Darkwalker on Moonshae - Douglas Niles [17]
The old warrior took it briefly, then said gruffly, “Get ready.” He prepared another decoy, then turned to the prince. “And pay attention, damn ye! That last shot was pure carelessness – ye forgot about the wind, and it looked like ye took little notice of yer target’s motion!”
Again, and again, the decoy fluttered up and the prince shot arrows from the powerful longbow. Each miss made him more annoyed, although several shots grazed the target. The prince noted that Robyn had gone to stand with Daryth, as the Calishite directed the apparently tireless Canthus through his retrieving.
“One more time,” Tristan said, almost snarling, as his fingers tightened on the bow.
Arlen swung his arm, the launcher clicked, and again the decoy fluttered into the air. As Canthus raced across the grassy heath, the prince swiftly drew and nocked an arrow. In an instant, the bowstring was taut against Tristan’s ear, and he sighted down the shaft as the decoy rose and spun across his path.
Tristan advanced his aim, anticipating the flight of the decoy, and took note of the wind. It had fallen, suddenly, to virtual stillness. Loosing the arrow, the prince watched it streak toward the target.
The shaft struck solidly, sending a spray of feathers fluttering through the air. Even as the decoy, changed direction, falling to earth, the great moorhound whirled and leaped, catching the remains of the target in his widespread jaws.
“Well done, lad,” grunted Arlen, in what for him was an exuberant expression of pleasure. “There’s hope ye’ll be an archer yet!”
Tristan smiled wanly, relieved at his success but annoyed by the frustrations it took to get there. Still, the praise pleased him.
“Now stop shooting for a moment and eat!” ordered Robyn, returning with Daryth to the student and teacher. The prince looked at her sharply, but she paid no attention. “Here – I’ve made you something;” she said, offering a covered bowl to the prince.
Tristan, admiring Canthus’s strong jaws as Daryth removed the ruined decoy, took the bowl and absently uncovered it. A sound of exasperation caught his attention, and he realized that Robyn had been waiting for him to say something. Too late now, she was already stalking off toward the Calishite.
Tristan looked down and saw that she had prepared one of his favorite dishes – a mixture of mushrooms, lettuce, and chives. He started over to thank the lass, but she pointedly turned her back and offered a similar bowl to Daryth. Stung, the prince sat on the ground and chewed his food.
“Hello!” A thin voice trailed up the hill, and Tristan saw the diminutive figure of Pawldo climbing toward them. In a few minutes, the halfling joined them. The stocky little halfling was outfitted for walking but readily dropped to the grass beside them as if he had nowhere very pressing to go.
“I see that he learns quickly,” announced Pawldo, nodding toward the great hound that lay, panting, upon the sun-warmed grass.
“Aye. If only his master were half as adept,” muttered Arlen to everyone’s amusement except Tristan’s.
Indeed, Canthus had adapted well to life at Caer Corwell. In less than two weeks, the dog had learned all the hand commands Daryth used to direct him.
He ran faster and leaped higher than any dog the prince, or Daryth, had ever seen. When Canthus first joined the hounds of Tristan’s pack, there had been a brief, snarling showdown with Angus. The old dog had blustered and bristled, but sensibly backed down as Canthus had pressed, almost gently, against Angus’s skinny neck. Since that moment, Canthus had been the leader.
“When will you take him on a true hunt?” asked the halfling. “I hope you’re not going to wait until you learn to shoot – a dog’s life is short!”
Again his companions had a laugh at his expense, and Tristan felt his face redden. “Indeed not,” he replied. “We’ve talked of an outing to Llaryth Forest next week.”
“Splendid!” announced Pawldo. “I’m growing bored of Lowhill – though Allian’s company is sweet, I admit. I could use a stint in the forest. To the