The Acolyte Ch. 01

The Acolyte

Chapter 1

Dong... Dong... Dong

The temple bell tolled loud in the early morning gray and sent shivers through Anabel as she scurried down the path. Eddies of snow and cold air swirled around her as her feet kicked up her robes. Aside from the echoes of the bell hanging in the air, the courtyard was still. Winter still held sway this far up the mountain, and would until spring was well underway.

It had been six years since Anabel came to this temple as a little girl to become a Novice, and each morning had been the same. Awakened before dawn, then off to the chapel for morning rituals and prayers. She had foolishly thought that somehow things would be different once she had been raised to Acolyte. The only thing that really had changed was the color of her robes. Still, it did feel good to finally be able to put off the dingy gray robes and dresses that Novices wore and put on the white of an Acolyte. It had only been a couple of weeks since then, but she felt like a brand new person.

Anabel was awakened from her sleep by a hand shaking her shoulder, and she opened her eyes with a start. It took a moment for her to realize what was happening, and she relaxed a little when she saw Sister Marion standing near her bed. Anabel jumped out of bed and gave a quick curtsy to the Sister.

"Good evening Sister. How may I serve?" she said in a rush, still startled to be woken up in the middle of the night.

"Come with me Child," Sister Marion said in a tone that expected instant obedience.

Anabel quickly followed Sister Marion out into the corridor and the cold. She shivered as cold drafts cut through her thin gray sleeping gown, but she knew better than to complain. Sister Marion walked on ahead without a word, occasionally casting glances at Anabel to make sure she was following. The dark hallways and the courtyard felt empty and long abandoned this late at night. The wind made quiet moans as it sifted through the barren branches of the trees and shrubs. For some reason it made Anabel think of death and decay. She knew better of course, but the late hour and the odd manner in which she was summoned made her mind wander in unpleasant directions.

It wasn't long before she and Sister Marion stopped before the great double doors that marked the entry into The Sanctum. Anabel had never been inside The Sanctum. That honor was reserved for The Matron and The Council. All others were forbidden in that holy place.

"Are you ready Child?" Sister Marion asked, turning to look intently at Anabel.

It took her a moment to realize what she meant by that, and it dawned on her. She was going to be raised to Acolyte!

"Yes Sister," Anabel replied, fear and anxiety causing her voice to tremble.

Sister Marion just nodded, then turned and pushed open the doors. They swung open easily and without a sound, and a warm light spilled out into the night. Once the doors were opened, Sister Marion turned back to Anabel with a wide smile and a twinkle in her eyes.

"Remove your dress," Sister Marion ordered.

Anabel pulled her nightgown over her head and shivered as the cold night air washed over her skin. She fought the instinct to cover her nakedness. She understood that this was part of the ceremony. No one was told what was going to happen when raised, but she knew no one would order her naked without reason.

"Enter now Child, and be blessed by our Goddess," Sister Marion said with a bow.

Anabel held her head high and her back straight as she stepped into The Sanctum. She heard the doors softly close behind her as she walked forward. There was a small table standing in the center of the room. A large golden chalice and a silver pitcher stood gleaming on it. Surrounding the table in a large semi-circle stood The Matron and The Council. None of the women present wore any clothes at all.

Anabel took a deep breath and stepped forward to stand next to the table. As she approached The Matron raised her hand in salute.

"Who comes to seek the blessings of our Goddess?" The Matron intoned, her voice echoing throughout the chamber.

"Anabel Dorain, Novice of the Goddess Ishtara," Anabel said, her voice trembling.

"Welcome Anabel, Novice of Ishtara. Kneel and be blessed by our Goddess," The Matron said and gestured to the chalice and pitcher.

One of the women stepped forward and emptied the pitcher into the chalice, and returned back to her place in the circle. Another woman stepped forward, took the chalice with both hands, and raised it high above her head before passing it to The Matron with a small bow. The Matron took the chalice and slowly poured the contents over Anabel's head. Anabel shivered as the cold water flowed over her.

