Jump Ship Dire Wolf,
Assault Orbit
Tamar
13 November 3051
Six days after the battle began, the jewel of the Tamar Pact lay in the Wolves' hands. But the cost had been high. Nine Mechwarriors were dead, including one from Vincent's Star, as were six pilots and almost twenty Elementals. Over three times that number returned injured. But the losses to the Wolves were nothing to the carnage the Tamar defenders had suffered. Of eight hundred cadets at the Academy, less than a hundred lived long enough to surrender, and not one of the Kelswa Guard had survived.
Margaidh waited in the Mech Hangar as the warriors returned, their Mechs limping and battered, their own faces haggard. With her heart pounding she watched for any sign of Domask but when he finally did emerge she barely recognised him. He walked slowly and stiffly from spending nearly six days solid in his Mech, and his face looked pale and haunted against his dark hair. His eyes that normally burned with the familiar Lewis fire seemed empty.
Behind him walked Vincent, looking equally stiff and sore. As he walked past where Margaidh was standing, his eyes met hers for a moment, and his face formed a mask of hate. Then as she tried to fight against the shudder that rose up inside her, he turned and walked away without a word.
"Margaidh!" Domask lifted his arm to wave, and dropped it again heavily, the effort of even that small gesture more than his body could bear.
Margaidh hurried to him as fast as she could manage, and leaning with her left hand on her cane she slipped her right arm around Domask's waist and felt him sag slightly. "Domask? Are you alright?" her face was etched with concern.
"I will be, after I have showered and slept." He smiled. "Do not worry about me, Margaidh. I am unhurt." He held himself straight, to avoid putting any extra weight on her, and let her walk slowly alongside him back to his room.
After Domask had showered, he lay outstretched on his bunk while Margaidh sat beside him, gently massaging his aching shoulders. She smiled as he gave a groan of pleasure and closed his eyes. After fifteen minutes or so, he rolled over and opened his eyes again, and touched her cheek with his finger.
"Would it be… improper… for me to ask you to make love with me?" he asked quietly.
Margaidh stared, and for a moment she could not speak. Instead she just bit her bottom lip, and nodded.
Domask sat up and rubbed at his temples. "I am sorry, Margaidh. I respect your customs, and I will not ask again."
"You do not have to be sorry, Domask," Margaidh replied. "And please do not think that I do not love you, because I do."
Domask frowned. "But is not sex an expression of love among your people?"
"There are many different kinds of love, Domask. Some kinds are connected with sex, and some are not." Margaidh leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. "I do love you, but I could no more make love to you than I could make love to my own mother."
The Mechwarrior stood and ran his fingers through his black hair. Then he picked up a clean pair of shorts and pulled them on to cover his nakedness. Margaidh could almost feel his disappointment and her mind raced as she tried to think of something to say that would change the subject and break the tension.
"I noticed that Vincent looked unhappy as he came on board. Did something happen to upset him, quiaff?"
Domask turned to face Margaidh, his eyes now bright with amusement. "Aff. I saved his ass, and he was not in the slightest bit grateful." He told Margaidh what had happened during the duel with the Atlas, and about the words they had exchanged afterwards. Margaidh shuddered when he spoke of Vincent's direct threat to her.
"Do not be concerned, Margaidh. I will not let him harm you."
Margaidh took a deep breath and picked at a loose thread on the blanket. "Why does he hate you so much, Domask? What happened between you?"
Domask shrugged. "He knows I am better than he is, and he is envious."
Margaidh studied his face, and she shook her head. "I do not buy that one, Domask. There is more to it than that, quiaff?"
He snapped his head round and glared at her, then the anger vanished and he nodded. "Aff. There is much more to it than that. Vincent is of my bloodline, Margaidh. In actual fact, he is my brother, although he is seven years younger than me, and we were not raised in the same sibko." Domask gave a slight frown. "Five years ago, a Lewis bloodline came free, and we were both nominated for it. Vincent thought I was too old, I thought he was too young." He grinned. "I beat Vincent in the first round, and went on to win the name. He has never forgiven me. He still harbours the misconception that I was lucky, and thinks if he had won our duel, he would have won the name instead."
