Darkfire: A Book of Underrealm by Garrett Robinson Page A

looked past Jordel. She had failed to hold her attention on the Mystic’s training, and now saw that Gem lay on his back in the alcove, sword laying loose on the ground beside him, chest rising and falling heavily with every ragged breath. A small welt had raised on his arm, no doubt from a sharp lesson. She snickered.
    Albern gave Loren a long look and nodded. “Very well, daughter of the family Nelda. Let us teach you the true nature of a tool you have long misused.”  

twelve

    ALBERN SHOWED LOREN THE CALENTIN craft of archery throughout the day’s remainder. First he told her to take the quiver from her back.
    “In most lands, archers wear the quiver as you do. They think of movement, rather than shooting. A quiver on the waist may be cumbersome at first, and you will often spill your arrows. But it is like a muscle. The more you travel thus, the more natural it will come, until you move with the quiver at your side like another leg.”
    Gem snickered and raised his head from the ground. “Poorly chosen words, bowyer.”
    “Still your childish tongue, little master,” replied Albern, but there was little malice in the words. “Now, move your quiver’s belt to your waist.”
    Loren tried firing with the arrows on her waist, but it was difficult. She was so used to drawing arrows from her back that this new motion came strangely. But she grit her teeth and tried again and again, never loosing an arrow, merely trying to perfect her draw. She tried placing the arrow to the left of her bow, like she always had. Albern stopped her.
    “That, too, is wrong. People in the southern lands think that lends you more accuracy. But only practice guides your arrows true. Spend enough time with the arrow on the right, and you will shoot as fine as you ever did the other way.”
    Loren tried, but the arrow bounced from the bow’s right side. “How do I hold it steady?”  
    Albern raised his eyebrow. “You have answered your own question. By holding it steady.”
    She twisted the nock until the arrowhead came back against the bow. It strained her cramping hand and she winced with the pain. She glanced over at Albern’s hands, and saw for the first time how thickly muscled they were.
    Something else I will gain only with practice .  
    Loren held the arrow steady, but could not draw while maintaining its position. The arrow drifted.  
    “Try holding it with your left thumb. That is a terrible way to shoot, and it will send your arrow wide more often than not. But it can help ease the strain on your right hand and arm while you are learning.”
    She tried again and again and again. The rest of that day until sundown, Loren drew and drew, never loosing a shaft. Her arm burned, but she kept going. The motion felt unnatural no matter her repetition, but still she pressed on.
    When the sun finally set and they prepared for rest, Albern gave Loren a nod of approval. “You have grit. I have tried teaching this to archers before. Most surrender.”  
    “It took me more than a day to learn the wrong way. I will not be surprised if it takes twice as long to learn it right.”
    “And mayhap more than that,” said Albern. “Your muscles will remember the wrong way for a long while yet. Refuse to listen. Your mind must rule them until at last they learn the way.”

    They slept well through the night. Jordel and Albern split the watch, for neither man was especially tired despite the previous day’s difficult ride. Loren woke to a grey dawn, yet it seemed brighter and more hopeful than many of their days in the Greatrocks thus far. Loren quickly ate then grabbed her quiver to practice. Albern watched in admiration.
    “Good,” he said. “Already you’re quicker than yesterday.”
    “Yesterday I was ready to faint from fatigue.”  
    “If ever you wish it, once your skills are about you, I could speak to many sellsword captains across the nine lands on your behalf. They all want good fighters, but an archer who knows the