Arrows at Dawn (Iasc)

[Guido Faragas]

“Good shooting,” said Guido with a hint of admiration in his voice. “I’ll take my shots and then we can proceed to the moving target". He strolled languidly to the line and, once again, took an open stance. Rather than instantly raising his bow, he took a chime or two to compose his thoughts and relax. Briefly, he closed his eyes and concentrated on controlling his breath. He slowly inhaled, held the breath for a short time and then exhaled – then, he repeated the exercise a few times. He had learnt from his reimancy, that relaxation and meditation was the key to performing well.

He nocked his first arrow into the bow and silently recited the mantra he now used before every shot. Slow, easy and fluid. Slowly but in a flowing motion, he raised his arm and drew back the string a little way. He sighted slightly above the target, drew the string fully back and shot the arrow, keeping his arm and head as still as possible. The arrow flew and struck just inside the third ring towards the bottom of the target. One point, a poor start. For the second arrow, he adjusted his sight upwards an inch or so and repeated his firing motion with much greater success. A bull’s eye – five points. He took his third arrow quickly, trying to emulate his previous success. It just clipped the inside of the innermost ring.

“Eleven points each,” stated Guido as he retrieved the arrows. “It all depends on the swinging target. Your go, I think.”

[Iasc]

Iasc shook his head smiling as Guido's last arrow hit it's mark. After the first shot he thought he would build up a bit of a lead. Guido, however, had obviously thought differently. As he strolled over to the moving target Iasc followed, pulling three arrows out of his quiver.

The young man moved to the line and let two of the arrows fall to the ground. He, ever so slightly, bounced up and down on his toes trying to compose himself. He could see the mark he had previously made in the tree behind and aimed towards it. He tried to judge the timing right but, unfortunately, his over-eagerness meant that he loosed his first arrow to early and it missed the log by quite a margin.

He slowed down for his next shot, taking the time to stretch his upper back muscles carefully. He nocked the arrow waiting for the log. As it started to move he bided his time and, when he felt the moment was right, he sent the arrow flying. He shot a little earlier than he would have liked but the arrow still managed to find the edge of the log. Not a great shot but he still had one left. He needed to hit the centre if he wanted any chance of winning.

He decided to repeat his approach to the previous shot just in case he could get some extra luck from it. All he needed to alter was his timing. He sighted the target as it moved on it's trajectory, swinging in it's predictable pattern. As he released the arrow, he stumbled forward a step or two before regaining his balance, just in time to see the arrow hit the tail end of the log. He let out a sigh before stepping aside and letting Guido take his attempts. He felt defeated, as if he had thrown the victory to Guido before it was over.

[Guido Faragas]

“You scored six points,” said Guido as took his position on the line. He placed one foot in front of the other and took his open stance. His heart was beating rapidly from the excitement of the competition and he hurried his first arrow. Raising his arm far too fast, he failed to fully sight on the point behind the log’s lowest point and was rewarded by seeing his arrow fly well above his target, even missing the tree that stood proudly behind the log. Annoyed and angry, he failed to learn from his mistake and shot his second arrow too quickly – it sailed past the log before burying itself in the tree.

He lowered his bow with a shake of his head. One arrow left. I must hit the centre of the target or I have lost and i will owe Iasc an ale. Taking several deep breaths, Guido tried to calm himself down. He allowed the focus of his eyes to fall on the tree behind the swinging log, identifying the point where he needed to aim. This time, he drew the bow in a more fluid fashion. The arrow flew from his bow: it travelled in what appeared to the archer to be slow motion. At first, he was convinced he had missed – but then, there was a reassuring thud as the arrow embedded itself in the log. He stared at the still swinging log. Remarkably, the arrow had found the centre of the target.

Guido turned to Iasc. “An honourable draw, my friend.” He held out his hand, offering to shake it with his competitor.

