Page 53 of The Shadow Path
“It’s the same with a long bow.” Anwyn released the arrow with obvious expertise, hitting the target dead center as the soldiers around her murmured in approval. “Very good. Very smooth. Tremendous range. But slow. It takes too much time to set up a shot.”
“It is much slower than the short bow that Yurok people use,” Carys said. “I’ve been training on that one and my range isn’t as good, but it’s definitely faster.”
“The power is remarkable.” Anwyn examined the weapon. “An excellent machine.”
“I feel like it’s something you could reproduce here, but I don’t know about the fiberglass parts,” Carys said.
“It would be difficult with the materials we have available.” Anwyn shook her head. “Individual weapons? Perhaps. But nothing we could scale.”
“Understandable.”
Anwyn handed the compound bow back to Carys. “And what do you use for shooting from a coracle?”
“This one. The compound bow.” Carys lined up and took another shot, trying to ignore the curious eyes of the Cymric troops on her.
She didn’t hit the target dead center the way that Anwyn had, but she didn’t miss the target entirely. There were a few murmurs of approval, and then the majority of the men and women looking on returned to their own shooting.
“I use a short recurve when I’m focusing on speed, and like Cadell said, finding supplies for this one in the Shadowlands is not easy, so it’s important to learn both. I’m getting better with the recurve, but for accuracy and range, I’ve been training with this one. All the Chahta dragon riders use compound bows.”
“You’re not bad” —Anwyn’s mouth angled up at the corner— “for someone who’s only been training for six months.”
“Appreciate it. I’d like to spend more time on this and less on dancing, but there’s a party tomorrow and I’m required to attend.”
“You’re a curiosity. Walk with me.” Anwyn set down her own bow and started strolling behind the practicing archers. “You were a scholar before this?”
“Uh…” Carys smiled. “Yes. And I still am. I have to work. I teach at a university in the Brightlands.”
“What do you teach?”
“Mythology and world literature.”
Anwyn froze. “You teach poetry?”
“I mean, that’s part of it but?—”
“Not tactics? Political science? Not even military history?”
Carys blinked. “There’s politicsandhistory in literature and mythology, but no, most of what I teach is more in the humanities area. Poetry, if you like. Philosophy. Things like that.”
Anwyn blinked and muttered something in Cymric.
“Listen.” Carys lowered her voice. “I know that our uncle envisions some kind of… role for me here, but I want you to know that I don’t see things that way. I don’t— I’m not Seren. And I don’t want to be.”
Anwyn stepped back and did the looking-down-the-nose thing again, showing off her scar. “And yet the scholar with only six months of archery training has bonded with a legendary dragon, is a passable archer, and stabs trolls in the marketplace while trying to free human captives.”
“I don’t get what you’re trying to?—”
“You’re brave and bold,” Anwyn said. “And Eamer says you’re smart. You could learn quickly. My brother thinks you’re trying to maneuver me out of the way to take the throne. Is he right?”
“No. He’s not right.”
“Should he be right?”
Carys frowned. “What are you saying?”
Anwyn shrugged. “I love my country. And soldiers don’t always make the best leaders. Look at King Harold. He prefers books to the blade, but that doesn’t matter because he’s smart enough to promote Wynnflad to be his Chief Captain. Winnie is the soldier so Harold doesn’t have to be.”
“I don’t want to be queen of Cymru.”
