Chieftain Laninson bar Hudson stared at his mother a moment longer to ensure he was taking the correct action. His light brown skin and golden eyes made a nice contrast like that of dusk and dawn. He was tall and thin and not yet twenty years of age—though he had been the Chieftain of South Basin for almost six years since his father and many of his father’s men were killed by nomadic woodsmen during a bow hunt in the forest. The nomads hid in trees and used netted stockpiles of stones hanging from thick limbs to throw at the men. Laninson’s father died from a severe blow to the back of the neck. It was a coward’s way of killing someone—not even allowing their horns to protect them. Laninson did not have enough power now, but one day, he would take his revenge—even against his mother’s wishes. He wore the golden crest of West Basin proudly on his left horn and kept his long, dark brown hair braided and tied together at the nape of his neck. Flying strands of hair could force a bowman to lose his shot.
“Yes, my dear,” Sarina, Laninson’s mother, said. “Now, take the mallet and hit the gong as hard as you can.”
She had darker skin than her son’s, and her black hair caressed her horns like curly vines. Her emerald eyes matched those of the Lowland Cliffs. Her cousin, Panela bar Hathway, was married to Rugar bar Hathway, Chieftain of the Lowland Cliffs, which is why their small wooden fortress in West Basin has been protected since her husband died. Her cousin requested her husband, Chieftain Rugar, to protect West Basin from Chieftain Darmin bar Holthen who now commanded over both East and South Basin. They did stay protected but at a costly price. Much of their crops and harvested animals went to Lowland Cliffs where they had little farmable land and even fewer animals.
If her husband had not died so young, she was hoping to give birth to a daughter who could one day marry into a chieftain family, merging families and expanding lands. However, she delivered another baby boy only weeks after burying her dead husband’s body with woodchips to become compost for the Crested Tea Field. This fenced and guarded field slept quietly near the wooden fortress of West Basin, preserving the memory of the chieftains and their families who walked with the Befores. The Crested Tea that grew from their nutrients would be served to family and guests to honor the dead.
“Brother, you can do it! You are better than all our bowmen. You are the best bowman in all of Rodesh!”
“Hush, Valor!” Laninson said to his younger brother. The lad looked just like their mother; though, his curly, thick hair was braided like his. He did not have the golden crest on his horn yet. They were still bound to allow them to grow back and down, not like the woodsmen who grew theirs straight up. He was only six years old and wouldn’t get his crest until his horns were set.
“I’m sorry, Brother,” Valor whispered. “I will watch everything and keep every moment in my youth memories and share it with our sages just like you told me. I am so excited! You are going to be celebrated. Maybe Mother will let us appoint a festival on your behalf!”
“Yes, that will be fine,” Laninson said, kneeling to face his little brother. “But remember, you must keep very quiet. You need to be like the sages and act like you are not part of the action. Do you understand?”
The little boy pursed his lips together and nodded fervently.
Laninson stood up and stretched his fingers and hands. “It is time.”
The three of them stood at the stairs of the Atlatl Temple. They did not bring their Swarves because they wanted to make their way through the forest inconspicuously. They were now near Chieftain Darmin bar Holthen’s lands. Though the forest around the temple was property of the sages and considered unconquerable land, it could still be dangerous for them. Laninson moved his bow further up on his left shoulder and grabbed the handle of the mallet. Then with all his might, he smashed the golden disk, and a loud clashing sound rang out for several seconds and faded to a shimmering sound of rain that hummed across the forest for several seconds.
The double doors of the great temple opened, and the Supreme Sage herself came down the stairs slowly to meet them. “I do believe young Chieftain Laninson bar Hudson that was the loudest I’ve heard our welcome gong ring out.”
Laninson and his mother did not bow to the Supreme Sage because they were of Chieftain blood. Valor stood like a statue giving no reaction like the sages would do. However, Laninson did lower his head briefly with respect. “I apologize. When I do something, I tend to do it with all my strength.”
The Supreme Sage smiled. She wore gold around her wrists and neck. Her long white wool dress was made thin and breathable, paralleling the hue of her silver hair. The skirt of her dress fluttered along the ground, already stained from the day’s walk. Laninson knew, though, that the Supreme Sage didn’t bother herself with little things like stains. She had servants who would make the dress white again by the next day.
“Yes, I too give every effort to do the best I can do with the mundane and the magnificent. Before we go into the temple to talk about building our new quarters and other business, I want to know if the rumors are true.”
“What rumors, Supreme Sage?” he asked.
“Are you really the greatest bowman of all the Lake-keepers? I can believe of West Basin since your village is so small, but to be best of all the bowman from South and East Basin seems hardly possible since you are still so young.”
