Slave's Gamble

by Jay Stonesmith

  With the arrow placed to the left of the bow, resting on the fingers of her left hand, just like her father had shown her, she tried to nock the butt of the arrow to the string. But the arrow's grooved end was much wider than the ones she was used to, and it took her a few moments of fumbling before she had the shaft sitting on the string.

  She moved her fingers to grip the string with her index finger above the arrow and her middle finger below, but the arrow started to slip. The notch was too wide. Ordella changed her grip, clasping the arrow between her thumb and finger, clamping it in place.

  Standing side on, she raised the bow and drew back the bowstring across her chest. The handle of the bow felt firm, but the rest of it bent unnaturally far. The arrow trembled on the taut string, like a starving dog being held back from its dinner.

  Jereth walked over to her.

  "Hold that position," he said.

  He tapped the shaft of the arrow with his finger. "This must be on the other side of the bow," he said. "And this"—he used his fingers to change her grip of the arrow on the string—"must be like this every time." He took a step back.

  "Now relax your arm."

  Ordella allowed the bow to unbend, clutching the arrow in her right hand.

  Jereth stood in front of her

  "Next time you nock, I want you to start with the arrow like this." He took the arrow from her and held it, flight end first, between his thumb and first finger of his right hand.

  "Understood?"

  Ordella nodded.

  He handed her the arrow and she gripped it as he had shown her.

  "Nock!" he shouted.

  Ordella jumped into action. She swung the arrow up, resting it on the thumb of her left hand to the right of the bow. She managed to get it nocked and drawn much quicker than she had on her first attempt. She held the arrow in position, ever so slightly shifting her grip on the shaft.

  Jereth reached across and placed a hand on her head, tilting it up about a finger's width. He pushed on her left arm, lowering the bow a fraction, and used his foot to shuffle her right leg back, widening her stance.

  "This is how I want you to nock and draw an arrow every time you do it."

  He pointed to a blue stump a few paces in towards the center of the clearing. It was one of the taller ones, reaching up to her midriff.

  "Go and stand on top of that one," he said. "Take your bow with you."

  The post was narrow and stood in the middle of a circle of smaller yellow ones. Ordella stepped onto a yellow post and then hopped up onto the blue. She shuffled her feet around, trying to find a comfortable way of positioning them. But it was impossible. The pole simply wasn't wide enough for both of her feet at the same time, and the sides were so smooth she couldn't grip them with her toes. She planted her right foot in the center of the pole and raised her left foot into the air.

  "Nock!" shouted Jereth.

  "But I'm standing on one leg."

  "Nock!" he shouted again as if he hadn't heard her.

  She stared at him, but his face offered nothing in return.

  Grumbling under her breath, Ordella brought the arrow up to the right side of the bow.

  She pushed down hard on the pole with her right foot. So far, so good. Using her right hand she tried to line up the arrow's groove and slide it onto the string. She hadn't positioned it as well as last time, and she had to tilt her head to get a closer look at what was happening. Her body lurched. Instinctively, she dropped her left foot onto the edge of the pole, but it slipped off. Before she could react, she had toppled sideways off the post and crashed onto the grass.

  Jereth snorted as if he was suppressing a laugh.

  She swore and rubbed at her knees and back. There was nothing broken, but she'd definitely have bruises tomorrow.

  "Get back up there," Jereth said. "Nock!"

  He had to be joking. Ordella took a step towards him, but he shooed her away with his hands and then turned around. He shook out the hide wrapping and spread it out on the grass like a blanket.

  "Nock!" he said, sitting down and stretching his legs out in front of him.

  Ordella clambered back up on top of the blue post. This time she gave each step more attention and kept her movements small. With the arrow correctly in place, she drew it back and held the position.

  She glanced over at Jereth.

  Nothing. Not even the flicker of a smile or the nod of his head. He seemed more interested in the piece of wood he'd picked up from the floor and was whittling away at with a sharp knife.

