Zan stumbled down the passageway with the others from Dimsopa dorm. The gentle sound of muttering flitted around them as they went, getting louder with every stride.
They'd been woken moments earlier by a loud bang that rattled their beds, causing dust to spray down from the cavernous roof. Zan had slowly risen while muttering an expletive at the unpleasant feeling of having to wipe the sleep from his eyes, and the dust from his mouth.
The bang had been quickly followed by a knock at the door, and the words "It is time." Salan had jumped up to check if he could open the door, and it swung open with ease. He'd peered around but shook his head, seemingly unable to catch a glimpse of the knocker.
Zan had neither the care nor the energy to get up so quickly. He'd had a rotten night, with the thoughts of the assessments whirring around in his mind. Sometimes the thoughts passed through at such speed as to make them seem like a blur. And his sister was never far away from his conscience. Did I do the right thing?
It seemed like the others had had similar nights, judging by the way they were casually bumping into the side walls, and tripping over their own feet. That is, except for Salan. He'd snored his way through the night, pretty much as soon as his head hit the mattress. He'd slept as if neither a worry nor a fretful flicker entered his mind. It must be what confidence does, Zan thought.
He followed Salan, who paced out in front. He had a swagger that made it seem he knew where he was going, though Zan wasn’t really sure about that. Only a small and occasional whiff of less stale air made him believe it might be the right way, by luck or judgement. Besides, if it wasn't the right way, then where? They hadn't approached any forks when a decision might be needed since they left their dorm.
The racket of loud mouths grew as they walked, like a train carriage pulling into a station. Up ahead was a square double door, with one closed and one ajar. Zan squinted and made out some movement beyond as they approached.
Salan pushed open both doors fully, and they swung into a huge chamber. It had a gravelly floor that crunched and scraped under foot as they moved further in. The chamber ceiling was shrouded in a great blackness. Zan guessed it to be a hundred feet high or more given that it was difficult to make out where it stopped. The light of the room seemed to drain into it.
It was like another world inside a mountain, unlike anything he had seen before. The floor of the cavern sloped downward towards the far end, of which Zan could only make out small dots walking about such was the distance.
Rays of golden light shone like solid bars at regular spacing's all the way down the side of the chamber. It seemed like direct daylight coming from tubular segments drilled into the rock.
The cavern walls were mostly made of red bed rock – as warm as it was uninteresting. But there were numerous outcrops of brightly coloured crystal which glistened as they caught the light. Red turned into deep magentas and violets, and hints of green and blue reflections in some of the gemstones.
Zan's head turned in all directions, and he kept looking upwards with his mouth agape, and his eyes as wide as frying pans. How had he never learned before of a place so amazing?
A flat hand slapped him across his back. "Well this is a fine place, wouldn't you say so young Zan?" Salan looked around as he spoke. Zan just looked back at him, and though Salan rarely convinced when he smiled, the wake of this one was different. More sincere.
As they stood and marvelled, a brown robed figure entered the periphery. The figure was walking briskly toward them up the slope and pointing in their direction. "You there!" The figure de-hooded and revealed a man at least fifty years old. He was puffing and panting, and his white hair lashed about his dark olive skin as if trying to beat his weathered face. "You four, come along," the man beckoned. He was not one that Zan had seen before. "Follow me, today's assessment has already begun, and you don't want to be left behind."
Zan followed Salan down the slope towards the other candidates, who were spaced out as far as the eye could see. At least thirty metres in front of each person there were round target boards, with green and purple circles painted around a large black dot in the centre.
"The first assessment day involves long range combat," the man said. "My name is Venlo. I am here to show you the basics, but after that, you're on your own." He walked over to a small pile of heaped wood and string and hauled two rudimentary longbows from the tangled mess.
"I don't need to be taught 'the basics'," Salan scoffed as he looked back towards Zan and smiled.
Venlo held the two weapons down by his side, put his fingers around the grip and lifted the string horizontal. They looked like they'd been an assessment apparatus used by potentials here for a hundred years. Venlo looked at Salan without expression - his stare was icy cold. "As you were the last to enter the Great Cavern, you will have the farthest to go." He shoved one of the bows into Salan's stomach and the other into Zan's, causing him to double over and groan. Venlo looked unimpressed and proceeded to offer Vox and Arg a bow each in a similarly aggressive fashion. He gathered a quiver of arrows and walked off towards the other side of the cavern, breathing heavily.
As they followed, trudging across the coarse stones, the cool air from outside struck Zan's face as he passed one of the light openings. His cowl nearly blew back from his head forcing him to hold it tight around his neck, and he closed his eyes for a moment to appreciate the sensation. It was a momentary relief from the heat of the mountain.
At the side of each potential stood a member of The Order dressed in the traditional black robes. They all held a bound parchment by their sides which they lifted up periodically to make notes or to keep score, Zan assumed.
