanctuary, and especially toward Holy Father and the Bishops. It made her uncomfortable, and toward the end she could sense his growing dismay in her refusal to listen to him.
Looking back upon their friendship, Eulalee realized it was because everything he said either made too much sense, or not enough sense. To believe him fully would be admitting that everything in Sanctuary was a lie; but to believe in Sanctuary would mean that a Saint she had come to admire was hopelessly, foolishly, paranoid. Neither option seemed wholly correct. If Sanctuary was everything she believed, then why had the Goddess not been awakened yet? Why were the Templars trained to be so mean and ruthless, and the kind and caring Saints made into outcasts? Why were they not allowed to see beyond the confines of Sanctuary? Why didn’t the Bishops or the Oracles and Sin Eaters show their faces?
But if Erygion’s words were to be believed, the kind and loving touch of Holy Father that she remembered as a baby was false. It would mean the Saints Caliber were not out in the world fighting off the minions of Apollyon, but rather tormenting the children of Aeoria and pressing the corrupt will of the Kings. If that were true, then why were the Saints Caliber sung of as heroes? Why would the people of the world praise the Saints Caliber? Why would the Kings allow their people to be tortured?
Uhg. Eulalee shook her head. It was all too much to think about.
Erygion once told her that if she ever made the Order of the Saints Caliber she would be forced to look at the truth and that he hoped she had the courage to open her eyes. Eulalee thought her eyes were opened already—at least, so far as they could be, considering she had never been outside the bounds of Mount Empyrean. She also felt she had courage. Her Caliber was strong; she had no fear in combat and could hold her own against any of the Templars. But she wondered if she needed a different kind of courage? Perhaps she lacked the type of courage Erygion needed when he asked her to leave with him and go to Duroton. Perhaps it was that type of courage she had yet to find, and the lack of it was why she couldn’t bring herself to follow him; couldn’t bring herself to leave Sanctuary and the promise of becoming a Saints Caliber behind.
Still, a part of her had wanted to go with him when he asked. She wanted more than anything to see the world. Seeing the world was something she would only get to do if she went with him, or received her Call to Guard. When she eventually declined his offer, he seemed to understand, although he didn’t let her off the hook entirely. He had left her with something; with that secret she promised him she would keep. Eulalee sighed. She hoped Erygion had made it to Duroton safely, and wondered when she might see him again.
Trumpets began to blare, shaking Eulalee from her reverie. She looked outward from her perch, past the shimmering leaves of the Stellabratus trees. Holy Father and the six Bishops exited the Holy Atrium and were coming down the Grand Walk now. Holy Father was in his snowy gowns with his white-gold mitre crown shining upon his head. In his hand he held a long, golden scepter whose head was the star of Aeoria, and he used it as a cane as he came. Flanking him were the six Bishops all in red with their faceless, black masks and their swords at their sides. Eulalee shifted in her seat and watched as they made their way toward the gardens as Ecclesiastics continued playing their trumpets.
As they got closer, Eulalee saw Nuriel march a few paces from the fountain, coming to stand beneath a pair of Stellabratus trees whose boughs created a shimmering arch above her. Before her, set into the star-metal of the Grand Walk, was a golden star of Aeoria and Nuriel stood at its foot. Holy Father came up to the head of the star and the Bishops broke off in pairs, coming to stand at either side of him.
Eulalee placed her hands to her mouth as she gazed upon Holy Father. He was down there, so close but yet so far away. There was a kind and gentle countenance about him, and the way his eyes smiled with his lips when his silver eyes fell upon Nuriel was so like what she remembered as a baby. That smile was so warm and inviting. Eulalee struggled to feel his Caliber, but it was useless from this distance. Still, just seeing him in the flesh made her believe that the dream from when she was a baby was real. It had to be. Eulalee could hardly wait to receive her Call to Guard, for then she could meet him—she could be in his presence—and she would know with certainty.
Holy Father now began to address the crowds as he stood before Nuriel, and his voice was so rich and vibrant and full of that warmth. “The Goddess is in Her starry temple, let all within this garden be reverent before Her.” he said.
Eulalee found herself holding her breath as a moment of silence was given and heads were lowered. At last Admael looked up and said, “Today Saint Nuriel brings to us an offering of dead care. Let all who bear witness reckon its worth to Aeoria. Saint Nuriel, please step forward with your offering.”
Eulalee watched as Nuriel stepped into the center of the star. One of the Bishops came forward carrying something wrapped in a white cloth. Eulalee watched intently as the Bishop handed it to Nuriel and stepped away. Nuriel unwrapped the object and placed it at Admael’s feet, kneeling before him with her head bent low. Eulalee couldn’t be certain, but it looked to be a star-metal pauldron, like one taken from a Saint’s armor.
“I offer the armor o
f K—” Nuriel seemed to choke on her words and she paused. After a moment she continued again, her voice shaking, “I offer the enemies of Sanctuary. I offer unto Sanctuary the dead care of justice. Will you accept?”
Holy Father turned to the audience. “What say you?”
“Worldly care, enemy of joy, let fire have its way with thee and may the winds make merry with your dust!” chanted the audience in unison. “The desperate cry of a burden has been silenced. Let pleasure be the whole of the law.”
Nuriel remained kneeling and Eulalee watched as the six Bishops formed a circle around her and Holy Father. From their scabbards the Bishops drew forth long, black swords and held them high as they began to chant in a strange tongue that Eulalee could not understand. Holy Father held out his hands and his voice reverberated above the chanting Bishops, “Saint Nuriel, by your hand a burden of this world is slain. I commit its corpse to ash in Aeoria’s name!”
To Eulalee’s surprise, fire began to lap up around the star-metal pauldron at Admael’s feet. Her crimson eyes widened in astonishment as the pauldron began expand with cracks of fiery heat, and then all at once it settled into a pile of blackened ash.
It was impossible. Star-metal was indestructible. There was nothing—no weapon or force of nature—that could so much as scratch it. Yet she had just witnessed fire reduce it to ash like so much wood.
Holy Father now knelt before Nuriel and dipped his fingers into the ash. He traced a line of soot from Nuriel’s forehead to her chin, and then from cheek to cheek, leaving a four-pointed star across her face. “Behold, Nuriel is become Sanctuary’s shrine, and holy are the pillars of this house! Arise Saint Nuriel of the Scales. Let pleasure be the whole of the law.”
Here Shines the Sun Page 75
