The Weaver's Source

Chapter 33

"That's it." Arthur said as he stepped back to observe my posture. "Now, aim for the dummy and let go."

I squinted at the straw sack that sat slumped at the other end of the long room. All the tables and chairs of the dining room were pressed up against the wall, out of the way, while Arthur watched me critically. Keeping my arm and back straight, I tried my best to line up the chipped iron head to the sack of hay, arguing with my limbs are the ached, then let go. The arrow flew but went wide, colliding with the wall then clattered to the floor. My shoulders sagged in disappointment and discomfort. Arthur however appeared pleased.

"Well done." He said. "You managed to get it to fly this time."

I smiled, taking some comfort that I had improved a little bit after four hours of training. Before, every time I let the arrow go, it just fell limply to the floor or didn't reach the other end of the hall. A tiny bubble of pride grew within my chest at the fact this arrow had hit the wall. That was until I began to cough horribly and the bubble of pride was replaced with pain.

"But I think this should be all for now." Arthur said, watching me worriedly. "I think I may have been pushing you too much."

I shook my head, clearing my throat of the last scratches of pain. "It's fine, just pain. We don't have much time so I'd prefer to practice as much as possible with you."

He frowned. "You have time. You can recover a little more first then I can continue teaching you."

"You said the storm will go in a couple of days though. As soon as we are able to leave, Grigore will want us to go. He won't stay any longer than necessary."

His frown deepened and a sigh escaped his mouth. "Well if you insist." He said as he scratched his nose. "But you have to rest a little while first before we continue."

I didn't particularly want to but I agreed to his wishes. I handed the bow back to him then quietly shuffled out of the long room and made my way through the crooked house to the library. By the time Arthur entered with tea, I was sitting on the floor with a collection of books surrounding me. I had picked out books on folklore and monsters in the hopes of learning more about what I could face out in the world and adapt appropriately, but some information seemed to contradict each other here and there, making me question which was the truth and which wasn't.

"You can take one if you want." He said as he poured out the hot liquid.

I looked up, confused. "Take what?"

"A book. You seem fond of them and appear to only have one book with you. If you can carry a couple more, you can take them from my collection."

My eyes lit up. "You'll let me do that?"

Arthur smiled and nodded his head as he handed me a cup. "You may enjoy having a little bit of choice of what to read on your travels."

I grinned. "I would but are you sure?"

"I am. Take any two you like and think you can carry for great distances."

I didn't need any more convincing. Instantly I was leafing through the numerous titles I had gathered and picked out ones I had become fond of from the shelf. Even after a couple of hours, I hadn't come to any sort of decision, partly because I was getting distracted and just ended up reading. I was forced to stop when Arthur said we should get back to my archery session.

A little forlorn at having to leave the numerous volumes that held such wonderful stories and helpful information, I followed him to our makeshift archery range. We continued with my training. I was annoyed to find that, while I may have managed to get the arrow to hit the wall, it wasn't to happen again. The arrow had returned to falling short and clattering against the stone floor. It irritated me and Arthur knew. He often gave me words of encouragement and corrected my posture or handling of the bow or arrow. It helped a bit. Arrows did hit the wall opposite now and then instead of not at all. I felt like I was beginning to get the hang of it at the end of the second hour. A few arrows even came close to hitting the sack.