Hyllis Family Story 1: Telekinetic by Laurence E Dahners Read Free Book Online

supposed he could blame the height on the more powerful bow, but there was no excuse for how far he’d been to the right.
    He drew and fired several more, hitting the target , but scattering the arrows wildly over it. Banes came by and snorted over Tarc’s shoulder, “Shooting that way Hyllis, you’re not ever gonna be an archer. Let me see if I can improve your technique at least a little. Surely you’ve inherited something from your father?”
    Tarc ’s stomach twisted. He’d always pictured himself as an archer like his father. Actually, not just an archer, he’d envisioned himself as the elite archer. The best of the best. He’d imagined the envy of the other men in town who would point at him and talk of his skill. He’d fantasized about the congratulations he’d receive after he’d shot the enemy commander right off his horse while the man was still far out on the field. In his visions, Tarc would open big ragged holes in the front line of the charging enemy as his arrows struck home, each one felling an enemy soldier. Tarc Hyllis wouldn’t be called on to man the spears at the top of the wall because everyone would want to preserve the town’s best sniper for archery. Unfortunately, reality didn't seem to be matching his dreams.
    Banes critiqued Tarc’s stance and worked with him to improve his draw and targeting. Tarc did better and put a few arrows in the colored part of the target. Banes clapped him on the shoulder in congratulation, but Tarc could feel that Banes wasn’t actually impressed.
    Looking around, Tarc felt tremendous disappointment. Jacob had been next to him on the range and most of his friend’s arrows were somewhere near the middle of the target. He’d shot much better than Tarc. For all Tarc knew, Jacob might be the best archer in their age group and Tarc might be at least average. Nonetheless, it was becoming obvious that Tarc was far from the elite bowman he’d always envisioned.
    Tarc Hyllis’ feats of archery weren’t ever going to amaze anyone.
    As he trudged downrange to recover his arrows, he realized he’d actually failed at each of the three training sessions that day. He wondered if his father could give him some lessons.
     
    ***
     
    When Tarc arrived back at the tavern the great room was bustling. Daussie hissed at him, “Mama needs water, hurry!”
    Feeling a mixture of irritation that no one had done his chores while he was at drill , and guilt that he’d dawdled some on the way home, Tarc hustled into the kitchen. Not only was his mother coming in with two buckets of water she could ill afford the time to get, but Tarc saw the woodpile was low as well. He took the buckets from Eva and climbed the step to pour them into the kitchen’s big barrel. Assessing the water need as more critical than the wood, he headed back out with the buckets.
    As he was pouring the next two buckets into the barrel, Daussie came in and told him that Daum needed more water out at the bar as well. Working steadily, Tarc gradually caught up with their needs for water and firewood. He’d hoped he’d get to eat then, but Eva sent him to Stevenson’s butcher for a side of bacon and some chickens.
    When he got back, Eva gave him a roast pork sandwich and sent him to Benson’s for potatoes, onions, tomatoes, cabbage, and salt.
     
    Tarc sat on the back of the wagon behind Benson’s waiting for the potatoes, irritated because his mother hadn’t been organized enough to send him on both errands at once. He had a handful of pebbles he’d been tossing at a knothole on the hitching post. How much longer is it going to take them to bring me a lousy sack of potatoes?! he wondered as he threw the last small stone. About to climb down and get another handful of gravel, he suddenly remembered that he could float them up to himself with his talent. He glanced around to make sure that no one was watching, then reached out with his ghost and lifted a pebble which floated gracefully up to his