The Record of the Saints Caliber (78 page)

But those memories of Calavar always came to the surface. Even now she felt as if she could slip her hand into his. Even now she felt she could go home and find him waiting for her. Even now she felt his hot breath in her ears, his lips upon her body. Had she really killed him? Had she really done such a dark deed? She didn’t want to believe it. She
couldn’t
believe it. If the love she felt in her dreams was real, could she really have killed him? Celacia had to know, and so it was that she left the Stellarium to try to seek the truth. But there was nothing in this world that was right. There was nothing of how she remembered things. She had no allies. She had no friends. There was
nothing
for her in this strange, new world. And so it was, as a last hope to find some shred of truth, that she had called upon the one demonic name she could remember:
Bulifer
.

And he was all too eager to oblige her. He knew what happened. He had answers. And he would give them to her for a price. All he wanted was time, and she had plenty. She had just woken from an age-old slumber. What was time in exchange for answers? He had given her three questions, and he answered them all with curt frankness: Calavar had been real; She could find him in the Abyss; To get him, all she needed was the Mard Grander.

Looking back now, with her mind slightly more lucid, she wished she maybe had asked different questions. Did she kill Calavar? Was he still alive? Were her memories of him real or imagined? Those were the questions she should have asked. Then again, did she really have the courage to ask them? No, even thinking about it now, she wouldn’t have worded her questions differently. She wasn’t ready to know those answers. And it didn’t matter anyway. She had sold her time to Bulifer for three questions, and she had asked them and received their answers. She felt no closer to the truth; no closer to anything; no more certain than before of what was real or imagined. She was no different than mortal men who sold their souls to demons. She had overpaid to get nothing. But a deal was a deal, and she knew payment was due.

Bulifer’s laugh held a cruel, mocking edge. “Look at you. So broken. So lost. So unsure of everything. Your memories and dreams are nothing but shattered fragments that you struggle to piece together. You find things that fit, but can never be certain if they belong to the same puzzle. Funny what time does to memories, is it not? Truth becomes fantasy, and fantasy becomes truth. Truth becomes what we want to remember, doesn’t it?” Bulifer’s eyes glowed white-hot as he stared into hers. “You remember your King, the great Black Dragon, whispering in your ear. He told you of great betrayals against you by your peers. And you remember killing them, don’t you?”

Celacia turned away from him. Bulifer was finally getting his due upon her, and he was going to savor every moment. And she had been stupid enough to let him take his due on her.

Bulifer chuckled, fiery ash floating off his body. “Tell me, do you remember how you got down into that pit they found you in?”

Celacia looked up at him. “Enough. Our deal was my time for your answers. If you’ve come to settle payment, then let’s settle it.”

“You don’t remember, do you?” asked Bulifer with cruel delight. “I’ll give you one more answer, this one on the house. You threw yourself into that pit. You tried to end your guilt and suffering and threw yourself into that bottomless darkness, hoping that peace might be found in its depths. But death can never have you, can it? You’re your own curse, and you’ve doomed yourself to an eternity of shame. For a long age you slept alone in that blackness. Tell me, were your dreams filled with memories of your life as they were? Or were they filled with tangled abstract fallacies imagined by a mind so wracked with guilt it cannot face the truth?”

Celacia pursed her lips and looked away from Bulifer.

The demon delighted in her torment, laughing cruelly. “Don’t look so glum. We all make mistakes, don’t we?”

Celacia turned her emerald eyes to his. The ground beneath her feet began to crumble. Webs of decaying stone spread out from her and began to creep up the walls of nearby buildings. The very air before her went stale.

“Now, now.” said Bulifer. “No getting upset. You came to me. You wanted to know if he had been real, where he was and how to get him, and I told you. It’s a shame you didn’t ask for more. You sold your time for so little.”

“Is he alive?” asked Celacia. “Tell me that much at least.”

