Here Shines the Sun (51 page)

“Oh my poor son!” wailed Sierla, running to him. She embraced him with Kierza, and then Callad wrapped his arms around them all.

After a moment Karinael came to Rook. She took his hand. “I am sorry for you.” she said, staring into him with her amber eyes. “I am sorry for the pain and anguish my Order has caused you and all the people of this world. But we are here now.” She looked around at the other Saints. “We might be few, but we are here, and we will help wherever we can.” She took Rook’s head into her hands. “I promise you, we shall see the Goddess awakened. I promise, we shall set this world right.”

Rook nodded as he sniffed. He looked at Karinael. “All is forgiven.” He placed the Golothic back into his pocket. “It was a promise made long ago by a boy desperate and tricked.”

Diotus came up behind him and whispered into his ear. “That is why I cannot mark you, boy. I cannot wipe away the demon’s mark with my own.”

Rook felt his heart sink and felt something like shame creep into himself. Diotus had always known.

“So, Ovid seeks you out hoping to call a demon for himself?” said Raziel. “Ovid is a fool. Why does he need you? Why can’t he just offer his soul up on his own? I’ve heard that Saints have done it before, to escape their sanguinastrums.”

Rook regarded Raziel for a moment. “The demon’s name I owe is Bulifer. He once told me that no demon will ever come for him because he does his master’s work willingly.” Rook looked at Karinael. “The demon told me that even in Hell souls are weighed by deeds of kindness. Not even Apollyon eats rotten fruit.”

Rook’s words seemed to weigh on the Saints and they all fell silent. Karinael slipped her hand into Hadraniel’s.

“But, this Ovid you speak of is here,” said Sierla, her voice quavering with fear and despair. “And he is coming for my son?”

Asteroth nodded. “We shall hunt him down this very day.”

“I will go too.” said Rook. “I am at least owed finishing the job I started.”

“No.” said Callad. “No, son. Let them handle it.”

“It would be better if you stayed.” agreed Asteroth. “Ovid is treacherous, and you will not best him in combat.”

Rook pursed his lips angrily.

“Please,” said Kierza, taking Rook’s hand into hers. “Just stay with me.”

“There is an army on the way, Rook.” croaked Diotus. “You need to make preparations here. You need to lead the people who have given everything to stand with you.”

Rook sighed and nodded. Diotus was right. Still, he felt that Golothic burning. This was an anger and hatred he wanted to take in. It was an anger he would let Bulifer have, for this wrath felt good. His hand went to the pocket and he squeezed the sandy thing.

“How many of the King’s Saints are out there?” asked Asteroth.

“There are two that I know of.” said Diotus. “Two females who came with the King’s entourage.”

“Paniel and Rael.” said Saint Ertrael. “Saint Galavriel is already dead. You should give Rook more credit in his ability to face Ovid.”

The Saints all looked at Rook skeptically.

“Another Saint came from one of the nearby cities yesterday.” said Ertrael. “I believe it was Saint Dugriel. He took a bolt to the head, as I am told.”

“There will be more Saints coming with that army.” said Karinael. She looked at Hadraniel. “Do you think we can sway them to our side?” She turned to Ertrael. “What about Paniel and Rael? Do you think they would join us?”

Ertrael shook his head. “Not a chance with Paniel. She adores the Sisters she serves. Rael maybe, if we can catch her alone. Otherwise, she will always follow Paniel’s lead.”

“Let us hunt down Ovid quickly then.” said Asteroth. “Then we shall deal with these new Saints.” He turned to Karinael. “Me, Raziel and Ertrael will take point. I will flush Ovid out with my lights and you, Hadraniel and Sodiel will flank him. We’ll end him quickly.”

Rook’s hand clenched the Golothic in his pocket until he could feel its heat threatening to sear his flesh. “Leave Ertrael and Karinael with me.” said Rook, the words escaping his lips before he realized he had even spoken them. “More injured may come, and Sierla and Kierza could still benefit from Ertrael’s Caliber.”

Ertrael looked at Rook. He turned his eyes to Kierza. “I can stay.”

“We shouldn’t split our numbers against Ovid.” said Sodiel. “He is a powerful Saint. He took out Ithuriel on his own.”

“I can handle the injured myself, for a time.” said Diotus.

“Me and Ma will be fine.” said Kierza. “There’s no need—”

“No.” growled Rook. “I will not leave my people without a healer!”