Domask sat down beside Margaidh on the bunk, and put an arm around her shoulder. "Margaidh, when you test out for your Trial of Position, it is likely Vincent will request permission to stand against you. It will be certain his aim will be not merely to defeat you, but to kill."
Margaidh felt a shiver run down her spine, then she gave a weak smile. "I may not ever reach a Trial of Position, Domask."
Domask grabbed hold of her shoulders, as if to shake her. "Do not say that!" he hissed. "Do not even think it! If you think like that, you will fail, and Vincent will have won." He relaxed his grip. "I know you will succeed. Not this year, maybe not even next year. But someday you will become a warrior, and you will win your bloodname. I shall be standing beside you as you do."
Margaidh felt tears spring to her eyes and she threw her arms around Domask's shouders, holding him tight. He returned the embrace. "I do love you, Domask," she whispered. "And one day, I will make you proud of me."
Aboard the Dire Wolf
Memmingen, Assault
orbit
20 November 3051
"Happy birthday, Mags."
Margaidh rolled over in bed, barely awake, squinting against the light. Kristen was already up and dressed, and she was holding something in her hand. As Margaidh gradually became accustomed to the light, she saw it was something vaguely cylindrical in shape, roughly a third of a meter high, and wrapped in gaudy red and silver shiny paper. A golden bow at the top finished the effect.
"What time is it?" Margaidh asked, squinting at Kristen.
"Time to get up and open your birthday present," Kristen replied, holding the gift on outstretched hands.
Margaidh sighed and sat cross-legged on the bunk, reaching for the present. "You know, all this does is remind me I'm another year older."
"Now you sound like some middle-aged frump. You're only twenty-four."
"Still four years older than Phelan, five years older than Michael and one year closer to being too old to test out as a Mechwarrior." She took the gift and it felt heavy. Margaidh recognised the feel and balance of the cylinder, and a broad grin spread across her face. "I think I know what this is," she said, excitement creeping into her voice. She ripped off the paper, read the label on the cardboard tube underneath it and gave a scream. "Real Skye whisky? Where in the name of God did you find this?"
Kristen grinned. "I went shopping on Engadin, just before we left for Tamar. Actually it was easier to find than I thought."
Margaidh slid the bottle from its tube, unscrewed the top and sniffed the amber liquid, closing her eyes as the aroma teased her with its scent.
"Of course, Mags, since it smells so good you could always use it as cologne."
"That, Kristen, would be a heinous waste." She capped the bottle once more and slipped it back into its case. "I will save this for a special occasion."
"Your birthday is a special occasion. Remember this time last year? Taking your first steps after the accident?"
Margaidh smiled at her friend, but the smile was now tinged with sadness. "I remember. And I remember thinking that it wouldn't be long before I was back in a Mech. But a year on I'm still walking with a stick, and I still don't have half the strength in my legs that I used to have."
Kristen put a comforting arm around Margaidh's shoulder, and with her free hand wiped a stray tear from her cheek. "Hey, Mags, don't cry. Not on your birthday." She gave Margaidh a squeeze, and Margaidh nodded, taking a deep breath and smiling back at Kristen. But Kristen's eyes too had tears in them.
"Kris? What is wrong? I hope I didn't upset you."
Kristen shook her head. "It's… nothing," she said, abruptly standing up and turning her back on Margaidh.
"So why are you crying about nothing?"
Kristen reached for a noteputer on the desk, called up a message on it, and passed it to Margaidh. "I didn't want you to know, not on your birthday. I was going to tell you tomorrow." Kristen's voice was trembling.
Margaidh read it, her eyes wide with surprise. "You've been adopted as a Wolf? Already? Kris, that's great!"
