Free Drenai Series 08 - Winter Warriors by David Gemmell

worth seven, and lastly gold for ten.
    Kebra shot first, and struck gold. Dirais equalled him. The targets were moved back ten paces. This time Kebra only managed blue. Dirais, despite the increased jeering struck gold once more.
    With only two shafts left Kebra was leading by 175 points to 160. Keep calm, he told himself. The targets were lifted and carried back another ten paces. The colours were a distant blur to Kebra now. He squinted hard and drew back on the string. The crowd was silent. He loosed, the shaft arcing gracefully through the air to thud home into the white. There were no cheers from the crowd now. Dirais took aim and struck gold once more - 177 points to 170, with only one shaft left.
    The targets were moved back again. Kebra could only dimly make out the outline. He rubbed his eyes. Then, taking a deep breath he took aim at the target he could barely see - and let fly! He did not know where the shaft landed, but heard one of the judges shout: 'White!' He
    was relieved to have hit the target at all - 179 points to 170.
    Dirais would need gold to win. Kebra stepped back. The crowd were shouting now at the top of their voices.
    Please miss, thought Kebra, wanting the championship more than he had ever wanted anything in his life. His chest felt tight and heavy, and his breathing was shallow. He glanced at the crowd, and saw Nogusta. Kebra tried to force a smile, but it was more like a death's head grin.
    Dirais stood up to the mark, and drew back on the string. He stood, rock steady. Kebra's heart was pounding now. What were the odds on a man striking three golds in a row? A minor fluctuation in the breeze, a slight imperfection in the shaft or the flights. The gold was no bigger than a man's fist, and the distance was great: sixty paces. During his best days Kebra would have hit only four in five at this distance. And this Ventrian was not as skilled as I once was, he thought. What, three in five? Two in five? Sweet Heaven, just miss!
    Just as Dirais was about to loose his final shaft a white dove flew up out of the crowd in a frantic flurry. His concentration momentarily lost he shot too quickly, his arrow punching home into silver. Kebra had won.
    Strangely there was no joy. The crowd was cheering wildly but Kebra looked at Nogusta. The black man was standing very still. Dirais turned away, offering no congratulation. Kebra took him by the arm. 'Wait!' he commanded him.
    'For what?' asked the Ventrian.
    'I want you to shoot again.' Dirais looked puzzled, but Kebra drew him to the line.
    'What is happening here?' asked one of the judges.
    'Someone released that dove deliberately,' said Kebra. 'I have asked Dirais to shoot again.'
    'You cannot ask this,' said the judge. 'The last shaft has been fired.' The king moved through the crowd, and the judge explained what had happened. Skanda approached Kebra.
    'Are you sure this is what you want?' he asked, his good humour vanished, his face hard and cold. 'It makes no sense.'
    'I have been champion for fifteen years, sire. I have beaten every man who stood beside me at the line. I beat them with skill. The jeering was unpleasant, but a true champion rises above that. The dove, however, is a different matter. Such a sharp and flurried movement would have unsettled anyone. It was a deliberate act to sabotage the man's chances. And it succeeded. I ask you, sire, to let him shoot again.'
    Suddenly Skanda grinned, and for a moment he looked like the boy-king again. 'Then let it be so,' he said.
    The king climbed to a fence rail and stood above the crowd. 'The champion has requested that his opponent be allowed to shoot one more arrow,' he bellowed. 'And there will be silence when he does so.' He leapt down and signalled Dirais.
    The young Ventrian notched his shaft and sent it unerringly into the gold.
    Kebra's heart sank. Ventrian soldiers swarmed forward and hoisted Dirais into the air. Kebra stood by silently. The king approached him. 'You are a fool, man,' he