By Sarah Begg
“Hurry up Crysta! Do you want to get stuck with kitchen duty
again?” the caller raced across the fields holding her skirts high
about her knees. Her long sandy hair streamed out behind her and her
face was flushed from the exertion.
“Slow down, Penny!” Crysta came stumbling after her friend,
breathing heavily and having difficulty keeping up. Her dark hair was
plastered to her face and she cursed herself silently for agreeing to
skip the evening classes in favour of visiting the meadows with
Penny. Crysta knew that she would probably be given kitchen duty for
a week for truanting, yet she could not resist the coercive power of
her friend. Penny, on the other hand, would get no more than a scowl
from Depeter, the High Priestess, who also happened to be Penny’s
mother.
“Don’t you just love it out here?” said Penny, once Crysta had
caught up. The latter looked sidelong at her friend, and felt the
usual pang of envy. Penny was tall, graceful, and beautiful; her
sandy hair falling to her waist, her bright blue eyes closed as she
savoured the atmosphere of the fields. Yet not only was she graced
with exceptional looks, she was the daughter of the High Priestess,
miraculously conceived and born of a virgin – for her mother had
never lain with a man yet was unaccountably blessed with a daughter.
Penelope was proclaimed as a gift from the Gods, meant to succeed her
mother and become a religious leader and symbol. Penny had been doted
upon from the moment she was born, favoured amongst the priestesses
in everything she did. Crysta, on the other hand, was the seventh
daughter from a minor noble house – nothing but a burden on her
family – and so was sent to the Temple of Bayoneth when she was six
years old to begin her life as a devotee of the Gods.
“It’s lovely,” said Crysta sarcastically, her face burning.
“Now can we hurry up and pick some flowers so we can get back? I’ll
be in enough trouble as it is.”
“Oh Crysta, you’re no fun,” Penny opened her eyes and grinned
at her friend, “I’ll race you to the next hill!” and she was
off again, running down the side of the first hill and sprinting
towards the next.
Crysta rolled her eyes and began to follow when a feeling of
uneasiness swept over her. She stopped moving and glanced around.
There was nothing unusual moving in the fields yet, inexplicably,
fear began to creep up the back of her neck. The only movement she
could see, aside from the softly swaying grass in the breeze, came
from Penny, cavorting across the fields, oblivious to anything
untoward.
But then Crysta felt the ground begin to vibrate beneath her feet,
and looking down she saw a small pebble near her sandal begin to
dance amongst the grass.
Stop Penny, she thought as she looked up, her eyes boring into
Penny's back. Her throat felt stuck together, her body frozen to the
spot. She willed her friend to heed her, but Penny was oblivious to
her silent plea and continued on her cavort across the field. Then
she heard the sounds, carried towards her on the wind – the beating
of running hooves and the creaking of chariots. Crysta fell to her
knees trembling – the noises were coming from all sides, yet she
could not see the riders amidst the undulating terrain.
“Penny,” she whispered, finding her voice. Then louder, “Penny!”,
but her voice shook and soon she was struck silent by fear.
Then Penny stopped and stood frozen, staring up at the nightmare
forming atop the hill.
First the twin horses appeared, foaming at the mouth. They were
black as midnight, their eyes glowing an evil red. Then the rider
emerged, as if from a nightmare. He stood astride his chariot, lash
in hand, dark cloak billowing out behind him as he sped downhill
towards the lone girl standing in the field. He was dressed entirely
in black, with black cloth covering his head and face, leaving a
small partition for his piercing eyes. Cryst knew who he was
instantly. The priestesses cautioned all the acolytes with tales of
Lord Hayden, ruler of the city's corrupt and sadistic underworld.
Crysta thought that they were simply stories – that no one cold
possible exist living a life deep below the ground. Yet seeing this
apparition before her – she had no doubts any more.
Crysta watched horrified as five more or these demon chariots
appeared from all sides to converge on the girl, who still stood
rooted to the ground, halfway up the hill. Crysta was shaking
violently as she cowered on the ground, wanting to save her friend
yet terrified that these beings would see her. She watched on as the
first chariot reached the girl, and, just as the horses narrowly
missed colliding with her, Penny threw up her arms in a feeble
attempt to shield her face and was snatched up by the rider into his
chariot. Wheeling around in a circle, the charioteer signalled with a
gesture and the others formed up behind him into a V, and the
chariots went pounding back up the hill and disappeared over the
brink once more.
Crysta remained trembling and cowering on the ground for some time,
until the ground stopped vibrating and she realised that the only
sounds she could now hear were those that she was making herself. She
shakily got to her feet and with the fear that they might return
still within her, she sprinted as fast as possible back toward the
Temple of Bayoneth, to bring the tidings to the priestesses.
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