“Landrie,” she gasped. “You…idiot ...wake your courier. I have to find that priest.”
3
Celeste Casmarus: Sil and the Golden Lady
“Do not question the sacrifices! It was foolish to think animals and grain could help the Golden Lady preserve our world. Animals haven’t caused the damage; we have. By our blood, the world endures, but the people do not need to know. They frighten too easily with their moral ambiguity, and as priests of the Golden Lady, it is our responsibility.”
-The previous Doyenne, High Priest Sen Synia, to the current Doyenne, High Priest Vyn Avien
She sanctifies. She purifies. She protects, Mother Evening Sky prayed, but her consolation was as empty as her stomach. No visions, no blisses, no ecstasy, not even a hint of peace. She should have expected this: her faith tested today, the day she’d be the sacrifice.
Sky opened her eyelids, but they drooped back down. Meditating always made her sleepy, even worse for not having slept the night before. I can sleep when I'm with her. She forced her eyes open to a dark room illuminated by the blue hue of dawn. The room she sat in wasn’t really a room at all. The walls and ceiling were only a few thick sheets of wax and parchment beautifully painted with scenes of the Reclaiming Campaigns, monstrous dragons depicting the Ragnars being driven back by winged Valkyries depicting the First Settlers as the goddess Zandagor watched from above the Golden Lady —at least they would be beautiful if she could actually see them. It was still too dark and the morning light casted only blurry blue lines on the inside. She half-hoped some message or sign would appear written before her on the floor, a message of comfort from the Golden Lady, but no, only silence and the occasional breeze buffeting her new small home. The Court of the Holy Ones must be filled by now with her fellow priests meditating, reading scriptures, praying alongside her, preparing themselves for the annual sacrifice. Most didn’t not know her true role it. They didn’t need to. When the offerings of animal and grain were to be brought up to the Golden Lady, Sky would join her glorious sisters of the past in performing her sacred duty. Pride stirred in her heart, helping ward of fatigue.
She sanctifies. She purifies. She protects, she began meditating again, but her thoughts wouldn’t clear. Her parents would’ve been proud. Their daughter, a priest of Zandagor, a soon to be Valkyrie. Even after her family’s dark past with the Ragnarok cult, their sacrifice in fleeing the southern Purge, and her sister’s selfishness, Sky was here, making amends for it all. A smile crept onto her lips. The Golden Lady worked in mysterious ways. Now, she was a living sacrifice. Not much of a sacrifice, she reasoned: to end this life early to be with a Fragment of the Almighty? She would see what few could, experience what no one living had. She’d become an efficacious servant in preserving the world. One of the Golden Lady’s Valkyries. It’s worth giving up a few decades of youth, toil, and disease. Death comes to us all; it gave her solace that she was lucky enough to be given the opportunity to die a worthy one.
She sighed. I will see you soon, my Goddess, with eyes of flesh and then with spirit. This time tomorrow, she would be in paradise, and the world would be safe for another seven years.
“Mother Sky,” a whispered voice sounded from outside. “It is time for your anointing.”
“I am ready,” she replied, and the paper door slid open behind her with a gust of fresh chilly air. She couldn’t hear, but the other priests must have gathered outside. The Doyenne too. Dawn was soon coming, and the procession would begin.
“Beautiful as the Goddess, you are,” Mother Lyn Blue said with her usual greeting. She knelt beside her with lavender and apple scents filling the room.
“It smells lovely,” Sky said, keeping her eyes closed.
“I thought you might like it,” she replied. A cold oily hand touched her forehead, then another on her right cheek before she worked the oil over her face. “This will mask your fasting. You’ve lost some weight, I think.”
She smiled. “It was worth it. You would not believe what the Goddess has shown me last night.”
Her hands paused. “Oh, that’s wonderful. You see, you worried yourself over her silence all this time for nothing. What did the Goddess reveal to you?”
“Uh, well,” she stumbled. “It was for me; I’m sorry, Lyn.”
“I understand,” she replied, continuing her massage. The oil refreshed her skin, relaxing her eyebrows, her tense forehead, and tired cheeks.