[Iasc]

As Guido's last arrow headed for the log, slicing through the air in slow motion, Iasc had his hands covering the sides of his face. He couldn't believe the the archer had missed his first two shots. One of the first lessons Iasc learned was not to let emotion get in the way of your goal. Guido appeared to have gotten angry and that is why his second shot missed. “Keep calm and collective and your shot will be true.”
Iasc watched as the arrow buried itself in the tree, and he smiled. They had drawn. A fair result in his mind and something to be proud of.

“I agree”, Iasc responded to Guido's statement. He took the man's hand and shook it enthusiastically. “It's better than losing. My heart was in my mouth at the end there”, he added. “That was quite a fine shot.”

He paused for a moment to take in his surroundings and collect his thoughts. “Oh”, he remembered, turning back to Guido. “Any chance you could tell me the story of how you came by that beautiful bow? There's a mug of ale in it for you if you want.”

[Guido Faragas]

“The story of my bow is.... interesting.” Guido grinned as he spoke, fingering the elegantly carved bow in his hand. “In truth, there are two stories. The one I tell in the Stallion to earn a few coins and the second, which is the truth. It is not as dramatic or entertaining as the embellished tale but, nevertheless, it contains an interesting mystery. Your fine shooting deserves the truth, so I will tell you the tale. Of course, the price is still a mug of ale, as you so kindly offered. I don’t want to get a reputation for offering my services for free! But have a drink on me first.” He extricated a small water bottle from his backpack and took a quick swig before offering it to Iasc. Then, he took a seat on the large, flat stone at the edge of the clearing, motioning for Iasc to sit beside him.

“As you know, I often go on archaelogical digs with my father. They are usually a waste of time – following wild tales from storytellers in the taverns. Still, on occasion, we get a commission and find something of value - and the excavations have helped me to develop my skills. The true story of the bow begins with the visit of a stranger to my father’s warehouse...”

The True Story of the Bow (part 1) I was busy organising the stock in the warehouse, which is just a couple of rented rooms my father uses to store goods he is distributing around the city. I was taking a break, half dozing, when I was aroused by a loud knock on the door. I opened it, expecting to see my father or one of his labourer’s – however, it was a fellow I didn’t recognise at all. He was exceedingly short, being scarcely more than two-thirds my own height. In one hand he held a battered old book which he was waving in the air and in the other hand he held a staff, which I soon realised was to help him walk, for he had a lame right leg. Before I had chance to speak he spoke in a loud, excited voice. “We must go there before anyone else finds out. We should leave tomorrow at the latest.” There was a dry edge to his voice as if his throat was starved of moisture. As he spoke he waved the book in front of my face and I was forced to take evasive action. I was a little flummoxed if truth be told but I assumed my father had sent him as he had gone to the Stallion early that night and could well have met up with the eccentric old man. In any event, I just stood there with my mouth wide open. “I would suggest closing that orifice unless you are intent on catching a fly.” The old man bent close to me, levering himself up a little to look into my mouth. “Quite good teeth,” he commented and then flopped himself down on a stool. “We leave for the Bronze Woods as soon as it is light tomorrow. I have a horse upon which I can perch but I am no rider so you must lead me. And then we will search for....” He paused for a long while and then grinned: “... the treasure.” Treasure. I groaned – it was bound to be another foolish escapade of my father’s.

Guido paused and extricated a few pieces of dried bread from a pocket in the side of his backpack, offering a piece to Iasc. “This archery has made my hungry.”

“Tell me, my friend, before I continue,” continued Guido. “Do you have as many problems with your father as I do with mine, or am I just unlucky?”

[Iasc]

Iasc sat down beside Guido and gratefully accepted a few drops of the man's water before giving his water bottle back to him. He listened to every word the youth said, already intrigued by the story. He loved to hear tales of adventure and this promised to be a good one, it seemed.

He was taken aback when Guido changed the subject to their fathers. Iasc hadn't thought about his father for a while, and had never told anyone of the horrors he went through at the hands of the man. That man who was addicted to alcohol and gambling. His two vices that fed his third one. The one that made the latter part of Iasc's childhood and his teen-age years a living hell. Violence. The memories came upon him, hitting him again and again, like the waves against a cliff. The physical scars he received may have healed, but the emotional ones still lingered. It took all his willpower to keep his composure and not break down.

