The assessor distanced himself from the marking point where the potentials all stood when taking aim. After every shot he scribbled furiously on his parchment, while each member of the group looked across to see if they could glean any kind of answers from him. But he remained stony faced.
Zan's sixteenth try came about, and he held his bow aloft, pulling back the string and releasing. He'd changed his anchor point more than once, and settled on just to the side of his right nostril. It felt more comfortable there, though he hadn't yet hit the board - much to his frustration.
He let go, and the fletching grazed his cheek. He'd angled it higher this time to try and increase the distance it travelled. The arrow started to dip and fell into the gravel to the right of the board. He cursed under his breath, and his anger grew with every failure. The possibility of being denied the final test, whatever that may be, was simply not an option. He'd been given this chance and was resolutely determined to take it with both hands.
Vox was up next. She sent the arrow flying high and it came down with a thud, hitting the board on the outer ring. She breathed a sigh of relief and gave a subtle fist pump by the side of her robe. It was the second hit in a row for her, and she had been the most improved of the group.
Arg next stood on the marker, and promptly fired a shot which almost caught the edge of the bullseye. He returned to his place, standing beside Vox. Zan watched closely, and noticed no hint of emotion from him. There was neither a smile nor a sparkle in his eyes at his obvious skill with a bow.
Salan stepped up and fired his sixteenth, hitting the centre point perfectly, as had all his previous attempts. Though envious, Zan couldn't help but admire the consistency of him given the difficulty and how far away the target was. He bowed his head in acknowledgement as Salan swaggered back to join the group.
"How am I doing?" Salan asked as he looked across. The assessors face was obscured by the shadow of his hood, only occasionally revealing itself when the flicker of the torch fell in the right direction. There was no response.
Over the minutes that followed, they took their turns firing their remaining arrows down toward the target. Salan never missed the centre, strutting away each time like the test itself was an insult to his abilities. Vox's improvement continued without quite managing to master the accuracy required to hit inside the inner circle, and Arg's arrows quietly struck the target with unnerving consistency.
Zan stepped forward for his final attempt, having still failed to hit the board with any of his previous attempts. He attached the arrow at the nocking point, and pulled the bow back further than he had before. Following a slight wobble, he pointed in the air and released. The arrow was on course. It was lined up correctly and he crouched to one side to try and get a better view of distance. His mouth opened and his brow rose before the arrow began its descent. It seemed to take an age as it fell, approaching the board and landing just behind it, overshooting by half a metre.
Zan furiously threw his bow to the ground and put his hands to his face groaning. He looked at the assessor scrawling some notes before Vox and Arg took their final shots.
"The assessment is now complete," the mysterious figure said in a deep authoritative voice. "You will proceed to the dining hall where food will now be served." He walked quickly away through a concealed archway at the midpoint of the cavern.
Zan hadn't noticed until now, but the vast chamber had fallen completely silent. They were the only ones left. There were arrows, quivers and bows strewn across the floor like a real battle had just taken place.
"Which way is it to the dining hall?" Zan said, looking around at the others.
"Well we can only go back the way we came," Salan said. He strode off up the slope to the main door, and Zan followed behind with the others.
They walked through the tunnels, passing the door to their dormitory chamber, and onwards toward a fork junction.
"Which way?" Vox said.
Salan sniffed and held his hand up as if asking for quiet. "This way," he said, pointing to the left. "I can smell food, and if you listen carefully, people are talking, I can hear the chatter."
They began moving again, though Zan couldn't hear or smell anything. He didn't like to admit it to Salan – he preferred not to give him another reason to feel superior.
The end of the twisty passage opened up into another room. All the potentials were in there and sat at two long rock tables. Even the benches were solid and a part of the mountain.
Salan went to sit down on the end of one where there was the most room, and the others followed. Zan sat opposite Salan, with Vox next to him on the end and Arg opposite Vox. Two servants appeared from a staircase in the floor carrying trays with bowls on them. They dumped them down on the table without much care, and the steam rose up from the contents. It tickled Zan's nose with a delicate aroma that made his mouth water.
The servants returned with the glorious smell of a freshly baked loaf of bread preceding them. They all hurriedly ripped a piece off as if a delay may mean getting none. Zan dunked a piece into the broth-like liquid in the bowl and took a huge bite. His hunger pangs suddenly became more prominent, though he was used to them. The broth tasted like nothing he'd ever eaten before. But it was good.