"No it isn't, Margaidh. Read the rest of it. I've been adopted into the Technician's caste, not the Warrior's."
Margaidh felt a sudden jolt, as though she'd just been dropped through a hole in the floor. "They won't even let you test out?"
Kristen bit her lip. "Actually, Mags, I volunteered for this. I decided not to test out."
Margaidh frowned, not believing what Kristen was saying. "But you're a Mechwarrior, Kris. Why are you throwing it away like this?"
"I was a Mechwarrior, once." Kristen turned and gazed out of the window towards the stars. "Until the Clan invaded Ridderkerk, I thought I was a real soldier. I thought I was really making a difference somewhere. And then, suddenly, everything changed. Instead of just exercises and routine patrols, it was the real thing." She turned back to face Margaidh and her eyes were full of fear and disappointment.
"Suddenly, it wasn't a wargame anymore. I never believed I could get as scared as I was that day. And then when I found Polly's Valkyrie all smashed up, and I opened the cockpit to get her out…" Kristen's voice trembled. "I couldn't even tell it was her without looking at her dog-tags."
Kristen sniffed, and this time it was Margaidh's turn to offer a comforting hug.
"Polly died for nothing, Mags. Nothing she did made a difference. I don't want to think that I might die in some futile battle that doesn't make a difference." She gave a half-hearted laugh. "Maybe that makes me a coward. Playing wargames was fine, I just don't think I'm cut out to be a real soldier."
Margaidh shook her head in disbelief and Kristen smiled at her, a smile that Margaidh though looked more like a brave attempt to appear cheerful. "Hey, I'm not such a bad spannerjock, you know. Don't worry about me."
The two girls, both fighting tears, held each other tight. Margaidh closed her eyes and saw images of the last battle on Black Earth. I understand your fear, Kristen. War scares me too. But what scares me more is not having the chance to try and make a difference. I would rather die knowing that at least I had that chance.
Aboard the Dire Wolf
Satalice
15th January 3052
Margaidh closed her eyes and concentrated on the treadmill's gentle electric hum, to take her mind off the painful burning sensation in her legs and lower back. She was determined not to give up but it took every ounce of her willpower to keep pounding away at the treadmill until she heard the quiet click.
Her companion Thalia, with her thumb on the stopwatch button, smiled. "Okay, time is up," she said. "Ten minutes rest, then back onto the multigym."
Margaidh stifled a groan and looked at her companion. Although Margaidh herself was tall and well-built for a woman, Thalia Tutola stood a good half-meter taller and weighed nearly a hundred pounds more. Yet even despite her great size, Thalia was still athletic and well-proportioned. Margaidh had often wondered that female Elementals still managed to look feminine, even though they towered above the average man.
Thalia grinned wickedly at Margaidh, her teeth showing bright white against her ebony skin. "You are doing well, for a freebirth," she said. "I think you would not have progressed so far without your natural strength."
Margaidh smiled back, or tried to. Normally she would have agreed with Thalia's comment, but at that moment she felt as though all her strength had been sucked out of her. "Maybe I should be testing out as an Elemental instead of a Mechwarrior," she joked as she stepped down from the treadmill and sat beside Thalia on a low bench.
"You are not that strong," Thalia replied, her expression now serious. "I would estimate your chance of success as an Elemental at approximately nil."
"While my chance of testing out as a Mechwarrior is about double that," Margaidh snapped back. Thalia frowned, the sarcasm lost on her. "Never mind, Thalia, it was a joke." Briefly, though, Margaidh wondered whether that comment made in jest could be right. Her strength had increased since her training with Thalia had begun four weeks ago, but not enough for Margaidh's satisfaction. More worrying, however, was that she still lacked the fine control and co-ordination that was required to operate a Mech.
