Firebrand

Chapter 471: Shooting Straight

Shooting Straight

While joining forces with the Fire Eater was the right move, it also meant Martel had to resume doing nothing while waiting for information to reach him. He had little knowledge of how it worked, gathering intelligence, but he assumed it could be days or longer.

But at least he could spend the time in a worthwhile manner, focusing on his scholarly pursuits. The idea that he was at war with a Ninth Lord did not trouble him as much as it perhaps should; for all their power, they had plenty of weaknesses as well. He had already seen two of them fall; with the help of the Fire Eater, Martel would make it three. And the knowledge of a well-laid plan put him at ease as well. Thus, despite his situation, Martel had no trouble turning his mind towards lore and learning.

His first target was the arrow on his desk, or rather the rune upon it. It was a simple symbol, consisting of only a few lines. It had been skilfully cut into the shaft of the arrow despite the confined space; Martel was not certain he could replicate it on another arrow. Nor did he need to. He just had to learn how to cast the rune.

***

Martel spent his hours in between class and apothecary work doing just that. He stared himself blind looking at the small symbol on the arrow, drawing it on parchment again and again until it looked right. Next came invoking his power. He reached out to establish a connection back and forth with the dormant sign he had written before speaking a single word. "Visir." A faint glow appeared, but it was difficult to tell whether it worked or not. The purpose of the rune was to guide something to its target, which did not really work with a piece of parchment.

Repeating the gesture with the arrow, Martel found it surprisingly difficult. He could establish a connection, but letting magic flow through it did not come easy, like walking against the wind. Presumably the obstacle occurred because he had not drawn the symbol himself.

Still, Martel continued invoking the power of the rune until he was practically sweating from the effort. That in itself was a strange sensation; it was not the quick drain of power like casting a spell, but rather the slow weariness that also came from enchanting.

Regardless, Martel continued without pause until the bell rang, summoning him to his next lesson.

***

He continued his efforts in the late afternoon until it felt like he had broken through the resistance. The symbol on the arrow glowed as it should, and Martel felt reasonably satisfied with his own drawing of the symbol. But whether he had actually succeeded could only be known if he put it to the test.

Leaving his room with the arrow, Martel made his way towards the arena. He stopped briefly at the entrance hall to check for messages, mostly out of habit, and found one waiting for him.

The square of Saint Alexandra.

Tomorrow after dark. Harold

Martel stared at the words in surprise. The signature was the code word chosen by him and Navid, which meant that the Khivans had found his first target. That was much faster than he had anticipated, but he would not complain. Regardless, that was for tomorrow; putting the message inside a pocket, Martel continued to the gymnasium.

As he had expected, a handful of mageknights practised archery after class in anticipation of the harvest games. They had dragged out a bale of hay and draped it in a piece of cloth with painted black concentric circles to serve as a target. They ignored Martel as the fire acolyte approached until he cleared his throat loudly. As they finally turned their heads towards him, he extended his hand towards one of their bows. "May I borrow that?"

"Have you ever shot a bow before, fire boy?"

"Not even once."

The mageknights exchanged looks. "Be my guest." The nearest archer handed over his bow. "Need arrows as well?"

Receiving the weapon, Martel looked down on the arrow in his hand with its shining rune. "I'm fine."

Nocking the arrow, Martel raised the bow. It was nearly as heavy as his staff, except he used two hands to wield that. It was even worse to pull back the bowstring. Martel's hands began to tremble, and he had to use empowering magic just to hold the bow steady.

"Better summon your shields," one of the mageknight laughed. "No telling what he's aiming at!"

Martel ignored them. He felt the magic of the rune and hoped that it was enough. Staring at the target, he aimed for the centre ring and released the bowstring. The arrow soared through the air and struck the painted target perfectly.

The laughter of the mageknights died down as Martel gave the bow back. "Easier than I thought." He left them to their discussion of how he had done the shoot as he retrieved his arrow and walked out of the arena.

***

In the evening, Martel went from his old dormitory tower to the other. After ascending the stairs, he knocked on Eleanor's door.

"Martel, what brings you here?"

"Since you're competing in the archery contest, I thought this might be useful to you." He had both hands behind his back, but now he extended one to show her the arrow. "A rune of guidance."

As she accepted it, she looked up at him with a wry smile. "I appreciate the sentiment, but I think it will take more than one arrow for me to do well."

He revealed the parchment in his other hand, showing the rune along with its activation word written below. "You better learn how it works, in that case, so you can make more."

Grabbing the parchment, her face became illuminated with genuine excitement. "Is this…? Where did you get this? Was it in any of the books we read?"

"I knew someone I could ask," Martel replied modestly. "You'll have to figure out yourself how to get the rune to fit on the actual arrow. That looks like it will take more finesse than I can muster."

She laughed and gave him a quick hug. "This is great!" She hesitated as she spoke again, "do you mind if I…?"

"No, of course. Go ahead, the sooner you learn, the better. Only a couple of days until the contest."

"You are brilliant, Martel, thank you again!"

He smiled as he left her to begin studying, making his way down the stairs and back to his own room. This errand handled, his mind turned to other matters. From his pocket, he withdrew the scrap of parchment with the details for his meeting tomorrow night. With a small burst of magic, he set it on fire.