Salan spat his out. "What kind of rubbish is this?" He pushed his bowl forward into the middle of the table. Zan watched closely, ready to pounce should any of the other potentials try to grab it. He wanted seconds first.
"It's the only food you'll be getting," one of the servants grunted, as he sloped across the floor with glasses of water.
Salan reluctantly dragged the bowl back towards him and began taking some tiny sips from the edge of his spoon. In contrast, Zan shovelled it into his mouth, slurping and gulping, and occasionally wiping his lips with the back of his hand. He'd finished by the time Salan had taken his fourth sip.
The others were similarly quick to eat up, and before long the only things left, along with Salan's bowl, were a few crumbs on the table.
"Your archery is incredible," Zan said. He looked toward Salan who still looked disgusted, and there was no steam emerging from his bowl any longer. "You hit the centre every time," he added.
"Yeah, Salan 'bullseye'...erm, what was your last name again?" Vox said.
"Viga," Salan replied, plunging the spoon into the bowl.
"Salan 'bullseye' Viga," Vox said. Zan smiled as she looked across to him, while Arg sat quietly on the end. He didn't seem to be listening and looked deep in thought, with his eyes wandering around the room as if he expected to see something other than rock and stone.
Salan sat up a little straighter. "I like that," he said with a grin. "Though I should be good, I trained with my uncle every week up until a few months ago. He was a member of the city's guard. We used to go up to the Forests of Hezelprox to shoot Falirs. Have you ever tried to kill one?"
Zan shook his head.
"Well, they're quick I can tell you, and they can hear you coming a mile off, so you have to be accurate. You never get a second chance with those bloody things."
Zan sighed. How he would've loved to have had the opportunity to be trained by a guard. No wonder he couldn't hit the damn thing. His head slumped into his arms.
"What's wrong?" Vox said, placing her hand on Zan's forearm.
"I just...need it so badly," Zan replied. His voice was muffled as his mouth rested on his cloak. "I need it, and today was a complete failure. I couldn't even hit the board once. I bet no-one else in this room was that bad."
Vox tugged on his hood forcing him to raise his head. "There are still more assessments to come Zan, I'm sure you'll do well on the others. You must be capable otherwise you wouldn't have been invited. Remember what Zalikor said."
Zan rested his chin on his arm. He knew Vox was right, but it did little to lift the gloomy cloud hanging over his head.
"Does your uncle train anyone?" Zan asked.
"He used to, if I asked him. But...I can't any more. A couple of months ago, when the crescent cycle was nearing its end, he died." Salan’s face changed, though he tried to hide his sorrow. "He was the best. He wasn't killed in training or in battle - he died in a fire."
Zan looked up. "My parents d—," he was interrupted by a painful blow on the back of his head. A fist sized rock landed by his foot, and he swivelled round while furiously rubbing his hair. It was Telexin, who was sat behind with four others who all laughed heartily. "I heard that you couldn't even get close today," he said maliciously. "Looks like you won't be joining the academy after all." He stood up and moved closer. "I don't know why you sit with him," he said, looking towards Salan. "Rumour is that you got a perfect score. He's holding you back. If it was me, I wouldn't be seen dead near a scummy half-cast like this." He pulled Zan's hood down and several people let out an audible gasp. Zan knew the reason why, and he stood up close to Telexin.
"What's this?" Telexin raised his fingers and ran them across Zan's face. "The half cast has been stained. Shame it isn't just a hideous scar that makes you deficient."
Vox stood abruptly, positioning herself between them and facing Telexin. "Would you like a scar of your own?" She pushed him back.
Telexin smiled. "Now the half cast is getting a girl to protect him!" Some of the others giggled around. He grabbed Vox by her neck and moved his mouth close to her ear. "I could give you a scar," he whispered slowly, "Anytime I wanted."
Vox raised her arm and brushed his hands away from her neck.
Zan pushed him in the chest, knocking him on to the table. He was about to land another blow when he was interrupted by a loud bang. Everyone looked across and a teacher stood in the room at the end of the table. It was Zalikor.
"The first assessment has concluded," he said, choosing to ignore the fracas. "Now, you will all return to your dorms until you are called on again for the next stage. You may go."
The company stood to walk out, and Zan let Telexin and his friends go first before he left the room.
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