by Peter Wacht
After leaving the blacksmith’s shop, Thomas wandered the Festival for a time deep in thought. He really wasn’t supposed to be there, but he had assumed that if he kept to himself his presence would go unnoticed. However, the idea of taking part in an archery contest intrigued him. He rarely had the opportunity to match his skills against others.
Though Rynlin had told him he was a match for any Highlander, he had never had the chance to prove it to himself. He originally came to the Festival thinking that he might bump into the girl from the forest, assuming she would be there because her father would be. But once he saw how many people had come, he doubted that he would find her.
So why not have a little fun before going home? Then, much to his surprise, he had seen her. Or rather she had seen him. As he stood there waiting for the competition to begin, he scanned the onlookers, amazed that so many people came to watch. For a brief second, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, as if someone watched him.
Turning around he saw Kaylie standing by the railing, their eyes meeting for a brief moment. He knew immediately that she recognized him, and that realization almost shattered his resolve. Butterflies suddenly hatched in his stomach and his arms and legs felt weak. She was more beautiful than he remembered.
He considered saying hello when reality struck full force and his fears rose to the surface. He wasn’t supposed to be at the Festival, and now that he was, he should never have thought to take part in the archery competition. He should have remained in the background. He pulled his gaze away from those deep blue eyes, finding it hard to do.
As the men around him performed their last-second preparations, Thomas stood there calmly, his body sideways to the target, his feet spaced a comfortable distance apart. Closing his eyes briefly, he pushed all his thoughts to the back of his mind. The world around him gradually disappeared, until he was absolutely alone, except for his bow, arrow and the target.
“Archers, are you ready?” shouted the judge, who sat comfortably on his horse.
Thomas raised his bow and pulled back on the string in one smooth motion. Quiet draped itself around him. The buzz of the crowd, the play of the wind across the grass forgotten.
“Release!”
A swarm of arrows sped through the air toward the targets, almost of all of them settling in the cloth and hay with a loud thump. Thomas’ arrow struck dead center, as did Ragin’s. More than half of the competitors hit the bull’s-eye in all. A squad of Dunmoorian soldiers ran out onto the field, knocking down the targets of the archers who missed and pulling the arrows out of the targets that struck true before dragging the hay and wicker structures back twenty feet.
“You did well on the first shot, gentlemen,” said Ragin, using his bow as a staff as he waited for the next round. “Unfortunately, I’m virtually certain your luck will soon run out.”
His words earned him several angry scowls, but he did not deign to notice them. He was the Prince of Armagh after all, and they all knew it. He could say or do almost anything he liked. One harsh word from one of the archers could lead to several unpleasant nights in the dungeon, or worse. The thin-skinned Prince’s reputation was well known.
“Archers, are you ready?” shouted the judge again.
Thomas raised his bow and pulled back on the string until it was even with his cheek. Calm settled around him, as the grumbles of those archers already out of the competition washed over him with no real effect.
“Release!”
Arrows soared through the air, their steel tips striking home. The soldiers ran out onto the field and knocked down even more targets. Thomas hit dead center once again. He stood there calmly waiting for the next round. Ragin’s taunts grew worse, earning himself even more angry grumbles from the remaining competitors.
The process continued for several more rounds. Each time the soldiers knocked down more targets as archers failed to hit the bull’s-eye. Maddan and Ragin’s other friends proved no match as the targets moved back, dropping out in the late rounds. Each time Ragin insulted his rivals and their skills, and each time Thomas ignored him, focusing on the task at hand, aware of only his bow, the arrow and the target. The targets were pulled back to three hundred feet and only a handful of archers remained. Thomas now stood the closest to Ragin, and thus drew his focus.
“You’ve done well so far, boy,” said Ragin, eyeing Thomas’ garb. “Where did you learn to shoot? Out in the forest with the squirrels?”
The Armaghian Prince laughed at his own joke, though he had no idea how close he had come to the truth. Thomas calmly examined the Prince of Armagh, taking in the arrogant stance and expression, clearly unimpressed by what he saw. Actually answering would only give Ragin more fuel for his comments. Instead, Thomas simply smiled before turning his attention back to his target. With his peripheral vision, he saw a brief flicker of irritation pass across Ragin’s face.
“Archers, are you ready?”
The remaining archers raised their bows, strings taut, waiting for the command. The crowd was silent, caught up in the drama of the competition, bets going back and forth at a furious pace.
“Release!”
This time, of the five who remained, only two succeeded.
“So it comes down to a final shot,” said Ragin, studying Thomas. There was nothing remarkable about him at all. Of all the archers who began the competition, Ragin never thought that he would have to contend with this boy for the prize. He had thought Berral of Benewyn stood the best chance of staying with him.
The soldiers finished their work, placing two targets at a distance of three hundred forty feet. The bull’s-eyes were barely visible. The cheers of the crowd gradually quieted as the anticipation of what was to follow took control.
