[originally published January 27, 2013]
Callista knew she was last to arrive for the moot. She'd had a late start of over two weeks, and her group had only made the pass into the Vale yesterday afternoon, continuing north and west until the sun started lowering in the sky. She could tell they were very close to their destination. Against the backdrop of the slowly setting sun, she could see the enormous, telltale plumes of steam rising lazily into the air and drifting slowly along the horizon, dissipating as they went.
Using them as a guide, they rode on toward the place where they would
camp for the night. She knew her kin would already be there, and in the
morning, the elders would make their way to the sacred stones to perform the
rituals.
As they continued their approach, she started to make out the conical
shapes of her peoples' reindeer-hide tents in the distance. As they came
closer, she could also see the stone burial cairns of her ancestors rise up
behind the camp.
Callista Armageddon had at last returned to her kin, both the living and
the dead. She rode into the ring of tents that had formed around a large fire
pit. She had smelled the roast boar as soon as they had come within a bowshot
of the camp, and she saw where the spits had been placed. After scanning the
camp, she pointed to one of the few remaining open places.
"Set up our pavilions there," she said to her cohort,
Torvaagh. "When you are done, make sure everyone gets their fill of boar
and ale."
A cheer went up from her followers at
the last command, and they quickly set off to work. Torvaagh waited behind.
"What is it?" She asked him as he sat looking at her.
"Are you going to see the chief first?" He replied.
"Yes. And the Shaman as well if she is there."
"How long has it been since you have spoken to either of
them?"
She shrugged in return, dismounted, and handed the reins over to her
kinsman. "Our paths do not cross
often anymore."
He clicked his horse into a slow walk and headed off to where the others
had already started setting up.
Callista doubled back and made her way across the clearing to the
largest tent in the entire camp. She'd decided she would announce her arrival
to the chief personally, and without delay.
The guards standing outside the tent watched her approach. "Is the
chief seeing visitors?" She asked them. They looked at each other, and the
taller one nodded to her, then pulled the flap aside so she could enter.
She stepped in, only now considering what she might say.
* * *
Gorragh looked up from where he sat eating a large slice of boar. As
always, his jagged, silver-bladed greatsword was near at hand, resting against
the empty stool next to him. Still eating, he reached over, pushed the blade
aside, and gestured for the young warrior to sit.
She took the proffered seat and waited.
The chief reached for his tankard of ale and drained it down. He belched
loudly and wiped his mouth with the back of his arm. Having finished at last,
he looked over at her and nodded.
"Callista," is all he said to her by way of greeting.
"Father," she replied in kind.
"You have come for the moot."
"Yes."
"The Shaman will be here soon to discuss tomorrow," was the
last thing he said before reaching for his weapon. He pulled an oilcloth from
behind him and began working the blade. The ensuing silence would have dragged
on indefinitely had the flap not opened and another visitor stepped into the
tent to join them.
The fur clad figure drew back her hood, and Callista immediately
recognized the Shaman of Clan Armageddon. She noted that the Shaman's long
auburn hair had grayed considerably since last she had seen her.
Being so preoccupied with preparation for the moot, it took a moment for
the newcomer to realize someone other than the chief was there with them.
"Callista!" she exclaimed and stepped forward. The young
warrior stood and embraced the older woman.
"Hello, Mother," she said.