Here Shines the Sun (56 page)

“Karin!” Karinael heard Hadraniel’s voice somewhere down the road as she struggled up to her knees, holding her sword out. She shook her dazed head, then noticed droplets of blood on the bricks beneath her. Her mouth was bleeding. She looked up just as Nuriel’s claymore came at her, knocking the blade from her hand. It flew across the road and broke through the wall of a house. Then Nuriel’s fist impacted her left eye.

White sparks fired in Karinael’s vision. She didn’t even register the pain before she felt Nuriel’s grip tangle in her hair and drag her up to her feet. Something in her mind urged her to say something to Nuriel—to say anything—but all she could muster was a weak yelp.

Another backhand across her cheek. Karinael stumbled backward, clutching her face. Something rattled around in her mouth. She opened her jaw and blood and teeth poured out. She coughed, nearly choking on all the blood. She looked up and her eyes loosely focused on Hadraniel. His face seemed paler than usual, his eyes wide and frantic as he desperately pressed his attacks on Rael.

“You betrayed me!” roared Nuriel.

Karinael turned her head, holding her mouth with one hand. Nuriel stormed forward. Karinael raised her other hand to her. “Nuriel, stop!”

“I apprenticed you!” Nuriel’s sword flicked outward and Karinael’s wrist erupted with searing pain as her hand flew across the road. She screamed and recoiled her arm, blood spilling from the stump.

Karinael looked at Nuriel as she held her bleeding wrist against her chest. She couldn’t speak. She couldn’t react. Her mind raced but all she could focus on were the thoughts of,
this can’t be really happening.

“You embarrass me!” Nuriel swept her sword up, lopping Karinael’s right leg off at the knee. She screamed out as she toppled hard upon the road.

Karinael clutched her bleeding arm to her chest as she rolled onto her belly. She turned her head to find Hadraniel. She watched as he spun in quickly at Rael. She moved her sword up, knocking Hadraniel’s aside. Then she spun in at him with a sweeping kick, knocking Hadraniel’s feet out from under him. He fell and for a moment Karinael’s eyes met his. “H-Hadi…” she managed.

Hadraniel rolled just as Rael’s sword plunged into the road. He kicked himself up to his feet. “Karin!” he cried as Rael tore her sword free. Hadraniel’s face twisted in anger and hatred. His sword flashed as he met Rael’s. She spun, whipping her sword around at him but he rolled beneath it, coming up behind her as he brought his sword up, over and spun it around, taking off her head. As Rael’s body fell, Hadraniel’s head snapped in Karinael’s direction. His eyes went wide. “No!” he screamed.

Karinael looked up. Nuriel turned her over onto her back and got on top of her. “You betrayed Holy Father!” she screamed, her eyes wild, disconnected. She was high on Ev. Karinael knew it. “You made me do this! You made me do this! I hate you!”

Karinael felt a sting in her armpit so powerful that it completely sucked all breath from her. Coldness penetrated her body, filling her lungs. She choked and gasped as Nuriel slowly pressed her sword deeper until Karinael felt its icy touch pierce her heart.

Nuriel stood up and Karinael felt the blade slip from her body. Breath tore its way back into her, but it was painful, like she was trying to breathe underwater, and it was full of the metallic essence of blood. Karinael glanced down at her left shoulder. Blood was pouring out from between her arm and breastplate. She tried to call out for Hadraniel but only a fountain of crimson escaped her lips. She looked up at the sky. It was so blue. Such a bright day. She knew it was warm out, but she felt so cold. She could hear Hadraniel’s boots clanging on the brick road as he raced toward her. A moment later he came skidding upon his knees, scooping her into his arms.

“Karin! Karin!”

She looked to him. Blood sprayed from her mouth as she coughed. She reached up to his face. Her wrist stung as the severed stump stroked down his cheek. “H-Hadi…”

“I’m here. I’m here.” Hadraniel hugged her to his breast and shined his Caliber as brightly as he could. She could feel its warmth embrace her, but it was like it was moving away from her, or maybe she from it. “Stay with me! Karin, stay with me!”

She smiled softly at him, then her eyes turned toward Nuriel. Hadraniel looked up. Nuriel stood before them, her chest heaving, white spit at the edges of her mouth like a rabid dog. She stared down at them. She gripped her sword. She looked like she might strike at Hadraniel.

“Nuriel…” Karinael’s voice was hardly a whisper.

Nuriel hesitated.

“What have you done!” cried Hadraniel, tears streaming from his eyes as he looked up at her. “What have you done!”