She absently fingered the small fragment of armour from the Blue Skye that hung on a thong around her neck. It was a common custom among Inner Sphere Mechwarriors to keep such a talisman from a beloved but destroyed Mech, or perhaps a scrap from a particularly significant kill. Some said that the Mech Charm brought good luck in battle, but it reminded Margaidh only of what she had lost. Not just the famous family Shadow Hawk, but other things too. Friends alongside whom she'd fought, and watched die at the hands of the Falcons. Her mother, and her home, neither of which she expected to see again. And the dream of being a Mechwarrior, which had burned strong inside her for more than half her life.
But this Mech charm represents more than simply what I have lost. It symbolises what I can achieve. The Blue Skye was wrecked beyond repair, but I was not. It reminds me that as long as I do not give up on my dream, it can come true.
Margaidh narrowed her eyes at her companion. "Thalia, what would you do, if you could not be an Elemental anymore?"
"I would be transferred to another Caste, as was appropriate to my abilities, and I would be happy to serve my Clan in whatever way was required of me."
Margaidh shook her head. "I do not believe that," she said. "I do not believe you would be happy. I think you would be very unhappy, that you could no longer do what you had spent your whole life training for."
Thalia looked hard at Margaidh, her dark eyes flashing with a moment of anger that vanished equally quickly. "Aff," Thalia said quietly. "I believe you are right." She gave a little smile. "When I was first assigned to your training programme, I was offended. I could not understand why you would work so hard for something so difficult to attain, and your obsession with it was… amusing. But I think I understand why you feel that way."
After a further hour of training, followed by a long, hot shower, Margaidh headed back towards her room, and met Michael half-way. He was wearing a Mechwarrior's cooling suit, with the overjacket unfastened, and an anxious expression on his face that melted into a smile when he saw Margaidh.
"I have been searching for you, Margaidh," he said. "I have some news."
"Good news or bad?" Margaidh replied, falling into step beside him.
"Both, I think. I have just finished a training session in the simulators with Khan Kerensky. She told me that I will be permitted to take my Trial of Position in five months."
With a broad smile on her face, Margaidh gave Michael a hug. "That is great news. Congratulations. It will be a year early, quiaff?"
"Aff." Michael lowered his head, and pulled away from Margaidh's embrace.
"What is wrong? Are you not happy?"
"My trial will be held on Strana Mechty. I will be leaving here the day after tomorrow."
The smile dropped from Margaidh's face. "Leaving? When will you be back?" For a long while, Michael said nothing, and Margaidh felt her stomach knot with sudden fear. "You're not coming back, are you?"
"I do not know. If I fail, I will remain in the Clan homeworlds. If I succeed, I may be assigned to any part of the Clan's miltary forces. It is likely that we will never see one another again."
Margaidh shook her head, blinking back tears. "Sure we will, Michael. Our paths will cross somewhere, I am certain of it." But she knew that was a lie. The Clan's homeworlds were a long way off, and even if Michael did return to the Inner Sphere, the area occupied by the Wolves was so vast they could live a lifetime there and never meet.
Aboard the Dire Wolf
Out-transit orbit, Satalice
17th January 3052
Margaidh spent as much of the next two days with Michael as she could spare, but since they were both involved in heavy training schedules, there was precious little spare time to be had, and the moment of his departure crept upon them all too quickly.
"Don't leave yet," Margaidh pleaded as Michael sat up in the bed, and reached for his clothes. "Make love to me again."
Michael shook his head. "There is no more time. My Drop Ship leaves in less than two hours. If I do not go now I will miss the shuttle."
For a moment Margaidh wanted to make him miss that shuttle, so he could not go back to Strana Mechty and leave her behind. But she knew that would be impossible. The Trial of Position would be the most significant moment of Michael's career, and success meant as much to him as it did to her. Much as her heart longed to stay with him for ever, her head knew that the time had come to let him go.
She sat up in his bed and kissed the back of his neck. "I will miss you, Michael."
"I will miss you too." He turned back to face her. "I do not know much about what it means to be in love, but I think I am in love with you."
Margaidh forced herself to smile, then she quickly slipped the Mech Charm over her head and put it around Michael's neck. "I want you to have this."
