The Fighting Man. Adrian Deans

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СКАЧАТЬ cocked an eyebrow, as though amused at my effrontery in daring to haggle with her.

      ‘First … you must teach me your method of using the bow … ’

      ‘If you are capable of learning it in the time we take to reach the edge of the forest,’ she said.

      ‘And second … you must come with us, all the way to Lundene.’

      Once again her eyes flashed with anger, but I raised my hand to forestall another outburst.

      ‘You are an expert archer,’ I explained. ‘I desire your … protection.’

      I suspected that such a statement would appeal to her pride. As for the forest, which had been in my family since time immemorial, it occurred to me that, in all likelihood, my own claim would never be made. I could therefore afford to offer her anything.

      ∞ ∞ ∞

      ‘Don’t aim at the target … just pull back the shaft, picture the arrow buried in the target, and release. It’s uncanny how well it seems to work.’

      ‘Like magic?’

      ‘If you like, but it is warriors’ magic … not the deep magic of the forest.’

      We had walked for some hours, heading due north to skirt Stybbor and find the western road. We were moving slowly as Valla had insisted on bringing Malgard – who seemed to be healing well and was able to limp along by himself. He was also fascinated by every passing scent and had to be pulled away from every second tree. Progress was slow.

      We had paused for a morsel in the mid afternoon, and then Valla had taken me hunting – to learn the bow and find some meat for the evening meal.

      ‘Shouldn’t I start by shooting at a tree?’ I asked.

      ‘A tree?’ she sneered. ‘Will rabbits, deer or soldiers stand like a tree and wait for you to shoot?’

      I nodded, as her words made sense, and wondered about the countless hours I had spent in my childhood, shooting at butts.

      ‘The way I was taught,’ she said, ‘if you can’t practice with a moving target, you have to move yourself.’

      With that she started walking to her right and almost casually shot into the centre of a tree some thirty paces away. Then she walked back to her left and placed her second shaft no more than a handsbreadth from the first.

      I gaped at her effortless skill and said, ‘Olaf didn’t stand a chance.’

      ‘It’s a bit harder to judge … shooting out of the dark into light … the different light seems to play tricks on the eyes. But at least you are hard to see if you are in the dark and the target is in the light. I was only twenty paces from Olaf when I shot him.’

      There was no mistaking the pride in her voice, and I envied her prowess. I took two arrows from the quiver, as she had done, and started walking to my right. I stared hard at Valla’s arrows, pictured my own nestled alongside, and released …

      And saw a flicker past the tree and heard a distant thunk as the arrow struck an object deeper in the forest.

      ‘You’re thinking too much about the bow,’ said Valla. ‘You have to just think the target dead, so the bow is an unconscious medium of death … between your brain and the target.’

      I wasn’t entirely sure that I understood what she meant, and although I had asked her to teach me the bow, I couldn’t help but resent her talent. Without further word I nocked the second arrow and started moving back to my left – which seemed even harder – and sure enough, the arrow flashed away, missing by a greater distance than the first.

      ‘Come on,’ she said. ‘We can’t afford to lose those.’

      We paused at the tree to pull her arrows and then began the search for my errant shafts. I went left as she went right and after a few seconds heard her call, ‘Found it.’

      I hadn’t heard the second arrow strike anything so it could be anywhere. I pulled another arrow from my quiver and nocked it as I moved silently forward – desperate to prove my worth.

      As I rounded a large tree, I was confronted with a hare caught in a snare and, after snatching a quick glance over my shoulder, shot the already dead hare from two feet away, then swiftly released it.

      ∞ ∞ ∞

      ‘That was a mighty shot,’ said Carl yet again as Valla skinned and boned the hare to prepare a similar meal to that we’d eaten the previous night. She was smiling.

      ‘Tell us again how it was done.’

      I had already told the story twice and was getting a little embarrassed in the face of Carl’s admiration and Valla’s silent mirth. I suspected that somehow she was aware of my subterfuge.

      ‘I heard a scrabbling ahead,’ I said. ‘I raised the bow as the hare suddenly leapt from cover and … without even thinking … loosed the arrow and saw the hare bowled over.’

      ‘Amazing,’ repeated Carl.

      ‘Yes … amazing,’ said Valla. ‘One minute he can’t hit a tree, then moments later he takes a hare on the fly with an arrow through the throat. Incredible.’

      ‘You are a fine teacher Valla,’ I said, hoping to change the subject.

      ‘That may be,’ she said, amused, ‘but not so fine as to teach you to shoot into yesterday.’

      Carl looked up at her, confused, as I burned with embarrassment.

      ‘Shoot into yesterday?’ he queried.

      ‘The hare’s been dead for at least a day,’ she explained, tossing some of the skin and scraps to Malgard, ‘so if it was killed by Brand, that can only mean he is able to shoot backwards into time past.’

      Valla burst into laughter as Carl continued to look confused.

      ‘Let’s just hope that the owner of the hare doesn’t miss it yet,’ said Valla. ‘And doesn’t have too many friends.’

      ∞ ∞ ∞

      We roasted the hare over a small fire and washed it down with spring water and some more early blackberries. We had no cave or other shelter, and despite it being summer we were all conscious of the chill as darkness fell.

      I had collected plenty of dried wood while there was still light, so was able to tend the fire, but the chill grew worse and we huddled closer – our faces hot and our backs cold.

      ‘What do you know of the king and his politics?’ asked Carl.

      I wasn’t sure I understood the question and shrugged.

      ‘How do you think you will be received?’

      ‘Aah … I have heard my father say that King Edward is just in his dealings. I can only trust that he will hear me … I do have this.’

      I СКАЧАТЬ