the bow, and moved himself into position. They appeared as shadows. Movement that he could see, but bodies that he couldn’t. He brought the bow up, but didn’t pull back, yet. He wanted a good shot at one of them, but if he was quick enough, he would get two arrows off. That would leave just one on one. And if it was just the tracker left, he just might run away, knowing he was out-weaponed.
One of the armed men came out from the underbrush first. It surprised Conner a bit, but it didn’t make him concerned. The tracker might just be sending the muscle through first. His armed companion came through second, and Conner’s thoughts were solely on targeting the men. He pulled the bowstring back, closed his left eye, and aimed for the first man’s chest. He could see the man’s eyes. Not clear enough to tell if they were the dark brown that were common of Thellians, or if they were the blue or green that were common among his own people. But he could see eyes. He could see the stern facial expression. The man breathed, scratched an itch. Conner pulled back farther, readying to fire, but his hands were frozen. The man’s chest was on target, but Conner couldn’t release the arrow. He wanted to, but his hands were stopping him. It was a man who was coming down the trail. Not a deer. Or a wolf. Or a large black bear. Maybe he was just as dangerous, or likely more dangerous than the grizzlies that prowled the mountains to the north. But he was a man. He breathed. He lived. He thought. He had a father and a mother. Maybe he was married and had children. He was older with a bit of gray around the temples. He could be as old as his father would have been when he was born. It could have been someone just like his father. Or even just like himself.
He lowered the bow. He couldn’t do it. He did it when he had to, when he didn’t have to think about it. But now they would kill him and Elissa. Probably without thought or remorse. But he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t kill a man this way, without him knowing that it was coming. An anger burned inside, an anger directed at himself. He didn’t know what to do now. He had to kill them, but it didn’t happen. It wouldn’t happen. He release tension on the bow, and wept at his cowardice.
“Don’t move.” The voice startled Conner so much that he jumped and let the arrow fall to the ground. He turned to find the tracker facing him, a long, thin hunting knife held comfortably in front of him, ready to slice or thrust.
Conner knew he looked ridiculous, tear streaks down his cheeks, a bow in one hand, an arrow on the ground, and three more stuck in the dirt.
“Relax,” the man said. “My name is Marik. I am a ranger and a Knight of Karmon.” The man lowered the knife. “We are here to bring the princess home.”
Conner was stunned. He turned to look at the two men coming up the trail, two men whose life he almost ended. He looked down at his bow and the arrows. “I almost…”
“Yes, you did,” Marik said. “Whatever held your hand, I am glad it did.”
Conner felt worse. He was ashamed. He knew what it was that held his hand, it was fear. Cowardice. He had the chance to save Elissa and he failed. Yes, it worked out. He didn’t need to kill a man. And if he had, who knows what the ranger would have done to him. But he felt worse for his failure. He took his bow, grabbed his arrows, and followed the ranger back to where he had left Elissa.
***
Marik spent most of his time ahead of the group, scouting the best path for them to follow. But when they rested, the ranger and Elissa sat away from everyone else, talking quietly. Conner and the other two knights followed mostly in silence. They chatted some, but the two knights didn’t seem to desire idle conversation. They were polite enough, but it was clear they didn’t have
One of the armed men came out from the underbrush first. It surprised Conner a bit, but it didn’t make him concerned. The tracker might just be sending the muscle through first. His armed companion came through second, and Conner’s thoughts were solely on targeting the men. He pulled the bowstring back, closed his left eye, and aimed for the first man’s chest. He could see the man’s eyes. Not clear enough to tell if they were the dark brown that were common of Thellians, or if they were the blue or green that were common among his own people. But he could see eyes. He could see the stern facial expression. The man breathed, scratched an itch. Conner pulled back farther, readying to fire, but his hands were frozen. The man’s chest was on target, but Conner couldn’t release the arrow. He wanted to, but his hands were stopping him. It was a man who was coming down the trail. Not a deer. Or a wolf. Or a large black bear. Maybe he was just as dangerous, or likely more dangerous than the grizzlies that prowled the mountains to the north. But he was a man. He breathed. He lived. He thought. He had a father and a mother. Maybe he was married and had children. He was older with a bit of gray around the temples. He could be as old as his father would have been when he was born. It could have been someone just like his father. Or even just like himself.
He lowered the bow. He couldn’t do it. He did it when he had to, when he didn’t have to think about it. But now they would kill him and Elissa. Probably without thought or remorse. But he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t kill a man this way, without him knowing that it was coming. An anger burned inside, an anger directed at himself. He didn’t know what to do now. He had to kill them, but it didn’t happen. It wouldn’t happen. He release tension on the bow, and wept at his cowardice.
“Don’t move.” The voice startled Conner so much that he jumped and let the arrow fall to the ground. He turned to find the tracker facing him, a long, thin hunting knife held comfortably in front of him, ready to slice or thrust.
Conner knew he looked ridiculous, tear streaks down his cheeks, a bow in one hand, an arrow on the ground, and three more stuck in the dirt.
“Relax,” the man said. “My name is Marik. I am a ranger and a Knight of Karmon.” The man lowered the knife. “We are here to bring the princess home.”
Conner was stunned. He turned to look at the two men coming up the trail, two men whose life he almost ended. He looked down at his bow and the arrows. “I almost…”
“Yes, you did,” Marik said. “Whatever held your hand, I am glad it did.”
Conner felt worse. He was ashamed. He knew what it was that held his hand, it was fear. Cowardice. He had the chance to save Elissa and he failed. Yes, it worked out. He didn’t need to kill a man. And if he had, who knows what the ranger would have done to him. But he felt worse for his failure. He took his bow, grabbed his arrows, and followed the ranger back to where he had left Elissa.
***
Marik spent most of his time ahead of the group, scouting the best path for them to follow. But when they rested, the ranger and Elissa sat away from everyone else, talking quietly. Conner and the other two knights followed mostly in silence. They chatted some, but the two knights didn’t seem to desire idle conversation. They were polite enough, but it was clear they didn’t have
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