Another gust of fresh wind blew into the room. Lyn stood. “Doyenne,” she said.
"Peace. Be at ease. I'd like a moment with the Goddess's friend"
Lyn's footsteps clattered outside before the door slid closed.
"Your Holiness," Sky said. "I'm sorry for not standing. I find that I’m too weak to do so now."
"You've taken your fasting far too seriously, Sky," she said with a warm grandmotherly voice. Sky felt the Doyenne’s hand on her shoulder. "You should have eaten."
"In reparation for the sins of the Empire," Sky said. "...and for my sister."
"Ah, your sister and the sins of the Empire. Your life is enough for reparations." The Doyenne fell silent and the moments dragged on.
Concerned, Sky opened her eyes. "What is it, your Holiness?"
She walked forward, her wooden cane thudding the ground. "To lose a daughter is difficult,” she said with a quiver in her voice. “Whether a natural daughter or a spiritual one."
"I will be with the Goddess,” Sky tried consoling her. “I will be happy. I will be a blessing to the world, a Valkyrie. The Almighty gave his life to seal the Dark Well. Now, all that remains is his fragmented body. Fragments that need us to preserve our world. The Golden Lady. I have accepted her calling, Doyenne. I will help her."
"Yes…of course,” the Doyenne drew out thoughtfully. “And once you’re there I have a favor to ask you," she said, handing her a letter. "We've all placed our intentions and prayers underneath here.” She tapped the paper floor with her cane. “But, this one is very special from me. Please, don’t read it until you stand before the Goddess Zandagor in the heavens."
She took it, unbuttoning her white cassock, and placing it inside next to her bosom. "It will be by my heart, Doyenne."
"Ah, the bravery of the young," she muttered. "Has she come to you last night in visions or dreams?"
"No, she hasn't," Sky admitted, closing her eyes.
The Doyenne tightened her hand on Sky’s shoulder. "That must be because you will soon speak to Her face to face. Be at peace, child. This will not hurt. You will fall asleep and awake to your glory."
And with that, she left, the last person she would meet in the flesh. A sense of calm came over her. This is what she had been preparing for since her election seven years ago. Her body had been spoken for. She was thankful for the peace she felt, unlike seven years ago when the previous ‘Friend of the Goddess’ didn't return from the Brothers’ War. Another sacrifice had to be chosen so hesitantly. It was because of her so much pain was wrought. Don't say her name; keep your peace, she thought to herself. Instead, the Synod selected Mother Majestic Wind to replace her with only few days to prepare, and yet, she did not fear. So, seven years later, Sky wouldn't either. In fact, she was thankful for this incredible gift. She could undo her sister's selfish cowardice.
Her stomach growled, a wave a fatigue passing through her. Only a little longer.
"Mother Sky," the Doyenne's voice sounded from outside. "We’re beginning. Be at peace and remember us."
Suddenly, the room —her final resting place— rose up, lifting her onto the shoulders of six other priests. She could see them through the thin walls now, six large bodies wearing bulky runic protection suits. They began moving with slow deliberate steps. The sun was rising. The dawn coming. She would rise too, begin anew.
She closed her eyes and tried to meditate, but as she expected, anxiety filled her. Do your best. You have been chosen. Let the Golden Lady do the rest. Still, her heart pounded. Harder and harder. Loud thumps that
echoed in her ears. She smiled, envisioning outside. They would be in procession, like seven years ago. Fourteen High Priests, the Doyenne and six with suits who would go on ahead and place her to rest by the Golden Lady. They would place her first, then lead in the animals and then place the grain all around her. Behind them all, a multitude of other priests, novitiates, and aspirants.
The procession stopped. The Holy Veil leading to the Golden Lady must be opening. They continued moving a few yards further. Her closed eyelids brightened with dawn approaching. Harder and harder, her heart pounded. The lavender scented oil dripped off her face. Her hands trembled. Give me strength.
The room lowered back down, the six figures stepping away. She was there now, in front of the Golden Lady, a piece of the Almighty, separated by a thin wall of wax, paper and glue. Shuffling of feet clattered around her as those six priests brought in the animals, gagged and drugged to be docile, and the grain too, an assortment of flowers, fruits and offerings from people in the city.
