The Tournament Option Aa: Distance

The Tournament Option Aa. Distance

The announcer continues to point at you while his shouted question fades with the general roar of the crowd. The longbow rests against your shoulder.

“Distance,” you respond just loud enough for him to hear.

“Distance,” the announcer repeats so the entire crowd can hear and then he points to the next man.

Your palms sweat as the adrenaline from the first challenge slowly fades. You vaguely hear the other three contestant’s choices. Only one chooses distance with you.

You meet the man’s gaze and give him a nod. He holds his own longbow at his side in a loose grip. He tilts his chin in acknowledgement but his eyes stay cold like he feels none of the tension from the challenge. On his jacket sleeves is sown the crimson arrow of the King’s personal guard. This man may very well be the King’s own sniper.

Your palms sweat even more. It he’s who you suspect, he’s well known for his ability with a bow.

“Next round starts in ten minutes!” The announcer hollers.

You’ve nothing to do in that ten minutes. To pass the time, you pull out a piece of jerky and gnaw on it while you wait. As the salty, savory flavor fills your mouth, your stomach growls. You didn’t eat breakfast because of your nerves that morning but now you’re stomach’s telling you about it.

The other archer stands in place as well. He stretches his shoulders and flexes his fingers and then he picks up his bow and walks over to join you.

You reach in your pocket and hold out another piece of jerky to him. Without a word, he takes it, nods his thanks and starts gnawing on it.

In unison, you both turn back toward the archery field and watch as people hurry about to set up the next challenge.

Closer to you they haul out several cages with small, furry creatures inside. The creatures skitter about like they’re chasing each other. You squint and then grunt when you realize you’re watching training rabbits. They’re raised to never stop moving. You recognize them from your own archery training in which you had to shoot five of them before progressing to the next stage of training.

Along with the cages, they bring out boxes, hay bales and logs, all things the rabbits can hide behind or skitter over. This must be part of the difficulty challenge.

You dismiss those preparations and scan farther afield for the distance challenge.

A box wagon pulls up near the wall of the coliseum. When it stops, the wagon continues to rock side to side.

“Something big,” the other archer comments.

You grunt agreement. Whatever they have in the box has to be big enough to throw the weight of the wagon.

The wagon jolts and rocks onto two wheels before thudding back into place.

“Something real big,” you agree, and wipe your palms on your pants.

A snorting growl comes from the wagon, loud enough for you to hear over 400 yards away with the crowd.

“You’ve shot a bear or two in your time, haven’t you, Ranger?” the man chuckles.

A surprised laugh comes from your throat. “Sure have,” you respond, “but that’s not a bear.”

This time when he glances at you, there’s a spark in his eyes, maybe surprise, maybe excitement. You’re not sure. Then he raises a brow in question.

“Troll,” you answer. From the snorting growl, you guess it’s a snow troll. Just a few weeks ago you had to track one and kill it because it kept wandering into a small village up north. Nasty beast that tried to throw a broken tree at you before you shot it through the eye.

You glance at the rabbits. Whoever made up this tournament must not know what they’re dealing with.

As you’ve been talking, those preparing the arena have installed tall fences along the archery wedge to contain the troll. They’re heavy fences with lots of iron, probably enough to keep the troll in check, but the rabbits and obstacles for the difficulty challenge are still within the confines of the fences. Snacks and ammunition. That’s how the troll will view such things.

“What?” the other archer asks.

The announcer steps into the center of the wedge and starts shouting before you can respond.

“For Distance, our two contestants must put down the beast. Whoever shoots the killing shot wins. The farther out the kill shot, the more points you get against those competing in the Difficulty challenge.”

He steps back and the crowd roars, drowning out your shouted warning to the other archer.

They release the latch on the wagon and the troll throws the door free. It scans its surroundings as it stretches long, white-furred arms. It’s a good 450 yards out but it spots you and the rabbits in no time. A husky, delighted chortle huffs out of its throat as it slumps down onto hands and feet and starts running your way in a loping gallop.

It’ll be in range in no time.

Before taking aim, do you shout to the other man…

Aa1. “Shoot for the eyes.” ?

Or

Aa2: “It’ll go for the rabbits first.” ?

Blessings and see you Thursday for the end of the adventure,

Jennifer