  "Replace your arrow," he said.

  Ordella relaxed her arm and fed the arrow, point first, back into her quiver.

  Jereth didn't look up. "Nock!" he said.

  Fourteen

  The sun, now high in the sky, had finally broken through the clouds. Rivulets of sweat dripped down Ordella's face, and her sodden tunic clung to her aching body. She'd given up counting the number of times she'd lost her footing and crashed to the ground. The bruises on her legs would be tally enough. The skin of her left forearm was crisscrossed with painful welts from where her bowsting had whipped against it, and the fingers of her right hand were raw. Every time she stretched out her arm, a bolt of pain screamed down her bowhand into her shoulder.

  Jereth had moved his blanket back into the shade of the trees. He was still carving away at a piece of wood, turning it in his hands as he trimmed and sliced.

  "Nock," he said.

  Standing on her left foot now, Ordella moved the arrow into the starting position. The end of the shaft grazed against a blister on her index finger. Wincing, she brought her hand up to her mouth. She started to wobble. For a moment she managed to keep her balance, waving her arms as if she were trying to take flight. Then her left leg gave way, sending her sprawling onto the grass once more. She landed heavily on her knees and groaned.

  Enough was enough. She'd had it with Jereth's so-called training.

  Ordella grasped the pole with both hands and pulled herself to her feet. She picked up her bow and marched over to him.

  Jereth looked up at her and put down his carving. It was more intricate than she'd been able to see from the middle of the clearing. A slender woman with long hair and a crown of flowers.

  "I'm not doing it anymore." Ordella showed him her legs and arms. "I'm bruised all over, and I just don't see the point."

  Jereth fixed her with a stare. "Well it's lucky I'm the one teaching the lesson then, isn't it?"

  "Teaching," she said. "All you've done is lay down in the sun and bark the same order over and over again." She sighed. "This is pointless. When am I ever going to need to nock an arrow from the top of a pole while standing on one leg?" she asked. "And why haven't you given me gloves or a bracer?" She stuck out her blistered hands.

  "There are plenty of times when an archer will need to loose an arrow when off balance." He stood up and gestured to the forest surrounding them. "Take this place for example. You'd be hard pressed to find a single patch of perfectly flat ground among the trees. More than likely you'd be hampered by tree roots and stumps and branches and undergrowth, and you'd have to favor one foot over the other."

  He let his hands drop to his sides.

  "A good archer can loose an arrow from almost any position, but that wasn't the main point of today's exercise."

  "Well, what was then?"

  "I'll show you," he said. "Or rather, you'll show yourself."

  He pushed his blanket out of the way with his foot.

  "I'd like you to nock an arrow, but instead of standing on the pole, I'd like you to stand just here." He pointed to a patch of grass in front of her.

  Trying to ignore her burning fingertips and leaden limbs, Ordella flipped the arrow into the correct position against the bow. She quickly put the arrow's groove to the bowstring, and moved her thumb and forefinger into just the right place to allow her to draw back the string while keeping the arrow straight. She held her pose and turned to Jereth.

  A bro
ad grin spread across his face, and he clapped his hands together.

  "Well done," he said.

  "But nocking the arrow is the easy part," she said. "I can do that. It's the balancing on a post at the same time that makes it all go awry."

  "Yet you couldn't nock an arrow this morning, could you? Even when your feet were set firmly on the ground."

  Ordella let the bow drop. Her first attempts had been terrible. Cackhanded and awkward compared to what she'd just done.

  "Today wasn't about keeping your balance," Jereth said. "That's a lesson for another time. No, today all I wanted you to learn was how to nock an arrow."

  She was about to speak, but Jereth put his hand up in front of her.

