The Battle of Hackham Heath (Ranger's Apprentice: The Early Years) by John A. Flanagan

Author:John A. Flanagan [Flanagan, John A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Young Readers Group
Published: 2016-11-29T06:00:00+00:00

21

HALT PACED SLOWLY ALONG BEHIND THE SHOOTING LINE, watching the Rangers practice their shooting. In rapid succession, arrows whirred over the field toward the line of targets set up two hundred meters away, thudding into the canvas stretched over the tightly packed straw. The majority of shafts were concentrated in the central gold ring of the targets. Occasionally, a shooter would mutter a low exclamation of disgust as one of his shots went wide. Although none went wider than the red inner circle of the target, next to the central ring.

The Rangers’ shooting was good—better than good. It was phenomenal, considering the distance and the casual way the arrows were dispatched. There was no deliberate and painstaking aiming going on. The line of Rangers simply nocked, drew and shot in one almost continuous action, sending the arrows whistling out over the field in a constant stream.

Several of the members of the small company of archers attached to the army had wandered over to the field to watch the Rangers at work. They were all carrying their bows slung over their shoulders, hoping for a chance to show these much-vaunted bowmen a thing or two. After the first few seconds, they had exchanged surprised glances and left their bows where they were. They knew they couldn’t match the speed or the accuracy on display here. They had never seen so many expert archers in one spot.

Halt, who had seen their arrival and noticed their original cocky attitude dissolve, stepped away from the shooting mound and indicated a couple of spare targets at the end of the line.

“Care to join in?” he asked, with a smile.

The senior of the three archers shook his head. “Thanks, but our egos have taken too big a battering already. We’d heard about you people, of course, but we’ve never seen so many of you in one spot. Or such good shooting.”

“Even those young ones can show us a thing or two,” another soldier declared, nodding his head to the spot where the six new apprentices were also practicing. None of them could yet handle the eighty-pound longbow, and they were shooting lower-powered recurve bows over a shorter distance. But even so, they were displaying remarkable skill already.

“Well, we won’t be shooting at one another when Morgarath gets here,” Halt said, “and we’ll want every arrow to count. Make sure you get in as much practice as possible when we finish.”

“Aye, we’ll do that,” the senior archer said, appreciating the Ranger’s friendly and cooperative tone.

Halt bade them farewell and returned to the shooting line. He put his fingers in his mouth and emitted a piercing whistle. The line of shooters all turned to look at him.

“That’s enough,” he said. “I’ve seen how good you are. No need to keep showing me.”

The Rangers relaxed, lowering their bows from the shooting position and turning to face him, sensing he had something further to say. Cedric, one of the new arrivals, allowed a challenging grin to cross his face.

“You’ve seen us shoot,” he said.

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