“N-Nuriel,” croaked Karinael from Hadraniel’s arms. She coughed, spraying more blood. “I loved you, Nuriel. You were my friend, and that was more real than anything else in my childhood. I don’t know what happened to you. You shut me out. But I will always remember who you were, and that’s more important than who you are now. If you ever loved me, I-I-”

“Stay with me,” said Hadraniel frantically. He cradled her head to his. “Stay with me. Be quiet. Focus on my Caliber. Let me heal you.”

“Hadi,” whispered Karinael. She couldn’t feel his Caliber anymore. She couldn’t feel her own either. It was as if her Caliber was above her; as if it had become a part of something vast and beyond the reach of this world. She felt drawn to it, but she urged herself to stay a moment longer. “Hadi, I love you.” She coughed, spattering Hadraniel’s cheek with blood. “Please go to Duroton. You have to. Promise me—” She gasped a painful, wheezing gasp.

“Don’t you die, Karin!” cried Hadraniel. “Don’t you die! Karin!”

Karinael felt the fingers of her good hand brush through his silver hair and stroke his cheek. It was warm and wet. Soft. She closed her eyes and smiled.
He was kind and gentle and good.
she thought.
A good Saint. A Saint of Aeoria. And I got to know him.
She felt herself pulled toward that great vastness where her Caliber lay. And then her hand fell hard upon the ground.

“No! Karin, no!” Hadraniel clutched her body close and tight. He shined his Caliber as brightly as he could, a globe of intense white surrounding him. “Karin, you can’t die! Karinael!”

Bones popped and cracked in a sickening way. Her body spasmed in his arms.

“Karin no!” Hadraniel looked to the heavens, tears falling from his cheeks as her empty armor fell into pieces in his arms.

Kierza came out of Diotus’s shop, her mother at her side. She turned to see Hadraniel kneeling in the road, crying out to the heavens as Nuriel stood beside him. Hadraniel’s red, wet eyes turned to Nuriel. “How could you! How could you! You killed her! This world needed her, and you took her away! You killed your own friend! All she ever wanted was to be with you again! How could you!
How could you!
”

Nuriel looked around at all the blood, as if suddenly confused. She grabbed her hair up in her hands. “Holy Father, what have I done.” she panted.

“Kill me! Just kill me!” roared Hadraniel as he grabbed up Karinael’s empty bodysuit, shaking it at Nuriel.

Kierza and Sierla ran up to Hadraniel as he collapsed upon Karinael’s armor, weeping.

“Oh Karinael, my sweet Karinael.” cried Hadraniel, clutching her bodysuit to his chest. Sierla and Kierza wrapped their arms around him as he wept into her armor.

A sudden fierceness entered Kierza as she hugged Hadraniel in her arms, his body wracked by sobs. She looked up at Nuriel with venomous eyes. “Is this what you do? Is this what you enjoy? You’re no Saint, you’re a monster!”

Nuriel looked down at the spot Karinael once lay. Just blood and armor there now. “What have I done? What did I do? Oh, Holy Father, what have I done?” She snatched one of Karinael’s pauldrons and then bounded up onto a roof and leapt down, disappearing into the streets.

— 24 —

Retribution

“Ursula.” whispered the strong man with brown eyes and beard as he trained his bolt-thrower on Agana. “I… I’m sorry. You… you’re all my fault.”

Tears rained from Agana’s eyes as she ran and fell beside Ophelia on the floor, hugging her. “Don’t hurt Saint Ophelia! Please don’t hurt her!”

The man pointed his barrel down at them. It trembled in his hands.

Ophelia held her sword in one hand and put her other around Agana, tucking the girl’s face into the crook of her neck. She turned her obsidian eyes up to the man as her mangled leg bled out onto the floor. Outside the cottage there was shouting. Ophelia could hear the neighboring building’s having their doors kicked in as knights and townspeople searched for her and Agana.

“Shoot them!” urged the man standing in the living room as he hugged his wife tight. He looked at the man with the bolt-thrower. “This day has been too long in the making! Shoot them already! Shoot them while you have the chance!”

The man licked his lips. His finger quivered on the trigger. “Ursula, I’m so sorry. Aeoria forgive—”

Ophelia dropped her sword and grabbed the man up in her Caliber. She waved her arm and tossed him across the room where he crashed into the wall, smashing a small table and lantern as he fell.

