The wind had picked up. As the two girls left the Godskeep's gates, their robes and hair were whipping about in the warm breeze. It was a welcome relief from the stagnant heat of midday.
They set an easy pace and said little. The path leading from the mouth of the Godskeep, aptly known as the Holy Road, was wide enough for six men to ride abreast on horseback, and made a gradual, winding descent back and forth down the front of the Holy Hill, upon which the Godskeep stood. Wildflowers grew here and there along the side of the Holy Road, mingled with tall grass, yellow daisies, and baby’s breath. It was a road as ancient as the Godskeep itself. Over a thousand years it had stood on the Holy Hill, the Golden Valley spreading out before it, and beyond, the Enalgath Mountains loomed purple and blue, snow-capped peaks melting into the clouds. It was told in the Book of the Three that the Godskeep had once been no more than a simple shrine, erected on the very hill where Dartos, the god of the sun, had ripped out his third eye and had thrown it into the heavens to bring light to the dark world so long ago. Each generation saw more and more pilgrims to the sight, and as time passed, the humble shrine had grown first to a chapel, then to a sanctuary, then to a mighty temple—always the center, the heart of all holiness, for all those who followed the Way.
Construction on the latest rendition of the Godskeep had begun some five hundred years ago, when Georgoff the Bold was Keeper. This ancient ancestor of Dienna’s thought that there might come a time when this holy heart of the Way would need to be defended from attack, the same as any other prominent city or kingdom. He proposed to build a castle as grand—no, grander—than that of any lord in Dorneldia. Though he never lived to see its completion, his vision did come to pass after generations of labor.
With a triangular wall twenty feet thick and fifty feet high, culminating in three formidable watchtowers and a massive gate spanning a deep, rocky crevice on the face of the hill, the Godskeep was well defended, and the dwellings within were as beautiful as its defenses were lethal. All the windows were filled with multicolored stained glass that artfully depicted scenes from the Book of the Three. The Hall of Ceremony soared in stone and wrought iron, covered in fanciful designs and sculptures. Its three large wooden doors were decorated in one million gilded glittering stars, and the east face of the Hall boasted an immense mosaic of the sun in jewels the colors of flame while the west face of the Hall was decorated with a full moon of pearls, diamonds, and amethysts. Even the priests’ chambers, libraries, and rooms of instruction were lavish. Richly furnished in plush velvet and smooth cherry wood, they would be fit for the master chambers of a wealthy lord. Dienna had always been aware that she had been raised in luxury, and this only deepened her pride in her faith and her home, even though she knew it was, according the edicts of the gods, richer to be poorer.
Dienna and Meredith continued on the Holy Road, following its gentle slope down the face of the Holy Hill as quickly as they dared. A small group of Lantonian priests passed them, heading back toward the Godskeep. They were novices, judging by their age, all wearing the lavender and silver robes showing their devotion to Lantos, god of the moon. They seemed to be in deep discussion about something. As they passed by, they broke off their talking only long enough to give the daughter of the Keeper a brief and hurried bow. Dienna thought one of the priests looked particularly cold as he did so. She tried not to let this coldness worry her. But, she thought to herself, she would someday be their superior—practically was already—and there was no excuse for their lack of respect.
Meredith must have seen the look of distress on Dienna’s face, “There’s still plenty of time for you to win over the clergy, Dee,” she said reassuringly.
“You’re probably right,” Dienna agreed, though she felt no better.
They continued on their walk down the hill, next passing a family of farmers driving an oxcart up the road to bring eggs and milk to the Godskeep’s kitchens. A little girl on the cart was looking at the two women shyly from underneath a mop of orange hair as they went by. Dienna’s eyes caught the girl's and she smiled, which caused the girl to blush red and look away, tugging on her mommy’s skirts. This brought a smile back to Dienna's face, and she felt her spirits rising. The driver of the cart, noticing Dienna's insignia, hailed her with a cry of “Good morrow Holy Daughter!” which she gratefully returned. She stopped for a moment to chat with the farmer and his wife, who were going to be supplying half of the eggs to be used for the Midsummer Festival and were looking forward to hearing her preside for the first time. Dienna left the farmer's cart feeling giddy and flushed for their kind words of encouragement.
She came to be in such good spirits, in fact, that she took no notice when she and Meredith passed a lone woman in a dusty black cloak, who neither hailed nor took any notice of the Keeper's daughter and her acolyte companion.
Her mood only improved as they neared the village. Dienna had always admired the Golden Village, though its name had confused her as a child.
“It is called Golden not because it is wealthy in riches,” her father had told her, “but because it is wealthy in the Way.”
