The sun was shining brightly in the November sky as Tamlan strode into the foyer of the reliquary of Castle Excalibur. It was an unseasonably warm day and sweat glistened from her brow as she doffed her purple enameled helm and tucked it under her arm. A guardsman seated behind a wooden table smiled broadly at her arrival as he stood up.
"Welcome to Castle Excalibur, Blessed Sister!"
"Just Tamlan, Geoffrey." she smiled back. "How are the missus and your new daughter?"
"Both are right as rain, Arthur be praised. Named the girl Elenore, after her gran. Without you there when she was born..," his voice trailed off.
Tamlan nodded in understanding. One of her roles as a Hospitaller and a cleric was to heal and minister to the sick and injured in the villages around Forest Sauvage, a responsibility that she took seriously. Two months ago she had been summoned to a remote village to help with a difficult childbirth. The mother and child were nearly dead when Tamlan had arrived, and the father, Geoffrey, was beside himself with grief. It took all of her strength, power, and faith to keep the pair alive for the remainder of the arduous delivery. In the end, however, both mother and babe were saved and Tamlan had earned a dear place in the hearts of the locals, Geoffrey, the Captain of the Guards, most of all.
"What brings you to Excalibur this fine day?" he asked, his smile never wavering.
"Constantine has asked me to interrogate the prisoner," she said grinning, "and to verify its authenticity."
"Of course, of course. Anything for the King, and for you, Lady Tamlan. I hope the prisoner is feeling especially talkative today!" Geoffrey laughed and motioned up a ramp behind the desk leading up and around the reliquary.
Tamlan untucked her helm and placed it on the table before heading up. Three guardsmen were standing at an open window looking out on the courtyard as she reached the top. The trio looked at her as she entered, the shortest one giving her a nod and smile. She returned his smile, then cast her gaze that the prisoner: the fabled Spear of Lugh. It was not the first time that she had seen the Spear; she was in the company of the soldiers that had brought the Spear here, freshly captured from the Hibernian stronghold of Dun Lamfhota. This was, however, the first time that she had seen the spear up close.
Tamlan's mother was raised in the Emerald Isle and had had a bit more Celtish blood in her veins than was comfortable for the Scottish folks of her birth village of Humberton. As a young girl, her mother had told her all the tales of Lughs prowess in battle, his skill at the harp, and of the exploits of the Tuatha De Danann. As she stared at the spear, she was finding it hard to believe that she was here in the presence of such a fabled artifact, and the subject of so many of her treasured childhood stories. She moved to get a closer look. The larger of the guard trio cast her a disapproving look but said nothing as she reached out her hand and touched the spearhead. The metal was warm to the touch and her fingertips tingled slightly as if she had laid hands on a wild sea eel. She instinctually recoiled and withdrew her hand. One of the guards shifted nervously.
The successful raid had been led by the enigmatic hero Ownyn. Tamlan didn't know much about him other than he claimed to be a wandering minstrel, and he had indeed shown considerable skill with the Lute, as well as the sword. He had shown up one day in Camelot at the head of a powerful band of mercenaries and claimed that he would lead the forces of Albion to plunder relics of strength and power from the Hibernians. Somehow he had convinced Constantine to bless the endeavor, and in a short while, Talman had found herself and a small number of her Hospitallers as members of the expedition to Hibernia.
The journey to Dun Lamfhota had taken many days and nights. As they journeyed, Tamlan became acquainted with Ownyns companions, each interesting in their own way. As she got to know them better she found herself unwillingly becoming fond of them: The way they spoke, acted and bantered with one another reminded her of her own Hospitallers and how they would behave while on a campaign. Once the fighting started, it was clear to Tamlan that Ownyn was a capable leader. Following his direction, the raiders succeeded in capturing the spear and killing many Hibernian defenders in the process.
