John Flanagan - The Kings of Clonmel

`All right, here's what's going to happen. When I give you the word, you're going to start running up the hill.' He saw a momentary gleam of cunning in Colly's eyes, which the outlaw tried unsuccessfully to conceal.

`If you try anything else, I'll put an arrow through the fleshy part of your calf. Not enough to stop you running, but enough to cause a great amount of pain. Are we clear?'

Colly nodded, his brief moment of defiance fading away.,

`Good. Now I'm going to stand here waving and yelling. When you hear me start, run harder.'

`They'll think I'm you,' Colly said, indicating the treeline at the bottom of the hill where his companions lay in wait. Halt nodded.

`And they'll think I'm you. That's the general idea.' `So they'll chase me up the hill,' Colly said.

This time, Halt shook his head. 'Not if you jump off into the river. They'll go down and around the base of the hill to the river bank to go after you. Which will leave the way clear for me.'

`What if I don't jump?' Colly asked.

`But you will jump. You'll notice there's no worthwhile cover at the top of the bluff.'

Colly looked again. The grimstranger was right. There were no trees or rocks at the top of the bluff, just long grass, but not long enough to cover him. He swallowed nervously.

`If you stop at the top of the bluff, I'll put an arrow ten centimetres above your head. Just to show you I can.'

Colly frowned, a little puzzled. Then Halt continued.

`Then, five seconds after that, I'll put an arrow twenty centimetres below your head. Got that?'

Colly glanced down nervously. Twenty centimetres below his head would put the arrow right in the middle of his chest. He nodded his understanding.

`Got it,' he said. His throat was dry and the words came out as a hoarse whisper. He watched as Halt drew an arrow from the quiver and, in one movement, nocked it to the string of his massive longbow.

`So, let's get ready. I'm told a nice morning run is good for the health.' He paused, then added with a hard edge, `And a nice swim is even better.'

Colly's eyes flicked from Halt to the open ground above them, then down to the treeline where his companions were still concealed.

`I meant what I said,' Halt told him. 'And just so you know I can hit what I aim at, do you see that rotten tree stump, about forty metres up the hill?'

Colly peered in the direction Halt had indicated and made out an old blackened tree stump about a metre high. It was the only standing remnant of a tree that had been struck by lightning some years ago. The rest of the tree, gradually being devoured by rot, lay angled down the hill below it. He nodded.

`I see it.,What about it?'

`When you draw level with it, I'm going to put an arrow in it. See where there's the beginning of an old branch jutting out to the right?'

Again Colly nodded. The remains of the branch were only just visible at this distance.

`That's where the arrow's going to hit. If I miss the mark, you might think you have a chance to start running back downhill.'

Colly opened his mouth to say something when Halt forestalled him.

`But I won't miss. And remember, you're a lot bigger than that branch.'

Colly swallowed again. His throat was very dry. 'Can I have some water?' he asked. Anything to put off the moment when he started uphill. He knew what Halt had said he was going to do. But he couldn't help wondering if the Ranger wouldn't simply shoot him down once he reached the top of the bluff. After all, that would cause hiscompanions to come running uphill after him, leaving the way clear for Halt to make his escape downhill.

Halt gave him that cold little smile again. 'Of course,' he said. 'All you want. Just as soon as you hit the river. Now get going.'

Still Colly hesitated. Halt flexed the bowstring experimentally. There was no practical purpose in the movement, other than to draw Colly's attention to the broad-headed arrow nocked on the string. Halt frowned as the Outsider still hesitated. The sun had lifted above the edge of the bluff now and it was at its most dazzling for the men below.

`GOP he shouted suddenly, making a lunging motion towards Colly at the same time.

The loud noise and sudden threatening movement galvanised his prisoner into action. Colly broke from cover and began to run up the hill, his legs pumping, the camouflage cloak billowing out behind him. Halt let him get twenty metres away then stepped out of cover himself, waving and shouting to the unseen men he knew would be watching from below.

`He's getting away!' he yelled. 'He's getting away! After him!'

He heard shouting from the trees and the sudden surprised yelping of the dogs as they were roused by their handlers. A few men appeared from the shadows of the trees and hesitated uncertainly, watching the man in the Ranger's cloak as he ran. Then more of the watchers broke cover.

`He's getting away! Get after him!' Halt yelled. He turned and glanced uphill. Colly was almost at the tree stump. Halt stepped back behind a rock to conceal his actions from the men below. Casually, he brought the bow to full draw and released, in one smooth motion. At a forty-metre range, even shooting uphill, he had to allow only a minimum amount for drop. The arrow hissed away from the bow.

Almost at the tree stump, Colly heard the arrow split the air to his left, then smack into the rotten branch of the stump, which disintegrated into a shower of splinters under the impact. Even though Halt had warned him what would happen, he couldn't believe that anyone could manage the shot that he'd just seen. He shied sideways, away from the stump, in a reflex action – far too late, of course, to do him any good – and redoubled his efforts, driving his legs as hard as he could.

Now the Outsiders were moving out of the trees in greater numbers. Some of them were beginning to start up the hill after Colly. But there was no real urgency in them so far. They knew there was nowhere for the running man to go. The tracking dogs were yelping furiously, restrained on their long leashes by their handlers. Halt counted about a dozen men. At least, he thought gratefully, they hadn't loosed another of the war dogs.

He glanced back at Colly, now labouring against the steep slope of the last few metres of the hill. He knew the man would hesitate at the bluff. It was inconceivable that he wouldn't. He had another arrow on the string and his eyes narrowed as he judged speed and distance and estimated his arrow's flight time. Colly was a few paces from the edge of the bluff when Halt drew the arrow back until he felt his right forefinger touch lightly against the corner of his mouth, sighted and released.

The arrow sped uphill in a shallow arc.

Colly was staggering, his breath coming in ragged gasps, as he reached the bluff. Below him, still in shadow, the water of the river was a black sheet. There was no way he could tell if it were deep enough for him to jump and, as Halt had predicted, he hesitated, looking back down the hill to the figure by the rocks.

A second after he had stopped, he heard a hissing, whistling sound and actually felt the passage of Halt's shot as the arrow passed a few centimetres above his head. Just as the Ranger had said it would.

His sides were aching with the effort of the mad uphill run. His chest was heaving and he doubled over, trying for breath. He saw the Ranger's right arm go up as he drew another arrow from the quiver over his shoulder. Very deliberately,, the Ranger pocked the arrow and raised the bow again, bringing the string back to full draw.

Colly could feel a burning sensation in his chest. The point where Halt had said the next arrow would go. He remembered the smashing impact of the first arrow on the tree stump and the sudden lurch of terror as the second arrow had passed within a hand's breadth of his head. All this flashed through his mind in a second as he watched the figure below him and he knew that he had only one chance to survive.