Dienna felt like her feet were dropping away beneath her. She was confused, helpless as the sky ripped open like torn fabric and poured forth dozens of ogres, who landed with deafening thuds among the Faithful. People shrieked and ran from the massive creatures, only to encounter yet more of the sorceress’s ilk. Dienna was shocked to see that the ogres were not the only creatures Artima had summoned—the congregation was also surrounded by a force of elves, dressed in dark armor and wielding long spears, which they used to keep the crowd from escaping.
All was chaos. Her father was shouting something to the Prominents, but they could not hear him over the din of the crowd and the roars of the ogres. Artima was shouting for the ogres to seize each and every priest they could find and take them captive, her voice magically projecting over the tumult in a dizzying echo. Dienna had to get off the stage. Gathering her robes around her, she took the stairs to the lawn below and into the panicked crowd. She was jostled this way and that, struck by the flailing limbs of the Faithful as they tried to evade the fearsome ogres.
“Ooff!” Dienna cried as she was pushed to the ground by a man who was rushing by.
She lifted her head and screamed. Above her towered ten feet of ogre, its red eyes contrasting alarmingly with its dark blue skin, a huge club in hand. It roared. It was so close that its saliva sprayed in to her face, stinging her skin with its toxicity.
Dienna raised a hand in protection, screaming again as the ogre moved to grab her, when suddenly Sonder was there with a spear, apparently taken from one of the elven guards. He swept the spear in a large arch, and kept the ogre at a distance.
“Go! Run!” Sonder shouted back at her. “Make for the hills!”
“Sonder!” Dienna cried, fear gripping her heart. “I can’t!”
“Go!” Sonder repeated, now thrusting the spear at the ogre. The creature swiped his blow aside easily. Even Dienna could tell her brother wouldn’t last much longer against the beast.
Before she could change her mind, she turned to what she hoped was north and ran from the madness. Two of the elven warriors blocked her way as she came around the back of the pavilion where she had, only minutes before, been presiding over the Sunset Ceremony. She had no clue how she would get around them, but they would surely see her approach. She said a quick prayer to Dartos that he would keep her safe, and kept running.
“Stop! You there!” one of the guards called in a thick accent.
Dienna ignored him and ran on. They were about twenty feet to her right, and were hurrying over to her, spears at the ready. They were almost upon her when Dienna heard the frightened whinny of a horse close behind.
“Dee!” She heard a familiar voice cry. “Grab my hand!”
She turned and saw Meredith galloping behind her on a huge mare, arm outstretched. Dienna threw herself to her left and just barely caught her friend’s hand, and the acolyte grunted as she struggled to drag Dienna onto the horse’s back. She held on to Meredith as tightly as she could while the mare reared and kicked at the elven guards, knocking them to the ground. The horse took off, and they pounded on past the Godskeep and into the orchards beyond.
They did not stop there. They rode through the orchards and fields and past the granaries before the farms gave way to wild grasses. By the time they reached the foothills at the base of the Enalgath Mountains, looming dark and imposing ahead of them, night had completely fallen.
“Wait!” Dienna finally called a halt.
Meredith slowed the horse to a standstill, and turned to look at Dienna. Her face was drawn tight and her eyes were wide with fear.
“We ought to grab some supplies,” Dienna said, trying to sound calm. “We don’t know how long we’ll be away.” Her voice cracked.
Meredith nodded wordlessly and dismounted. Dienna followed suit, and the two girls led the horse to a nearby tree and tied her up. While the mare drank her fill from a nearby creek, they found an unguarded storeroom on one of the farms they had passed through, and they loaded the packs on the mare's saddle with apples, bags of oats, and heels of bread. They could find nothing else portable, not even a water-skin. They dared not stay too long though, and had to give up their search. After tying down their supplies as best they could, Meredith and Dienna mounted their horse and set off into the hills by the light of the nearly full moon. They did not speak of what had happened, and Dienna did not allow herself to think about it. She focused instead on their surroundings; where they were, what direction they were headed, and looking over her shoulder to make sure that they were not followed.
