Blue Skye

5 March 3051 (Part 1)

Clan Council Chamber, Hall Of The Wolves

Strana Mechty

With her heart in her mouth, Margaidh followed Domask Lewis down the wood-panelled corridor towards the hall where the bloodnamed of Clan Wolf were waiting in session. The rubber ends on her crutches made a squeaking noise on the shiny parquée floor that Margaidh was certain could be heard from orbit. She was reminded of the government buildings on Summer, or maybe the administration of Sanglamore Academy. It was as if corridors of power the galaxy over were fasioned this way specifically to terrify lesser mortals like herself.

Domask turned back to look at her, and when he realised he had been striding too far ahead he stopped, and waited for her to catch up. “I apologise if I was walking too quickly,” he said with a smile.

“No, I am fine, thankyou.” Margaidh replied, concentrating on not using contractions. The importance of the occasion had been stressed in no uncertain terms, and Margaidh wanted to be sure she made no mistakes when it mattered.

“I will slow down,” Domask said. “We have plenty of time.”

Margaidh thanked him, but secretly wished she could get the whole damned thing over with. Already the last three days had been almost unbearable, she had barely slept or eaten since Domask had informed her that her right to become a Warrior had been challenged and that the matter must be decided before the Council of Wolves.

Domask came to a halt before a vast pair of doors bearing on them a representation of the Clan’s wolf-head symbol that had been carved from massive pieces of wood in varying shades of brown and red. The wolf’s eye, which Margaidh judged to be roughly twice the size of her palm, glittered with gold.

Standing guard on either side of the door were Elementals in full battle armour. As Domask and Margaidh approached they bowed to Domask as best they could in their bulky suits, and opened the doors. Although Domask had spent many hours explaining to Margaidh what she could expect, she could not contain a gasp of awe when she saw the room’s interior, and for a moment her terror was forgotten.

The room resembled nothing so much as a vast theatre in the round, with tiers of seating in a circle around a large dais at the centre. There was seating on the dais for those involved in the proceedings, and central of these was a bench emblazoned with the Wolf crest, behind which was a tall, high-backed chair. On this chair was seated an imposing man with silvery hair, moustache and goatee beard. He would have looked like any other old man if it were not for his lean, athletic build and the poise of authority with which he held himself, even at rest. He must be Ulric Kerensky, the Khan.

Aside from the Khan’s bench was another for his sa-Khan, Garth Radick, an altogether younger and heavier-built man. There were benches too for the Loremaster, whose position was something akin to a court judge, and there were also lesser positions for Advocate and Inquisitor, Council Clerk and a witness stand. All of these positions were as yet empty.

The dais itself was slowly revolving and above it hung massive screens from the ceiling which, once proceedings had begun, would show close-up pictures of those involved, so all the spectators might get a good view. And above that was the voting display, where red, black or white lucite blocks would illuminate in response to votes from the council members of ‘aye’, ‘nay’ or abstention respectively.

Margaidh took her seat beside Domask on the fourth row of benches, and waited anxiously for the hall to fill and proceedings to begin. It seemed like an age before the Loremaster tapped his gavel on the bench and stood. “The Council of Wolves is now in session,” he announced. “All will be bound by this Conclave until they are dust and memories, and beyond that time until the end of all that is.”