The sun was descending rapidly, the sky growing dark and fiery. The dancing and merriment had stopped—all the Faithful had gathered, standing in neat rows before the pavilion. They’d left an aisle large enough for three men to walk abreast between the rows so that people could move about more freely. The nobles tended to gather toward the front, the better to hear and see the ceremonies. The common folk gathered behind them, complaining coarsely that the elaborate hairstyles and hats of the noblewomen obscured their view of the stage. Meredith, Cormin, Gran, and Daela filed in toward the back as well, and the priests preparing for the Ceremony on the pavilion looked no bigger to Meredith than her own thumb.
“We should have come earlier!” Gran lamented. “I have never had to stand so far back in my life!”
No one responded. They were all exhausted from the day and tired of standing already. Looking at the sun, Meredith thought they had a good quarter of an hour before the Ceremony would begin. She sighed. She had very little desire to be there.
“You seem distraught, dear cousin. Is something the matter?” Cormin asked. He was standing to her right, at the very edge of their row.
“Hm? I don’t know. I’m just tired, I think,” Meredith replied heavily.
“Yes, I am tired myself,” Cormin nodded, “but I think there’s something else on your mind, Meredith.”
Meredith raised an eyebrow, “Oh?” she hadn't thought her annoyance with Cormin had been that obvious, and was surprised that he had picked up on it. “And what would that be?”
“Look at all of them,” he said, gesturing a dark hand at the crowd around them, his sudden vigor startling her. “Don’t they seem happy?” he continued. “Some have waited all day, all year for this Ceremony. And for what?”
Meredith avoided his gaze. She didn't like to hear her own thoughts echoed in his voice. “To watch the sunset,” she said.
“Yes!” Cormin exclaimed. He took her shoulder in his hand and forced her to face him. He continued in a jarring whisper, “And for the dancing. For the feast. For the pomp and the grandeur. Do you honestly think all of these so-called followers of the Way truly care for Dartos and his sacrifice? Or Seltos? Or Lantos?”
“Yes,” Meredith pulled herself out of his grasp. “I do.”
“I have seen much in my travels, Meredith,” Cormin continued as if she hadn't spoken. “I have met people who believe that the faith of Dorneldia is sorrowfully lacking.” His voice became even softer, “And there are those who wish to change that.”
Meredith frowned at the menace in his voice, “What are you talking about? The faith of Dorneldia isn't lacking.” Meredith paused, realizing that she had no way to gauge if that were indeed true. Frustrated, she shook her head and continued in a heated whisper, “I'm sure nearly everyone around us right now is here because they are devoted followers of the Way, not because they wanted to enjoy a holiday.”
“Like yourself?”
Meredith's words caught in her throat. Hadn't she reveled in having a day free from her religious obligations? A day she had spent feasting and dancing, which was supposed to be dedicated to Dartos? One look at Cormin's face told her that he saw her own doubt.
Cormin smiled sympathetically, “You can admit your lack of faith without shame, dear cousin. I once felt the same as you, until I met certain individuals who showed me how truly wondrous our gods are. How,” he paused, choosing his words carefully, “involved they are willing to become in the lives of those on earth.”
“Involved?” Meredith replied, frowning. Just then, there came the song of trumpets, sounding a triumphant, yet bittersweet fanfare as the sun’s last rays disappeared behind the horizon. The Sunset Ceremony had begun.
All hushed and turned their attention to the pavilion as Dienna, the Keeper, and the three Prominents, dressed even more lavishly than they had been earlier, walked out onto the stage. Meredith felt a sense of growing dread. Her annoyance with Cormin turned into distrust. Gods knew where he had been in the years since she had last seen him, and gods knew who had inspired his apparent newfound sense of devotion to the Way. Meredith didn’t like it. There was something ominous about his little rant. It wasn't the rant of someone who was truly concerned about the wellbeing of the Way. Meredith had heard countless such speeches by Dienna over the course of their friendship, and none of them had anything like the malice in Cormin's voice when he had spoken to Meredith just now.
“Dartos save us from the coming Darkness!” Dienna called out, her voice carrying over the large crowd, arms spread wide. “We thank you for this, the longest day of your glorious summer. We thank you for the rising of the sun, the First Gift, for this day and all other days. Now, as the sun has set, we ask you humbly to let it continue to rise, so that we will not have to wander in Darkness.”
