A Ballot of the Wolf and Merc | Ubbe Ragnarsson FanFic

Archer Mastery

Drawing back, middle and index finger hooked in the strung sinew of the long bow, inhale slowly as the feathers of the arrow reared back aligning with the man's cheek bones.

Exhale. Release.

Whistling through the forrest's nippy air it was less than a blink of an eye, the arrow punctured into it's target's stuffed skull like it was nothing.

"Excellent shot brother!" Hooting and hollering two of the four young men praised their eldest sibling.

"Psh," A short snort from the dark haired lad sitting perched on a stump beside the one who'd struck the target.

Casting blue eyes onto his brother's noisy retort, the oldest set his bow down and gave an inclination, "Your turn Ivar."

With a guttural puff in his chest, Ivar hefted the identical bow up level with his extended arm. Just as his oldest brother had done, breath in as the sinew was pulled tight. Exhale and release. Silently slicing through the air, the sharp tip struck not two inches from his brother's first shot.

Tossing a grin from his stump seat Ivar sat up proudly, "Not the only decent shot eh Ubbe?"

"Floki has taught you well brother," only returning his arrogant little brother with a smile and ruffling his swept back dark hair, Ubbe set his bow down with the rest of the archery equipment and turned back to his other brothers, "Sigurd, Hvitserk." Both middle brother's arched their heads towards their brother as he called, "Pack up, mother will want us back before meal today. Especially since Ivar came with us."

The command earned an audible groan from everyone, even Ivar. Unwavering blue eyes starred at his brothers and the trio of them moaned in defeat of the silent look.

"I'm not picking your arrows up this time Ivar," Sigurd grumbled as he gathered the dulled swords him and Hvitserk had been sparring out.

"Oh yes just let me walk right out there then brother!" Sharp tongued towards his brother Ivar gave him a nasty look as he luged himself off the stump he'd been perched on, "Let my legs just be healed magically for me to gather the arrows and I'll-"

"Ivar, Sigurd, enough-" Eyeing his brothers Ubbe quelled their bickering sternly, "I'll go get them. Shut your mouths, the all of you."

"What did I do!" Hvitserk, who'd been busy wiping off and placing swords in their scabbards barked at his brother's accusation.

Glowering at the three youngens Ubbe snatched his ratty cloak of skins and shouldered the shawl before traipsing out where most of the arrows had been shot towards the tree line and deeper in the forest.

"...pen casgen..." Ivar muttered along Sigurd as Ubbe turned his back.

"I heard that!" calling out his brother's insult as he walked deeper into the forrest. Something came from their peanut gallery but Ubbe disappeared into the dense trees before he could listen to anymore of his siblings quibble with one another.

The thick scent of wet moss and damp earth swallowed Ubbe up the further he trekked into the thicket. Aside from the slight aroma of his stale furs draped over his shoulders, the young man welcomed the swallowing silence that came from such a dense collection of greenery and the lanky evergreens. Soft from the morning mists, the sodden ground engulfed any noise Ubbe's footsteps could have made. Here and there the man picked up arrows. Spotting them by the brightly dyed fletching on their lower shafts sticking mostly up towards the canopy of evergreens.

First at random intervals. Then a strange pattern came to his attention. Setting him off more was the nearly half dozen arrows splintered in half. Scowling Ubbe knew there was no way he nor Ivar could send an arrow fast enough to rupture it's shaft. Upon closer examination he saw the clean break in the middle. Like someone had broken it over their knee.