Claimed by Callista

Chapter ✺ 3

Shaman bones and jewellery hang from wooden rods. An open box contains old damaged weapons in need of repair. The walls are lined with gifts of art from all the Sleetr who pay for alliance and protection. I find Callista's bed in the horde of treasures – a bear's hide, and a few pillows thrown about. I find a flask and I lift it to sniff the contents. Old Ale. I drink it and throw that aside also. Hopefully the ale calms my nerves from the storm.

The rain is heavy.

As I do so – Callista has already stood and now intercepts me from behind.

Silent on his large feet.

He puts his arm around my throat and halts my rampage.

"In Sovrex. We are not animals," Callista speaks over me with the rage of a Magus thwarted.

Orsunr has stopped fucking his woman to see the dead female in the middle, and my presence at the back.

I say nothing.

Callista takes his arm from my neck and holds my shoulders, only briefly to shove me into his bed. I fall onto my side, and he stalks away, his face consumed with rage.

I watch as he gently picks up the body of the female, her head gushing blood as he carries her out into the storm.

"KESANR!" I hear a screech from the second female in the tent, as she scrambles to her feet and runs out to give chase.

"That was her younger sister," Orsunr stands, he is clearly considering my death, "What answer did the Sun give you, to strike her eye – from behind."

"Reputation," I hiss from my spot, "I will not be humiliated."

To be weak, was death.

It was kill or be killed in Sovrex.

"You are not Morgan until you go through the rites," Orsunr smiles sadistically now, "You will be trialled as a Sleetr. You will be torn through with a hundred spears. One at a time. For killing as cowardly as you did."

Orsunr turns and stalks out of the tent to follow the rest – while I hear the Sovrex warriors and females, all crying out through the pouring rain, at the announcement of Kesanr's death.

I sit where I am, until the noise outside quietens down.

A considerable time later, Callista re-enters alone, dripping wet from the rain.

He closes his tent with one hand, then turns to me.

He is holding a killer's spear.

"You will move horse shit with this – and empty the pissing pots – until the next full moon. You will build your own tent. You will get your own food. You will make your own furs. Get out," Callista stands firm, "If they do not kill you – this punishment will. If you run – my Tribe will kill you. If you speak now. I will kill you."

As Callista finishes his threat.

Thunder booms.

I close my eyes, as my whole body shivers with that surging fear.

It is the only time I uncontrollably lose the strength to remain composed.

I stand up quickly, to shake off my terror.

I face Callista, with only the space of his large tent separating us.

It is clear to me, the answer.

Knowing I can't speak.

Knowing I must obey.

And still – my soul won't allow it.

Because I am a warrior and nothing else.

"You'll have to kill me then," I taunt him, hiding my fear of the storm with my provocation instead.

Callista shows no emotion.

He turns to his side, and throws up his spear horizontally – catching it in his raised hand as he positions to throw it.

I remain completely still.

For a second, time simply ends.

He's considering his aim. Tendons flex, and he moves the spear into position.

Inhaling next, before he launches.

He never missed a killing blow.

Callista's spear shoots toward my face – and then wheezes past my ear, clipping the skin and taking blood, before shooting through the tent's skin behind me.

As I spin, Callista and I both watch a bolt of lightning ignite the spear's tip on the outside through the hole, slamming it into the ground.

The thunder afterward, blows his bear hide across the floor, folding against my legs. My hair starts to stand on end from the residue of the bolt. My skin feels tingly.

I turn back to him.

The Magus knows that lightning came down because of me.

It might scare me shitless but it also silences him – for this very moment, so I take it and I walk toward him.

I stop at Callista's side, knowing he threw to spare me this time.

The Magus was too curious.

I pause while standing at his shoulder, before I go.

"I will clean the horse shit – and all the rest, as you said, Magus Sovrex Callista," I tell him, "...but do not let another female touch you again."

His dark eyes run over me, the whorls holding danger just at bay, as I walk out into the fading rain.

The storms moved fast in Dampwater.

The lightning and my exit are taken in by the angry Tribe, standing in the remaining mist – waiting for the outcome.

It is safe to say at this time – though many may want me dead?

None come my way.