Michael fingered the armour fragment. "This is all you have left of your family's Mech. I cannot accept such a gift."
He started to take it off again but Margaidh put her hands on his and stopped him. "Please, take it." She paused. "If you cannot accept it as a gift, consider it a loan. Look after it for me, until we meet again."
"But…" Michael began to protest, but Margaidh silenced him with a kiss.
"The charm will bring us back together. As long as you have it, we cannot help but meet again." She closed her eyes to stop herself from crying, but even as she spoke the words, she knew them to be true. Like an ancient magical spell, the speaking aloud of the words, and the belief in them, made the magic real.
Michael smiled at her, and closed his hand around the charm. "If that is the case, then I shall guard it as though my life depended upon it."
"I love you Michael."
"Goodbye."
"Until we meet again."
Aboard the Dire Wolf
Hyperion
16th February 3052
After Michael's departure, Margaidh threw herself into her training with even more determination than she had before. But no matter how much progress she made, or how often Kristen scolded her for pushing too hard, Margaidh always had the nagging feeling that it was not enough. A hundred and twenty percent, the doctor had told her, almost eighteen months ago. So a hundred and twenty percent it will have to be.
So Margaidh spent most of her time in the gymnasium, sometimes with Thalia's supervision and sometimes alone. On this particular afternoon, she had expected Thalia to be there but she was not. When she saw the pair of suited Elementals enter the gym, she assumed one of them was Thalia. She must have forgotten her own duties, and come to let me know.
But as the two Elementals approached her, Margaidh realised they were painted in the wrong camouflage colours, and bore an insignia on the helmet that was horribly familiar.
Jade Falcons! What in the name of god are they doing here?
One of the Elementals stopped in front of Margaidh, while the other one held a little way back, closer to the door. Blocking my escape! What the hell is going on here?
"You are Margaidh Shelagh, of the Lewis line?" the Elemental demanded.
Margaidh frowned. It had been two years since anyone had used her full name, and for a moment she wasn't quite certain whether to say yes or no. The Elemental repeated the question, the tone of his voice becoming more irritated. Margaidh simply replied "Aff."
"You will accompany us."
The Elemental did not even give her the opportunity to change her clothes. He simply turned and marched stiffly out the way he had entered, leaving Margaidh to hurry after him. As she left the gymnasium, the second Elemental fell into step behind her, sandwiching her between the two armoured warriors.
A hundred thoughts were racing through Margaidh's mind, and none of them were pleasant. She could only surmise that the Falcons had a grievance against her, and placed her under arrest, or else they had somehow reclaimed her, and were taking her back to their own worlds. That thought made her blood run cold. Domask, where are you? For god's sake, do something!
The Elementals led her to a lift, where a third was waiting. With the three of them crowded together, there was barely room for Margaidh, and she wondered what kind of trouble she might be in, that required three suited Elementals to bring her in.
The lift stopped on one of the decks where only warriors were permitted, and Margaidh fingered nervously at the bondcord around her right wrist. Maybe they were bringing her to some kind of secret trial. Why don't they tell me what I'm supposed to have done? Does Vincent have something to do with this? Has he finally got rid of me, without Domask knowing about it?
As the lift doors opened, Margaidh craned her neck to see past the Elementals but she saw nothing that might give any clue as to where on the Dire Wolf she was, or why. All she could see was a plain grey corridor much like any other. She followed the two Elementals out of the lift, while the third stayed close behind. They marched together until the front pair came to a plain, unmarked door, and opened it. Then the Elemental behind pushed her sharply in the back. Unbalanced, Margaidh stumbled into the room, and almost fell. The door swished shut behind her, and she was left in absolute darkness.
Margaidh cursed aloud and started to feel her way around the room. It was smaller than the cell in which the Falcons had kept her prisoner, and completely unfurnished. Still dressed in her close-fitting bodysuit she was wearing in the gymnasium, she shivered as the cold air chilled the sweaty garment. With a faint moan of despair, Margaidh sank to the floor and hugged her knees, fighting against a feeling of sheer terror.