The crowd responded, “Let the sun rise forever more!”
Dienna continued, “And let the stars come this evening to guide us, mighty Seltos. And let the moon shine down to light our nighttime footsteps, by the Wisdom of Lantos.”
“Let the night be filled with Your Light,” the crowd replied.
Dienna let her arms fall to her sides as she bowed her head in prayer. After a few moments, she raised her head again, and began in a more personal tone, “As long as I can remember, the Midsummer Festival has always been the highlight of my year. I used to stand where you all stand, listening to this man,” she gestured to her father with a warm smile, a smile which he returned, “tell us all of how good and gracious our gods are; how mighty and strong their Light is against Darkness; how wise their words of guidance in our lives. As many of you know, I will, one day, be following in his footsteps as the Keeper of the Gods. I can only hope that I can nurture the belief of all the Faithful gathered here tonight, that I can kindle the fire of love and piety within your hearts, and keep alive the Way of the Gods.”
There was a moment of silent peace, and then—
“I hope so as well!” called a commanding voice from the back of the congregation. Meredith turned; it was Artima of the Plains, striding down the aisle between the throng of believers. She was no longer dressed in her weather-worn cloak, but, rather, in a long, black frock that billowed behind her with every stride, her figure small, but imposing.
The crowd was murmuring and Dienna, still standing on the stage, stood in shocked silence. She stared at Artima, mouth open, seemingly at a loss for words. Her father intervened.
“Good Lady Artima,” he said evenly. “The Ceremony is still ongoing. If you have come here to place doubt on my daughter—”
“No, Lord Mayrim,” she responded, still walking to the pavilion, “I have come here to place doubt on you.” When she reached the foot of the stage, she turned around. Behind her, the three Prominents looked furious, but were apparently unable to find their voices to protest. Lady Amelie was trying to descend the steps at the side of the stage to reach Lady Artima, but she tripped over her lavish Lantonian robes and fell with a muffled oath. Next to her, Meredith heard Cormin snicker.
“You have all come here for one purpose. To give thanks for Dartos' wondrous gift,” Lady Artima declared. She smirked and gazed at various members of the crowd with her dark eyes, “But you know that’s not really true.” The murmurs from the crowd grew louder. “You all know, and I know, that precious few of you are truly faithful to the gods.”
This caused some outrage from the crowd. Some were shouting curses at the woman, calling her a liar and a blasphemer, though none dared approach her. Meredith felt dread growing inside of her, increasing with every word Artima spoke. Next to her, Cormin watched the scene with deadly calm.
“How do I know this?” Artima continued, her tone sardonic. “It is simple. The gods have been testing you. They are dissatisfied with their followers, and have been making their dissatisfaction known. You know to what I refer,” she paused, looking around at the crowd once more. “You have felt their presence. You have felt their closeness in your sleep, in the quiet hours of the day. You followers of Dartos have felt his burning touch, you followers of Lantos have felt his icy cold hand, and you followers of Seltos have felt the crushing weight of her stars upon you.
“Many of you chose to ignore these signs. Many of you refused to acknowledge the anger of the gods, though they have made their anger quite plain,” she paused, then continued, “They have a plan to bring more faith into this faithless world, and they have revealed this plan to me. I have, in turn, entrusted this plan to a few of my own followers.”
“Lady Artima, I beg of you to end this blasphemous tirade,” Dienna’s father called out, sounding a bit fearful himself. He alone seemed to still have his power of speech. “I warned you that the Way will not tolerate—”
“And I warned you, dear Keeper, that Dartos himself has spoken to me, and he is most displeased with you and the Godskeep!” Artima responded, her voice growing more passionate. She turned back to the audience, “He urges all of you to forsake this man and his reign of decadence and follow me in his stead.”
“You?” old Lord Tevinan cried, finally finding his voice. “A sorceress and an outcast? Need I remind the good people gathered here that you were wanted by the Repository for years for breaking the trust of the Body of Magic? That you have been practicing magic with ogres, torturing elves and the gods know what else in your banishment?”
“A sorceress I may be, Lord Tevinan,” Artima replied in deadly tones, “but I am also a faithful servant of Dartos. A servant he chose to bear his son.”