Upon their triumphant return to Camelot, morale and spirits in the realm soared. Constantine had sent out riders to all the outlying areas proclaiming the incredible victory, while Ownyn himself received a hero's welcome in the capital city. Still, there was something about Ownyn that Tamlan found troubling: His familiarity with the layout of Dun Lamfhota, his knowledge of how the guards would react, and their strengths. There was certainly something more to Ownyn than his being a simple minstrel. She would have to make sure to be on her guard when dealing with him in the future, she had decided. Still, she could not deny that it /was/ his leadership and experience that had ultimately won the day at Lamfhota. She spent three days on arrival home penning and editing her notes.
She returned her gaze to the spear. She stepped closer to look at the workmanship of the spearhead. Whoever had crafted was certainly gifted: the lines, folds, and edges were sharp and perfect. She noted the that there was an ornate inlaid world-tree in relief which ran the length of the spearhead and merged seamlessly into the finely carved yew shaft. The counterweight was made of the same material and also finely inlaid with the tree pattern. A small line of inset sapphires ringed the counterweight and glistening dully in the light that was streaming through the window. It really was a masterpiece of weapon-crafting, there was no doubt of it. It was plain to see why the Hibernians had treasured it so.
As she turned slowly away from the Spear, a lock of her fiery-red hair loosed itself from her braid and swung down before her face. She reached up to brush it back behind her ear, and as she did so, she stiffened suddenly. A slight draft from the open window wafted into the room and with it came the hint fragrance of Hibernian lavender. She recognized it instantly. A distant memory flooded back to her. A battle in a tower. Betrayal. Loss. Love. Hibernia was here.
Shaking off the effects of the powerful mezz that had been cast, she willed herself to look towards the guardsmen. All three were standing unmoving near the window, a yellow-tinged aura emanating from their bodies. She reached down and tried to draw her hammer from her belt, but her muscles rebelled against her. Only slowly, and with great effort was she able to grasp the hammer and draw it from the metal loop on her belt. Downstairs, the din of battle became audible as the sounds of weapons hitting armor and the shrieks of men and women grey louder.
If Hibernia wanted the Spear back, she vowed, they would have to go through her to get it.
For Phoenix! For Arthur! For Albion!
"Welcome to Castle Excalibur, Blessed Sister!"
"Just Tamlan, Geoffrey." she smiled back. "How are the missus and your new daughter?"
"Both are right as rain, Arthur be praised. Named the girl Elenore, after her gran. Without you there when she was born..," his voice trailed off.
Tamlan nodded in understanding. One of her roles as a Hospitaller and a cleric was to heal and minister to the sick and injured in the villages around Forest Sauvage, a responsibility that she took seriously. Two months ago she had been summoned to a remote village to help with a difficult childbirth. The mother and child were nearly dead when Tamlan had arrived, and the father, Geoffrey, was beside himself with grief. It took all of her strength, power, and faith to keep the pair alive for the remainder of the arduous delivery. In the end, however, both mother and babe were saved and Tamlan had earned a dear place in the hearts of the locals, Geoffrey, the Captain of the Guards, most of all.
"What brings you to Excalibur this fine day?" he asked, his smile never wavering.
"Constantine has asked me to interrogate the prisoner," she said grinning, "and to verify its authenticity."
"Of course, of course. Anything for the King, and for you, Lady Tamlan. I hope the prisoner is feeling especially talkative today!" Geoffrey laughed and motioned up a ramp behind the desk leading up and around the reliquary.
Tamlan untucked her helm and placed it on the table before heading up. Three guardsmen were standing at an open window looking out on the courtyard as she reached the top. The trio looked at her as she entered, the shortest one giving her a nod and smile. She returned his smile, then cast her gaze that the prisoner: the fabled Spear of Lugh. It was not the first time that she had seen the Spear; she was in the company of the soldiers that had brought the Spear here, freshly captured from the Hibernian stronghold of Dun Lamfhota. This was, however, the first time that she had seen the spear up close.
