Falling Skyward

Chapter Thirty-Seven: Striking the Heart

Lana breathed deeply. Then she released. The arrow glanced off the edge of the target.

"Better," Taren conceded. "But still not good."

Lana wanted to scream. "This is hopeless. Why does it matter if I know how to shoot your behemoth of a bow? I've gotten by all right so far."

"Yes, but you can't always rely on luck in the future."

"And who said that saving your life twice was luck?"

Taren thought for a moment. "You know, you might have a point."

Lana hid her surprise. "Thank you."

"I have an idea," he said, biting his lip. "Let's just try a few more shots, then we can call it quits, okay?"

Taren ran to retrieve the arrows, giving Lana no time to protest. When he returned, he handed them to Lana with one piece of advice. "Forget everything I have told you."

Lana opened her mouth, about to deliver a biting retort, but Taren shook his head, speaking over her.

"I don't want to hear how you never listen to anything I say anyway or how frustrating I am. Just listen—for once, listen. Now, close your eyes."

Lana gave Taren a perturbed, exasperated look before obeying.

"Now, block out everything else but my voice, and try your best to picture what I am saying. Imagine you are back in the canyon—utterly alone. Imagine the only creature there with you is a scrog, the one that maimed you. Dawson and I are too far away to hear you scream. The scrog is running toward you, coming faster and faster."

Lana began swaying, fear making her heart pound. She didn't know how he managed it, but every word Taren uttered seemed to speak an image directly into her mind. Even when she tried to open her eyes, Lana could see that crouching, reptilian creature running for her, hunting her.

"The canyon walls seem to bend around him, circling, just like a target. You feel afraid." At those words, Lana shuddered, the air inexplicably chilled.

"But then, you remember. You have your bow—your bow and only one arrow. But the scrog is moving fast. Your aim will have to be perfect. You'll have to hit it directly in it's large, black eye, so the arrow will drive deep." Lana felt her focus narrowing, her chest tightening.

"Now, open your eyes and shoot."

Without conscious thought, Lana opened her eyes, adjusted her stance, and released the arrow. It sunk deep in the heart of the target's innermost circle.

She breathed out shakily, releasing the tension in her body.

Lana looked at Taren, disbelieving. "Was that you?"

He shook his head. "That, my dear, is all you," he said, pointing to the arrow.

"But . . ." Lana didn't have any words to follow. Then she remembered the fear.

"Wait, how did you do that?" she asked.

"How many times do I have to explain, it was you who shot the arrow."

"No, how did you speak like that?" Lana paused for a moment. "It was strange. Somehow, it felt as though you spoke images directly into my head, like I couldn't control what I was thinking or feeling."

"Oh, that," Taren said bashfully. "It's an Imaman practice, one many in Altymia are not fond of. It's rumored the shadoweaters communicate in the same way."