“Help! Help! They’re in here!” cried the man by the door. He ran to it and was about to open it when Ophelia pushed Agana aside and pounced at him, tackling him to the floor. He screamed but Ophelia brought her fist down hard and his skull crunched and flattened. His wife screamed and Ophelia dove at her and wrapped her arm around her neck as she tackled her. With a twist, Ophelia broke her neck.

Ophelia struggled to her feet, balancing on her left leg as she held onto the wall near a curtained window. Agana ran to her and threw her arms around her, nearly knocking her over. “I’m scared, Ophelia.” she sobbed. “Why are they attacking us?”

“I don’t know.” Ophelia stroked her hand through Agana’s hair as she opened the curtain a crack. She heard bolt-thrower fire echoing through the streets, and off in the distance saw the gothic spires of the church in flames, black smoke billowing up into the stormy heavens. More immediately, however, she saw knights and townspeople surrounding the cottage. Some were coming up toward the front door, bolt-throwers at the ready.

She looked down at her ruined right leg and hissed from the pain. She was starting to feel dizzy and light-headed, but she had no time to try to heal herself. She looked around the cottage. There was nowhere to run, even if she could; nowhere to hide, not that it would do any good. She looked up to the thick rafters on the ceiling and the golden thatch of the roof that was woven between wooden slats. She picked Agana up and the little girl threw her arms around her neck.

“Hold on tight.” Ophelia took a few quick, deep breaths and encompassed herself in golden, Caliber energy. As men broke through the front and back doors Ophelia leapt up, crashing through the roof just as bolt-thrower fire riddled the house. Wood and thatch broke over Ophelia’s fist as she sailed into the air above the cottage, clutching the screaming Agana to her bosom. Thunder rumbled the dark skies above as men in the streets raised their bolt-throwers and fired into the air at them.

Lightheaded from the loss of blood, Ophelia felt as if she hung in the air for longer than was possible. She looked to the east where the castle sat atop the high hill. There were fires in some of the windows, red flames curling up and lapping at the dark stones, scorching them black. The eldritch forest that surrounded it and the hill was in a frenzy. Gnarly branches writhed and waved in desperate agitation, seeking any way they could to protect the castle. Lightning flashed in the black clouds above the hill, and in its brief light Ophelia caught sight of Exalted Lord Kalarus bounding through the forest. His great, wolfen form leapt across the castle’s moat and latched onto a tower. He crawled his way up to a window as easily as a spider. He tore out a barred window, ripping away the stone encasement, and slipped inside. The last thing Ophelia saw before she began to fall was a gusher of blood pour from the broken window and a dozen mangled knights tossed from it.

Ophelia came down onto the adjacent cottage, her feet crashing through the weak roof and landing hard inside the home, tumbling across the floor with Agana as broken slats and thatch rained down on them. Ophelia rolled onto her back, panting. She was so dizzy now. She looked at her mangled leg and noticed very little blood was coming from it. She felt cold. Her Caliber energy was fading.

“Ophelia!” Agana knelt beside her, holding her head in her lap. “Ophelia!”

Ophelia struggled onto her side and placed her hand on Agana’s cheek. “Agana, go hide up the chimney. Hurry. I… I can’t go any further.”

“No! I can’t leave you! I won’t!”

“You have to, honey.” said Ophelia. “The bad men are coming for me. Hide in the chimney, and when you’re certain they’ve all left, sneak back to the hill. The forest will protect you and Lord Kalarus is at the castle now. He’ll smell you and come for you. You’ll be safe there.”

“Why are they attacking us! Ophelia! Ophelia!” Agana tugged at her arm, But Ophelia lacked the strength to stand back up. “Come on, let’s go!”

“I love you, Agana. I love you so much. Hurry. Hurry. Hide up the chim—”

Crack!
The door was kicked in. A dozen men and knights of Valdasia stormed in. Bolt-throwers were trained on Agana and Ophelia as the soldiers surrounded them. Then Sir Erich Spengle stepped into the room. “Don’t shoot them yet.” he ordered, slinging his bolt-thrower over his shoulder.

Ophelia grabbed Agana to her breast and whispered into her ear, “Don’t look.” Agana nodded as she sobbed and buried her face into Ophelia’s neck. Ophelia fixed Spengle with her eyes. “You are sworn to protect her! You are a knight of Valdasia!”

“Not anymore.” said Sir Spengle. He motioned to one of the men and the man came up, placing the barrel of his bolt-thrower to Ophelia’s head. “We are through sacrificing our sons and daughters to the Dire Mother! We are through having friends and family vanish in the night to become spare parts for the Withered King!”