  "Sometimes we have to make our minds look away and allow our bodies to take over. Had you practiced nocking an arrow with your feet on the ground, I'm sure you would have improved, but you would've concentrated on every little detail. With nothing else to occupy it, your mind would have been unable to let go enough to allow your instincts to come to the fore." He paused. "When you were up on the pole, your mind was so focused on keeping you balanced, it left the task of nocking an arrow to your body. To your instincts." He smiled. "And, as a result, your progress has been astounding. You are now almost nocking an arrow without thinking, the same way you picked up the stone earlier."

  Ordella straightened her back and rubbed the muscles in her arms.

  "I didn't allow you to wear gloves or an arm guard," Jereth said, "because I needed you to feel the correct position of the bow and the arrow in your hands. The blisters will heal, but you will never forget the lesson you've learned." He put his hand on her shoulder. "I think we'll leave it there for today. Tomorrow morning I will show you how to string your bow, and you might even get to loose some arrows." He glanced at her bruised legs and made a face. "It will also be less painful."

  He knelt down and picked up his quiver and the wooden carving he'd been working on, then paused and turned to her.

  "You have great potential as an archer, Ordella. That's why I wanted to train you myself. But you must trust me."

  Ordella looked at the man's face. Could she trust him? She wanted to, but there was something holding her back. She took a breath. Now was her chance to get the truth.

  "Why did you tell me you were the only one up on the ridge? The arrows felled the soldiers at almost the same time. I know you weren't alone. You couldn't have been. It would be impossible." Her voice cracked and she felt a heat flushing her cheeks. "I just don't understand why you felt the need to lie about it."

  Jereth didn't respond, and Ordella could feel tears welling in the corners of her eyes. She swallowed and rubbed her face. "And you led us to Oakhaven without telling us that we couldn't leave." He raised his eyebrows at this. "Don't look surprised," she said. "Oakhaven might not have walls and cages like the Warren, but its a prison just the same."

  "That's not true," he said. "I told you last night that you were free to leave."

  "But it's not your decision to make, is it? You're not in charge of Oakhaven. It's Lera and Flynn who make the rules, and you heard what she said to us yesterday."

  At the mention of her name, Jereth looked up. "She's under a lot of strain right now. Don't judge her too harshly. I'm sure she just misspoke."

  Ordella shook her head. Lera's meaning had been clear.

  Jereth stood on the spot for a moment longer, then turned his back on her and picked up his bow.

  "You may return to the village now," he said, threading his belt through the loops in his quiver.

  He strode past her, his eyes focused on the large post in the center of the clearing.

  "I'm going to spend some time practicing," he said in a loud voice. He glanced back to Ordella as if to check that she'd heard him. "The saw won't sharpen itself."

  *****

  Ordella tramped back down the path towards the village. She kept to the center of the trail and made sure to tread heavily, scuffing the stones and packed earth with every step. For her plan to work, Jereth had to believe she was walking straight back to Oakhaven.

  She glanced over her shoulder. Jereth was standing on top of the central pillar. His left foot was raised like hers had been earlier, but his body was completely still, as if carved from oak.

  Satisfied that he wasn't looking in her direction, Ordella spun to her left and scrambled from the path into the forest. She picked her way through brambles, moving deeper into the woods, then veered left and headed back to the clearing.

  She hunkered down behind an old fallen tree which was laying on the forest floor next to a stand of silver birches. Peering around the side of the rotting trunk, she had a good view of the entire clearing, including the bale targets along its perimeter.

  If Jereth looked directly at her hiding place, he might see her, but surely he'd be too focused on what he was doing. All she'd have to do was wait, and then she'd have proof that he'd been lying to her.

  Jereth moved suddenly, like a statue coming to life. Still balanced only on his right leg, he reached into his quiver and withdrew three arrows gripped between the splayed fingers of his right hand. In one motion, he brought the first arrow to the string, drew it back and loosed it at the central target.

  Ordella turned her head, tracking its progress. The arrow slammed straight into the middle of the red circle. It was immediately followed by a second arrow, and then a third.