Bulifer smiled, baring his fangs that glowed with infernal heat. “Are you certain you want to find out? If he is, would you go to him? Do you really think if you find him alive he will want anything to do with you?
You
, who helped betray the Goddess.
You
, who betrayed all the Dragon Kings.
You
, who killed the Avatars?” He laughed cruelly. “If you want to know if he lives, go to the Abyss. Should you ever make it there, I suspect you will find many sent by your own hand, and many who would like nothing more than to keep you there in torment with them. Do you really think if you find Calavar he will want you? Do you really think your precious little memories are anything more than delusions born of your guilt? You’re nothing but Death, Celacia. Think of all those you’ve killed.”

“You mean like Yig?” asked Celacia. Then with a wink added, “Or yourself?”

Bulifer snarled. He looked at his hulking arms, veined with fire. “You did me a favor by helping me shed my mortal skin.” He turned his blazing eyes to her. “And I’ll be doing you one. I’ll spare you the heartache of finding Calavar. Your payment comes due now, and you paid with time. You think the last age you spent sleeping was long? This next one shall be a lonely eternity. Look around you, all that you see will be dust by the time you get out. Mountains will have weathered to hills. When all the wars of this world have been fought and won, fought and lost; when all the stars in the heavens have faded from memory and the very sun in the sky is but a cold, indifferent rock,
you
will still be here, alone, waiting for the very universe to come to an end.”

Celacia glowered at the demon. She really hated making deals with them. In fact, this was her first. She had no idea what it was scheming to do with her, but she knew it wasn’t going to be pleasant. She only hoped that she might outsmart his plan and be a little more clever than him, and that she hadn’t made some sort of dire miscalculation. She really had no intention to give up more than a year or two.

“Let’s get one thing straight,” said Celacia. “All I’m paying you and your Master is time, and I’ve got plenty of it. And I believe my exact phrase was
‘time upon this earth’
. So if you think I’m going to let you spirit me away to some forgotten dungeon in Hell, think again. You’ll meet the same fate I dealt you before…the first time, that is. Not the second when you slunk away with your new tail between your legs. And don’t think for one minute I don’t know that what you really bought was from
me
. You bought enough time to keep me from the Mard Grander.”

Bulifer started. Then he cracked an infernal smile. His eyes burned white-hot. “You are perceptive. But I think you underestimate the amount of time we plan to take from you. And yes, it will be upon this earth.”

“We’ll see, big boy.” chirped Celacia. “Terms were simply ‘time’. Whether I give up a minute or a millennia remains to be seen.”

Bulifer laughed wickedly. “A millennia? Like I said, you underestimate what we have for you.”

“And like I said, we’ll see, big boy.” said Celacia. “It’ll be up to you to keep me.”

“Enough talk. Your payment is due.” said Bulifer.

Celacia’s lips screwed up. She was really hoping to speak with Isley one last time. She looked over her shoulder to the church. “Fine. A deal’s a deal, I guess. Can I at least go say goodbye to Isley?”

Bulifer laughed. “You might have time, if you hurry.”

“What do you want?” asked Celacia. “Where do I go?”

Bulifer smiled. “Lord Tarquin is looking for you. When he finds you, you must go with him. Once you go with him, your payment is made whole.”

Celacia raised an eyebrow. “That’s it?”

Bulifer laughed. “That’s it.” And with that, the demon was swallowed by flames and vanished.

Celacia puffed out a long breath and then frowned. She really hated deals with demons and she was beginning to think that maybe she had underestimated Bulifer’s cleverness. Or overestimated her own. Possibly both. She screwed her lips up. “What’s done is done, I suppose.”

Celacia turned and walked down the dark, empty streets until she came to a courtyard where the church of Aeoria stood like a castle amongst the surrounding buildings. It was a magnificent church, large, lofty and replete with flying buttresses, towering spires and archways. It was brightly lit from within, the myriad of stained glass windows casting rainbows of light upon the courtyard. Yet, for all its size, it was not an imposing structure. It even had a certain charm and welcoming. It was a church like the ones Celacia remembered.

Celacia stood in the darkness just beyond the courtyard and took a deep breath. She closed her eyes and focused on suppressing her aura. She could feel it contracting around her, but it was painful, like trying to lift something that was too heavy. It was a pain she’d have to try and endure, though for all her effort, her footfalls still left imprints of desiccated stone upon the stairs of the church, and where her hand gripped the brass handle of the enormous doors, they tarnished.

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: