The Grey Tower

Terric, sprinted to the archery range, re-curve bow in hand and quiver slung from his belt. Barely two days into his time at the Tower and the Master of Training had ordered him to report for an archery evaluation. He was off to a poor start, he had taken longer than he had expected to find a suitable bow. It wasn’t quite an Aiel horn bow but all the other bows in the armory were either awkwardly long or had an extremely low draw strength.

He skittered around the corner onto the range and came face to face with three women. If he was not mistaken, the slim Borderlander woman was the Mistress of Arms. Slim was probably a poor choice of words, sleekly dangerous, like a pit viper. That seemed right. Was she doing the evaluation? Why was he so worried? This was far from his first time holding a bow. Bows were however far from his strong suit. Aethan Dor found less use for bows in their normal duties than most other societies. He was determined not to be dropped into a class full of Wetlanders who were more likely to shoot the man next to them then the target. He’d rather not be shot by Wetlanders, not even by accident.

“Excuse me, Riahana Ferria Gaidar,” he was unsure the proper address for a full Gaidar so he erred on the side of formality and performed an Aiel bow, “Ravak Gaidin ordered me to report for an evaluation. I apologize for my latness, I have toh.” He scanned the other two women in the court yard. The taller of the two bore a resemblance to the Mistress of Arms, the other was colored like an Aiel. No Aiel had ever been that short though. He eyed the long bow in her hands with suspicion. If she could draw the thing, he would be suitably impressed.

Fiona bowed to the Accepted, her small face calm, then reached in her pocket and pulled out the small oiled pouch where she kept her bowstring. As she extracted it, she saw a flit of gray out of the corner of her eye, and turned to look.

The man who approached was head and shoulders taller than she, with coloring not unlike her own. Unless she missed her guess or Synthia had terribly miss educated her, the man was Aiel. His first words, and the skeptical look he gave her, told her she guessed true. She bowed to him. “I am Fiona,” she said simply. Then she turned back to the Gaidar.

She fit the loop of the string around the bow, pushing it past the nock, then flipped the bow easily, slipping the other loop into the opposite nock. Once more she flipped the length of yew, and this time she stepped between bow and string, bracing the wood against her opposite leg and reaching up to pull the upper end down until she could pull the string into position.

The Aielman’s eyebrows had risen, as had the younger woman’s. She ducked her head with a small smile as she pulled her leg free. “No one believes I can string my own bow,” she commented, amusement coloring her voice. “I’ve grown used to it.” She turned her attention back to their evaluator. “My bow is made of black yew, made for me by a yeoman from the Two Rivers. Until I came here it was near irreplaceable and I would not risk losing my weapon out of laziness.” She clapped her mouth shut, then added. “To directly answer your question: It was unstrung because leaving it strung will damage the wood, resulting in poor performance at best and a fractured weapon at worst.”

She considered her bow. “As for why this bow…as I mentioned, it was a gift. When I received it, it might as well have been a walking stick, for all the good it did me.” Another ripple of amusement in her tone. “One of my moth- an archer I knew told me I should stop playing games, I would never be able to use a real weapon. I decided to prove him wrong.” Her chin went up. “Nowadays…I can use a recurve,” she nodded to the Aielman, “but prefer the strength and range of this one when hunting. I....suppose the same will be true in war, as well.”

She fell silent, suddenly uncertain. Had she been showing off? Did it matter if she had?

Riahana turned her attention to the new arrival, greeting the Aiel Drin with a small nod before turning her attention back to Fiona. It was not hard to miss that Fiona was by far the shortest of their little group, yet she carried a longbow while the other three carried recurve bows. The Gaidar watched as the woman strung her bow with relative ease before she answered Ria’s questions.

Behind the Mistress of Arms, the Accepted took a break to watch the smaller woman string the longbow, and couldn’t hide her own surprise with the ease and skill shown by Fiona. She then looked to the newcomer, who towered over her mother, and if Tia had to guess, was about the same height as her father. The man’s unruly red hair seemed to stick out at all angles, and he spoke with intensity. What does he mean that he has toh? she wondered.

The Mistress of Arms gave a slight nod to Fiona, “Very well. Take the lane to the Accepted’s right, Drin’far’ji Trakand, and ready yourself to fire your first shot.” She then turned her attention to the Aielman, and noticed the bow he carried was already strung, “Your turn. . .first, tell me your name, Drin’far’ji, and then tell me why you chose the bow you did, along with your reasons for having it already strung, as I know we do not store our bows strung in the Armory.” She did not acknowledge his comment about toh, since she knew their sense of honor and obligation was far from straightforward, and she had no desire to offend him.

Shfiting her own recurve bow in her grip ever so slightly, Ria looked between both of the Drin’s, “And one last question for both of you. What are the advantages and disadvantages of your chosen weapons?”

Terric raised an eyebrow as the blonde Wetlander strung her massive bow. He would have been more impressed without the unnecessary flourishes. Wetlander nonsense. He practiced a discreet breathing exercise to bring his heart rate down, before he was asked to shoot his bow.

The Mistress of Training was addressing him now, “Your turn. . .first, tell me your name, Drin’far’ji, and then tell me why you chose the bow you did, along with your reasons for having it already strung, as I know we do not store our bows strung in the Armory.” She paused, glancing at their bows “And one last question for both of you. What are the advantages and disadvantages of your chosen weapons?”

“I am Terric of the Salt Flats Sept of the Nakai Aiel. This bow was the closest I could find to a proper Aiel horn bow. I strung several bow this morning to find one that fit my needs. They are all unstrung and stored, and that is the reason for my delay. I left this bow strung because it only makes sense. If I am carrying a weapon, I want it ready to be used.” He wasn’t sure why he had to explain that to the Mistress of Training, was it a Wetlander thing? But no, he remembered gnarled old Vishik doing something similar. The old spear master would ask a seemingly obvious question in order to see what kinds of answers his students would come up with. He was prepared for her last question, “The long bows, many Wetlanders favor, have impressive range and power. They are slow however and usually require a lot of strength and training to operate,” Terric glanced at the blonde woman with these words. He stood up straighter, ready to defend the idea of shorter bows. “Recurve and short bows lack the range of longbows, but make up for it with speed and mobility. A skilled archer can fire much quicker with a recurve than with a long bow. My people’s horn bows are ideal for skirmisher tactics.”