At least the wind wasn’t howling, Callista thought glumly
to herself as she gazed out to where the sun was setting on the horizon. Even so, it is going to be a very cold night. It was time for her clan’s evening devotions.
“Mother . . .” she nearly whispered.
“What troubles you, veninde?”
Callista turned away from the towering edge of the
battlements of Loddfafnir’s Hall to greet her swordmate, Amalielle.
“Nothing, I-“ she mumbled. “I came to pay tribute to Sun as he makes way
for his evening journey, to thank him for the night eyes of my People, and to
give thanks to Creator for the World. It
is our tradition, something I would often do with the shaman of our tribe…”
“Your mother,” Amalielle supplied.
“Yes,” she replied.
She turned back to where the sun was disappearing over the horizon. She laughed grimly. “Our customs must seem so primitive to you, a
child born in the very center of the universe.”
“Not at all,” the aasimar priestess said in return. “In
Sigil, there is nothing so beautiful as the rising or the setting of your
Sun. I have never seen anything so
glorious and will remember it into eternity when my days are ended. Next to your friendship, it is what I
treasure most from your World.”
“You are a good friend, Amalielle,” Callista said. “I have never had a friend like you
before. There has always been family,
who I think are friends we are born with.
And other swordmates who have come and gone. And there have been lovers, though none of
them endured more than a season. But you
are different.”
Amalielle laughed gently.
“For all the people I have known, I have never had a
friend like you, either. It is strange
that we two, who come from such different places, should have crossed
paths. It is our wyrd, our fate. My own foster mother, Siggertha, who raised
me as her own, often told me the sagas of her own people, angels who travelled far
from Mount Celestia to shining Asgard so they might serve at the right hand of
Tyr the Evenhanded. It was their destiny
to seek out the Lawbringer and swear him their love and fealty.”
“And I think we two are drawn by fate in much the same
way. It is our destiny to face some
great evil together that dwells in these festering halls. Some day, we will have our own saga to tell.”
As darkness descended, Callista could feel the
temperature drop, and noticed Amalielle shiver, despite the heavy fur cloak she
wore.
“We should rejoin the others, where it is warmer,” she
offered. “I doubt this hall has seen
such a raging fire in its hearth since last the old viking dwelled here.”
The two friends descended the stair together, leaving the
chill night air behind.
* * *
Siggertha lost them as soon as they descended into the
tower. All of the buildings of that fell
place were shielded from the inside against all viewing, including her own
scrying basin.
“Well,” her fellow watcher said, almost to himself. “This
Reaver Hall doesn’t look so bad.”
“It is what dwells within that troubles me, my Lord, not
the view from without.”
“Please, please, Siggertha,” he replied. “My name is Fandral. I am no lord.
Who could imagine such a thing!”
He laughed merrily.
“But I agree with you, otherwise. Some great evil dwells within that
place. And unless I am mistaken, there
is some great evil that lurks outside, as well.”
Although it does not have Loki’s feel, he thought to himself. The Trickster maybe watching, but he is not
close. Whatever it was, it was watching
the half-orc lass. Interesting.
“Well, since I am come from the old Grimjaws himself, I
am sure there must be some store of his mead that we might break open and enjoy
before the morrow, and my journey begins?” he asked hopefully.
“Of course, my L-, I mean Fandral,” she caught herself.
“More of our Lord’s mead then you could imagine.”
“Now that would be something indeed, my dear Siggertha!”
he replied, and laughed merrily again.
He was finding the paladin’s company pleasant, despite the reputation
the holy warriors had for being as dour as their patron. Even so, he doubted the small chapel would
have as much mead as he could imagine…
He could imagine quite a lot.