Golden Age (The Shifting Tides, #1)(66)

Dion shielded his eyes as he examined the archery range Roxana was preparing. The first thing he realized was that, intentionally or not, she had set it up so that the archers would be staring into the sun. The first target was at thirty paces, the second at fifty, and the third at seventy.

Breathing slowly and evenly, Dion began to pace, stretching his arms over his head and swinging them to loosen his muscles. He circled for a time before coming to a halt near the two Ilean archers. One looked at his bow curiously, but neither made a comment about his appearance: there were plenty of men in Lamara who could pass for Galeans, so unless they heard him speak, Dion barely stood out.

Dion saw that both men had kohl under their eyes, applied thicker than even the most brazen street harlot. Roxana came over with a cloth in her hand, black on the tip.

‘Here.’ She handed it to him. ‘Use it, you fool. It will help your aim against the sun.’

Not about to argue, Dion took the cloth and rubbed the kohl under each eye in turn, before handing it to a waiting slave.

‘All men – or women’—she grinned—‘here to enlist, come stand behind the red rope. Everyone else, back!’

When she wanted to, she could bellow as loud as any officer in the army of Xanthos. It was a talent that would serve her well on the deck of an eighty-foot-long bireme.

‘Dion? What are you waiting for?’

Realizing he was the last to step forward, Dion took a place in between the two other archers. Roxana walked along the line of three men, staring into each face as she spoke.

‘I’ve chosen shooting into the sun because on the sea, the sun shines twice. Once in the sky and once on the water. You’ll often be blinded. So if you feel like complaining about the test’—she gestured at the city with her thumb—‘get away from here, I don’t want you.’

She waited for a moment, but when no one moved, she nodded and continued.

‘The sun king pays archers well, but you have to provide your own equipment. If you fail this test you can still apply to fight with spear – you’ll be paid less but your armor and equipment will then be loaned to you. There’s no place in the sun king’s navy for paid oarsmen. War has been good to the king of kings. We have plenty of slaves.’

Roxana ran a hand over her short bleached hair as she paused to take a breath. Dion fixed his gaze on the closest of the round straw targets. At thirty paces, he could make out the individual bands. If he wanted to learn more about the biremes and their construction, and to get the money he would need in the coming days, he had to strike as close as he could to the target’s center.

‘Nock your arrows. I will tap you on the shoulder and then you will draw and release. I’ll be judging how swiftly you release after I tap you – speed and accuracy are both important.’

Dion’s quiver was at his feet. He bent to pick up an arrow and fitted it to the string.

‘We start with the closest target. Failure to strike at thirty paces means you’re out. I take only the best.’

Roxana circled behind the archers and tapped the man to Dion’s left on the shoulder.

The Ilean archer drew the string to his cheek and held it for a breath. A moment later the arrow whistled through the air, plunging into the straw target halfway between the center and the circle’s perimeter.

Roxana grunted. ‘Passable. Faster next time or you’re out.’

Dion sensed Roxana moving, but he kept his attention on the target, allowing his eyes to unfocus as he waited for the instruction to shoot.

He felt a rough clap on his shoulder blade, and in one swift movement he pulled back on the string, sighted along the shaft, and released.

Lowering the composite bow, he whispered a curse as he saw that while he was closer than the man to his left, he was three inches from the center.

The third archer loosed his arrow a moment later and struck the target an inch closer than Dion’s arrow.

Dion frowned. He had to do better.

‘Next target!’ Roxana cried. ‘Fifty paces!’

The extra distance meant Dion struggled to focus on the target’s center. He spoke a prayer to Silex in his mind, the familiar words calming him.

Roxana pounded the archer on Dion’s left on the back almost before she’d finished speaking. The Ilean pulled and held for a long time as he struggled to regain his composure. Finally releasing his arrow, he clipped the edge of the target but missed making a solid strike.

The archer sighed.

‘Loose more quickly and strike the final target properly or you’re out,’ Roxana growled.

Dion forced himself to breathe evenly. He squinted into the bright orange sun made hazy from dust. The target wavered.

‘Draw!’ Roxana bellowed in his ear, at the same time slapping him on the back.

The unexpected sound shocked him into drawing without thinking and loosing in less time than it takes a man to clench his fist. Dion’s heart raced as he peered ahead to see the strike.

He soundlessly thanked his brother for the gift of the composite bow as he saw that his arrow had struck the circular target in the dead center.

‘Well done,’ Roxana said.

She clapped two meaty hands on the back of the final archer. He fumbled as he drew and his shot went wide, the shaft skittering along the hard sand of the beach as it lost its energy.

‘Not even close,’ she said. ‘You’re out.’