“I’ve had reason to practice harder than the others,” he said. He didn’t mention his father’s death and him becoming chieftain so young because the Supreme Sage already knew his predicament. He had to work harder to prove himself a capable leader and the bow was his main source of accomplishment.
Sounds of footsteps came up from behind him. “Ah, Corven. Let me introduce you to the Chieftain of West Basin and his mother. They will be witnesses to your acceptance as my protégé as Second Supreme Sage.”
“We would be honored,” Laninson repeated his mother’s words. He stared at the hornless man who had bandages on his hairline. He was being carried on the back by another man also with bandages on his hairline. The Supreme Sage must have had horn bulbs planted in them. The man carrying the other finally set him down once they got to the forest floor. He was an odd choice to become the Supreme Sage, but the sages were often unusual in their ways.
“Let me introduce my protégé, Corven, and his servant, Reece.”
“Honored to be introduced,” Laninson said.
Corven gave a slight bow as his servant held his arm. “The honor is mine.”
Laninson knew right away that Corven was not a Lake-keeper. The rumors from the Lowland Cliffs must be true. There were lands across the great waters that took over the deserts.
“Now that introductions have been made. I have a slight dilemma, Corven. I have heard rumor that Chieftain Laninson here is the best bowman of all Domus Lake Basin. How can we test this rumor to see if it is true?”
Laninson watched Corven think. “I listened to a story from a young sage just this morning that is still in my memory about an ancient test for the bowmen. They had a bow demonstration called the Shots of the Tree Heart Fruits long ago that would prove a bowman’s skill. I will need five large fruits. Weren’t the ones served at breakfast Tree Heart Fruits?”
The Supreme Sage nodded. “Yes, and I do know this test. I believe you have found us the solution.” She turned to one of the sages. “Go fetch me five of the Tree Heart Fruits.”
“Do you have five arrows in your quiver?” Corven asked.
“I never leave home without at least twenty of them,” he responded.
The Supreme Sage turned to the young sage next to her. “Please make a special note of this in your memories if Laninson shall fail or if he shall prove himself and his place as the youngest chieftain. I do believe you were the youngest when you stepped into your father’s position.” She looked at Laninson. “You were only thirteen when your father died at the hands of those monstrous woodland nomads, correct?”
Laninson felt anger rise at the mention of his father’s death by the nomads, but he harnessed the anger. This was his moment as the chieftain of the smallest territory to prove himself. “Yes, I was thirteen.”
“Then there it is. Make note he was the youngest chieftain to take his command in the history of the Lake-keepers.”
The young sage she tasked to get the fruit came up to her with a basket filled with them.
“Reece is the strongest one here. He will throw them. Laninson,” Corven said, turning to the young chieftain, “my servant will throw with all his might five of these fruits in all different directions into the forest. Keeping your arrows in your quiver, you must pierce the heart of each one when I give the command. Then you will pass the test of being counted as one of the best bowmen.”
“Do not throw five,” Laninson said. “Throw six, for my father has been dead these six years. I don’t want to be counted as one of the best. I want it to be known that I am the best.”
Corven looked at the Supreme Sage for approval. She slowly nodded her head.
“Hand the basket to me,” Corven said to the young sage. “Reece, I will hold the basket here next to you. When I shout, throw, begin to heave each of the six Tree Heart Fruits in different directions one at a time. Do not hold back. Grab each one as fast as you can. I want to warn you, Chieftain Laninson. My servant, Reece, has extremely quick reflexes.”
Laninson walked several feet away from the temple where the crowd of sages and his mother and brother stood. He gave a quick wink to his brother who gave a slight smile but then resumed his indifferent stance as a sage. Laninson readied his bow. “I am ready.”
“Ready your bow!” Corven shouted. “Throw!”
Reece grabbed the Tree Heart Fruits swiftly and slung them in all directions into the forest. Instinctively, Laninson’s right hand reached for an arrow from his quiver and by the time the arrow took flight his hand had already grabbed another arrow, launching it onto a different course. Once Laninson shot all six arrows, he took two more shots and slung his bow back over his shoulder.
“What were the other two shots you took?” the Supreme Sage demanded.
“You will find I have shot two gifts for you, Supreme Sage. I have shot a Mud Piglet that was sniffing around the large tree in front of the Swarve stables with the seventh arrow, and I have shot a Large Lady Dove resting on one of the steeples of your temple with the eighth. It has fallen right there,” he said and pointed. “And if you send out your sages, you will see that every Tree Heart Fruits has been pierced in the center, hopefully with my arrow still plunged within. I tried to gauge the strength of the wind while shooting, so my arrows would not fly too short and pierce only half, but not too far and pierce all the way through. Either way, the hearts of all six fruits have been pierced.”