Sky struggled to keep her patience with her stomach knotting and nausea waving through her. But, with in moments, those six priests left for good, a final whoosh of the Veil closing behind them. Open your eyes, she commanded herself, but she couldn't. Hands trembling, heart racing.
"Zandagor, Goddess of the Almighty, Shard of the One Rock, now residing within the Golden Lady, here us and our prayers," the elderly Doyenne’s voiced muffled through the Veil behind her. "I present a new servant for you to keep the world from decay. Please accept Mother Evening Sky, named Celeste Casmarus by her mother and father. May she protect us from Heaven as we venerate her on Gen Shemver. Mother Sky. We will now remove the wall that separates you from the Golden Lady. Be at peace."
Next, she heard the scraping of the parchment as intense light flooded her eyelids. Open your eyes, she thought, and they obeyed.
Before her was the Golden Lady, as large as a mountain, purer than the whitest snow. Golden rays lined her raiment. Diamonds studded her mantle. A crown of permanent regality. She outshined the rising sun. She was beautiful. No, she is beauty itself. Then darkness took her as she felt her head and lifeless limbs thud onto the floor. Please, let this be my first prayer: in reparation for my sister Mother Whitewave Fallingstar. Forgive Gene. Father, mother, I'm coming...home.
***
Doyenne Vyn Avien stared listlessly into the exhausted maelstrom of her thoughts. Her eyes had long emptied of their tears. As the longest living Doyenne, she had seen seven of these sacrifices. Seven young women, devout, pious, self-sacrificing. Why…, she began once more but stopped herself. No more doubting today. Today, a saint was born. She sat on a chair by the Holy Veil separating her from the Golden Lady, separating her from Celeste and the other offerings. Her hunched back ached and throbbed, legs cramped, stomach hollow, and mind fuddled, but she didn't care. She would do what she had done in the past no matter the discomfort: wait here until the offerings burned that evening.
The sun was already setting, she noticed, as the cool dusk air brought with it hints of a coming cold winter. Mother Lyn and Mother Fea would arrive soon, Sky’s chosen friends. They would have the honor of anointing her body and setting it aflame along with the other offerings. No matter how long it would take, Vyn would see through till the last embers die.
"Your Holiness," Lyn's voice came from behind. "We are ready."
Vyn raised her hand, and the two proceeded. They wore the priestly runic clothes, covering their entire body. No exposed impurity can survive drawing near the Golden Lady. They carried with them a torch, oil, cloths, incense, and.... Vyn smiled. Lavender, Celeste's favorite. It would fill the entire temple, and maybe even some in the city beyond the walls would catch a hint of that fragrant flower among the other sweet scents. And maybe they would feel an unexplained little loss in their hearts in memory of Sky. To most, however, the smells and firelight would mark the beginning of harvest with celebration in the streets. Eating, drinking, dancing. Merriment. But to her, another child of the Almighty was gone from the world, leaving it that much poorer.
The Veil lifted, and the two priests walked inside the Inner Sanctum, carrying their satchels before the Veil fell behind them. Vyn closed her eyes, but she would not pray, not today. The only two days out of the year, every seven years, that she would close her thoughts to the Golden Lady. Why must the world be deprived of beauty for the health of the world. Would it not be better if she had remained? Isn’t heaven beautiful enough? The Golden Lady had taken all of them. All of them! Maybe that was the source of her nightmares, doubt in her faith. And for each of her questions, the Golden Lady had never replied. Not since she was a young girl before the Zandagor returned and woke the Golden Lady. ‘Be brave,’ the Golden Lady told her younger self all those years ago. More than seventy years of ‘bravery’? Wasn’t that enough? Maybe that’s why she never answered Vyn again, because she know Vyn hated the sacrifices.
A scream screeched from inside the Inner Sanctum. Lyn's voice. She burst out from behind the Veil, tripping and falling onto the floor. "She's alive," she screamed. "Mother Sky is still alive!"