It must have been past midnight before Dienna called for another halt. She had nearly fallen asleep in the saddle, her head resting on her friend’s shoulder in front of her.
“We must rest,” Dienna said, her voice raspy with exhaustion.
“Here?” Meredith replied wearily.
They had been riding up, down, and between wild, grassy hills crisscrossed by brooks for hours, and were just coming up to the beginnings of a dense-looking forest.
“We’d be out in the open,” Meredith continued skeptically.
Dienna shook her head, “We’ll keep going until we find shelter in the forest. There must be someplace we can rest.”
Meredith nodded and wordlessly urged on their horse, whose steps were beginning to falter. Entering the forest was like walking into a black cloud. Immediate darkness surrounded them. The tall, old trees blocked Lantos’ moon, and blotted out Seltos’ stars. They could see little, but managed to find shelter under the up-heaved roots of a tree that had been blown over in some fierce storm. They tied up the horse, fed her what they could, and huddled up next to each other under the overhanging roots, making their camp among the fungi, ants, and spiders.
Neither girl spoke for some time. They had no blankets, no cloaks, nothing to keep out the chill of the night. Dienna noticed that Meredith was shivering, but she did not think it was from the cold.
“I can't believe it,” she breathed, “What in all the darkenworld happened?”
“Betrayal,” Dienna replied gravely. She was tired, confused, turned out of her own home, and possibly being hunted by ogres. Her mind couldn't even begin to process the implications of the rest.
“Gran and Daela are still down there,” Meredith said, her voice choked. “I hope they're...”
Dienna pulled Meredith close, allowed her to rest her head on her shoulder, “I'm sure they're fine. It looked like the ogres were capturing people, not attacking them.”
“Gods, I hope so,” Meredith sobbed, and Dienna could feel tears on her shoulder.
“It will be alright, Meredith,” Dienna said in an attempt to comfort her. “The gods are with us.”
Meredith lifted her head, her expression cynical, hurt “Are they? Or are they with Artima?”
Dienna shook her head, “Don't be silly, Mer. She is not the Chosen Mother, she cannot be. All that she said, all of it, was a lie. The gods love us, and they will watch over us, and our families, and we will be safe. I promise.”
Meredith did not respond, and, soon enough, her sobs quieted, and her breathing became even and deep, and she drifted off to a heavy sleep.
But Dienna could not sleep. She sat awake that evening, feeling numb from her lips to her toes. She was not entirely sure why she did not feel more concern for her family. Her mind was instead consumed with anger at her gods. Dienna had meant it when she told Meredith that she believed the gods were still on their side, and for that, she was all the more confused. She loved them still—she believed in them—but how could they allow such a thing to happen? How could they allow that sorceress to round up the Faithful like they were cattle or sheep? How could Dartos have allowed his most sacred day to be so defamed? Dienna had no answers for her questions, and so was forced to wrestle with them until the sun began to peak over the tips of the trees under which they were sheltered, and they began on their way once again.
They rode northwest through the hilly forest. They decided to head for Drelwood, a nearby town which sat upon the Bluebeck River. Dienna had visited there once with her family. It was the closest village to the Godskeep in this direction, and, as she recalled, they had a good-sized chapel run by a priest named Flavus the Wise. The girls could take refuge there.
It was midday, and the two were sharing the saddle again, traveling as fast as they dared. Neither had spoken much since the night before, each had been preoccupied by her own worries, but as the sun began its slow, summertime descent, the girls began to breech the subject.
“It just doesn't make any sense,” Meredith said from the front of the saddle.
“I agree,” Dienna replied bitterly, “although, perhaps it does explain the touch of the gods.”
Meredith shook her head, “You actually believe what Artima said?”
