The Fall of the Keepers

Chapter 35 Visiting Relations

We were flying high, a good eight thousand feet up in the air. I peered down and caught sight of white-capped mountain peaks below us, reflecting the dim light of the moon. I felt more than saw as Nyssa began descending and followed suit, my heart beating wildly inside my chest. Nestled at the foot of three rising slopes I spotted warm lights that spread out across the entire valley floor, winking at us in the night. They came up to greet us as we drifted lower and lower with the breeze and I struggled to make out the shape of the structures that the light came from.

They appeared to be domes of all sizes, some that looked a bit like overturned bowls and others that stretched out as long as snakes. They were everywhere and in the gaps between the buildings were fires, pens for animals, and silver-haired people of all ages. In the very middle of the camp was a massive open circle of space with three poles erected in the center. Here was where we touched down, the snow crunching beneath our boots once more.

"This is the ring of assembly, where the people come to hear the elders speak, celebrate victories, or mourn losses."
Nyssa explained.

"What are those?"
I pointed towards the poles in curiosity.

"Totem poles. They are carved with our history, and stand as reminders to us and our children so that we do not forget our ancestor's struggles."

"We gather together every full moon and the elders of the tribe tell the old legends. Memory is sacred to us."
Eleiko added.

Cato would have enjoyed that, I couldn't help but think to myself. Ahead of us lay a long hut that was covered in snow but appeared to be layered in tree bark. It was raised off the ground on a platform like structure, unlike the other buildings I noted, and had steps leading up to what looked to me to be a large porch.

"This is the Long Hall. The Chief and Chieftess often spend much time here, seeking counsel from the elders, communing with the warriors, or listening to the requests of the people. All the important decisions of the Clan are made here."

I was still gripping Ranen's hand, almost afraid to let go of him, as we ascended the rough-hewn wooden steps that led up to the Clan's hall. There was no door to the entrance and the light from within spilled out onto the slats of the porch. I hesitated ever so slightly before I crossed the threshold, working up my courage to release Ranen's hand and stand on my own.

The Long Hall felt to me like being on the inside of a wooden skeleton. Arched poles ran the length and width of the structure, fastened tightly together with strips of rope. From here I could see a layer of reed mats had been laid over the poles, with the sheets of bark I had first noticed making up the exterior. It was a good deal warmer than I had expected, three fire pits built with smooth stones were placed strategically along the center. In between them, two oaken tables rested solemnly, long benches providing seating on either side. No one was seated at the table closest to the door but at the far end of the Long Hall, five figures were settled, each with a steaming mug of some sort of hot beverage.

At the head of the table a pale middle-aged man with white stubble along his jaw line reclined in the only chair in the room. His eyes were a stormy gray like my own, keen and clear, giving me a strong impression a sharp mind lay behind them. He was dressed in a similar manner to the warriors, minus the white fur cloak and with a good deal more turquoise jewelry in place. He was well built, with calloused fingers and bulging muscles that indicated he was no idle man. Upon his silver hair rested a thin circle of white bone, twisted with silver, tiny sapphires dotting the edges.

To his right, an older woman was leaning forward with an arm on the table. Her facial features had a refined, though weathered, appearance to them and her eyes were a beautiful glacier blue. Her hair was unbound, except a thin braid that circled her head like a crown, the rest of the wavy silver locks cascading over her shoulder and back, brushing as low as her waist line.