The other men all cheered.

“King Verami will sweep plague across this city if you kill her.” growled Ophelia.

Spengle chuckled. “Tiffany of the Graves shall see to it that he rests peacefully in his own.” Here his voice took on a more venomous tone, “As for you, it’s time to put you in yours, Ophelia of the Many Tears.” He practically spat her name. “How many families have you torn apart? How many babes have you taken to die at the breast of the Dire Mother? You took my son fifteen years ago. His name was Marlon.
Marlon Spengle!
” he roared. “I found him in a jar in Queen Loretta’s chamber! You call yourself a Saint, but I swear upon my son’s soul you shall burn in Hell for your sins!”

Sir Spengle stepped forward and grabbed Agana by the hair, ripping her from Ophelia’s grasp. She yelped as Spengle held her firmly, twisting her black hair around his fist. Tears rained off her cheeks and diffused into the blood stains on her white dress. “Don’t hurt Ophelia! Don’t hurt her!”

Spengle’s lips furled in disgust at her. “And you, you monstrous little bitch, you’re going to burn upon a stake for all to see.” Agana screamed as Spengle tossed her across the room by her hair.

“You bastard!” growled Ophelia. She pushed herself up.

Startled, Sir Spengle jumped back. “Shoot her!”

JINK!

“Ophelia!” cried Agana as she watched the back of the Saint’s head explode.
JINK-JINK-JINK-JINK-JINK-JINK!
Bolt-throwers from every direction riddled Ophelia’s body, blowing chunks of meat from her unarmored belly or exploding off her Star-Armor. “Ophelia!” wailed Agana, running toward her with arms outstretched. A man grabbed her from behind, forcing her arms backward. She was lifted off her feet as she struggled in his arms. “No! No! Saint Ophelia!”

Spengle pointed to the man holding Agana. “Take her to the town square. Let all the people witness the death of the Vampire of Valdasia!”

Agana wailed in the man’s clutches as tears rolled from her red eyes. Her sobs weakened her voice as she cried, “Why, Ophelia! Why did you have to die! No! No! Ophelia!”

There were some sickening pops and cracks of bone and Ophelia’s mangled body began to quiver. All heads turned down and watched as her body was consumed into her armor, arms bending and breaking gruesomely as they were sucked into the breastplate; legs twisting and cracking as they were engulfed by her star-metal skirt or her grieves.

Agana went limp in the man’s arms, her head turned down in broken defeat as horrified silence filled the room. Then Agana looked up.

“You killed her.”
Agana’s voice was as cold as castle Valdaria and as deep and haunting as its shadows. Her eyes turned the color of blood as she stared down at the Saint’s empty armor.
“You killed her.”
She looked at Spengle. Blood began to flow over her bottom lip like water from a pitcher. It came down over her dress and spread out upon the floor. The man holding her dropped her, and her polished, black shoes splashed in the blood.

Spengle backed away, fumbling for his bolt-thrower.

“You killed her!”
Agana stepped toward Sir Spengle. Fangs revealed themselves at the sides of her mouth. Black nails, like the talons of a raven, grew from her fingers. “
You make me hungry!”

JINK!
Fire flashed from the muzzle of Spengle’s bolt-thrower. Agana staggered back, her black shoe slipping in the trail of blood she was leaving. The man behind her screamed as a hole was blown open in his belly. He collapsed, convulsing, as his intestines spilled and slid out over the floor.

Agana faced Spengle, crimson-filled eyes focused on him. Her lips furled, making her sharp fangs seem all the longer. There was a hole in her white dress at the center of her chest, and one out the back of it, but no wound could be seen on her flesh.

“I’m
hungry! I’m so hungry!”
She moved in on Spengle.

JINK-JINK-JINK!
Spengle fired his bolt-thrower again. Agana’s body twisted and jolted as holes opened up in her dress, but she kept coming, the shots having no effect on her. “Help! Help me!” he squealed.

“Silver!” cried one of the other men. “We need silver!”

“
Give me your blood!”

Spengle screamed and fell backward onto the floor as Agana came at him.

From behind a man ran up, the butt of his bolt-thrower raised. Agana lunged for Spengle, but the man brought the heavy, iron gun down hard on her head and she collapsed. As she lay limp upon the floor in a puddle of blood, her fangs retracted into her mouth, and her black talons receded into her fingers.

“Bind her! Quickly!” ordered Spengle. “You must burn her!”