Interregnum by S. J. A. Turney Read Free Book Online Page B

had morning training at the colony. My friend Darius was always better with swords, but I could outstrip him with a bow.”
    Kiva glanced across the group with a sceptical look until he saw the sergeant.
    “Athas, come over here a moment.”
    The burly dark-skinned officer put down his sword and the whetstone that he’d been using and wandered across the farmyard to stand by his captain. “Mmm?”
    “The lad reckons he’s good with a bow” Kiva said, a trace of disbelief in his voice. “I’m not exactly the best judge. If I set up a couple of targets, you and he can spar for a bit. We’ve a couple of hours to kill.”
    Athas nodded and retrieved his bow from where it stood propped against the wall, while Quintillian unhooked his weapon from around his shoulders. Kiva called over the others and between Thalo and himself they manhandled two large pieces of wood along the full length of the farmyard. Once there, the wood was propped against the perimeter wall. The two squinted back toward the house and made out the figures testing the tensile strength of their bows. Marco grinned.
    “Best get along before they mistake us fer the bloody targets, eh sir?”
    With a nod, Kiva joined Marco and the two jogged back along the wall to where the company had gathered to watch the sparring archers. Taking a seat on the wall, Kiva cleared his throat.
    “One target each” he announced. “Six arrows. See how many you can get in the wood. Fire in your own time.”
    Kiva sat back and the others joined him at the wall where they could observe the results. Brendan offered him a chunk from a loaf of bread, which he declined. He turned the other way to see Marco chewing on a piece of dried beef before returning his attention to the competitors.
    Athas exhaled and released the first arrow almost before Kiva had finished speaking. The arrow sailed in a low arc and, even at that distance, they could hear the splintering of wood. The sergeant drew another arrow from the quiver and turned before setting up his shot, watching the lad. Quintillian pushed his shoulders back in a stretch and then flexed the bow. Reaching to his side, he drew an arrow and nocked it in one smooth, flowing movement. Staring down the length of the arrow’s shaft, the lad tensed, his breath held, and released the missile. The arrow arced through the air, considerably higher than Athas’ had, and yet came down with great force and splintered the wood of the second target. The sergeant nodded at him and nocked his arrow.
    Kiva and the rest of the company watched as the two archers nocked and released arrow after arrow, Athas in short, sharp motions; Quintillian in fluid, graceful sweeps. As the last arrows hit home, Kiva stood and wandered across to the two archers.
“No need to go count ‘em” the captain addressed the archers. “I think we all heard them strike. Five each, I believe?”
Athas and Quintillian both nodded and the large sergeant, having leaned his bow against the wall, patted the lad on the shoulder.
“Damn good shooting for a scholar” he complimented his competition.
“Plenty of practice” the boy smiled as he replaced the bow around his shoulders.
The captain and the two archers strode across to a free area of the wall and took a seat. Athas looked at the lad and sighed.
    “What you do, though,” he added, “is sport or hunting archery and I presume that you learned using seabirds for targets. That kind of archery has two practical uses: hunting, where your targets are often far off or high up and at low speeds, and large scale warfare. It’s true that in the days of the full regiments we’d have had archers firing high and far, but that was when there were hundreds of archers firing at a time over our own men and into the mass of the enemy. We’re a unit of a dozen men. You simply don’t have the luxury of being able to set aside a unit to fire from distance. If you want to learn how to fight the way we do now, you have to learn to