Here Shines the Sun (41 page)

Brandrir howled and collapsed upon the black, stone floor. He gasped for breath as the fires around him died out. He struggled to his hands and knees, his eyes frantically scanning over his own body. It was whole. His armor unburnt. He looked up to see Bulifer’s white-hot eyes gazing down on him.

“Your brand is Wrath and Ruin, and it is the same brand as mine. It is why I came to you that night. It is why you took my hand. I am your shadow, and you can never let me go.”

Still on his hands and knees, Brandrir bent his head low. “What do you want from me.”

Bulifer chuckled. The surrounding Kald hissed their icy breath. “Behold your sacrifice.”

The beast waved his hand and the far wall dissolved into nothingness. Brandrir looked and immediately his blood ran cold. Far below, in a primordial pit, was chained a colossal beast. Behind it was a portal set into the very pillars of the earth. A cold, deathly, lonesome green light emanated from it and bathed the creature in its haunting glow. The chains that held the beast were black and glassy, yet held a sheen as colorful as a rainbow. The monster was so large that its movements seemed slow and subdued, but when one of its blue, reptilian arms yanked its chains taught, the entire earth trembled. Its serpentine head turned; enormous, yellow eyes fixing on Brandrir. Snake-like pupils narrowed. Its cavernous mouth opened, revealing teeth larger than the ancient stalactites of the earth that hung from its domain. It let loose a long, sonorous peal and Brandrir felt as though its call could suck the very life from him.

“Behold the ancient scourge.” said Bulifer. “Behold the Kaldenthrax.”

— 17 —

Saints of the
Final Star

It was evening in Jerusa and the western sky reflected off the rocks and boulders of the barren land beneath it, creating a beautiful, fiery landscape. The high, snowy mountain peaks above were cast in subdued shades of reds and oranges, and the passing clouds broke like waves upon them. A small brook ran fast and cold from the crags of the mountain, originating from somewhere beyond its impenetrable wall. There, Saint Raziel sat beside Saint Gadrial with his arm wrapped around her. Karinael couldn’t help but smile at that. The other Saints—Asteroth, Baradiel and Sodiel—stood against the few trees that surrounded the mountains, casting their long shadows eastward. The forest line further south stood like an ominous black wall and Karinael watched it for any sign of the other Saints. Zoseph and Adonael had yet to show up and Karinael was beginning to worry why Erygion had not come yet. Erygion was supposed to lead them on their journey to Duroton tonight. Saint Ovid was supposed to show up as well, but Karinael had her doubts about him.

Karinael surveyed their current constellation. Seven Saints including her and Hadraniel. Of them all Saint Asteroth of the Lights was the largest and most senior and was as imposing as the pine he leaned against. He had eyes of liquid gold and long, brilliant hair that draped in spirals from his scalp. His Star-Armor was quite unique. It was also one of the most famous amongst the order of the Saints Caliber with a history that could be traced back to the First Age. His armor had graceful, curling horns of star-metal upon the bracers that acted as bucklers in combat. His breastplate was full of rounded angles with the same type of sculpted horns as his bracers, and they wrapped from his neck and down across his chest. The skirt upon his waist hung with straight plates of star-metal but his leggings had more of those fanciful horn designs. The famous Horn of Saint Bryant—that star-metal trumpet that was said to have always hung at his side and was used to herald his approach—was long lost, replaced with two small axes that hung from Asteroth’s hips.

Raziel and Gadrial who sat together at the edge of the brook had served together in Jerusa for about five years. Both of their Star-Armors were rounded and smooth, the basic nondescript stock and store of many Saints. Beside them lay their star-metal swords. Like Karinael and Hadraniel, they did not openly display their affections for one another out in the field, but it was quite obvious to all that the two were an item. Karinael had known it the first time she met the pair just by the way Raziel’s ruby eyes brightened whenever they fell upon Gadrial’s slender form. Even now, as Raziel sat with his arm over Gadrial’s back, his fingers toyed with her long, aquamarine hair. Karinael smiled as Raziel leaned into Gadrial and spoke something into her ear, causing her to giggle.

Further down the brook stood Sodiel and Baradiel chatting amongst themselves. Both had hair and eyes like rich, dark honey, though Baradiel kept his hair much longer than Sodiel. Baradiel was also slightly larger of frame than Sodiel and had a broad-bladed long-sword strapped to his back. Sodiel’s weapon was something of a rarity among Saints. It was a long, very straight and very smooth bo-staff of star-metal and he often held it and leaned on it as he was now. Sodiel’s armor was also quite unique. His breastplate was long and tapered and didn’t have the usual bulk of most. Rather than bracers or leggings, the star-metal armor of Sodiel’s arms and legs were made of small, square plates linked together that sat on top of his bodysuit, making it a very flexible Star-Armor that flowed with his body.