Everybody in the room was taken aback by the ferocity in Rook’s voice, but Asteroth and Raziel took it as a slight.

“We are Saints, not your soldiers.” said Asteroth. “I will not be ordered about by the likes of you.”

“It’s all right.” said Ertrael. He turned to Rook. “I’ll stay behind.”

“I’ll stay too.” said Karinael. “If any more Saints show up while you’re gone, me and Ertrael can see if they can be persuaded to join us. Nobody knows the Saints of this land better than Ertrael.”

“And nobody can talk sense into Saints like Karinael.” said Hadraniel. He put his hand into Karinael’s. “But I stay with her.”

“You just don’t want to face Ovid.” said Raziel, his voice bitter. “You two have been looking for an excuse to let that bastard go since we left Jerusa.” He fixed Rook with his burning, ruby eyes. “We’re Saints, and we’re here to extract the justice of Saints. We’re not here to be healers.”

Karinael shook her head. “We’re not supposed to be out for vengeance either. We swore ourselves to Erygion and his cause.”

“I don’t believe his cause was to help these people either.” spat Raziel.

“Enough.” said Asteroth. “We’ll not argue the point. We’re all free Saints.”

Raziel smirked. “Less competition for Ovid’s head. I’ll take him on my own if I have to.”

“Rook, don’t make them split up. Look what you’ve caused.”
Kierza whispered her dismay into Rook’s ear. Diotus was about to say something when Asteroth spoke.

“It is settled then.” said the large Saint. “Me, Raziel and Sodiel shall go hunt down Ovid. Karinael, Hadraniel and Ertrael will stay here. I suppose it’s for the best. Karinael has a way with the hearts of Saints. If any can turn a Saint to our cause, it will be Karinael.”

Ertrael nodded.

“Before you go, let me paint our mark on your armor.” said Diotus. “That way our soldiers will know you are on our side.” He looked to Rook. “I’ll have Blake and Dontis send the word out as well.”

Rook nodded and watched as Diotus led Asteroth, Raziel and Sodiel up the stairs. An ancient anger still brewed in him and he wanted to follow them. He wanted to finish Ovid himself. Kierza pulled his hand from his pocket again and held his arm tightly. “Stay.” she said. “We all need you here.”

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

Just outside of Bellus’s walls were a number of large, yellow tents set up in neat rows. Ranks of knights stood at the ready just beyond them, as well as small clusters of lesser soldiers and city guards. Miles off in the distance Nuriel could see a sea of knights in formation marching through the valley, their plate armor gleaming in the sun as they came. It was the Narberian army, and Nuriel guessed somewhere around five-thousand soldiers. At their head rode at least two Saints that Nuriel could make out, both flying the banner of Narbereth.

Nuriel made her way through the rows of tents toward the largest of them all. It was tall and round, made of heavy, yellow fabric. Upon its high, center post the Narberethan flag flapped lazily in the afternoon breeze, its fabric heavy with dark stains from the blood that dripped from the mayor’s impaled head above it. The entrance was guarded by a pair of pikemen and all around its huge circumference stood knights at the ready. Nuriel approached quickly and called out to the guards, “I am Saint Nuriel. I have been sent from Sanctuary by Holy Father Admael.” The pikemen drew open the entrance for her.

The interior of the spacious tent was occupied by a large table cluttered with maps and papers. All around makeshift living quarters were arranged, complete with a full boudoir for the Princesses. The summer sun filtered through the canvass walls, casting the King and his two daughters at his side in dim, golden light. Beside them stood two female Saints, both with black, chainmail veils over their faces. The King looked up from the table he leaned over.

“My King,” said Nuriel with a bow. “I am Saint Nuriel of Sanctuary. I have been sent by Holy Father Admael himself.”

“Ah, good!” cheered the King. He picked up a golden goblet from the table. Nuriel watched as the metal became tin in his hands. He took a sip of his wine and set the cup down and it returned to its former, golden glory. The two Sisters hugged him close, their large, blue eyes peering at Nuriel. “Come in, come in. Make yourself at home. I am pleased that Sanctuary sends me more Saints. We were about to make another attempt into the city, this time near the docks. My Saints here shall infiltrate by the river and they could use the extra help.”

“You misunderstand my business here.” said Nuriel, eyeing the two Saints. “I am here to collect Saint Ertrael and question any of your Saints who have had contact with him recently.”