Abruptly, another door opened, in the wall opposite the one by which Margaidh had entered the room, and she was dazzled by sudden light. Someone stood silhouetted in the doorway, and hurrying to her feet, Margaidh squinted aganst the brilliance, trying to see who it was.
The figure was dressed in what at first looked like a Mechwarrior's outfit, except that it seemed to be made for ornamentation rather than practicality. The boots were of polished silvery metal, the mesh undersuit seemed also to be silverish, and the overgarments were not of the normal camouflaged ballistic cloth but of a glossy grey leather decorated with spirals of a darker grey so that it resembled stylised fur. Over that, the warrior wore a short cloak of what Margaidh supposed to be real wolf's fur, fastened with a silver clasp in the shape of the familiar Wolf Clan insignia.
Other than that the Mechwarrior was a man, she could not identify him, because his head was covered with a stunning mask, the likes of which Margaidh had never seen before. It was made in the shape of a wolf's head, cast in the same silvery metal as the warrior's boots and decorated with enamel, making the same pattern of spirals as on his jacket. The wolf's mouth was open, exposing brilliant white teeth, but it seemed as though it were grinning rather than snarling. There was something about the grin that seemed sinister rather than comforting, and it sent a shiver down Margaidh's spine.
Margaidh opened her mouth to speak but the wolf-faced warrior lifted his hand in a gesture that called for silence. Then, without a sound, he gestured for her to approach him. As she took a step towards him, the light illuminating him blinked out and, startled, she stopped. A moment later another light came on, a few yards further ahead, and the masked warrior was illuminated beneath it.
Again he gestured for her to follow, and Margaidh began to realise that this was some kind of ritual. She recalled the rituals of politics in the trial on Strana Mechty a year before, and wondered if this was something similar. Her heart pounding hard, Margaidh stepped into the darkness towards the only source of light shining on the grey-clad warrior.
As she approached close to him, Margaidh heard a metallic swish from the darkness on each side, and the sound of metal boots on the floor. With lightning speed, the warrior's hands shot out and up to either side and she saw then the blades of swords barely a centimeter from each palm. Then he nodded at her, and just as the light vanished once more she thought she saw a glimpse of his eye through the mask's blank socket.
Somehow comforted by that, Margaidh ducked under his arm and ran forwards into the darkness, as she heard the sound of the two swords continuing their arc, slicing through just where she had stood a moment before. In the darkness, she heard the grey-clad warrior passing by her, but her attention was occupied by a more urgent sound; of the metal boots to either side of her.
Instinctively she tucked and rolled to the left, and she heard the sound of blades swishing above her. Mother of gods! They're trying to kill me! Hearing another movement in the darkness close by, she spun round with her right hand on the deck, and a roundhouse kick with her left leg that connected with one of the swordsman's knees, bringing him down.
Without waiting to congratulate herself, or even be surprised at how quickly she had reacted, she rolled again and heard the other sword swish so close she could feel the rush of air on her back. But it missed, and Margaidh saw blue sparks as it struck the metal deck. When she stood once again, there was another light with the grey warrior once again illuminated under it, and beckoning her forward once more.
Fearing another attack from the swordsmen in the darkness, Margaidh hurried towards the warrior, expecting him to vanish once more, but he did not. Instead, two more lights came on. One illuminated only an empty circle of metal floor, while in the other stood another figure. Margaidh gasped as she recognised the woman standing there.
The light seemed to illuminate only her head and hands, because she was clad from head to toe in a black leather jumpsuit. Only a fine red trim, and a red hourglass mark at the waist, broke the blackness. Her full hair shone almost as red, and over her shoulders was a cape of black fur streaked with the faintest trace of silver. In her hands, the woman held a wolf's-head mask as black as her clothes. Margaidh knew instantly that she was Khan Natasha Kerensky.