The constant gentle thuds of arrows piercing the boards made Zan wary. The others didn't seem to care, but every time another one reached his ears, he couldn't help look around at the bow it was released from. It would only take one off target shot, whether by accident or not, and his fate wouldn't be decided by an assessor.
They halted when they reached the final boards and an arrow whooshed past Zan, brushing his cloak and then falling harmlessly to the floor. He turned instantly, though he guessed who it might be. A few metres away Telexin stood with his bow cocked back against his shoulder. He revealed his teeth through a hideous grin while motioning his index finger across his neck.
The assessor looked across to the fallen arrow before holding up the parchment to start scribbling.
"Sorry!" Telexin shouted, his insincerity laughably obvious.
Zan stared at him and pursed his lips. "What's your problem?" He was about to walk over but someone tugged at his arm. It was Vox and she just shook her head. "Leave him, we will all be judged at some point and when that happens, he will understand the feeling of regret," she said.
"Bastard," Zan muttered under his breath before turning around to concentrate on the task at hand.
He stood in line with the other three as instructed by Venlo who waited at the end. "Now, hand me your bow," he said, holding his hand out towards Salan. "Watch closely." He selected an arrow from the quiver on his back. "You will notice the arrow has a ridging on the end. This is called the nock, and will help place it firmly on the bow string, like so." He proceeded to push it onto the string before lifting the bow to his chest. "Now, hold the grip on the bow with one hand, and with the other, pull on the string near the fletching. Don't touch the arrow itself - it won't fall if you have locked it correctly."
He pulled back at the bowstring. "How far you draw back is up to you. You will know what you are comfortable with when you try. Where you hold the string about your face before you let go is also up to you, and the position when you release is your anchor point. Find one that works and stick to it. Consistency is the key to a sharp shooter. The draw length must also be enough to provide enough thrust for it to reach target." He pulled the string back to the lower tip of his ear before straightening his finger. The bow bounded forward, shooting the arrow straight for the board. It struck on the second purple ring, much to Venlo's obvious annoyance.
"You will each now proceed in turn with one practice shot before the assessment begins."
Salan stepped forward with his bow. He pulled an arrow from the quiver which Venlo had placed on the floor, and took aim. The arrow released and looked to be going high above the board before it dipped and landed almost perfectly in the centre at an angle.
"Good," Venlo said, understating the quality of the shot.
"That was fantastic Salan," Zan said.
"I know," he replied with a grin. "Just aim with your arm. Follow it and you can't go wrong."
"Next," Venlo said, like an impatient shop assistant. Zan took a step forward and collected an arrow. He fiddled with the nock before pulling the bow string to his face. His arms struggled with the weight of it and his sweaty fingers slid up the string, knocking the fletching of the arrow before it fell to the ground.
Acutely aware that all eyes were on him, a rush of heat filtered about his body as he uncomfortably squirmed beneath his robe. Not to be deterred, or outdone, he picked the arrow up and tried again. He wiped the palms of his hands before locking the arrow nock in place and pulling the string back. This time he placed the anchor point up to his nose and aimed for the board, following his arm and making sure his grip hand was at the right placing. He held for a few seconds and his hand began wobbling under the stress before finally he let go. The arrow whizzed forward and looked good for the board before falling short and landing on the stones a few metres from where it was intended.
"Next," Venlo said.
Zan moved reluctantly aside to stand with Salan, who cocked his head to acknowledge Zan's effort.
Vox picked up an arrow, and struggled to hold the bow steady as she aimed. The shot was fired but went way off target without threatening to come close.
"Next." Arg stepped forward, and decided to place his anchor point near to his shoulder. As he was about to release, Venlo stopped him. "No, no, that's not how I showed you, it's all wrong. The anchor point should be up here somewhere about your face," he said, grabbing the bow and lifting it into position for him. Arg pulled the bow back to his original anchor point and turned to point the arrow at Venlo.
"No, Arg," Zan said. Venlo quickly side stepped and darted forward to grab the arrow before the string was released. Arg let his grip go, but his eyes showed no sign of regret.
"You dare to threaten me, boy." Venlo said, grabbing Arg's hair and pulling his head back with such force as to cause him to take a sharp breath. "If you don't obey me, I'll have you taken out faster than a flying firebeast. And I won't just be removing you from this cavern, I'll be removing you from this existence. Do we understand each other?" Venlo's gritted teeth and quiet aggression was at odds with his old and haggard appearance. Arg barely responded, but his eyes must have shown enough as Venlo released his grip. "Now, go again, and think yourself fortunate that I'm affording you another chance."
Arg lifted his bow, and pulled the anchor point to his cheek before letting go. It struck the board moments later just on the edge of the inner green circle.
"Good," Venlo said. "Your assessor will be along momentarily and then you shall each have fifty attempts, of which you will be graded on accuracy. The score will be totalled and you shall be ranked against your competitors. This score will, along with the other tests, go towards an overall rank to determine whether you are each worthy of the final test. I would wish you luck, but it won't help you here." He made his way back up to the front of the cavern, leaving Zan and the others to wait until the assessment could begin.
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