Dienna frowned, “No. I believe that the gods were trying to warn me that this great disaster would occur, not that they were displeased with the Way.” Dienna thought back to how she had felt after sharing her experiences with her father—how she had realized that the touch of the gods was full of anger—and her certainty wavered. She did not want Artima's words to be true; she did not want to see the gods' touch as a call to repentance. It had to have been a warning against the sorceress, right? “The gods were trying to warn me about Artima, not the other way around.”
Meredith was silent a moment, then said, “Your father knew about this.”
Dienna heard the accusation in her voice and blushed, ashamed without fully knowing why, “He must have known that Artima was up to something, yes. She was there, even that morning, to 'warn' him of what she was planning.” She grew angry, “But can we blame him? What that woman talks about is madness! She, the Chosen Mother? And bearing the child of Dartos?”
“That's the part that doesn't make sense to me,” Meredith replied. “Like you said, the Chosen Mother is just a story, and has nothing to do with bearing children for the gods. In all my studies, even in the oldest texts of the Way, I've never come across anything that hints at the gods having children.”
“Exactly. It sounds to me like she's just using the Way as a cover for something else.”
“Like what?”
Dienna sighed, frustrated, “I don't know. The Godskeep is valuable, isn't it?”
“Perhaps,” Meredith said evenly, “but she has her own keep in Astquary. I doubt she would have come all this way just to take the castle.”
“In any case,” Dienna said, “she's just latching on to the Chosen Mother story to hide her true intentions, whatever they are. There is absolutely no way that she has been chosen by the gods to do anything, much less bear the child of Dartos.”
“How did she even know about the touch of the gods though?” Meredith returned. “Even if they were trying to warn you about her, how could she have known what you felt? You didn't mention anything about it when you saw her waiting for your father, did you?
“No,” Dienna scoffed. “Most definitely not.”
“Then how did she know?”
Dienna had no answer. She thought back to Lord Varent complaining about the anger he had felt from his goddess, Seltos. Dienna had known then that something was amiss, and yet her father had dismissed her concerns, just as he had dismissed Lord Varent’s that day in the council chamber—and again when she had gone to see him just before the Sunrise Ceremony. Artima had told him then, had warned him something was going to happen, and now... Dienna felt tears starting to well in her eyes, but she stifled them with a sniff and tightened her jaw. They would discover the truth. Surely, word of what had happened at the Godskeep would spread, and if Artima had done anything to her family, any priests they happened to come across would have heard. Perhaps the gods had a task for her, Dienna thought. Perhaps this was all a test designed to forge her faith, a trial to prove her worthiness as the next Keeper of the Gods. Dienna’s tears stopped, satisfied with this thought. Yes, she would get this issue straightened out, and emerge a hero of the Way. That must be the reason for all of this.
“You know, I was so happy to see Cormin again, at first,” Meredith said softly, interrupting Dienna’s thoughts. There was sadness in her voice as she added, “He’s grown a lot, Dee. He’s even more handsome now than when he was young.”
Dienna wasn’t sure how to respond. She remembered the young Cormin, though not very well. He hadn't come to the Godskeep often, so she and Sonder only saw him on the odd occasions when they accompanied Meredith on visits to the Village.
“He must have been one of Artima’s followers,” Meredith continued, her voice like steel. “He accused all of Dorneldia of being faithless. He said we only follow the Way so that we can engorge and inebriate ourselves at festivals.”
“Don’t believe him, Meredith,” Dienna returned, her anger rising again. “I have faith and you have faith, and we are not the only ones.”
“He also said the gods were going to be more involved in the world,” Meredith continued as if Dienna hadn’t spoken. She shuddered, “If by involved he means willing to round up and terrify their followers with ogres and elves…”
“Or maybe he’s referring to the supposed heir of Dartos quickening in Artima’s womb,” Dienna returned sarcastically. It was all so ridiculous. That woman was mad. “I’m sure this will all get sorted out soon enough,” she said confidently, knowing how worried her friend was. “That witch cannot succeed against the gods. We have them on our side. She must be wrong.” She must be, Dienna repeated mentally.
Meredith did not reply.
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