Natasha's face was solemn, but there was a trace of mischief in her eyes, and Margaidh frowned, wondering what she was up to. Then she began to speak, her voice carrying powerfully into the darkness.
"Trothkin, seen and unseen, near and far, living and dead, rejoice. The Wolf has brought us a foundling." Her words echoed in the darkness, and Margaidh felt as though they would have truly awoken the dead.
From around her, as if the darkness itself had reponded to Natasha Kerensky's words, came the reply; "Seyla."
"I am the Oathmaster!" Natasha said, even more commanding than before. "All will be bound by this Conclave until they are dust and memories, and beyond that time until the end of all that is."
Voices from the darkness again whispered, "Seyla."
Natasha narrowed her eyes and looked into the darkness. "None would doubt the Wolf's wisdom. But some among you would believe the Wolf's generosity is too great. Who among you would deny this pup her life?"
Margaidh shivered, and felt a rising wave of panic. Whatever it is the Falcons are doing here, it seems it has approval from the top of Clan Wolf. Why do they want me dead, after all this time?
There was the sound of movement, and someone stepped into the empty circle of light. He wore a representation of an Aerospace pilot's suit in shades of blue and silver, and on his head was a huge mask resembling a snarling white bear. The pilot removed his mask and tucked it under his arm, and Margaidh saw then that the pilot was a woman.
Natasha nodded in salute. "I recognise thee, Rebekha Devon of Clan Ghost Bear," she said.
"Oathmaster, I ken death from the skies for this pup," the pilot said to Natasha. Then she turned to fix Margaidh with an angry stare, and she lowered her voice to a growl. "Aye, it is death I see."
Again Natasha spoke. "Who among the Wolves would deny this vision?"
Another pilot stepped towards the circle, and stood between Rebekha and Margaidh. He wore grey leathers, with a wolf-fur cape and wolf-mask very like the warrior who had led her in. He took off his mask, and Margaidh recognised a pilot from the 328th Assault Cluster.
Natasha nodded at him. "I recognise thee, Gunars Ch'in of the Wolves."
Ch'in looked first at Rebekha, then at Natasha. "Oathmaster, it is my ken that this pup need fear nothing from the skies."
Another spotlight came on, close to where the pilots stood, and a man who could only be an Elemental, strode purposefully into it. He wore no armour, but his outfit seemed to resemble a stylised representation of it. Facets of metal reflected the light, and on his head he wore a mask shaped like a snake's head, that seemed to have mirrors for scales. As he removed his mask, light in many colours reflected from them.
"I recognise thee, Rafael Grimani of Clan Steel Viper," said Natasha.
"Oathmaster, I ken death by hand for this pup." Grimani turned to face Margaidh, and he too fixed her with a hateful stare. "Aye, 'tis death I see."
Natasha lifted her chin. "Who among the Wolves deny this vision?"
Another Elemental, wearing a dark wolf's-head mask and cape, strode into the second circle and stood in front of Grimani. When she took off her mask, Margaidh smiled.
"I recognise thee, Thalia Tutola of the Wolves."
"Oathmaster, it is my ken that this pup need not fear death by the hand," said Thalia.
A third spotlight came on and a man entered it. He was dressed as a Mechwarrior, but wore over his uniform a long green cape. On his head he wore a mask shaped like the head of a predatory bird, coloured green and made of what Margaidh guessed were real feathers. When he took off the mask, Margaidh went weak with terror.
"I recognise thee, Uvin Buhallin of the Clan Jade Falcon."
"Oathmaster, I ken death from her equals for this freebirth pup," he said, and glared at Margaidh. When she saw the hate in his eyes, she realised that the other two had been merely acting, playing out a part. Buhallin's hate was real. "Aye, it is death I see," he growled.
"Who among the Wolves would deny this vision?" Natasha called.
Another Mechwarrior, wearing a cape of dark russet brown and a bronze mask, stepped in front of Buhallin. When he took off his mask Margaidh's fear drained away.