“My father?” Iasc wondered aloud. “I never really had any problems with him”, he lied. “I had a very normal childhood, I suppose. He died a few years back, don't think about him much these days.”

He couldn't tell Guido the truth, not yet anyway. He had only met the man the night before.
“Why do you ask?” Iasc inquired trying not to sound too suspicious.
He was barely able to think straight.

[Guido Faragas]

Iasc’s dismissed Guido’s question quickly. He clearly doesn’t want to talk about his father. Perhaps there is nothing to tell or maybe he is hiding something. Still, it is none of my business.

“I have a difficult relationship with my father,” explained Guido. A sad expression coated his face for a brief moment before he shrugged. “I often wonder if I am alone in this or others share the same experiences. That’s the only reason I asked: sometimes it helps to share such things – it is a way of learning.”

“Anyway, let me continue with the next part of the story.”

The True Story of the Bow (part 2) “Treasure,” I replied cautiously. “What sort of treasure?” “Aaah, that’s for Baltimus to know,” said the strange fellow, tapping the side of his nose with a short stubby finger. “But here’s where we go.” He fumbled about in the pages of the book he held and produced a scruffy looking map. He handed it to me. The map had a musty odour and was drawn in a childlike manner. It clearly showed a trail from the gates of the city to an area of the Bronze Forest a day or so away. “I have heard that your father is an expert archaeologist,” Baltimus continued. “I expect that you act as his labourer or apprentice. If you will tell him I wish to hire both your services, then we can be off at first light.” Once again, the short man fumbled for something, this time in a hidden pocket. He produced a half-eaten apple, frowned, took a bite and then spat it out, mumbling “yesterday’s lunch.” Throwing the apple core on the floor, he once again delved into his inner pocket. This time he managed to produce a long piece of string. He frowned and proceeded to pull it from his pocket. The string emerged slowly for a full chime before its end emerged – tied to small piece of cloth with a knot in it. “That’s probably to remind me not to forget something,” he said slowly. “But I can’t recall what it was. How disconcerting” Finally, he produced a small pouch of coins and jangled them a little before putting them on his lap.”Twenty gold coins here and the same when we return - double that as a bonus if we find what I am looking for.” I needed no further inducement. If the old fellow took us on a wild goose chase, then we would still be well paid. I told him that we would take him and promised to meet him the next morning. Strangely, just before he left, he turned in the doorway, pushed himself up on tiptoes and gazed into my eyes. “Keen eyes,” he observed, pursing his lips. “Keep them keen, you may need them.”

Guido paused. “It rather ironic that I am thought of as my father’s apprentice – I like to think that at least in archaeological matters, I know far more than he does.” There was an evident trace of bitterness in his voice as he broke off from the story.

[Iasc]

Iasc laughed his way through the second part of Guido's story, briefly forgetting about his father.

After Guido had finished, however, Iasc's laughter stopped almost immediately. He became very serious, his face distant, devoid of emotion.
“Sometimes it helps to share such things – it is a way of learning”, the young man had said. “Maybe it will help”, Iasc found himself thinking. Guido had shared a lot with him and it would be good manners to repay him in a similar way. His inexperience with situations like this meant he didn't know how to begin. He decided just to dive in at the deep end.

“My father was a...man of many guises”, he began, rather bluntly. “He has been many things to me over my life, many things to a lot of people. He charmed people, a little bit like yourself, but he did it to take advantage of those people. You could meet him one night and have a pleasant conversation and then the next night he would be someone completely different. It was just the way he operated.
“He spent a lot of time at the Stallion and the Spinning Coin. He would spend all his money on ale, recoup his loses by getting 'donations' from people and then lose all that money through gambling. He was addicted to gambling and alcohol, you see, and would do most anything to feed his habits.”
Iasc paused for a moment to give himself time to think.

