Practice

The mousehole was marked with a yellow ribbon. A space at the bottom of the tree had been cut out of the world. The tree had grown around it, creating a small, visible archway around the empty place.

"Gintas tells me you can see these," said Hal.

It had been three days since they had fought in the clearing. This one was much easier to see than the one Gintas had shown her. She traced the edges of it almost right away, a space where something should have been and now was not. Not dark. Not light. Not colour. Just nothing there at all.

"I’ve never been able to see them," said Hal. "I’m told I wouldn’t fit anyway."

Taliette half-smiled. It was funny thinking of Hal’s massive frame stuck at a corner or a pinch point. Stuck down there forever, unchanging, amongst the threads of the world, like an old grasshopper popped in a matchbox and left in a drawer.

She checked herself. There was something about that thought that wasn't funny, but she couldn't put her finger on what. She laughed anyway.

"I’m going to teach you an unusual fighting style Gintas wants you to practice. He’s got something special in mind. It’s all about mobility and range."

She ran a finger along her bow. She still loved it, even though it was scratched. Apart from her clothes, it was all she owned now. It was everything that she wanted. She drew and held the extension, feeling the stretch between her shoulder blades. The arrow thunked into the trunk of a tree twenty yards away. The barbed, bodkin head lodged deep in the wood.

Hal nodded approvingly. "You shoot well. Better than I would have expected, but we’ve already established, you’re not going to win in a straight-up fight." He held up a hand as she started to interrupt him. "Brilliant as you are. Your enemy will close with you, and you’ll be taken, and that"–he raised an eyebrow–"that would be a real shame."

"I use the mouseholes to keep range, right?" she said.

He laughed as though taken aback and studied her for a moment. Was that respect he saw in his eyes? No matter.

"As you say," he replied slowly. "With your bow, you have reach, and if you know where all the mouseholes are, you have stealth and mobility. Those two combined make you potentially very dangerous to a naive enemy."

Stolen story; please report.

"So I pop out, kill as many as I can, then move to a new place and do the same thing, until everyone is dead, right? It sounds simple enough."

He shook his head.

"Gintas made a good choice with you. Remember, though, it’s only going to work if you’ve already staked out your positions. You need to think logically about cover and where people will run when you start shooting them. It’s a mental exercise."

They walked together through the woods until they came to another yellow ribbon, tied to the bough of a tree. It took her a while to see the mousehole, and she had to walk in a circle around the place where the ribbon was tied before she spotted it. It was in mid-air, about eight feet from the ground.

"This one is up high," she observed.

Hal kicked at a square moss-covered stone. There were more beneath it.

"There was a building here once," he said. "Maybe it was once part of it. Where is the hole? Is it just hanging over our heads? I can’t see it."

She hunted around until she found a long branch. Standing on tiptoes, she pressed the end of the branch against the empty place in the air above her head. It resisted her at first, then the tip of the branch slowly sank in. She let go, and the branch hung there, suspended in the air, quivering slightly. After a moment, it began to shake violently. Dead leaves, bugs, and bits of bark showered from it, then it was sucked inside in a series of short bites, as though being chomped by giant teeth. A sound, like the crooning moan of a thousand dead voices, echoed. Then, the branch was gone.

Hal and Taliette stood back in alarm, wide-eyed.

"I am not going in that one," she said.

"We’re going to play a game," he said later, after they had walked together awhile. "I’m going to give you the rest of the day to find as many of the mouseholes as you can, then you’re going to take me out."

"For real?"

"No, of course not for real. You’ll use these."

He pulled an arrow from his quiver. Instead of a metal bodkin head, it terminated in a small leather sack.

"It’s a training arrow," he explained. "It’s a little heavier than a bodkin, but you get the idea. You hit me, I’m dead. I take your bow from you, you’re dead. Those are the rules. Are you in?"

She stalked round him, back very straight, shoulders back, half smiling. He stood still, feet planted in the dead leaves, and let her walk, not moving.

He’s afraid of me, she realised. He’s hiding it, but he’s been afraid since he first met me. He likes the way I look, and how I’m walking, but he knows what I am. He doesn’t know what to do. He’s afraid of what I’ll do to him.

"What do I get if I win?" she asked, smoothly changing direction, prowling around him like a cat. Still he didn’t move.

"I, I don’t know." he half stammered.

I’m intimidating him. He doesn’t know what to do. It’s almost as though I own his heart. I could tell him to do anything at all right now, and he’d do it. He’d jump to it.

"If I win, you owe me one favour," she said. "When I ask it, you have to do it. It doesn’t matter what it is, you have to do it."

He giggled nervously, like a child, it was odd to see him so unmanned.

"And if I win?" he asked.

"You’re not going to win, Haldane," she brushed against him. "You’d better bring some backup, because I am taking you out."