Stone of Tears

They stood a long way off; so far, in fact, that she could hardly see the bundled grass, much less the Xs. Richard strapped on a simple leather bracer Savidlin had made for him along with the bow, and shot arrows until his headache was gone.

Richard was a picture of stillness, of smoothness; he was one with the bow. She smiled at how good he looked, and that he was hers. It made her heart ache with joy to see his gray eyes sparkle without the pain of the headache in them. They moved closer so she could shoot.

“Don’t you want to go check where your arrows hit?”

He smiled. “I know where they hit. You shoot now.”

She shot a few arrows, getting the feel again. He set one end of his bow on the ground, rested both hands over the other end, and watched her. She had been a girl the last time she used a bow. Richard watched her shoot a few more times, and then came and stood behind her. His arms came around her, and he adjusted her hand on the bow and put his fingers on the string.

“Here. Do this. You can’t get any power or be steady enough holding the arrow with your thumb and the knuckle of your first finger that way. Hold the bowstring back with your first three fingers, like this, nesting the arrow between the first two. And pull with your shoulder too. You don’t need to pull on the arrow, just concentrate on holding back the string. The arrow will take care of itself. See? Isn’t that better?”

She grinned. “It is with your arms around me.”

“Pay attention to what you’re doing,” he scolded.

Kahlan took aim and shot. He said it was better and told her to try again. She shot a few more arrows, and thought she might have even hit the bundled grass once. She drew the bowstring again, trying to hold the bow steady. Suddenly, he tickled her stomach. She doubled over squealing and laughing, trying to get his fingers off her.

“Stop it!” She laughed breathlessly, trying to twist away from him. “stop it! Richard! I can’t shoot when you’re doing that!”

He put his fists on his hips. “You have to be able to.”

She frowned up at him as she panted. “What do you mean?”

“Besides being able to hit what you want, you have to be able to shoot no matter what is happening. If you can’t shoot when you’re laughing, how can you shoot when you’re afraid? Just you and the target, that’s all there is. Nothing else matters. You have to be able to block everything else out.

“If a wild boar is charging you, you can’t think about how afraid you are, or what will happen if you miss. You have to be able to make the shot under pressure. Or else have a tree close by you can climb.”

“But, Richard, you can do it because you have the gift. I can’t do that.”

“Nonsense. The gift has nothing to do with it. It’s simple concentration. Here, I’ll talk you through it. Nock an arrow.”

He stood behind her again, pulling her hair off her neck, leaning close, looking over her shoulder, and whispering in her ear as she drew the bowstring back. He whispered what she should feel, how she should breathe, where she should look, what she should see. He talked in a way that made the words melt into nothingness, and instead made images form in her head. Only three things existed: the arrow, the target, and his words. She was in a world of silence.

When everything else winked out, the target seemed to grow larger in her vision, drawing the arrow to it. His words made her feel it, made her do things without understanding them. She relaxed and exhaled, holding herself still without taking another breath. She could feel it, feel the target. She knew when it was time, when it was right.

Lightly, like a breath of air, the arrow left of its own accord, as if it had decided to go on its own. In the quiet, she could see the feathers clear the bow, feel the string hit the bracer; she could see the target pulling the arrow, she could hear the arrow hit the X. She felt air rush back into her lungs.

It was almost like when she released her Confessor’s power. It was magic, Richard’s magic. His words were magic. It was like having a new vision.

She felt as if she were coming awake from a dream. The world came back. She almost fell against him.

Kahlan turned and threw her arms around his neck, still gripping the bow in one hand. “Richard, that was wonderful. The target came to me!”

“See? I told you you could do it.”

She kissed his nose. “I didn’t do it, you did it. I was just holding the bow instead of you.”

He smiled. “No. You did it. I just showed your mind how. That’s what teaching is. I was simply teaching you. Do it again.”

Kahlan had lived around wizards all her life. She knew the way wizards did things. That was the way Richard had done it. He spoke to her the way wizards spoke. It was the gift speaking, she knew, even if he wouldn’t admit it.

As she shot more arrows, he talked less. Without his words guiding her, it was harder to get the feel, but now and again she did. She could tell when she was doing it herself, without him. It seemed to be as he said, like intense concentration.