“Please, oh lord of light, master of might, heed our call, there is not a moment to stall!” It was midday in the Temple of Prosperity, the fiery sun creeping overhead. Scorching rays were sent powering down onto the sand and stone of the complex, glinting from the smoothed material. The structure itself was built into the side of a great cliff, flanking both sides of the river that flowed through the middle, accommodating the waterfall that plunged between. Though, it was much less a waterfall, and more of a pathetic trickle, feeding the shrunken river that covered only half of the cracked riverbed.
“This year marks the second decade without the rains and floods. I fear that we as a people have little time left in these lands. From your hands, oh please bestow onto us the gifts to survive our meagre existence amongst the sands.” Standing crouched beside a golden altar, High Priestess Zanubia knelt. Her hands clasped tightly around the chain of an ornamental charm. Her bony fingers trembled, begging the goddesses above for a sign.
It was a position she was very familiar with, a small groove worn into the tiles below her knees. For years, she’d attempted to correct whatever misdemeanour her people had done. Yet, no amount of praising, begging and weeping had helped. Though, Zanubia had little tears left to shed. So used to the rejection and lack of response they had received, she could bear no such emotion.
Gritting her teeth, she rose to her feet, blinking away tears from her fogging vision. Holding the charm in her vice-like grip, she raised it above her head, watching the Ankh sway, her focus shifting to the picture on the wall.
A beautiful painting, worked on by the finest artists available. A depiction of an immense mare, surrounded by bountiful harvests and the river waters, nourishing the land and its inhabitants. She snorted, every time she looked upon the piece was just another reminder of the situation she, and the inhabitants of these lands were currently in.
With a shuddering sigh, she dropped the amulet, colliding with a sharp ‘ting’ upon the altar. “And nothing altered. Is it just our new lot in life to wither and falter?” Turning her back, she made for the stairs, the pathway uncomfortably familiar to her. However, she hadn’t made it but a few meters before a sudden flash erupted behind her.
Spinning on her heels, she raised an arm weakly to block the intense burst of light filling the chamber. “What in the world?” Squinting through her fingers, she watched in amazement as a figure materialised in the light. Slowly, the glow petered out, leaving Zanubia shaking her head in disbelief. Standing atop the golden altar was a pony. Every second the zebra spent marvelling at the newcomer, her jaw dropped further and further.
“By the goddesses above.” She mumbled, the figure before her finally opening her eyes. They were a brilliant cerise, full of vitality and life. Her hair, striped like those oh so rare rainbows. Blinking, Zanubia finally realised the pony was aware of her presence, her mouth also opening in shock. Locking eyes for a moment, they stood rigid like statues, not uttering a single sound.
Then, the cyan mare toppled forwards, her eyes rolling upwards as she fell towards the hard ground. With a sudden rush of adrenaline, the priestess ran forwards, catching the prismatic pony before her untimely collision with terra firma. With her arms wrapped around her back, and the mare’s head tilting towards her own, another jolt of surprise rolled over her. Instead of feeling the soft fabric of the odd clothes the mare wore, instead she could feel wide banks of feathers.
Looking up, she finally could see the ornament topping the mares’ head. Brilliant ruby red, with a sacred cobra curling around the spire. With her vision growing blurry, she could barely believe her eyes. “The Crown of Harvests? Could it be?” Squinting past, the zebra’s eyes once more fixed upon the painting, the red crown upon the immense figure matching the mystery mares perfectly.
With a gasp, she wrapped an arm around the Crownbearer, guiding her towards the exit. For the first time in such a long time, Zanubia felt hope surge through her core. “Gods above, this gift you entrust. Her protection and pampering will be a must, for the river to flow and the winds to gust.” Eyes twinkling with determination, she cleared the last set of stairs, intense sunlight illuminating the exit, guiding her forwards into its embrace. “For now, you must rest. If not, you cannot help us at your best.” Stepping out into the sand, the High Priestess ignored the scorching rays, the feeling of success stamping her irritations out.
Now though, she had to get to the palace, and wait for her guest to rouse from her slumber. And waiting was something Zanubia was very, very good at.