Laninson returned to the group and stood next to his mother and brother, who was grinning broadly now, and they all waited as the sages hurried to find the missing fruit and the harvested animals.
“Place everything before us,” Corven ordered.
When the final young sage came and set down the last of the Tree Heart Fruits, they all looked at the pile in awe. There were six fruits each with an arrow stuck through the center with the nock and the point of the arrow equal distance from either side of the fruit’s skin. A plump Mud Piglet was pierced through the neck and a Large Lady Dove was pierced through the chest.
The Supreme Sage laid her right hand upon her chest. “Let it be known,” she began in a stately tone, “that Lake-keeper history has been made here today before our very eyes. Laninson bar Hudson, Chieftain of West Basin, becoming the youngest Chieftain of all the Lake-keepers at the age of thirteen years old, has shot his arrows through the center of six Tree Heart Fruits thrown quickly and with force in all directions into the forest along with a seventh shot to a Mud Piglet and the final one to a Large Lady Dove as gifts to me, DeEldra Le Actelion, the Supreme Sage of the Atlatl Forest Temple. The test was conducted by Corven bar Hathway, soon to be Second Supreme Sage and his servant, Reece. The test finished in mere seconds. Therefore, I make the declarations that Chieftain Laninson bar Hudson is the best bowman of all the bowmen of Domus Lake Basin.”
Then she turned to Laninson and his mother. “I chose correctly when I chose the chieftain from West Basin to join us today. You are our valued guests, including you, young Valor bar Hudson. You may talk now. Your work as Sage of West Basin is now complete,” she said, giving a slight smile. Then she turned to a sage. “Please show our guests into the temple and have the dove and piglet prepared for dinner.”
“Yes, Supreme Sage,” a young sage said.
She turned to another sage. “Please send out sages to all the chieftains’ sages with the story of Chieftain Laninson’s victory.”
“Yes, Supreme Sage,” an older sage answered.
Laninson suppressed his excitement. Finally, he would be the chieftain the Lake-keepers would be talking about. His story would be told in the wooden fortresses of the basin chieftains and in the castle walls of the cliff chieftains. His victory would be repeated and memorized in the taverns, inns, homes and boats of all Domus Lake. Already the Supreme Sage herself has insisted it be memorized by the sages at the prestigious Temple of Atlatl Forest and for their memories to be shared with the other chieftain families. Finally, his family line would have a triumph to compensate for the fact that his father was killed by a rock in the back of the neck by a nomad of the forest.
“You did it, Brother! You did it! Now those filthy woodsmen nomads will fear the day they killed our father!” Valor yelled. Instantly, his mother knelt to quiet the young boy.
Laninson turned away to hide the anger that flashed across his face. His hatred for those spiny-horned thieves had become his sole motivator for six years. He had been secretly training his bowmen and adding to his army. Every young boy and girl from his territory of West Basin learned the skill of the bow along with their family trade of farming, hunting, fishing and building. He started training everyone at the age of thirteen with their youth memories still open the bar Hudson Bowcraft—an intricate blend of speed and accuracy. He now had a bowmen army of youth from the ages of thirteen to nineteen who could work the bow almost as well as he did. He also had the expertise and experience of his Master Bowman, Barronne le Sharon, the only survivor of the attack on his father and his men, to guide him. He kept his growing army a secret for the right moment to strike.
“Chieftain Laninson,” the Supreme Sage said.
He tucked his anger away and turned back to face her.
She handed him a bag and pointed to it as an indication to open it.
“What is in it?” he asked.
“Why, it is your payment of gold in advance. I hope my sage was able to reach you with the information.”
“Yes, he did, but normally the sages don’t pay until the job is finished,” he said, staring at the bag.
“Normally, we do. However, like you said, you do everything with all your strength. You have demonstrated that what you say is true. And I believe the money will come in useful since so much of your territory’s resources go to the Lowland Cliffs. Now, please follow Corven and Reece. Corven will go over all the plans he is envisioning for the additions to the Temple. When you are satisfied, we will have the ceremony to establish Corven as the Second Supreme Sage. Then we shall dine on the meat you have harvested along with the other delicacies the sages are renowned for.” She turned to face his mother. “Sarina, why don’t you and Valor join me, and I will give you both a tour of the Temple? You are blessed by the Befores to have such a son as Chieftain Laninson. I believe he will surprise us all as he has already done.”
“I believe you are right,” his mother said, squeezing his hand before she and Valor followed the Supreme Sage up the stairs to the temple doors.
