They traveled for two more days, bivouacking in whatever shelter they could find, always wary of the sounds of wolves howling at night. Dienna was certain that the ogres who lived in the Peaks of Enalgath did not come this far south into the foothills and forests, but Meredith was not so sure. She insisted on keeping a watch at night, so while one girl slept, the other sat awake, listening for signs of trouble. Dienna could not recall being so exhausted in her whole life. She had never spent much time out in the wild. Whenever she had traveled with her family in her youth, they had traveled in their large, comfortable carriage by day, and had slept in grand tents stuffed full of down pillows by night. Now her back ached, and her neck was stiff from the cold, unyielding ground. She tossed and turned for what fell like hours before she was finally able to sleep, and when she did, she had horrifying nightmares.
She dreamed of the ogres, the foul creatures, with their hot, poisonous saliva and their scaly, reptilian skin. In her dreams, they were even taller and uglier than in reality, and they were always trying to catch her as she ran, her family beside her. The ogres always caught her father first, then her mother, until it was just her and Sonder. As in life, Sonder would throw himself in front of her. She would scream, and wake feeling that fiery touch on her shoulder again, panting and sweating.
“That same dream?” Meredith asked on their third morning out. She was taking watch on a boulder nearby.
“Yes,” Dienna said weakly.
“Well, you're awake now,” Meredith said. She began gathering their supplies, and within minutes, the girls were on the road once more.
Around midday, the two started to see signs of a village. The forest thinned, and they came upon a few small fields of wheat and barley. Beyond the fields, sitting upon the top of a large, sloping hill was the village of Drelwood. It was an old village, older than the Godskeep. Humans had first settled there after following the Stron River out of the west, from the Port Cities. They had set out to find the “other end” of the river that gave life to much of Dorneldia, and had found that it started as barely more than a stream high in the Enalgath Mountains. Not wanting to settle in the peaks themselves, the westerners had settled instead in the hills near which the stream ran. They had named the creek the Bluebeck, for it ran a much truer blue here than it did at the Stron’s western end.
The Book of the Three, the chronicle set down by the earliest followers of the Way, stated that it was a descendant of one of these explorers who had first erected the shrine that would one day become the Godskeep. A poor Drelwoodian man named Herel had been walking through the hills when the gods had come to him, all three, and had commanded that he build a place of worship on the site. They had told him of the sacrifices they had made when the world had been young—that Dartos had given his third eye to create the sun, that Lantos had given of his belly to create the moon, and that Seltos had shattered her heart to create the stars. Herel had done as he was bidden, and ahd spread the word that he had been visited by these hitherto unknown gods. Upon completion of the shrine, the Way officially began. Thus, the Keeper of the Gods typically visited Drelwood at some point in his reign, to honor the village as the predecessor of the Godskeep. It was on one such trip with her father that Dienna had last seen the village. As she looked upon it now, she admitted that it had not changed much.
Drelwood sat high on its hill, its buildings and structures circling around its sides, leaning at angles and all directions. They were built in an older style, smaller than those that Dienna was used to, and from the center of the village, at the hill's crest, stood Drelwood Chapel. It was a quaint sight, made picturesque by the Enalgath Mountains behind it, and the Bluebeck River winding its way around the base of the hill, leaving only its western face open to the forest. Dienna and Meredith were approaching from the east, so they were forced to cross over the Bluebeck by way of one of two small bridges connecting the hill to the forest beyond.
The girls led their weary horse through the village of Drelwood, and the villagers stared as they walked past. Some bowed, recognizing Dienna as a priest of some distinction by her ornate, though now quite filthy, robes, but no one offered a word of welcome to the worn-looking women. Dienna was acutely aware of whispers at their backs. Did they know what had happened at the Godskeep? Did they know why they were here? Dienna's eyes met those of an old woman across the street, and she almost asked the woman these very questions, but thought better of it after seeing the wary, almost frightened face the villager wore. Instead, Dienna smiled as they walked past, and consoled herself with the thought that they would soon be speaking with a fellow priest once they reached the chapel.
