‘Twenty-one summers, and I have a sword,’ Drem mused as he buckled the scabbard-belt about his waist. It fitted well, though the weight of the sword against his hip felt strange.

‘I wanted you never to need one,’ his da said. ‘But I have a bad feeling of late.’

‘Maybe I should have a ringmail shirt, as well, then.’

‘You probably should,’ Olin smiled, ‘but that one’s likely a little small for you. It wouldn’t be a bad idea for you to have one of your own, though. Saved my life a hundred times, that shirt.’

‘We’ll have to go see—’

Drem stopped. He’d been about to say Calder the smith. But Calder wouldn’t be making anyone a ringmail shirt. Or anything else, ever again.

There was the sound of hooves outside, growing louder.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE: RIV

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

RIV

Riv concentrated, her entire being focused on drawing her bowstring perfectly. She felt the feather tickle her cheek.

Done it.

‘No. You’re doing it all wrong,’ Bleda said in her ear.

‘How?’ Riv grunted, trying to keep any hint of the snarl she was feeling out of her voice.

‘Start with your bow hand, not the draw hand.’ Bleda walked around into her field of vision.

‘Firstly. Your knuckles are white. No, no, no. Don’t grip the bow in a fist. Now, when you release the shaft and string your fist will twist the bow a fraction, and your aim’s thrown. Let the bow rest in your hand, then the string-draw applies the pressure. Understand?’

‘Yes,’ Riv grunted, feeling a tremor beginning deep in the shoulder muscle of her right arm. Her whole body was aching, the pain worse in her joints. She suspected there was more to it than the drawing of a yew bow, though her wrists and elbows were screaming under the increased pressure.

‘Secondly, your arm is straight. This is wrong. I keep telling you, a bend at the elbow of your bow arm, otherwise, when you release, the string will shred your skin. Remember last time?’

Riv did, the throbbing bruise on her arm not letting her forget.

‘So,’ Bleda continued, ‘bow arm bent, not straight, bent.’ He paused. ‘Understand?’

Argh.

‘Yes.’

‘Release your draw, you cannot hold this small tree at that angle for more than a few moments. It is a poor design.’ There was a hint of a smile at the edge of his lips, just for a moment.

Is he enjoying this? Riv clenched her teeth and resisted the urge to throw the bow at Bleda.

‘It’s worked well enough for our huntsmen,’ Riv growled.

‘You saw Jin with a bow,’ Bleda reminded her.

‘Aye,’ Riv sighed, a hint of defeat in her voice.

‘Do not take too long about any of it,’ Bleda said. ‘A fight is constant motion, fluid, you moving, your enemy moving. Who has time to stand still for a dozen heartbeats and aim?’