Ravens Shadow 02 - Tower Lord Read Online Free PDF Page A

need to hunt some meat before long.”
    He worked on the bow for the next two nights, thinning the ends and shaping the centre into a curve, flat on one side. For a bowstring he flensed a spare boot-lace, tying it to the notches carved into the ends. “Never was much of an archer,” he mused, thrumming the string and drawing forth a low note. “My brother Dentos, though, it was like he’d been born with a bow in his hand.”
    She knew the story of Brother Dentos, it was part of his legend. The famed Brother archer who had saved him when he brought fiery destruction down on the Alpiran siege engines, only to die in a cowardly Alpiran ambush the next day. The tale had it that the Darkblade had turned the sands red with his fury as he cut down the ambushers, though they begged for mercy. She had serious doubts as to the truth of this or any of the other fanciful tales attached to the life of Vaelin Al Sorna, but the effortless ease with which he had defeated her attack that first night made her wonder if there wasn’t some truth hidden amongst all the nonsense.
    He made arrows from another ash branch, sharpening the points as they had no metal for arrowheads. “Should do for birds,” he said. “Couldn’t take on a boar with it though, need iron-heads to get through the ribs.”
    He hefted the bow and walked off into the forest. She waited a full two minutes, cursed and then followed. She found him crouched behind the husk of an ancient oak, an arrow notched to the bowstring. He waited with an absolute stillness, eyes fixed on a patch of tall grass in a small clearing ahead. Reva moved cautiously to his side but contrived to step on a dry twig, the loud crack echoing through the clearing. Three pheasants rose from the grass, wings thundering as they sought the sky. Al Sorna’s bowstring snapped and a bird tumbled back to earth, trailing feathers. He gave her a glance of faint reproach and went to fetch the game.
    Not much of an archer,
she thought.
Liar.
    ◆ ◆ ◆
    In the morning she awoke to find herself alone in the camp, the Darkblade no doubt off hunting again, though his bow had been left propped against a fallen tree-trunk. There was a curious feeling in her belly, a strange heaviness and she realised this was the first time she could remember waking with a full stomach. Al Sorna had spitted and roasted the pheasant, seasoning the plucked skin with lemon thyme. The grease had covered her chin as she wolfed down her share. She caught him smiling as she ate, making her scowl and turn away. But she hadn’t stopped eating.
    Her eyes lingered on the bow for a moment. It was shorter than the longbow that had frustrated her for years, the stave thinner and no doubt easier to draw. She glanced around then picked it up, notching one of the arrows from Al Sorna’s makeshift quiver of woven long grass. It felt light in her hands, comfortable. She took aim at the narrow trunk of a silver birch some ten yards away, it seemed the easiest target to hand. The bow was harder to draw than she anticipated, raising memories of hours of fruitless practice with the longbow, but she did at least manage to get the string back to her lips before loosing. The arrow glanced off the edge of the birch and disappeared into a patch of ferns.
    “Not bad.” Al Sorna was striding through the undergrowth, freshly gathered mushrooms were piled in his cloak.
    Reva tossed the bow back to him and slumped down, drawing her knife. “It’s unbalanced,” she muttered. “Threw my aim off.” She took hold of the hair at the nape of her neck and began her twice-weekly ritual of cutting.
    “Don’t do that,” Al Sorna said. “You’re supposed to be my sister, and Asraelin women wear their hair long.”
    “Asraelin women are vain sluts.” She pointedly sawed off a chunk of hair and let it fall.
    Al Sorna sighed. “I suppose we could say you’re simpleminded. Took to cutting your hair as a child. Me old mum could never get her out of the