“Gentlemen, congratulations on making it to the final round,” said the judge, walking his horse around Thomas and Ragin so the crowd could see and hear him as well. The competition was coming to an end and soon he would return to his normal routine, lost again in the constant shuffle of courtiers and other assistants. “We will apply slightly different rules at this stage. You will have five seconds to loose as many arrows as you can at your target. At the end of five seconds, the man with the most arrows in the bull’s-eye wins. Do you understand?”
Thomas and Ragin nodded.
“Good luck to you then.” The judge nudged his horse back around the two archers, disappointed once more at having to exit the stage.
Looking out across the field at his target, Thomas judged how many arrows he could release in the allotted time. He then stuck the appropriate number of shafts point first into the ground so they would be within easy reach. Ragin did the same.
“Now, boy, you will see the difference between a peasant and a lord,” said Ragin.
Thomas again examined the Prince of Armagh, smiling briefly before turning back to the targets. During his training in the circle, several of his opponents took much the same approach to combat as Ragin, hurling taunts and other barbs in an attempt to break his concentration. Thomas had learned the hard way that that was the quickest way to lose. He refused to allow a spoiled, arrogant bastard like Ragin do it to him now.
“Archers, are you ready?”
The judge’s words rang out across the field. A hush fell over the crowd. For some it was simply the fun of the contest; for others, money.
“Release!”
Arrows sped through the air at a furious rate as the two made the most of their time. Thomas’ motions were a blur as he released, pulled an arrow from the ground, nocked it to his bow, aimed, released, then went through the motions again and again. The rabid cheers of the crowd fell on deaf ears. At the moment, all Thomas heard was the twang of the string and the thump of the arrow as it hit home.
“Stop!”
The judge nudged his horse to a trot out onto the field so he could get a better look at the targets. The soldiers had already run out to count the number of arrows that had struck true.
“Better luck next time
, boy,” said Ragin, certain of his victory. His smile became a sneer. He had released three arrows in the five seconds, with two hitting the edge of the bull’s-eye and a third close to the center. From this distance, it looked like Thomas had only managed to hit the bull’s-eye once. “As I said before, an excellent test of lord and commoner.”
Thomas ignored Ragin’s jibe and instead glanced at the targets. Thomas knew the truth. He saw the judge talking with the soldiers, who gestured animatedly at Thomas’ target. The judge rode slowly back across the field, appearing somewhat dazed. The crowd was silent, waiting for the news.
“What’s your name, boy?” asked the judge, looking down at Thomas. The courtier’s face was white, as if he had seen something he couldn’t quite believe.
“Thomas.”
“Thomas,” said the judge, “you are hereby declared the best archer in the Eastern Kingdoms. Ten strikes in five seconds.”
The judge spoke as if he still didn’t quite believe it. A thunderous cheer erupted from the crowd, drowning out whatever else he had to say. Some cheered for Thomas’ remarkable victory, others because Ragin had lost. The groans came from those who had bet against this unknown archer.
Every so often, Thomas could pick out a certain voice, and almost always it held the words, “Ten arrows? That’s impossible!” Or “Did you see how fast he was shooting? I’ve never seen anything like it before!”
Butterflies danced in Thomas’ stomach. Cool and confident while shooting, the recognition made him nervous. This certainly wasn’t what he had in mind when arriving at the Festival. He had planned on a quiet excursion. If Rya and Rynlin saw him now, they’d— well, he really didn’t want to think about it.
“What?” shouted Ragin in shock, unable to hide his anger. He ran out onto the field to get a better look, thinking the soldiers were wrong.
When he finally got to where he could clearly see the target, his mouth fell open in shock. What had looked like one arrow back at the shooting line was actually ten, yet they were spaced so closely together, the bolts were virtually indistinguishable except from a close distance. This was absolutely impossible! How could a commoner shoot—
“I was taught that there was no difference between a lord or a commoner,” said Thomas, walking up behind Ragin. “Birth should not outweigh a man’s character or actions. I see that those who taught me were wrong. Clearly there is a difference.”
Ragin whipped around, his face an angry red because of the barb. Thomas’ grin only increased his rage, yet before he could do anything, the crowd rushed forward to congratulate the new champion and take him up to the podium to collect his prize.
Ragin could only stand there and watch, powerless and mute. Losing to a commoner — a common boy no less — was bad enough, but having to bear his insults was something else entirely. He could do nothing about it now, but he would not soon forget.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Realization
Kaylie watched the entire contest with rapt attention, unable to take her eyes from the boy with light brown hair and sparkling green eyes. The speed and grace with which he shot entranced her, bringing back memories of that horrible morning in Oakwood Forest. In fact, she had gotten so drawn into the contest, she had almost forgotten to breathe during the final round.
It had to be him. She would never forget what had happened only a few months before. Though she had not gotten a good look at her rescuer then because of the sun rising behind him, she was certain that she had found him. Thoughts of the Raptor immediately passed through her mind. Could the boy be the Raptor?
The stories she had heard about this almost mythical protector of the forest seemed preposterous, but this boy’s latest display eliminated the last of her doubts. She quickly concluded as well that this was the mysterious archer on the hill who had saved her, the only thing missing being his large black wolf.