After what felt like an hour of wandering up and down and around Drelwood's labyrinthine streets, the girls reached its pinnacle. Drelwood Chapel looked the same as it had in Dienna's childhood. Made of wood and stone, with a high steeple that boasted a circular stained glass window depicting the symbol of the Way—the crescent moon of Lantos, decorated by nine bright stars of Seltos, surrounding the sun of Dartos—the chapel was not nearly so imposing as the Hall of Ceremony back home, but it was marvelous in its own right.
“Hello?” Dienna called out as they entered the chapel.
There was no response. She peered inside, and found that the chapel was dark, the way unlit. She motioned for Meredith to follow her as she stepped through the main arch into the church itself. The chapel's interior was long and rectangular, lined with stone benches for the worshipers to sit upon. At the moment, they were empty, as was the priest's chair behind the altar. Dienna frowned.
“Is anyone here? We are disciples of the Way, and we are seeking shelter. We have had a long, weary journey and we wish to rest in safety,” Dienna called out as she walked past the rows. Her voiced echoed.
“I thought you said Flavus the Wise was the head of this chapel,” Meredith said softly, following behind her.
“He should be,” Dienna replied. “We've had no news to the contrary.”
The two continued though the chapel; they passed by the altar to an ornately carved door immediately behind it. Seeing nowhere else to go, Dienna pulled open the heavy door and found a steep wooden staircase leading upward, which the two ascended gingerly. After about twenty or so steps, the staircase opened to a wide room in what must have been the attic of the chapel, judging by its slanted roof. It seemed to Dienna like a bedchamber; there were poufs and a settee on one side, and a low-rising four poster bed on the other, along with a wardrobe. What first caught Dienna’s eye, though, was the reverse side of the large circular stained glass window she had seen from the front of the chapel, through which the sun was now streaming, causing pink and purple light to shine down on an armchair, in which someone appeared to be napping.
Quietly, the girls walked over to the man in the armchair. He was fat, old, and wearing the deep blue and copper robes of a Seltonian priest. His head was angled back and his mouth hung open unattractively as he snored, deep in his slumber.
Meredith grabbed Dienna’s arm, “Dee,” she whispered, “Look.”
Following Meredith’s gaze, Dienna saw an empty bottle of what must have been wine lying at the priest’s feet. Dienna moved toward the man, and shook his shoulder vigorously. After a few jolts, the man's dazed eyes slowly began to open, peering blearily at Dienna before the shadow of recognition flitted in his gaze. His mouth closed, then opened again to let out a small squeak of terror.
“My deepest, most profound apologies again for the state you found me in, Lady Dienna,” Flavus Estmenn, also known as Flavus the Wise, said as he ushered Dienna into the chapel's basement study.
He still wore a look of horror at having been discovered sleeping by the daughter of the Keeper of the Gods. Quite flustered, the old priest had invited Dienna to an audience with him, and had suggested that Meredith go to the market for provisions, for which he provided coin. Meredith had protested at first, but after catching a glimpse of Dienna's exhausted face, she took her leave of the priests. Dienna was then forced to endure several minutes of exchanging pleasantries with the old man, which were frequently interrupted by Flavus' excessive apologizing, as he settled her into an uncomfortable wooden chair in the cramped, musty room that served as Flavus' working space. Bookshelves were built into the wall behind him, curiously, made out of stone, stretching from ceiling to floor, filled with dust-covered volumes that were probably older than Flavus himself. Dienna made a note to mention these books to Meredith—knowing she had a particular interest in the early texts of the Way, and knowing too that Flavus did not seem to be taking care of the ancient volumes.
“I am certain your remorse is sincere, Lord Flavus,” Dienna returned with thinning patience, “and thus you have nothing to fear. Now please, tell me everything you’ve heard about what happened at the Godskeep.”
