crowd
applauded wildly, and they shouted encouragements to her as she went to the
line. She shot as well as Kyric had against Tomae, but it wasn’t enough as the
man, Stefin Vaust of Drendusia, scored seven outer bulls to win easily. The
crowd cheered him politely, but their hearts had been with Elmi.
The judges announced that for the final round they would trade
shots at the same target. Then they moved the line back another fifty paces.
The flip of a coin decided that Kyric would shoot first.
He estimated the distance to be about a hundred and thirty
yards. He would need to use a little more arch than he was used to. And with Vaust
standing at the same line watching, Kyric felt a bit uneasy. He took a deep
breath and loosed his arrow in the place of spirit. It struck near the
bulls-eye, but not quite in it. Vaust hit the outer bull at the edge of the red.
Kyric’s next ten shots alternated from just inside the blue
to just outside of it, and with every answering shot Vaust one-upped him, so
that with one arrow remaining, Kyric was far behind. To win, he would have to
hit the inner bull and Vaust would have to nearly miss the target.
Kyric drew the magic arrow from his quiver. Vaust took a
step toward him.
“Is that an enchanted arrow?” he said with a curious smile
and a bit of a dialect.
Shocked, Kyric didn’t know what to say. “Whatever do you
mean?”
“Well, there’s little magic symbols painted on the shaft. I
thought maybe you were superstitious and bought a supposed enchantment from one
of those fakirs.”
Kyric grinned in embarrassment. Stop it. That’s the
most obvious of all the signs . Surprised, he found that he was entirely
unpracticed as a liar.
“Not at all. Those were already on the arrow when I found
it. Everyone knows there’s no such thing as a magic arrow.”
“Indeed,” said Vaust with a polite nod.
The line judge called out, “No speaking to the shooter while
he’s at the line. Step away and give him some room.”
Vaust backed away and Kyric had to close his eyes and simply
breathe for a moment. He stepped into a waking dream where the red spot on the
target became a glowing eye. The spirit wind filled him and nothing of his
self remained. Strings of power connected the arrowhead to the glowing eye.
All that Kyric had to do was let go.
The arrow struck the red spot dead center.
The crowd screamed as one, and a sliver of light sparked in Vaust’s
eyes. He gave Kyric an examining look. “Now that was a remarkable shot,” he
said coolly, nocking his last arrow. “I will certainly remark upon it.”
Kyric edged to the side and scanned the crowd, finding
Pitbull standing in his seat next to Aiyan. He had removed his spectacles, and
now he tapped at his elbow with one finger, and he appeared to be speaking
furiously.
Vaust drew the bowstring back, held for a moment, then as he
released, his face clenched in pain, but that was all. His shot landed on the
edge of the blue and he was the winner.
Pitbull staggered to one side, his mouth open. He said
something to Aiyan then sat down, shaking his head and making futile gestures
to the sky.
Vaust touched his elbow gingerly. “It’s all right now,” he
said to Kyric. “Had a sharp twinge there just as I released.” He smiled,
barely suppressing a chuckle, a curious light in his eyes. He looked at Kyric
strangely. Knowingly. Like he knew the arrow was enchanted, and that a spell
had been cast upon him.
He reached out to shake Kyric’s hand. “You are a good
archer, Kyric Ospraeus. I will see you on the platform.” Vaust held the
handshake for a moment, as if he could learn more of Kyric with the touch. In
turn, Kyric looked him in the eye, and though he had never seen Vaust before
this day, he suddenly remembered him. No doubt he had seen him in a dream.
Kyric had heard during the qualifying that a prize for
second place would be given this
applauded wildly, and they shouted encouragements to her as she went to the
line. She shot as well as Kyric had against Tomae, but it wasn’t enough as the
man, Stefin Vaust of Drendusia, scored seven outer bulls to win easily. The
crowd cheered him politely, but their hearts had been with Elmi.
The judges announced that for the final round they would trade
shots at the same target. Then they moved the line back another fifty paces.
The flip of a coin decided that Kyric would shoot first.
He estimated the distance to be about a hundred and thirty
yards. He would need to use a little more arch than he was used to. And with Vaust
standing at the same line watching, Kyric felt a bit uneasy. He took a deep
breath and loosed his arrow in the place of spirit. It struck near the
bulls-eye, but not quite in it. Vaust hit the outer bull at the edge of the red.
Kyric’s next ten shots alternated from just inside the blue
to just outside of it, and with every answering shot Vaust one-upped him, so
that with one arrow remaining, Kyric was far behind. To win, he would have to
hit the inner bull and Vaust would have to nearly miss the target.
Kyric drew the magic arrow from his quiver. Vaust took a
step toward him.
“Is that an enchanted arrow?” he said with a curious smile
and a bit of a dialect.
Shocked, Kyric didn’t know what to say. “Whatever do you
mean?”
“Well, there’s little magic symbols painted on the shaft. I
thought maybe you were superstitious and bought a supposed enchantment from one
of those fakirs.”
Kyric grinned in embarrassment. Stop it. That’s the
most obvious of all the signs . Surprised, he found that he was entirely
unpracticed as a liar.
“Not at all. Those were already on the arrow when I found
it. Everyone knows there’s no such thing as a magic arrow.”
“Indeed,” said Vaust with a polite nod.
The line judge called out, “No speaking to the shooter while
he’s at the line. Step away and give him some room.”
Vaust backed away and Kyric had to close his eyes and simply
breathe for a moment. He stepped into a waking dream where the red spot on the
target became a glowing eye. The spirit wind filled him and nothing of his
self remained. Strings of power connected the arrowhead to the glowing eye.
All that Kyric had to do was let go.
The arrow struck the red spot dead center.
The crowd screamed as one, and a sliver of light sparked in Vaust’s
eyes. He gave Kyric an examining look. “Now that was a remarkable shot,” he
said coolly, nocking his last arrow. “I will certainly remark upon it.”
Kyric edged to the side and scanned the crowd, finding
Pitbull standing in his seat next to Aiyan. He had removed his spectacles, and
now he tapped at his elbow with one finger, and he appeared to be speaking
furiously.
Vaust drew the bowstring back, held for a moment, then as he
released, his face clenched in pain, but that was all. His shot landed on the
edge of the blue and he was the winner.
Pitbull staggered to one side, his mouth open. He said
something to Aiyan then sat down, shaking his head and making futile gestures
to the sky.
Vaust touched his elbow gingerly. “It’s all right now,” he
said to Kyric. “Had a sharp twinge there just as I released.” He smiled,
barely suppressing a chuckle, a curious light in his eyes. He looked at Kyric
strangely. Knowingly. Like he knew the arrow was enchanted, and that a spell
had been cast upon him.
He reached out to shake Kyric’s hand. “You are a good
archer, Kyric Ospraeus. I will see you on the platform.” Vaust held the
handshake for a moment, as if he could learn more of Kyric with the touch. In
turn, Kyric looked him in the eye, and though he had never seen Vaust before
this day, he suddenly remembered him. No doubt he had seen him in a dream.
Kyric had heard during the qualifying that a prize for
second place would be given this
Similar Books