But how could it be? This boy, this Thomas, looked to be no older than she. He didn’t have a particularly large build, and he was no taller than she, though his strength was obvious since he pulled back on his large bow with ease. There was nothing distinct about him, except for his eyes. She smiled to herself as the crowd ducked under the railing to congratulate the new Champion Archer of the Eastern Kingdoms.
He obviously had a ready wit if he had so successfully insulted Ragin, as seemed to be the case by Ragin’s sour, almost murderous, expression. Kaylie had not been able to single out what had bothered her about Ragin before. While watching Thomas, she had found it — his arrogance and conceit, the way he held himself above everyone else, as if no one was his equal. When she looked at Thomas, all she saw was a quiet confidence. He didn’t brag or boast, instead letting his actions speak for his abilities. Unable to take her eyes off of him, she ducked under the railing as well, leaving Lissa and Erinn.
Her face grew determined. She would find this Thomas and confirm her suspicions about him. She had to know if she was right.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Whispered Praise
Thomas didn’t know what to do when he was hoisted onto the shoulders of some of the onlookers and carried to the podium. It all happened in a blur as the crowd roared its approval when the judge presented the prize money for winning the archery contest. Thomas just dropped it in his pocket as several of the archers and other well-wishers came up to slap him on the back and congratulate him.
More than once he heard whispered praise of how nice it was to see someone of common stock better one of noble. Thomas’ original estimate was correct. No one here had much love for Ragin Tessaril, and his defeat made Thomas’ victory all the sweeter for them.
Almost an hour had passed before the flow of people coming up to the podium stopped and Thomas was finally able to leave. He had scanned the faces approaching him several times, looking for Kaylie, but to no avail. He had seen her talking to Ragin before the contest began, so there was little reason for him to think that she would be here now. She was a princess, after all.
Oh well. It would have been nice to see her again, to actually talk to her. Just thinking about her made his heart beat a little faster. Sighing in resignation, Thomas jumped down from the podium, bow across his shoulder and his arrows back safely in his quiver thanks to one of the other archers who retrieved them for him.
He started to make his way back toward the Festival booths. It was time for him to go. He had come here hoping to be a nobody and now his name was on everyone’s lips. If Rya found out about this, she’d throw a fit. And then Rynlin would not be happy with him either. Whenever Rya got angry, Rynlin heard about it, and usually more than he wanted.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Formal Introduction
Kaylie waited in frustration along the edges of the crowd that swarmed Thomas after his victory. After a few efforts to push her way through, she realized she’d never get close enough to him while he was on the podium.
“Are you all right, Kaylie?” asked Lissa, who finally caught up with her. “You look put out.”
Kaylie stood there with her arms crossed and one foot tapping.
“I’m fine,” she snapped. She hated waiting. “Where’s Erinn? She owes me five golds.”
“I’m afraid you’ll have to collect from her later. We ran into Jenna and Berral. A friend of Berral’s caught Erinn’s eye. I’m afraid we’re on our own for now.”
Kaylie grunted noncommittally, not really listening to Lissa. The crowd was finally thinning out. Perhaps she could reach the podium now.
“Ragin, Maddan and the others are heading back to the castle now,” said Lissa, her eyes dancing with mischief. Kaylie was obviously interested in this champion archer, yet Lissa chose not to say anything. She had known Kaylie for quite a long time and recognized her moods well. Now was not the time to tease her. “Would you like to come with us?”
“No. I think I’d like to see more of the Festival first. If you see my father, just tell him I’ll be back later this afternoon.” Kaylie continued to watch the
crowd, looking for a chance to get to the podium.
“All right,” said Lissa, a knowing smile on her face. She pushed her way back through the mass of people blocking her way to the castle. “Good hunting.”
Kaylie whipped around, looking for Lissa. Just what did she mean by that? Unable to pick her out of the crowd, she turned back to the podium. Wait. Where did he go? She’d only turned her head for a moment and now he was gone. Blast that Lissa! She always knew how to irritate her, and now she might have lost him because of her. Thankfully the crowd had diminished, so she had a much easier time reaching the podium. Unfortunately, Thomas had already left.
Jumping onto the stand, she spun around. There! He was heading back to the Festival. He was hard to pick out, but the large bow slung across his back gave him away. She leapt down and ran after him, or at least tried to. Every time she thought she gained on him, someone stepped in her way and slowed her down.
She looked for him again. There! Just ahead of her. She dodged through the crowd, trying to catch up. She was about to reach for his shoulder when he disappeared. What the— He was right there! She stopped and stamped her foot on the ground in irritation. This was unfair. How could he disappear like that so quickly?
“You are extremely persistent.” The voice came from right behind her.
Kaylie jumped around, her heart in her throat.
“You have no right sneaking up on me like that,” she said heatedly, her eyes blazing. Of course, she conveniently failed to mention that she had been trying to sneak up on him. “Scaring young women is not exactly appropriate behavior.”
She wanted to say more, but found that she couldn’t. The whole time she was talking, he stared directly into her eyes. It made her feel as if they were the only two people there at the moment, rather than being two in the middle of several thousand. His brilliant green eyes entranced her. There was a sparkle there she found irresistible.