From behind, Karinael felt Hadraniel’s hand fall upon her shoulder. She closed her eyes and smiled, hopeful that he was finally coming around. Since the arrival of the others, Hadraniel had been keeping mostly to himself, rarely venturing out of the small grotto where he and she slept. He hadn’t even come out as Karinael and the others practiced with her to link their Calibers. At first the others, especially Asteroth, had been quite taken aback by her abilities, even hesitant to allow her to try to link with them. Karinael eventually talked them into letting her, but she couldn’t help but think it would have been a lot easier—and she would have gotten more practice time in with them—had Hadraniel come out to let her demonstrate on him.

Karinael turned to Hadraniel and puffed out a breath, blowing her long, honey locks from her eyes. Raziel and Gadrial had brought Hadraniel a new bodysuit two days back and he was finally back into his Star-Armor. He was also wearing gloves, she noted.

It broke her heart to see him so shy of his burn scars, and he had even begun brushing his silver hair down over his eyes in an attempt to cover as much of his face as possible. To her they were scars earned in heroism as he pulled her from the fires of Saint Ithuriel. But to him, she knew, they were reminders of how he almost lost her; how he could not protect her. Karinael hoped that in time he would come to accept his wounds as fully as she did. She smiled at him and leaned in and wrapped her arms about him. Pulling back, she brushed the hair from his face and smiled. “There’s my handsome hero.”

The ruined flesh of Hadraniel’s cheeks tightened as he forced a smile at her.

Seven Saints,
Karinael thought with some pride as she stared into Hadraniel’s silver eyes. Together they were the Saints of the Final Star; A constellation of Saints loyal to Erygion and his cause to find and awaken the Sleeping Goddess. As small as their group was, it was the largest constellation of Saints she had ever been a part of. More than that, this was, without a doubt, the most important constellation of Saints that had ever formed since the age of the Great Falling. They were all here because they wanted to be, not because they were ordered to by Sanctuary or a King or an Exalted. They all had their own sanguinastrums; they were all free. Yet, they all chose to be a part of this; a part of something big, something dire. Their success had the potential to change the entire world for the better; their failure the potential to make them all Saints of the Final Age.

Hadraniel tilted his head toward the dark line of trees in the south. “Somebody’s coming.”

Against the black wall of the forest strode a lone Saint. At first Karinael felt her heart leap, certain that it was Erygion. The other five Saints gathered around Hadraniel and Karinael. Saint Baradiel said that it was Adonael or Zoseph. Saint Asteroth’s golden eyes focused, his face souring. He held out a hand and it glowed with golden Caliber light that coalesced into a number of small, blazing orbs that he cast out toward the figure. They danced about the shadowy form, illuminating eyes and hair as black as polished obsidian before blinking out, one by one. The group let out a collective sigh.

Saint Ovid’s deep laugh shook the evening air as he approached. “The Saints of the Final Star, all gathered as one.”

“Not all of them.” said Hadraniel. “Where is Erygion?”

“Funny thing about that.” said Ovid as he came up to them, his eyes appraising the lot. “He’s not coming.”

There were some murmurs from the Saints. Karinael stepped up to Ovid. “Not coming? Where is he?”

Ovid’s lips curled into a wicked smile. “I ran into Saint Nuriel while I was out.” He looked Karinael in the eyes. “She mentioned something to me about his untimely demise.”

The color left Karinael’s face.

“She also mentioned something about the fates of Dalerial, Falerial and Zoseph. I wouldn’t be expecting them to show up either.” said Ovid. “But according to Nuriel, Adonael was more reasonable. Faced with Nuriel, I think he got cold feet.”

Asteroth pushed past Karinael. “What are you getting at? Did she kill them all?”

“Don’t worry,” said Ovid looking up at the large Saint. “Nuriel only killed Dalerial and Falerial. Erygion and Zoseph met a far worse fate.”

“He’s brought Nuriel with him!” exclaimed Hadraniel, his sword hissing from its scabbard. “Everyone, on your guard!”

The Saints all drew their weapons and began scanning the surrounding area for any signs of movement. Karinael noticed Ovid’s eyes flick toward the brook. The cold waters seemed deeper, murkier and stiller than they had been. Behind her, the dying, evening sun blinked with fast-moving clouds and the world became a darker place. She stepped back from Ovid, her boots making a sloshing noise. She looked down to see black waters pooling all around her star-metal boots and those of her companions.

“No, I didn’t bring Nuriel.” said Ovid. “She’s not much for striking bargains, so I threw her off your course.” Here Ovid laughed. “But I’ve brought somebody far worse.”

