“Let’s assume they’re running away,” Will had said.
Then she would go back to the original order for the third round, then reverse it again.
She was on her fourth round now, so her first target would be the most distant helmet.
The hardest first, she thought, then again pushed the negative thought away. She blanked her mind, concentrated on the target, then smoothly whipped the sling over, releasing at just the right moment.
She knew it was a good shot the minute she released. She followed through to the target, her eyes glued to it.
WHIZZ… CLANG!
The helmet rotated madly and she smiled. From now on, the shots would become progressively easier as the range shortened.
WHIZZ… CLANG!
The second shot struck the helmet square on, the force of the shot actually knocking the pole from its vertical position. She reloaded, turning to stand side on to the next target, which was on the extreme left of the line.
WHIZZ… CLANG!
Another perfect strike. She reloaded. Two to go for a perfect score. Just two more shots. Her breath was coming faster and she felt her heart racing. She forced herself to calm down, relaxing all the muscles in her body, letting herself go limp. Then she loaded, addressed and cast.
WHIZZ-CLANG!
Slightly off centre, but still a killing shot. This time there was virtually no pause between the sound of the shot whirring away then striking the helmet.
Four out of four. Nineteen out of twenty. She had never before been this close to a perfect score. She fumbled in her pouch for another shot, then set it in the sling. She nearly dropped it and she realised her hands were shaking. She breathed deeply once more, pulling the air deep into her lungs, willing her heart to stop beating with excitement, striving for the calm she knew she’d need for the final shot.
And then, unexpectedly, finding it. Her breathing and pulse slowed and she saw that final shot in her mind’s eye. Perfect, powerful and dead on line. Calmly, she took her stance, fixed her gaze on the target. Her instincts and the memory of hundreds of prior shots took over. She could do this. She let her weight settle back on her right foot, then whipped the sling through, letting the loose end slip through her fingers at just the right moment.
WHIZZ-CLANG!
The old helmet had a crack in it and the shot struck square on the fault. It punched a massive rent in the front of the helmet, penetrated, rattled against the back of the iron pot, then fell into the sand below. The helmet was knocked backwards, only staying on the pole by the barest margin.
She heaved in a huge, exultant breath. A wide smile formed on her face and she stepped forward to study the effect of that last, perfect shot.
Four rounds. Twenty hits. A perfect score. Will’s words echoed in her mind: Practise till you don’t get it wrong.
She had done it, she thought. She looked back at her mentor now. He was still leaning against the tree. But his cowl was pushed back and he was regarding her steadily.
“That sounded suspiciously like a perfect score,” he said.
She nodded eagerly. “It was! Twenty out of twenty! I did it at last!”
“Hmmm,” he grunted, screwing up his face. “Well, we’ll see if you can do it again tomorrow.”
He scrambled to his feet and she looked at him, somewhat disconcerted. Was that all? We’ll see if you can do it tomorrow? That was it? She’d practised for weeks to get it right… and that was it?
Will sensed her chagrin and his tone softened somewhat. “Well done,” he said. “But don’t get carried away. I need you to be as good as you can be. And I sense you can be very, very good indeed.”
“Oh,” she said, looking at the ground and scuffing her toe in the dust. It was hard to stay offended when he said something like that. “I suppose so…”
“So, keep practising for the rest of the week. Then we’ll look at getting you a horse,” he said.
She actually took a pace back, looking at him in some confusion.
“I’ve got a horse,” she said. “I’ve got Sundancer, remember?”
Sundancer was the name of the Arridan gelding she’d ridden from Castle Araluen to Redmont. He was stabled in the lean-to behind the cabin, with Tug.
“You need a Ranger horse,” Will said.
Maddie tilted her chin defiantly. “One of those shaggy little ponies like the one you ride?” she said disparagingly. “Sundancer could run rings around one of those four-legged barrels.”
“Is that so?” Will said, his eyes narrowing. “Well, we’ll see. And in the meantime, don’t let Tug hear you say that.”
“Why not? Would his feelings be hurt?” she said sarcastically.
Will inclined his head and didn’t answer for a second or two.
“Quite possibly,” he said. “But more to the point, you might annoy him. And that’s never a good idea.”
He turned away and started walking towards the rear of the cabin. She followed, hesitantly.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“Let’s get our horses saddled,” he said. “We’re going for a ride. I can’t wait to see your horse run rings around my four-legged little barrel.”
As she followed him, she had the uncomfortable feeling that she’d just made a mistake.
“We’d better pack some provisions. We’ll be away overnight,” Will called back to her.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“Derrylon ford,” he said. “It’s only a day’s ride away. We’ll camp out and come back tomorrow. That should give Sundancer plenty of opportunity to run those rings you were talking about.”
Once again, Maddie had the feeling that she had made a mistake.
A big one.
Eighteen
They saddled the horses in the stable. Then Will took down a large canvas roll hanging on the wall and tied it in place behind his saddle. There was another, similar roll hanging next to the first and he gestured for Maddie to take it.
“Tie it behind your saddle,” he said.
She unhooked it and felt the weight, looking at it curiously. “What is it?”
“Camping gear. Basically a waterproof canvas that forms a one-man tent, and a blanket for sleeping. Plus a few other odds and ends.”
She smiled cheekily. “I thought we’d just roll ourselves into our cloaks and sleep under a bush,” she said. Will tested Tug’s girth strap—the little horse was fond of taking a deep breath when the cinch was being tightened, then letting it out again once it was done so that the strap became loose.
“You can do that if you like,” Will said. “I prefer to stay warm and dry. And it looks like rain.”
She tied the canvas roll in place. While she was doing so, Will led Tug to the front of the cabin, went inside and put together a sack of provisions—coffee, bread, cheese, apples, dried beef and a few vegetables. If they wanted fresh meat, he’d have Maddie get some with her sling, he thought. At the last, he placed his standard pack of spices, seasonings and cooking ingredients in the sack, then went out to join his apprentice.
There were two water skins hanging beside the pump. He gestured to them.
“You can fill them,” he said. Maddie moved to do so as he swung up into the saddle. Tug twitched his ears and looked at him inquisitively. Will shook his head.
“Later,” he muttered.
Maddie looked up from her task, soaking her sleeve with water as she took her eye off the gushing liquid. “Did you say something?”
He shook his head. “Just clearing my throat.”