Lyner ran hard, ran fast and battered his body as he forced himself to ignore the pain of having all manners of plants and branches slapping his body while he ventured forward. The occasional glimpses Lyner took behind him showed him that Roland was still hot on the chase, but the man's age was catching up with him and Lyner found the opportunity to vanish from the man's field of vision by ducking into a depression he spotted two yards in the distance. The Syliran crouched low, so low that his ears were touching the soil and his chest was pressed against grass. Startled by the boy's sudden disappearance Roland frantically moved forward... and Lyner surprised the man, throwing a fist full of soil into the wizard's eyes. Roland raged, throwing fire blindly around him and Lyner used the chance to get away... far enough so the flames couldn't touch hum but still within range to shoot the man's heart with an arrow. Roland stopped panicking and had the presence of mind to wash away the dirt from his eyes with his drinking water but the boy was no longer visible. He looked around cautiously, trying to find traces of the boy's passing in the dirt. But Lyner had hopped from place to place making his footprints hard to trace. The light piercing through the treetops helped little to make Lyner visible, Roland's reason for bringing them here early was backfiring on him now. Soon Lyner saw the man move past him... now was the time for him to gamble. He confirmed his stance without looking, the closed stance he'd learned to mimic from a couple hours a day spent watching knights practice from behind them. One foot forward, the other back, feet spaced a shoulder's width apart. 'You're at the archery range.' he told himself in an effort to slow his heart, his pulse and his breathing. 'The sun is shining down, the wind is cool upon your skin and you have all the time in the world... all the time in the world to make this shot.' He felt sweat trickle down his neck and he noticed the tension of his hands. 'Hold the bow, Lyner, not too tightly. It isn't a hammer. Just enough pressure man, firm but loose. Finger tension will just cause your aim to be deflected from the target.' his relaxed grip would contribute to his accuracy. As for holding bow itself, he continued to hold it with his knuckles at a 45 degree angle grip. 'Always keep the bow pointed at your prize man, if you lose sight of that no matter how perfect every other step is you botch this shot.' he adjusted it's position, sliding wooden arc with minute adjustments so he could feel the pressure against the ball of his thumb rather than permitting it to rest in the curve of his palm. With the majority of the pressure on the top of the ball of the thumb he knew his fingers were out of the way. When he was sure that his arm wouldn't fold and was firm he pushed it forward, just like he would push a door open. He would use everything from his fingers all the way up his shoulders like a single joined object. "Aim, draw and keep on aiming on the bastard. Never lose sight of him." the whisper was so weak, it was unlikely that even a person standing beside him would be able to make out any words. He drew the string and notched the arrow, three fingers drawing it with the arrow pinched between the index and middle finger. All the while, Lyner aimed, his thoughts weren't in this forest, he was in the archery range and the furious man yards before him was just another target. And then he fired, still holding the bow and without even waiting for the arrow to reach it's mark he reached out for his last arrow and nocked it into the bowstring. The habit would let him survive the crazy wizard. His first arrow missed the target by a good foot or two... but it provided him with knowledge, now he knew what to do to fix his aim. 'Keep aiming... Keep aiming!' With the slightest adjustment of his arm he fired again and by the time Roland saw Lyner and his arrow, he was too late to avoid it. The wizard twisted his body, trying to get away but the second and final arrow pierced his thigh and plowed itself into thick sinew maybe touching even bone. The mage fell, his anguished scream echoing even with all these trees around them to muffle the cry. Lyner realized that the attack wasn't fatal, Roland would live if he nursed his wound and stayed where he was to attend to it. He didn't wait and see if the man could recover, he didn't have an arrow to shoot him down and he wasn't going to risk approaching the man for a killing blow only to get barbecued. The Syliran ran back to the clearing hoping that the injury would slow Roland down. |