The crowd fairly exploded in exclamations. Old Lord Tevinan looked like he was going to faint on the stage. Dienna still looked shocked and deathly pale. She stared at Artima with wide eyes.
Lord Mayrim responded, indignant, “Now see here, Lady Artima, I told you to end your blaspheming, but you have not—”
“The only blasphemer here today is you, Lord Mayrim,” Artima returned fiercely. “I tried to warn you of Dartos’ displeasure, of his plans for me. He has chosen me as the mother of his godly child, and yet you have the gall to call me blasphemer while you deny his will. Yes!” She addressed the audience again, “your great Keeper denied the will of Dartos. Our gods came to Lord Mayrim as he slept and warned him of my coming, of the Chosen Mother's coming as foretold! And when I arrived to announce that I was to bear the child of Dartos, that I was to bring light back in to this dark, faithless world, he denied me!”
“The Chosen Mother is a myth!” Dienna shouted back at her, no longer frozen in fear. “It is just a parable, a story that mothers tell their children to help them understand the importance of family. Besides,” she continued, her voice growing more bold. “The Chosen Mother was supposed to replace the Mother of the Gods, not bear their children!”
Artima regarded Dienna approvingly, “That is one version of the tale, certainly.” She faced the audience again and continued, “Everyone knows that this is not written anywhere in the Book of the Three. As you say, the Chosen Mother is but a myth—a myth whose origins have been obscured by time and word of mouth, and so in turn, the true intentions of the gods have been obscured as well. You see,” she continued, the Faithful silent, uncertain, “the anger of Dartos is mighty, but his love for his people is mightier. Instead of forsaking them in their faithlessness, he has decided to give them hope in the form of a child. A child to lead the Way to a new age, and me, his Chosen Mother, behind him. For the child I am to bear is the One foretold in the writings of the prophet Ayers.”
Artima continued with passion, “You know this in your heart of hearts to be true! You know that your faith has been in decline. I offer you a chance at redemption, I, through my soon to be born child, and through Dartos himself. Who among you will stand with me tonight—with Dartos—against this forsaken mouthpiece who dares call himself the Keeper of the Gods after he spurned their most holy will? Who will support me in displacing his man from his pulpit? In taking his place as the Chosen Mother?”
“I will support you!” Cormin called out. He left Meredith's side and strode to the pavilion, coming to stand next to Lady Artima, a confident smirk on his handsome face. Meredith looked after him in alarm, but before she could say anything, another voice rang out.
“And I!” A woman strode to join them.
“And I!” A man left the crowd to stand next to Artima as well.
“House Orwen will support you, O Chosen Mother!”
“And House Lindum!”
“And the sixth order of Lantos shall support you!”
Meredith couldn't believe what was she hearing. From all around her, fifty—no seventy or more—priests, nobles, and merchants called out to pledge their support of the sorceress, and came to stand by her side. The rest of the crowd was abuzz with confused murmuring, meanwhile some priests, like Lord Tevinan, were shouting themselves hoarse, cursing Artima and those who stood with her. Dozens of members of the Holy Guard were gathering to either side of the pavilion, apparently apprehensive of attacking the witch, holding their swords at the ready but otherwise looking at Artima with baleful gazes.
“Are there no others here who are Faithful?” Artima called out almost mockingly once her supporters were all gathered. “You have nothing to fear by following me—for my will is the will of the gods—but I am sorry to say you will have much to fear if you try to resist me.”
The crowd grew hushed as Lady Artima’s voice grew to a shriek.
“Dartos has shown us the Way! You can accept this, and welcome a new era of the Way, a new era lead by his holy child,” she said viciously, “or, you shall be cast in to the darkness!”
All was silent. Meredith looked at Cormin—he looked pleased, standing at the witch's side. He was smiling at Artima with sneering satisfaction.
Just then, Dienna recovered her voice, “We will not accept this blasphemy, witch! Holy Guard! Seize her!”
At Dienna’s command, several guardsmen rushed at Artima, but were repelled back with great force as they ran into an invisible wall around the woman. There came a loud crack as several blueish, black clouds appeared above the heads of the congregation. With a deafening roar, the clouds burst opened, and several blue ogres, ten feet tall, grotesque, and armed to the tooth, dropped down from the sky, inciting shrieks of horror and terror from those below.
Meredith ran.
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