with you, and she is not easily impressed.”
At the foot of the skull the soldiers were all shouting excitedly, some cautiously touching the thing and recoiling from the latent heat, others still obviously unsure if getting too close would be wise. Erygion strode up to the thing, craning his neck up and down. With a gauntleted hand shining with Caliber energy he tore a piece of black crust from the skull, revealing the glowing red magma still clinging to the bone.
Nuriel turned her head back to the lava pit where the giant thing once rested. She thought it peculiar that the molten lake was crusting over with black, as if cooling, and it was no longer agitated and spitting and bubbling.
“So what’s the deal with this thing?” asked Erygion, casually tossing the torn clump aside.
“Well, if King Armigon’s men are truly on their way here with a Saint, I think I might be able to give you a demonstration,” chirped Celacia. “I could tell you, but it just wouldn’t have the same impact as a demonstration.”
At the foot of the mouth Isley stood looking curiously into the cavernous opening, his black Star-Armor bathed in a ruddy glow. “There’s still molten rock in the mouth,” he said. “It still bubbles and spits.”
Nuriel, Erygion and Celacia strode over to Isley and the four stood at the base of the titanic opening where a small lake of magma still sat glowing, pulsing and flowing in the jaw. There were some soldiers about tossing stones in the mouth and then hooting and hollering excitedly as the rocks burst into fire and melted before their eyes.
“Hey!” yelled Celacia, frantically waving her arms at the soldiers. “Stop that! You’re going to ruin the surprise!”
Immediately the soldiers stopped what they were doing and scattered. Isley was about to ask something when Lord Briarthorn came racing into the cavern, the hooves of his horse clomping loudly upon the stone and echoing throughout the chamber. He swung the brown charger around and jumped off, bowing to a knee a good fifteen feet from Celacia. Nuriel thought Lord Briarthorn quite agile for a human in full armor.
“Saint Celacia,” he said hurriedly, standing back up. “Four hundred soldiers on horseback, accompanied by a Saint. I know you said not to disturb you, but they come, milady.”
Celacia made a little clap and a hop. “Oh goody!” she chirped. “Perfect timing for a demonstration of old Felvurn.”
“But, there’s more,” said Lord Briarthorn. He swallowed hard. “The Saint they are accompanied by is Saint Ramiel, milady.”
Celacia stood there looking at Lord Briarthorn, apparently not understanding what everybody else already knew. Nuriel even found Isley looking at her with some concern about this new revelation. Celacia looked around at everybody, obviously confused by the long faces. She looked back at Lord Briarthorn, who again swallowed hard.
“And…” urged Celacia, rolling her hands in the air.
“Well, it’s just…” began Lord Briarthorn. “…it’s just that…well, everybody knows that Saint Ramiel belongs to the Golden Cockerel, Lord of Dawn’s Sun.”
Celacia’s brow furled. “Who the heck is ‘the Golden Cockerel’ ?” asked Celacia fluttering her hands and mocking the seemingly magical name.
“He’s an Exalted,” said Isley.
Celacia’s brow furled. “An ‘Exalted’ ?”
Nuriel bit her bottom lip. She had never met an Exalted. There were only a couple in Jerusa because King Gatima granted very few titles of nobility, but they were commonly found in all other kingdoms. The Exalted were the highest born of all nobles, nearly as powerful as Kings. All Exalteds had their own Saint as a personal protector and bodyguard. They held almost godlike powers within and without their own kingdoms, and all but the Kings and Holy Father himself had to bow to them and their will.
Celacia stood staring at Isley blankly. “Well, does somebody want to explain to me what the heck an
At the foot of the skull the soldiers were all shouting excitedly, some cautiously touching the thing and recoiling from the latent heat, others still obviously unsure if getting too close would be wise. Erygion strode up to the thing, craning his neck up and down. With a gauntleted hand shining with Caliber energy he tore a piece of black crust from the skull, revealing the glowing red magma still clinging to the bone.
Nuriel turned her head back to the lava pit where the giant thing once rested. She thought it peculiar that the molten lake was crusting over with black, as if cooling, and it was no longer agitated and spitting and bubbling.
“So what’s the deal with this thing?” asked Erygion, casually tossing the torn clump aside.
“Well, if King Armigon’s men are truly on their way here with a Saint, I think I might be able to give you a demonstration,” chirped Celacia. “I could tell you, but it just wouldn’t have the same impact as a demonstration.”
At the foot of the mouth Isley stood looking curiously into the cavernous opening, his black Star-Armor bathed in a ruddy glow. “There’s still molten rock in the mouth,” he said. “It still bubbles and spits.”
Nuriel, Erygion and Celacia strode over to Isley and the four stood at the base of the titanic opening where a small lake of magma still sat glowing, pulsing and flowing in the jaw. There were some soldiers about tossing stones in the mouth and then hooting and hollering excitedly as the rocks burst into fire and melted before their eyes.
“Hey!” yelled Celacia, frantically waving her arms at the soldiers. “Stop that! You’re going to ruin the surprise!”
Immediately the soldiers stopped what they were doing and scattered. Isley was about to ask something when Lord Briarthorn came racing into the cavern, the hooves of his horse clomping loudly upon the stone and echoing throughout the chamber. He swung the brown charger around and jumped off, bowing to a knee a good fifteen feet from Celacia. Nuriel thought Lord Briarthorn quite agile for a human in full armor.
“Saint Celacia,” he said hurriedly, standing back up. “Four hundred soldiers on horseback, accompanied by a Saint. I know you said not to disturb you, but they come, milady.”
Celacia made a little clap and a hop. “Oh goody!” she chirped. “Perfect timing for a demonstration of old Felvurn.”
“But, there’s more,” said Lord Briarthorn. He swallowed hard. “The Saint they are accompanied by is Saint Ramiel, milady.”
Celacia stood there looking at Lord Briarthorn, apparently not understanding what everybody else already knew. Nuriel even found Isley looking at her with some concern about this new revelation. Celacia looked around at everybody, obviously confused by the long faces. She looked back at Lord Briarthorn, who again swallowed hard.
“And…” urged Celacia, rolling her hands in the air.
“Well, it’s just…” began Lord Briarthorn. “…it’s just that…well, everybody knows that Saint Ramiel belongs to the Golden Cockerel, Lord of Dawn’s Sun.”
Celacia’s brow furled. “Who the heck is ‘the Golden Cockerel’ ?” asked Celacia fluttering her hands and mocking the seemingly magical name.
“He’s an Exalted,” said Isley.
Celacia’s brow furled. “An ‘Exalted’ ?”
Nuriel bit her bottom lip. She had never met an Exalted. There were only a couple in Jerusa because King Gatima granted very few titles of nobility, but they were commonly found in all other kingdoms. The Exalted were the highest born of all nobles, nearly as powerful as Kings. All Exalteds had their own Saint as a personal protector and bodyguard. They held almost godlike powers within and without their own kingdoms, and all but the Kings and Holy Father himself had to bow to them and their will.
Celacia stood staring at Isley blankly. “Well, does somebody want to explain to me what the heck an
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