  Cat-like, Jereth leaped to another pillar, landing, without a wobble, on just his left foot. Somehow, he'd already drawn three more arrows and had them ready in his hand. He bent his leg and sprang to a pillar painted blue. Mid-jump, he fired an arrow at the right-hand target, and before he'd even landed, he'd nocked the second arrow and released that as well.

  With the third arrow on his string, he spun around and, seemingly without pausing to aim, sent it spiraling towards the target farthest from him. Ordella stifled a gasp as it pierced the bail in the heart of its red center.

  She craned her neck, her eyes focusing on the bowman as he returned to his one-legged pose on top of the pillar. A heron patiently waiting for the right moment to strike.

  He drew another arrow from his quiver, grasped it in his hand, then threw it, along with his bow, into the air. They spun upwards, end over end, until they reached their peak, then tumbled back down. As calmly as if he were plucking apples from a tree, Jereth caught the bow in his left hand and snagged the arrow between his thumb and forefinger.

  In the same heartbeat, he nocked the arrow and raised his bow arm, tilting it higher than he had for his previous shots. He aimed into the air in the direction of the farthest target. The arrow arced upwards into the sky.

  Another arrow was on his bowstring. This one he released in a straight line. Ordella flicked her eyes over to the target just in time to see the first arrow complete its rainbow and plummet towards the bail, nestling in the middle of the red section. Moments later, the second arrow thudded into the target, landing snuggly next to the first, shaft against shaft.

  Ordella's heart pounded in her chest. She let out a breath. Fletch had been the best archer in Rittle, yet Jereth had just made him look like a novice. Shooting a bow wasn't like throwing a stone to him, as he'd claimed earlier. No. It was even more instinctive than that. Like breathing.

  Jereth hopped onto a yellow pillar at the edge of the clearing. He looked in her direction.

  "You can come out now, Ordella!" he shouted.

  Her eyes were wide. How had he known she was there?

  Combing dead leaves and bits of bark from her hair with her fingers, she trudged through the undergrowth and emerged from the trees. The clearing still wasn't in shade, and the sun's rays warmed the skin on the back of her neck. Jereth didn't appear to be sweating at all. He wasn't even out of breath.

  "Have you seen enough?" he asked. "Or do you need more evidence that I'm not trying to mislead you."

  She shook her head. Bringing down both Kelsharlans from the ridge must have been ea
sy for him. He could've probably taken out a dozen more before they'd even realized where the attack was coming from.

  "Good," he said.

  He turned his back on her and walked over to his bag, placed his bow on the ground and unbuckled his quiver.

  *****

  Ordella stretched out her legs and the hammock swayed on its mount. The hammock to her right, the one intended for Merisca, lay empty. Ordella hadn't spoken to her since their argument, but she'd seen her at Chegg's side when she'd collected her food earlier that evening. Flynn must have agreed to her helping the old man with the cooking, and she'd clearly been assigned a new sleeping platform.

  Ordella balled her fingers into a fist and closed her eyes.

  Why hadn't Merisca made her grandmother see reason? Shaken her. Shouted at her. Anything to make her come to her senses.

  Her grandmother's final moments in the Warren played out in her mind. Billy with the knife in his hand, Skerrick's smirk as he walked away, and Merisca sitting before the cooking pot in the Hutch, grinning.

  Ordella snapped her eyes open. No, that wasn't right. Merisca wasn't like the others. She'd been put in an impossible position. She'd never intentionally do harm.

  Yet, when Ordella shut her eyes again, Merisca's face returned, alongside Billy’s and Skerrick’s, leering at her as she held Gwenith in her arms, her last breaths rattling in her lungs.

  Fifteen

  Ordella and Hob dropped the painted bale in its usual place in front of the rocks. Ordella pushed it with her booted foot, moving it so it faced the line they'd drawn next to the clump of feverfew, about fifty paces back from where they were standing.

  "Is Much joining us today?" Ordella said.

  "He can't. Jereth's got him working with Dale up by Rowan End. They're guarding Tiggin's Lane."