"I recognise thee, Domask Lewis of the Wolves."
"Oathmaster, it is my ken that this pup need not fear death from her equals," he said, unable to contain a smile of his own.
"Face me, pup," commanded Natasha. Margaidh did so. "Thrice you have been challenged and thrice a defender has risen to protect you. Sponsored by the Wolf, warded by the Clan, all is in order." From beneath her cape, Natasha drew a silver dagger with a wolf-shaped hilt, like the one Domask had used after the Trial of Posession. "Give me your right hand," the Khan commanded.
Margaidh held out her hand and Natasha slid the blade against her skin, under the bondcord.
"This marked you as a bondsman, but yours is the heart, the soul and the mind of a warrior. The Wolf has seen it, and I, the Oathmaster, proclaim it." With a swift motion, Natasha sliced through the cord, letting it fall to the floor. Then she tossed the knife in the air, caught the tip of it's blade between thumb and forefinger, and slapped the hilt down into Margaidh's outstretched palm. Her gaze met Margaidh's own, and the Khan gave her a mischievous wink. "Let us rejoice, for there is a new warrior amongst our number."
For a moment Margaidh could only stare in amazement at the Khan. All the fear was gone now, but it was replaced with a feeling of complete shock.
"Well, kiddo, aren't you going to thank your sponsor?" Natasha said quietly, pointing at the grey-clad warrior. Margaidh nodded speechlessly and turned towards him as he took off his mask to reveal a familiar face.
"Phelan!" Margaidh gasped, and embraced him.
"Congratulations, Margaidh," he replied.
Then Domask, Thalia and Gunars all came forward to offer their own congratulations, until Natasha shoo-ed them back to their places and once again addressed the crowds ammassed in the darkness. "I, Natasha Kerensky, Khan of the Wolves and Oathmaster to this Conclave, welcome Margaidh Shelagh, of the Lewis line, to the Clan of the Wolves. According to custom handed down since Alexandr Kerensky led our ancestors into the unknown, and his son Nicholas saved us from ourselves, you will be known to the Children of Kerensly as Margaidh Wolf. No longer a bondsman, you are now a Warrior. Thus it shall stand until we all shall fall."
"Thus it shall stand until we all shall fall," echoed the crowds ammassed in the darkness. The challengers all filed away, and Margaidh thought she could hear also the sound of the audience also filtering out of the hall. Thalia and Gunars saluted to Natasha and once more congratulated Margaidh before they too left the hall, leaving only Margaidh, Natasha, Phelan and Domask standing in the spotlights.
Margaidh hugged Domask once more, and she thought that he might burst with pride. "Thankyou for believing in me," she said quietly.
"I knew you would not fail," he replied. "It proves you truly do belong to House Lewis."
Margaidh smiled at the Khan, feeling somehow that she were as much a friend as an honoured leader. "You did good, kid," Natasha said with a grin. "When Domask told me he thought you were ready for this, I have to admit I wasn't so sure."
"What do you mean?" Margaidh asked hesitantly.
"Those swordsmen weren't just play-acting," she replied. "If you hadn't got out of the way in time, we would be celebrating your wake, not your Adoption."
Margaidh went pale.
"You did better than I did," Phelan said, nudging Margaidh in the ribs. "I nearly lost my leg in mine, and you didn't even get a scratch."
Margaidh remembered the time she had first met Phelan as he limped into the sickbay with a cut to his thigh. "I think that is an exaggeration, Phelan," she replied with a grin. "But I think I was lucky."
"I hope it was not just luck, Margaidh Wolf," Natasha said. "Because your greatest challenge is yet to come. You have today been granted the status of a Warrior, but you must prove that rank in a Trial of Position if you wish to become a Mechwarrior." She fixed Margaidh with a stern stare. "You are already twenty-four, so you will have a lot of catching up to do. I expect you to be ready to test out in three months."