A thousand years of living in the shadow of the Godskeep had shaped the village into a place of idyllic harmony. As Dienna and Meredith grew nearer, Dienna could hear the sounds of music, oxcarts, children playing, merchants selling their goods—sounds of peace emanating from every corner of the hilly town. Founded by pilgrims who had journeyed across the plains to see the Godskeep and who had decided to remain forever in sight of this holiest of dwellings, the Golden Village was a place of beauty, love, and piety. It was Dienna’s favorite place in the world, aside from the Godskeep, of course.
“Where are we going first?” Dienna asked cheerfully.
“I want pick up a few things for Gran,” Meredith replied. “Fresh milk for one, and honeycomb if there's any left.”
Dienna nodded and the two turned their steps toward the marketplace. Though the Golden Village was relatively small, it was cramped, filled with narrow houses of brick and stone that lined twisting, narrow alleyways which always ended abruptly. As a child Dienna had loved the sensation of never being able to see what lay beyond the bends and curves of its streets. She and her brother would pretend that fairies and dragons lay in wait just out of sight around every corner. Or rather, as Dienna now recalled, she thought there were fairies and Sonder would always try to convince her that there were actually dragons waiting to gobble them up instead.
When Dienna shared this memory with Meredith, the other girl smirked.
“I was the oldest kid in our house, so it was always me who was trying to scare the others,” she said with a wicked grin. “I had Daela and Cormin convinced that Gran kept a chimera in the attic for years.”
Dienna shook her head, “I’ll never understand.”
“Younger siblings tend not to,” Meredith winked.
They continued along the crooked little streets toward the city’s central plaza. The cobblestones were crowded with people running about. Making preparations for the Midsummer Festival no doubt. No matter how busy they were, however, nearly every one of them bowed low at Dienna's approach.
“Good day, Blessed Daughter,” said one, a fat dark man pushing a cart of peonies and roses. “A flower for the Keeper’s beautiful girl?”
Dienna smiled, “I thank you kindly sir,” she said, “but I am not looking for flowers today.”
“A gift for you then,” the man returned with a cunning smile. He then selected the reddest rose and held it out to her.
She took it, careful not to touch its thorns, and returned his smile, “I thank you sir, and I will pray for you this evening.”
“I thank you for that Holy Daughter.”
Dienna extended her hand and said solemnly, “May Dartos shine his light on you this day and the next.”
They walked on and Dienna snapped the excess stem from the rose and fixed the flower in her hair, smiling.
“A very pleasant and pious man,” Dienna beamed, wishing she could admire her reflection.
“It would seem so,” Meredith returned tersely.
Dienna was about to ask her friend what was troubling her when she was hailed again with a cry of “Blessed Daughter!” from a pair of middle aged noblewomen.
“Good afternoon, and may Dartos bless you this fine day,” she called out.
Meredith walked next to her in silence. Dienna hardly took notice, being too busy answering the calls of the people they walked past. They asked for her blessing, her father’s blessing, the gods’ blessing, asked how her mother was and if her brother had decided what he was going to with his life yet. Meredith never said a word, and the villagers did not seem to acknowledge her presence.
“I do hope your honored father shall come round to the newborn babes again,” one woman was telling Dienna earnestly. “I should like very much for him to bless my daughter’s little one.”
“I will be sure to tell him,” Dienna returned. “As part of the council I do have ample opportunity to suggest such events.”
After a few more stops and a bit more blessing on Dienna’s part, the two finally reached the Golden Village’s central plaza. The large square was crowded with green and brown tents and other stalls that were erected fast as growing weeds come market time. The aroma of spices and farm animals was strong, and the square was raucous with merchants crying their wares.
Dienna felt rather pleased with herself as they walked through the market square. These people showed her the respect she deserved, not like those tight lipped Lantonian priests they had passed earlier. Here were people who knew what she was—what she would be in the future. Dienna imagined herself wearing her father's golden circlet, standing on the balcony of the Hall of Ceremony, her ardent followers joining their voices to hers in prayer. Meredith was right—she needn't worry about the Faithful. Their loyalty was to the Way, and so to her father the Keeper, and so to her.
“Dee,” Meredith interrupted her thoughts. She was standing before Dienna with her arms full of foodstuffs. “I think I have everything I need from the market. Where to next?”
“Oh,” Dienna blushed, coming back to the present with a start. “I have everything I need too. Let's go to your Gran's.”
“Okay, but let's go a little faster with those blessings, Dee. I want to be home before nightfall you know,” Meredith returned.
Dienna's blush deepened. “I have a duty to the people, Mer. They will one day be my congregation, and I—”
“Joking, just joking Dee,” Meredith laughed awkwardly and patted Dienna on the back.
Dienna frowned but let her friend lead her on, “You’re starting to sound like Sonder.”
Meredith shrugged, “He's a funny man.”
“That's one word for it,” Dienna mumbled. “Though I prefer the term irresponsible.”
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