The King’s eyes focused more intently on her. The table and the papers caught in his shadow took on a cheap reflection of themselves. The two Sisters’ eyes narrowed as they watched Nuriel. “My Saints are killed or defect from me, and Sanctuary sends you to collect even more? Does Sanctuary mean to insult me?”

“Most Exalted King Dhanzeg,” said Nuriel. “As you are aware, constellations have been appearing in the sky. Holy Father has been made aware of a situation and is working tirelessly to correct it. He sends me with his apologies and the promise that, once this situation is rectified, more Saints will be given to you.”

“I hope so,” said the King. He took another sip of wine. “What is this ‘situation’ you speak of?”

“I am sorry, my King, but I am not at liberty to discuss it. Although, it is the reason I must collect Ertrael from you.”

The King frowned. “Saint Ertrael has defected. I have been trying myself to find the traitorous bastard, and that is why I am sending Paniel and Rael into this rebellious little city ahead of my army.” His eyes hardened. “I sent word to Sanctuary to have him recalled. That has not happened yet. Why not.”

“It’s part of the situation.” said Nuriel, happening to notice the puzzled looks of the two female Saints. “May I have permission to question your Saints?”

The King waved his hand dismissively.

Nuriel turned to the Saints. “Your names.”

“I am Saint Paniel.” said the one with golden hair.

“Saint Rael.” stated the one with white hair.

“Have you both worked closely with Saint Ertrael?” asked Nuriel.

“We have,” said Paniel.

“Have either of you witnessed anything strange about him since the night the constellation first appeared in the sky?”

Rael shook her head but Paniel said, “Yes, actually.”

Nuriel’s golden eyes narrowed. “Saint Paniel, come forward.”

Paniel approached Nuriel.

“What did you witness?” asked Nuriel quietly.

Paniel glanced over her shoulder at the King and his daughters, then returned her eyes to Nuriel. “Galavriel saw it too.” she whispered. “On the two nights that the serpent constellation appeared, his Caliber went crazy, like he couldn’t control it. He had this strange plasma coming off his body… and his armor, it was like—”

“Did anybody else see this?” asked Nuriel.

Paniel shook her head. “Just me and Galavriel.”

“Where is Galavriel now?”

Paniel frowned. “When we first came into town we were at the house of a blacksmith. He was attacked and killed.”

In a single, graceful motion done with uncanny speed, Nuriel took the star-metal claymore from her back and took Paniel’s head from her shoulders. Paniel’s body stood for just a moment, crimson liquid pouring from the neck before collapsing into a heap on the floor.

Across the room Saint Rael was shaken, her eyes wide. The King stood up straight as the tent around him began to turn to burlap, the furniture to cheap wicker. His daughters hugged him closely, their eyes becoming cracked marbles.

Nuriel looked at the King and bowed deeply. “I am sorry, my King. She had to be recalled.” At Nuriel’s feet bones popped and cracked as Paniel’s body was consumed into her armor. “I shall collect her armor later and return it to Sanctuary. I am required to ask if you would prefer a male or female Saint in her place?”

“Female.” said the King. His gaze focused on Nuriel. “Do not make Ertrael’s death so swift.”

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

Saint Sodiel hurried down the alley after Asteroth and Raziel, taking the opposite side, hugging the wall close as he held his bo-staff at the ready. Upon their pauldrons and breastplates were hastily painted symbols of a raven above a strange hand closed into a fist. Though the people of this city had no idea the hand was, in fact, a Golothic, it was a symbol that a majority of the people seemed to recognize as Rook’s. Diotus had made them all wear it, hoping it would deter anybody from inadvertently attacking them as they searched the streets for Ovid.

Saint Asteroth ordered them to a halt at the end of the alley. It intersected a wide avenue running north and south, either side lined with large warehouses. The scent of river water was thick in the air here and northward Sodiel could see the masts of ships as they bobbed from their docks. There were cries and shouts from the northwest and bolt-thrower fire started up. A handful of soldiers ran past and the streets began to empty of the few people who remained on them.

Asteroth and Raziel scanned the rooftops and side alleys as Sodiel peeked around the corner, toward the docks. “Ovid is somewhere around here, I’m sure of it.” said Asteroth quietly as the distant sound of bolt-thrower fire intensified. “When I sent out my lights I could feel him here.”

There was more commotion from the docks and Sodiel was certain he heard the word ‘Saints’ shouted. He pointed in the direction. “You think it might be him?”

“Send out your lights again.” said Raziel. “We should—”