"Be cleansed and receive the blessings of our Goddess Ishtara," The Matron said and returned the chalice back to the table.

When The Matron returned to her place in the circle, she told Anabel to rise. Once she was back on her feet, her hair soaked and dripping water each of the women stepped forward and placed a kiss on Anabel's forehead with a smile. It was done. Anabel was now an Acolyte of the Goddess Ishtara.

Anabel's thoughts returned to the present as a cold gust of wind cut through her robe and made her shiver. She was an Acolyte now, but it was still early in the morning, and cold. She hurried on, eager to get inside the warm chapel. Once inside, she quickly closed the door behind her, shutting out the icy wind. Inside the chapel, brass braziers stood along walls, red hot coals taking the chill out of the air.

Anabel stood rubbing her arms and stamping her feet, trying to coax warmth back into her body. As she stood in the foyer, Novices and other Acolytes began to arrive. Each newcomer let in a short blast of cold air as the heavy door swung open. Anabel sighed and entered the chapel proper.

The chapel itself was simple, yet held a certain elegance. A long red rug ran down the middle of the center aisle, tall brass candle stands stood at regular intervals. Rows of plain wooden pews stood on either side. At the far end of the chapel, large candelabras stood flanking a simple golden altar. Bowls of incense lie smoking at its base. Behind it all, drawing all eyes and the main focus of the chapel was the golden statue of Ishtara. Her wings spread wide, her hand reaching out as if inviting one to come closer. Her eyes, large blue sapphires sparkling in the candlelight, seemed to peer into the very depths of one's soul if they looked too closely. Anabel had always been moved when she beheld that statue, and today was no exception. She could almost feel the physical presence of Ishtara herself. Since she was raised, she seemed to feel that presence even more keenly. She quickly bowed her head and took her place on the first pew on the right side of the room. The left side was reserved for Novices and other parishioners.

Anabel sat quietly while the others shuffled in and took their seats. She thought of what Sister Marion had told her after the raising ceremony. After one had been raised, and received the blessing of the Goddess, they received a special gift from Ishtara herself. Each gift was unique and special to the woman who received it. Once Anabel received her gift, the Sisters would help her cultivate and grow it. Anabel had no idea what her gift might be but awaited it eagerly. Sister Marion had said that it can take time to discover what gift they may have received. Sometimes years. Even knowing this Anabel still felt a sense of impatience. She knew she shouldn't feel that way, and murmured a quick prayer of forgiveness and patience.

Once everyone had entered and taken their places, Sister Gracie entered the chapel from a side door. Sister Gracie was a small bird-like woman. Her dark burgundy robes always seemed a bit too large for her, but she always had a ready smile and a sharp eye. She took her place at the lectern standing off to the side, and began the morning prayer without a preamble.

Anabel followed along with the rest of the congregation, but today her heart wasn't really into it. She repeated the words as she had done so many times before, but her mind kept wandering. Her eyes seemed to be drawn more than usual to the large golden statue standing behind the altar. For some reason, it looked... different. She couldn't quite place what it was, but something was changed. She felt guilty when she caught herself staring at the statue and realized her mind wasn't focused, but she couldn't help herself. Something was definitely different today.

"Anabel? Are you okay? Anabel?" Sister Marion asked, sounding concerned.

Anabel jumped when she spoke. She didn't even realize Sister Marion was there. She looked around and the chapel was empty. Did she miss the whole morning service while letting her mind wander?

"What? What happened?" Anabel asked, feeling disoriented and confused.

"You seemed to be in some sort of trance. The other Acolytes tried to get your attention after services, but you didn't respond. Acolyte Blair came and got me. You had us all worried there for a minute. Do you remember what happened?" Sister Marion said, concern and worry heavy in her voice.

"I don't... I don't know..." Anabel said after a moment,

"I couldn't keep my eyes off the statue. It seemed to be different somehow. I couldn't figure out what it was. I don't know. I guess I just got caught up in it that I lost track of everything else. I'm sorry, it won't happen again," Anabel said, raising a hand to her head.

