Tamlin Passes the Lady

From Stormravengaming

Current revision as of 17:24, 25 April 2007

Still lying in his bed, Tamlin accepted the metal coffer with a gravity that he had only rarely displayed. "You’ve done well, boy. You’ve saved the legacy of our family. Your friends should excuse us for a bit, now." The old shepherd shooed everyone but Taran from the room, though Corky made a point of insisting that he not get worked up before she left.

He took a small pen knife from the drawer in the nightstand beside his bed, and with it he pricked the tip of the forefinger on his left hand, drawing a drop of blood. He touched three other fingers to the drop of blood, then set the marked fingers carefully on specific wing feathers of the hawk inscribed on the lid of the coffer. "My blood speaks my name," he intoned. "Open to me."

The lid of the box opened without being drawn up. Indeed it seemed to push open against Tamlin’s fingers. He took a kerchief from the nightstand, wiped the blood from his fingers, and said, "I have borne this for more years than I could recount for you. The telling of my youthful years would probably take me all the way to my grave, and leave your hair standing on end, besides. But I’m not strong enough to keep her safe anymore, so it’s time that I pass her to you."

Tamlin turned the open coffer to show Taran the contents. Inside were fragments of what might once have been a splendid bow. All that now remained were the grip and the bindings of the tips, all in white gold studded with pale sapphires. The arms of the bow and the string were completely gone, save for a few fragments of what might have been bone.

"This is the Lady. Do not touch her yet. The Lady was once the mighty Hart Bow, and perhaps she will be again, if a worthy successor can be found. She was passed to me by my father, as she was passed to him by his uncle, as she has been passed down through our family for more generations than I know. Now I will ask her to accept you as her new bearer."

"Why not my father?" Taran asked.

"I tried to pass her to your father, when you were still a drooling, squalling toddler terrorizing the family dogs. She wouldn’t accept him. That’s how he got those scars on his left arm. He’s probably lucky she didn’t kill him." Antaran had been marked with burn scars on his left forearm for as long as Taran could remember. They made a tracery like lightning from his hand to his elbow, and Taran’s father had never explained where they came from.

Tamlin picked up the centerpiece of the bow, gripping it as though it were a whole bow. The palm of his left hand rested atop the bow’s largest gem, a huge sapphire. "There are things you need to know about her, boy. But let’s see whether she’ll accept you, first."

Softly, almost reverently, Tamlin addressed the bow. "Lady, I present before you Taran, blood of my blood, son of my son. He is young and reckless and foolish. He is rash and disrespectful. He knows little of the true value of life, and he shows little interest in learning. But his heart is good. He knows the right thing to do, and usually when to do it. He is faithful to his friends and loyal to his family. I ask you now to accept him to bear you in my place, for I have grown too old and weak to care for you."

Tamlin extended the centerpiece of the bow to Taran, holding it by the ends so the grip was exposed. Now Taran noticed that the pale central sapphire glowed from within, pulsing like a slow heartbeat. Tamlin directed, "Take her without fear. Let her know you, and hold nothing back. If she accepts you, you will be unharmed."

Taran hesitated a moment, then reached out his left hand and grasped the fragment of the bow. He gripped it firmly, unwilling to show even the least fear in the presence of his grandfather. And he felt a presence in the fragment, feminine, regal and powerful but dormant, almost sleepy. She considered him, reaching through that great gem into his heart, measuring him. A few moments felt like an eternity under her gaze, and her power reaching into Taran was like fire rushing in his veins, like lightning flashing through his bones. And after a year, after a lifetime, after a few heartbeats, it was over, and she released him. Taran felt that she was satisfied. Perhaps even pleased.

Tamlin nodded. "She’s accepted you, or you’d have been on the floor by now." Taran wiped a drop of sweat from his forehead. He felt as though he’d just run a mile carrying Saladin on his back. In full armor. Tamlin went on. "You’re her guardian now. The burden is passed from me.

"Now listen close. There are four things you need to know about your new charge. Never let anyone else touch her. The Lady won’t bear the touch of anyone but you now, not even me. If anyone else touches her, she’ll pay retribution. She could kill him, and she might scald your hide for it, too. She hates evil things, and she’ll be glad to do them harm, but if any good person touches her, you and he will both bear The Lady’s wrath.

"Always treat her with respect. The Lady demands it from all her bearers, she always has. Listen to her. Talk to her. Never ignore her, and always keep her close.

"When it comes time to pass her on, she must remain within the family. She won’t accept anyone else. I don’t think it has to be a male descendant, but usually the men of our family have borne her.

"And if you have the opportunity and the skill, you must seek to rebuild her. She’ll let you know if your efforts are not enough or if the time just isn’t right. She was broken many generations ago, so long ago that there may not be anyone of any race who remembers a time when the Hart Bow was whole. But she desires to be restored, she looks forward to it. Maybe you’ll be the one to do it. All I can tell you about that is what my father told me: she’s a composite bow. Her arms are supposed to be layered ash, yew, and the antlers of a white hart."

Tamlin fell silent, laid back, and closed his eyes. "I think I need some rest now. Go out and join your friends." Taran reached for the coffer, to put the centerpiece with the other fragments, but Tamlin told him, "Take all the pieces and keep them together. The box is keyed to me, so it won’t do you any good."

Taran took the fragments of the Hart Bow, the Lady, and tucked them carefully into a belt pouch. He closed the lid of the coffer, and the seam between lid and box vanished as though it were all one piece. Tamlin was softly snoring by the time Taran left the room.