Tamlan's mother was raised in the Emerald Isle and had had a bit more Celtish blood in her veins than was comfortable for the Scottish folks of her birth village of Humberton. As a young girl, her mother had told her all the tales of Lughs prowess in battle, his skill at the harp, and of the exploits of the Tuatha De Danann. As she stared at the spear, she was finding it hard to believe that she was here in the presence of such a fabled artifact, and the subject of so many of her treasured childhood stories. She moved to get a closer look. The larger of the guard trio cast her a disapproving look but said nothing as she reached out her hand and touched the spearhead. The metal was warm to the touch and her fingertips tingled slightly as if she had laid hands on a wild sea eel. She instinctually recoiled and withdrew her hand. One of the guards shifted nervously.
The successful raid had been led by the enigmatic hero Ownyn. Tamlan didn't know much about him other than he claimed to be a wandering minstrel, and he had indeed shown considerable skill with the Lute, as well as the sword. He had shown up one day in Camelot at the head of a powerful band of mercenaries and claimed that he would lead the forces of Albion to plunder relics of strength and power from the Hibernians. Somehow he had convinced Constantine to bless the endeavor, and in a short while, Talman had found herself and a small number of her Hospitallers as members of the expedition to Hibernia.
The journey to Dun Lamfhota had taken many days and nights. As they journeyed, Tamlan became acquainted with Ownyns companions, each interesting in their own way. As she got to know them better she found herself unwillingly becoming fond of them: The way they spoke, acted and bantered with one another reminded her of her own Hospitallers and how they would behave while on a campaign. Once the fighting started, it was clear to Tamlan that Ownyn was a capable leader. Following his direction, the raiders succeeded in capturing the spear and killing many Hibernian defenders in the process.
Upon their triumphant return to Camelot, morale and spirits in the realm soared. Constantine had sent out riders to all the outlying areas proclaiming the incredible victory, while Ownyn himself received a hero's welcome in the capital city. Still, there was something about Ownyn that Tamlan found troubling: His familiarity with the layout of Dun Lamfhota, his knowledge of how the guards would react, and their strengths. There was certainly something more to Ownyn than his being a simple minstrel. She would have to make sure to be on her guard when dealing with him in the future, she had decided. Still, she could not deny that it /was/ his leadership and experience that had ultimately won the day at Lamfhota. She spent three days on arrival home penning and editing her notes.
She returned her gaze to the spear. She stepped closer to look at the workmanship of the spearhead. Whoever had crafted was certainly gifted: the lines, folds, and edges were sharp and perfect. She noted the that there was an ornate inlaid world-tree in relief which ran the length of the spearhead and merged seamlessly into the finely carved yew shaft. The counterweight was made of the same material and also finely inlaid with the tree pattern. A small line of inset sapphires ringed the counterweight and glistening dully in the light that was streaming through the window. It really was a masterpiece of weapon-crafting, there was no doubt of it. It was plain to see why the Hibernians had treasured it so.
As she turned slowly away from the Spear, a lock of her fiery-red hair loosed itself from her braid and swung down before her face. She reached up to brush it back behind her ear, and as she did so, she stiffened suddenly. A slight draft from the open window wafted into the room and with it came the hint fragrance of Hibernian lavender. She recognized it instantly. A distant memory flooded back to her. A battle in a tower. Betrayal. Loss. Love. Hibernia was here.
Shaking off the effects of the powerful mezz that had been cast, she willed herself to look towards the guardsmen. All three were standing unmoving near the window, a yellow-tinged aura emanating from their bodies. She reached down and tried to draw her hammer from her belt, but her muscles rebelled against her. Only slowly, and with great effort was she able to grasp the hammer and draw it from the metal loop on her belt. Downstairs, the din of battle became audible as the sounds of weapons hitting armor and the shrieks of men and women grey louder.
If Hibernia wanted the Spear back, she vowed, they would have to go through her to get it.
For Phoenix! For Arthur! For Albion!