“He was a Syliran Knight by trade”, He continued. “A fighter through and through. He would start a fight with anyone who would retaliate, and even those who wouldn't. It led to his downfall.
“I told you that he died. That isn't true, well it could be true, I'm not sure. He left the city, or rather got kicked out. My uncle got fed up with him and told him to leave, but that's a whole other story. It's quite a sad story”. Iasc began to smile, becoming more cheerful. "Too sad for such a nice day. I could tell you at another time if you'd like. Anyway, I'm no storyteller. It would pale in comparison to your one".

He stopped talking to let Guido continue his story.

[Guido Faragas]

Guido listened to Iasc’s tale in silence. He sighed when the story was finished. “It seems we have more in common than just archery, friend. Perhaps your father and mine were hewn from the same block of stone. My father’s addiction is to dreams – the dream of making his fortune by digging up some valuable artefact. It is just as deadly an addiction as ale. It consumes him at the expense of his family. You must tell me as much or little of the story of your father as you wish. I will listen if it helps you.”

With a grimace, the storyteller continued the tale of the bow.

The True Story of the Bow (part 3) The journey to the supposed site of the treasure was uneventful. My father was a little morose - I’m not sure why – perhaps he was irritated that Baltimus would say nothing of substance about where we were going; or, perhaps he was suffering the after effects of a night in the Stallion. In any event, my father was blissfully silent. The same could not be said for my other companion, who prattled incessantly about the most trivial things. The flowers were “wonderfully fragrant”, the woods were “outstandingly foliaged” and the trail “satisfyingly circuitous.” This went on and on for bell after bell. Fortunately, I am well versed in relaxation techniques and so I simply blanked out his chattering after a while. After a day and a half’s travel, Baltimus became even more agitated than usual. “Here, we are here!” He pointed to a small, side-trail that led deeper into the forest. I would never have noticed the trail if he had not pointed it out. The trail was overgrown and scarcely wide enough to lead through the horse upon which Baltimus was perched. We all suffered numerous bruises and scratches and my father began complaining loudly. Baltimus just ignored him and started singing. It was a rather inappropriate song about some lady of easy virtue and it nearly made my ears burn. Still, it kept the fellow happy and it was slightly more acceptable than his previous witterings. I have a feeling he sang it to irritate my father, for he gave me a huge wink as we went down the trail. Eventually, the trail ended in a small clearing, strewn with what appeared at first sight to be overgrown mounds. On closer inspection, it was clear that the mounds were the overgrown remnants of some ruined building. Baltimus jumped down from his horse and literally skipped around the clearing. “Get your tools out,” he shouted. “Let us begin at once.” I felt a touch of excitement myself: at least, there were signs of some ancient ruins – often I arrived at a site with no evidence on anything being present. But, as usual, my father didn’t share my enthusiasm. “Just looks like a petching old cottage,” he grumbled. “There’ll be nothin’ of value here.” He stomped off to one side of the clearing, sat down on a low mound and pulled a few rations from his sack.

Guido shrugged and paused for a chime, taking another swig from his water bottle.

[Iasc]

Iasc took in a deep breath and smiled weakly. He could feel the conviction in Guido's words even though talking about the subject of his father felt very awkward for him, almost unnatural. “An addiction is an addiction”, he mentioned, trying not to let his discomfort show. “It consumes the body and soul wholly until nothing of one's sanity remains.” He was looking at the ground and shifting a stone around with his feet, deep in thought.

Suddenly he raised his head. “We must not continue in this sombre mood.” A big smile crossed his face. “As I have already said, it is too sad a tale for such a nice day, but I thank you for your concern. I may tell you it soon, but not today.” He let his enthusiasm show, nodding his head as he spoke and slapping his legs with his hands.


As Iasc listened to Guido's story he tried to banish all other thought from his mind. He took breath in through his nose and out through his mouth and didn't let a word escape his ears. As he listened to the tale the young man was telling, he let all his emotions express themselves. “It seems to me that you are more the father and he the son, sulking away like that”, Iasc observed with a laugh. “Very entertaining”, he added.