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- Herausgeber: WS
- Sprache: Englisch
- Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2021
Never cross a master of the bow . . .
A young archer bent on revenge against the knight who impoverished his family encounters an enigmatic stranger who promises him a far more potent form of retribution. But when Thomas finds himself hurled by magic to fight battles in faraway lands, he soon discovers that the vengeance his mysterious benefactor offers could change not only one archer’s destiny, but that of the entire world.
A masterful short historical fantasy full of magic, archery, and intrigue by the author of the acclaimed Greatcoats and Spellslinger series.
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The Fox and the Bowman
A Short Story of Magic and Archery
Sebastien de Castell
Contents
1. The Fox and the Bowman
Afterword
Other Books By Sebastien de Castell
Want More Stories?
About the Author
THE FOX AND THE BOWMAN
Copyright © 2014, 2021 Sebastien de Castell
An earlier version of this story originally appeared in The Book of the Emissaries in 2015
All rights reserved.
Published by Dashing Blades 2021
Vancouver, B.C., Canada
No parts of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the copyright owner.
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser. Under no circumstances may any part of this book be photocopied for resale.
This is a work of fiction. Any similarity between the characters and situations within its pages and places or persons, living or dead, is unintentional and co-incidental.
The Fox and the Bowman
The faint creak of the bow let Thomas know he’d drawn it as far as the yew would allow before breaking. Two hundred yards at least, he thought, and prayed that his position atop the hill would help him bridge the distance. If he couldn’t hit Sir Hammond from here, if the steel tip of the arrow failed to pierce the bastard’s armour, then all his sacrifice would have been for naught.
Thomas squinted, barely able to make out the golden eagle crest on Sir Hammond’s tabard. Letting out one last breath, he aimed for the dead centre of the eagle and hoped a sudden wind wouldn't take his arrow astray.
“That’s an odd sort of bird you’re hunting tonight,” a voice called out.
Thomas spun around. “Who’s there?” He trained his bow on a man of middle years stepping out from behind the trees.
“I’m not entirely sure it’s legal to shoot fowl of that particular breed, and I’m positive it won’t taste very good.”
The intruder’s hair and short, neatly trimmed beard were reddish brown, almost russet, framing angular features and a cocky smile. His long leather coat, fringed in silver fur at the collar, marked him as a foreigner, at least from these parts. Glinting rings, each bearing colourful gemstones, decorated long, manicured fingers. The man might have been a wealthy merchant, or perhaps a minor noble, but what mattered most was that he was a witness to Thomas’s impending crime.
“Don’t come any closer!” Thomas warned. “Go back the way you came, forget you were ever here, and I’ll let you live.” He did his best to muster the tone of an angry soldier, but what came out was a quivering mess.
“Now why on earth would I want to do that?” the nobleman asked.
He walked casually over to the edge of the outcrop next to where Thomas knelt, seemingly unconcerned that he might soon find an arrow in his belly.
“It’s not the worst plan I’ve ever seen,” the intruder said, idly gazing down at the scene below. “Sir Hammond goes down to that little cottage every evening, I imagine? Perhaps to meet with a secret lover?” Without turning his gaze, the nobleman reached out a finger and casually brushed the tip of Thomas’ arrow. “Shooting from this height might even give you enough speed and force to pierce that armour.” He removed his finger and tapped it against his lips. “Good thinking. I always say, ‘if you’re going to commit a murder, a hill makes a very discrete accomplice.’”
“Who said anything about murder? I’m just out here—”