The brook was now deathly still. Its waters as black as night. From its seemingly infinite depths cut a haunting, yellow-green light like that of a lonesome lighthouse upon fog-shrouded shores whose rays were cast to a forgotten sea. A fine mist rolled out from the brook’s rocky banks. Beneath it, the waters churned as if a god had reached his finger down and stirred it from an ancient slumber. The waters rose, spilling out and spreading across the ground like a disease. A number of hands with sharp nails and a sickly, yellow cast broke through the mist-covered surface of the water. And one by one seven heads rose, each with long hair hanging in thick, wet cords down fearsome faces with serpentine eyes.

Like snakes, the seven women known as Leviathan Hydra slithered out onto the shore hissing. The waters from the brook gathered at their bare feet as they stood, their gowns wet and tight upon their slinky forms. Their yellow eyes all locked on the Saints and they began to hiss, “
Treachery! Treachery! Treachery!”

“Ovid, you snake! You sold us out!” roared Asteroth as he raised his two star-metal axes into an offensive position.

“Sold you out?” Ovid laughed. “I am Ovid of the Nine Days, but my honorific was not earned the way you have heard the story. I did not earn it cleansing Penatallia of heretics for King Erol. I earned it beside Saint Mephistasis of the Red Path. There was a cleansing of Saints ordered by Sanctuary. It was the fourth such cleansing that I know of. For nine days I hunted Saints and took them to be burned by Ithuriel’s fire. You are not the first Saints to work against Sanctuary, and I’m certain you won’t be the last. But I don’t plan to be on the other side of the next cleansing. Not with Nuriel around.”

Ovid took a few steps backward from the group. “Did I sell you out? Maybe.” he said. “Leviathan Hydra sees everything, and as her Saint my escape would never slip her gaze. But with her occupied on you it will be easy enough to take my leave. If you survive, you can find me in Narbereth.” Thunder cracked overhead as clouds as dark as the brook’s waters rolled in from seemingly nowhere. Ovid looked up and smiled as cold rain began to fall. He looked back at Asteroth. “But I don’t think that’s likely.”

“Why?” asked Karinael, defeat in her voice. “Why would you do this to us? Why, now that we’ve given you your sanguinastrum?”

“Oh, come now, Karinael. You didn’t really think I cared about your cause, did you?” He chuckled at Karinael’s crushed expression, made more woeful by the rain that matted her hair and ran down her face like tears. “Have I ever pretended to be anything but out for myself?” Ovid looked at Hadraniel. “Do you remember the boy that day? The one who did this to me?” He ran his hand over the deep scar at the base of his neck. Lightning flashed, reflecting off his wet breastplate, illuminating the disfigurement. “He’s got something I want.”

Karinael and the others all looked at Hadraniel. “What’s he talking about?” asked Saint Sodiel.

Ovid chuckled. “Call it some type of cosmic coincidence,” said Ovid, looking at Karinael. “But I think you know him too. It turns out this boy now lives in Narbereth, in a city called Bellus. A boy named
Rook Gatimarian
. The same boy who has been financing all the shipments of food here.”

Karinael’s eyes went wide.

“Such a small world.” chuckled Ovid. “It just so happened that your friend Gabidar knew him too. And Gabidar told me all about Rook before I killed him.”

Karinael gasped. “Ovid, tell me you didn’t…”

“I do believe this will be our last goodbye, Saints of the Final Star.” said Ovid. He looked at Karinael. “Did you know that Mephistasis of the Red Path was once Holy Father’s personal Saint? Just like Nuriel. He killed his apprentice for treason against Sanctuary.” He winked at her. He turned and walked away.

Rain came down in sheets, slapping the dark waters that now encircled the landscape. The seven unnaturally tall women slunk forward, the waters of the brook following them, tracing ahead in long ripples. Their limp wrists dangled hands with long claws that dripped with water. Their mouths turned up in snarls that revealed needle-like fangs.

The Saints all took a few steps back, their boots sloshing in ankle-deep water that to Karinael looked far deeper.

“Run!” yelled Asteroth through the rain. As they turned to flee the waters all around began to crash and churn like an angry ocean and a great wave rose up and toppled them to the ground, casting them apart from each other.

Karinael coughed and spat salty sea water from her mouth as she struggled up to her feet and clumsily unsheathed her sword. Her eyes squinted against the downpour of rain as she found Hadraniel a few yards away. Beside her, Saint Asteroth pulled some seaweed from his hair. He looked around as the dark waters churned and crashed all about as if they were walking upon the surface of a stormy sea. “What kind of witchery is this?”