She glanced back at the statue, but everything seemed normal again. It must just have been her imagination. She still felt a little disoriented though, and told Sister Marion so.

"Hmmmm... Let's get you to the infirmary and have Sister Hall take a look at you," Sister Marion said, eyeing her up and down.

"Oh No. I'm feeling better already. I really should get to class now," Anabel said, backing away nervously.

She didn't want to be poked and prodded by Sister Hall. That woman was insufferable. She had a well-deserved reputation among the Novices and Acolytes for being harsh and not believing anyone who claimed to be ill or had an injury. She seemed to be of the opinion that anyone who claimed to be sick or injured was clearly faking it to get out of work or studies, and made it her life's mission to prove that you weren't. Anabel didn't want to spend the rest of the day trying to prove that she wasn't feeling well.

"Nonsense ACOLYTE, you will report to Sister Hall in the infirmary at once. Do you understand?" Sister Marion said sternly, reminding Anabel that she was still an Acolyte, and when a Sister said toad she was expected to hop.

"Yes, Sister. Apologies," Anabel sputtered, dropping a low curtsy and scurried away before Sister Marion could impose any sort of penance.

Anabel slowed down as soon as she was out of sight, she was starting to feel a little light-headed. She wasn't feeling exactly sick, but the lightheadedness wasn't normal. She reluctantly crossed the courtyard as a sense of dread that comes with needing to do some pleasant chore began to fill her.

Maybe seeing Sister Hall wouldn't be such a bad idea after all She thought.

She made her way across the courtyard toward the infirmary and spotted a small group of Acolytes standing near the dry water fountain in the center. She sighed and kept her head down as she passed by. She didn't want any trouble. Not now.

She wasn't exactly friends with many of the Acolytes, or at least not enemies. She largely treated most of them with indifference. She did have some friends, but should wouldn't consider any of the girls in this group among them. This particular group were bullies. They seemed to enjoy tormenting the Novices every chance they could and bullying many of the other Acolytes as well.

Anabel tried to pass on by unnoticed, but of course, they had been waiting for her and surrounded her like a pack of wild dogs when she approached.

"Well, if it isn't the baby Acolyte."

The speaker was Francine. A tall shapely woman with golden blonde hair and bright blue eyes. Her family were Nobles, and influential ones at that. Francine carried all the arrogance of her family's station and viewed anyone who wasn't of the nobility as some sort of creepy crawling thing. Most of her cohorts were also of the nobility. Of course, such things weren't supposed to matter here. They were all among Those Who Served, those called by the gods.

Baby Acolyte was the name they had begun calling Anabel as soon as she had been raised. She was young to be raised, just past her eighteenth-name day, but it wasn't unheard of. Such a distinction made her the target of Francine and her ilk. Many of them were in their twenties when they had been raised.

"Did you forget where you were back there?" Francine sneered, and the rest of the girls laughed.

Anabel didn't respond. She just wanted this to be over quickly. Her head still felt foggy and more than a little dizzy. She was beginning to have some minor difficulties focusing on the girls around her.

"What? Are you too good to talk now?" Francine said and gave Anabel a push.

Anabel was unable to keep her balance and fell down on her backside as the girls jeered and laughed. She wasn't hurt, but embarrassment colored her face. She sat on the ground for a moment, her head spinning. She looked up at the laughing, mocking faces of those girls were starting to become a little blurry. She tried to stand but fell back in a heap as a wave of nausea hit her and made the whole world spin. The group of girls shrieked and jumped backward as she emptied her stomach. She tried weakly to push herself up again but fell back down with a groan. She felt hot despite the cold, and her vision began to fade. She tried to call out, but only a soft moan escaped her lips. She heard the sounds of feet running away as the girls fled, leaving her to lay there on the ground, alone, as she faded into unconsciousness.