He saw the trumpeter raise his instrument and laid the single arrow on his bowstring. Then he focused totally on the dull purple shape a hundred meters away. The trumpet sound split the air, and Will raised his bow, drawing back on the string as he did so.

There was no need to hurry. He saw the bow coming up in the foreground of his sighting picture, with the purple figure that was his target behind it. He didn’t sight down the arrow or concentrate on any one aspect of the picture. He needed to see it all to estimate elevation, windage and release.

His rhythm was set, his breathing smooth and even. He took a breath, then, fractionally before he felt his right forefinger touch the corner of his mouth, he released half of it. It was an automatic coordination of the two separate actions, and he wasn’t aware that it had happened. But he saw the sight picture, and it was good. Every element was in its correct correlation. Bow, arrowhead and target all formed one complete entity.

And as he saw it and sensed that it was right, he realized, without knowing how, that at the last moment, the Genovesan would try to avoid his arrow. It would only be a small movement—a half step or a sway of the body. But he would do it. Will swung his aim to a point half a meter to his right.

And released—smoothly and without jerking.

He made sure that he held the sighting picture steady after he released, not succumbing to the temptation to drop the bow, but following through with it still in position.

Something flashed by his head, a meter or so to his left. He heard a wicked hiss as it passed, and he registered the fact that the Genovesan had shot before he did. And now, as he finally lowered the bow, he saw the fractional movement from the other man as he took a half-step to the left—directly into the path of Will’s speeding arrow.

The purple figure jerked suddenly, stumbled a few paces and then fell faceup on the grass.

The Kings of Clonmel, Chapter 45