***
Sky awoke to an intense headache and pounding behind her right eye, but soon, other aches and pains came to her from various parts of her body. Some were deep inside like bruises or sore muscles. Some were cramping painfully, causing her to groan. Others were hot and stingy like abrasive cuts. Did I fall, she first thought, but couldn't remember. She couldn't remember anything!
She peeked open her eyes only to be blinded by piercing white light. Moving her slow tired hand to shield her eyes, she barely made out the black metal casing of a gem-lantern some distance away. The flares of light consumed everything else.
"Ah, Celeste. Good, you're awake." Celeste? She hadn't been called by her birth-name since she made her vows.
"Am I in..." Oh, but why am I in so much pain? She closed her eyes, but the after image of the lantern remained, pulsing to the beat of her throbbing headache.
"In heaven," a deep guttural voice asked. A man? "Unfortunately not, young lady."
A cool hand fell on her forehead. "She's still burning up." Lyn's voice; yes, she was there, standing over her.
"Maybe we should let her die," whispered words reached her ears.
"We cannot let Mother Sky die," Lyn exclaimed. "How can you say such a thing?"
"She isn't a priest, not anymore. The Golden Lady rejected her. Obviously, punishment for her sister. How could we have been so naive. The ‘fallen priest’ scandal sullies us again."
"You don’t know that," another voice, elderly and familiar, sounded from across the room.
"Uh, Your Holiness, this isn't good time. Clearly, you can see Celeste is not well enough to see you."
"And yet she is well enough for you to speak of her as," she stopped abruptly. "Letting her die while you stand over her like…like vultures!"
"Some has to be done and quickly," the man said. But that’s impossible. A man in the same room with her and the other priests didn't make sense to her, unless... Am I in the City? Sky tried opening her eyes again, but Lyn's hand held them shut. Or was she too tired to open them? She couldn't tell anymore. “And you priests made it even more difficult for yourselves. Ugh, why didn’t you just burn the offerings anyway.”
“We will, tonight,” Lyn replied.
“Damage has been done, dear,” the man said. “The public partiers out there were waiting anxiously all day for last night’s burning so they celebrate their debauchery. They are not happy. In over seventy-years, there’s never been a missed sacrifice, come wind, rain or that freak snow that one year. And now you ladies tell them you had to postpone because Evening Sky was too fatigued from fasting? What rubbish is that?”
“Our rubbish, Mister Conner,” the elderly woman replied. The Doyenne. Yes, it was her voice. “The public understands mistakes can happen and that there are no omens to them. As for you, this is why we pay you isn’t it?”
“Yea, yea. We’ll do our
best to put a positive spin on this,” he replied. “But, you can’t sacrifice her now. We’ve already seen neighborhoods putting together sympathy packages for her. And there’s rumors you treat these girls too harshly too. They expect to see her and healthy too to stop this from getting out of hand.”
“Just what would the Night Lady suggest we do,” the Doyenne asked.
“Finish giving her with that medicine, for one,” Mister Conner quickly replied. “Can’t have her die now. And be careful; it’s damn near impossible to get more. But lucky for you, the Night Lady already thought of a plan. Burn the offerings tonight. Clean up the girl, make her look good, then show her off to the people tomorrow morning when most of them are too hungover or sleeping to really care. Give her some flowery words to say too, an apology would be nice, something that’ll make her sound naive and innocent. We’ll make sure there’s a friendly crowd there to spread the news. Then you can do whatever you want with her. But one thing that can’t happen is sacrificing another priest—”
“Impossible,” another woman said. “The Golden Lady needs another priest. You want to incur the wrath of the Golden Lady? Don’t you know what happened last she woke?”
“I’m more worried about the wrath of the Empire, priest,” Mister Conner said. “That’s what we’re being paid for. News of this is going straight to Sig and he’ll want to know what really happened. And if you don’t play this straight, he’ll love to raise some very big and very public questions about your piety that his ambitions would love to answer. Fatigue? Ha! Only an fool would believe that. Ladies, this Temple is about to be under a very big and very discriminating eye.”
“Bah,” another elderly woman said. Sky lost track of how many people were in the room. “Dramatic hogwash. You’re not even supposed to be here. Where is the Night Lady? We only deal with her.”
Call of the Chosen- Broken Kingdoms Page 9