The old man's face crumpled in sorrow, “We had a rider two days ago. Grave tidings! What a disaster!”
Dienna gave him an expectant look.
“Oh, yes,” Flavus said, fumbling and fidgeting with a piece of parchment that he produced from the oaken table before him. “The messenger came from the Golden Village. He said that Lady Artima, I believe you are familiar with her, no? The rogue sorceress? Well, she has invaded the Godskeep with an army of ogres and elves, and she claims to be,” here the man blushed, overcome seemingly with impropriety, “harboring the seed of Almighty Dartos, claiming that his son is quickening in her womb. The Chosen Mother.”
“Yes, I am aware of all that, I was there,” Dienna snapped. “What about my parents?”
Flavus looked at her apologetically, squinting his mole-like eyes, “There has been no official word, only rumors, but they were seen fleeing the Godskeep on foot. Nothing else is known of them. We’ve had no word of your brother yet either, I’m afraid.”
Dienna’s heart sank.
“What about all the other attendees?” she asked, thinking of Meredith’s family.
Flavus shook his head, his shaggy white hair stirring, “I am not sure. The messenger was not…he wasn’t very clear.”
Dienna exhaled slowly and let her head fall to her hands, elbows on the table. This was worse than she had imagined. No news about what Artima was doing with the hundreds of innocents who were at the Godskeep, her parents might have escaped, and her brother likely had not. She didn’t understand. What would Artima want with so many people? She claimed to be reforming the Way on behalf of Dartos, the supposed father of her child…what purpose did controlling the Godskeep serve?
“She must want them for some evil purpose,” Dienna muttered. “There must be something deeper here. Something to do with her magic, maybe.”
“Perhaps,” Flavus responded nervously. “We shall just have to wait for more information. You and your acolyte friend may rest here until we have more news. This old chapel is not much, I’m afraid, but you’ll be comfortable. And I am sure that we shall hear more of this. That messenger will reach the Port Cities in time, and you can be sure that the King will make a full inquiry into this.”
Dienna nodded reluctantly. He was right; the King would come to their aid. The Crown and the Way were longtime allies. Besides, he could not allow such unrest in Dorneldia, especially if Prince Fucian were one of those captured. The King would never stand to have his son imprisoned by that woman. He would bring Artima to justice for her atrocities in time but…
“Is there nothing we can do for the present?” Dienna asked, her voice as tight as her jaw.
Flavus shook his head, “No my dear, I believe we must wait for more news. Shouldn’t take more than few days, I expect. Hopefully no more than a week. Within the month, King Philibert should have made an inquiry in to this mess, and Artima will have to face the Crown.”
“A month!” Dienna exclaimed, appalled.
“Yes, perhaps more,” Flavus admitted. He sniffed and rubbed his red nose, “But you must admit we do not have the resources to apprehend Lady Artima. She is a most skilled sorceress, as you’ve seen. Not even the wizards of the Repository were able to reign her in. It will take all of the King’s armies and a few of his own hired magicians to set things right again.”
Dienna grumbled in consent.
“Now you see reason, Lady Dienna,” Flavus said, not unkindly. “Leave it up to the King. He will deal with this matter in time. In the meanwhile, you should get some rest. I will let you know the moment we receive any more news from the Godskeep.”
Dienna nodded wearily, and stood to leave. The fat old priest showed her to a small spare room crammed with two feather beds, so close that Dienna could scarcely walk between them. She picked the bed on the right side, and laid herself down. As she was drifting off to sleep, she could start to feel that now-familiar burning on her shoulder, that faint pain that she knew would grow as she lost consciousness. She did not welcome it. She still had no idea what it truly meant—was it the touch of the gods? Was Dartos singling her out for some task? Or was it as Artima said, a manifestation of his anger and disappointment...
Mind swimming with thoughts of all that had transpired, Dienna could not long resist the comfort of sleeping in a real bed again, old and musty as it was, and she soon fell into a deep sleep.
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