Archer's Quest (9 page)

Kevin reached the tiger enclosure, his eyes still darting everywhere. At last he caught a glimpse of Archie—but it wasn't all of him.

It was just his head and shoulders, visible beyond the indoor complex.

Archie appeared to be floating in midair.

Kevin blinked.
Okay, he can't be floating like that—so what's he standing on?

Then Kevin realized that Archie had to be perched on the zoo's exterior wall.
He must have gone out the exit, walked around the outside of the zoo, climbed the wall—

Kevin knew the zoo's layout from previous visits. The zoo was surrounded by a high stone wall. The picnic area, a wide expanse of lawn with tables and chairs, stretched between the big cats' building and the wall. Way too big a gap to jump.

So what's he gonna do next?

Kevin did not have to wait long to find out. Archie disappeared from view for a few moments, and when he reappeared, he was holding his bow, which was fitted with an arrow. He drew back the bowstring, took careful aim, and let the arrow fly.

Kevin saw everything clearly, as if it were happening in slow motion: the long rope that was tied to the arrow. The arrow heading straight for the big tree outside the enclosure. The arrow's course altered abruptly by a twitch of the rope—Archie giving it a yank from where he stood on the wall. The arrow landing high up in the tree—not with its point stuck in the wood, but held firmly in place crosswise at a Y-shaped junction where the tree's trunk met one of its branches.

If Kevin hadn't seen it, he would never have believed it was possible. The fact was, he
had
seen it and he still didn't think it was possible.

He turned his attention from the arrow back to the man who had made that incredible shot. Archie tugged on the rope a few times. Apparently satisfied, he took a few running steps along the top of the stone wall—and jumped, swinging on the rope.

Kevin had
exactly
enough time to think that the shaft of the arrow would never hold Archie's weight when there was a small snapping sound.

The shaft of the arrow broke. The arrow fell to the ground inside the enclosure, along with the rope, which looked like an impossibly long snake that had been shot out of the sky.

And Archie landed lightly on his feet, right on top of the indoor complex.

***

Archie wasted no time in leaping down from the roof of the building. He was now
in
the enclosure—with the tiger not twenty feet away from him.

He crouched behind a tree trunk that hid him from anyone who might be watching from the indoor complex. He did not look the opposite way—toward Kevin behind the fence.
He doesn't need to,
Kevin realized.
He's already checked things out—he knows I'm the only one looking at the tiger.

Kevin felt like his feet were frozen to the ground and his voice frozen in his throat. Should he run for help? Yell for a guard or a zookeeper? He felt his hands move to grip the fence in front of him.
Yeah, right. Like I could somehow climb in there to help if—if—

Meanwhile, Archie was in motion. There was no one watching from the big window inside. He stood and walked calmly toward the jungle corner.

Kevin tore his gaze from Archie long enough to look at the tiger. It was still lying down, but it was definitely aware of Archie's presence. It was looking right at him, its tail twitching a little.

Then the tiger got to its feet. But it didn't crouch to run or spring. Instead, it extended its body in a long, lazy stretch, looking like the biggest tabby housecat in the history of the world. It flicked its ears, then padded a few steps toward Archie.

Kevin was no longer breathing.

Archie said something Kevin couldn't hear, then dropped to his knees and put his forehead on the ground.

He was
bowing
to the tiger.

Oh, jeez. Jeez Louise. Look at him—he's completely exposed. One bite to the back of his neck and he's a goner.

The tiger moved closer. It was an arm's length away from Archie now.

If I yell, I might scare it, and it'll pounce.

Archie rose to a standing position but kept his head bowed. He reached out, scratched the tiger behind its ears, and ran his hands down its back and sides. Then he stepped back and went down on his knees again.

The tiger let out a low growl.

Kevin's lungs still weren't working very well; on the other hand, his heart was working overtime. It was pounding so hard that he wondered if kids his age ever had heart attacks.

A louder growl.

He's going to die, right here in front of me.

Archie rose, again keeping his head low. He backed away a few steps and raised his head to look at the tiger. The big cat hadn't moved.

Kevin glanced around anxiously. Any minute now
and someone—a zookeeper, another visitor—would be sure to notice Archie in there with the tiger.
How's he going to get out? That Tarzan stunt again? No way, that was one in a million.

Archie turned and walked toward the big tree. He found the pieces of the broken arrow and put them in his quiver. Then he picked up the rope and tied it to another arrow. He strung the bow, took aim, and fired at the tree again.

This time the arrow went almost straight up into the air. Archie jerked on the rope, and the arrow came right back down. He retrieved the arrow, untied the rope, put the arrow into the quiver, and tied part of the rope into a loop.

Kevin gaped. Somehow the arrow had gone up one side of a big branch high in the tree ... and come down on the other side. The rope now went right over the branch.

Throughout all this, the tiger had remained motionless. But it was still watching Archie.
He's not out of danger yet.

Archie raised his hand toward the tiger in a combination wave and salute. He put one foot into the rope loop, then worked the rope hand over hand, pulley-style, until he was well above the level of the building's roof. Reaching out for a nearby branch, he set himself to
swinging. He swung once, twice, three times, leaning back and forth to increase the arc of the rope. The branch dipped and swayed.

At the very height of the third swing, Archie launched himself into space. In one fluid motion he leapt from the loop, still holding the rope in one hand as he soared over the whole indoor complex and disappeared on the other side.

The last thing that moved was the rope. It whipped out of the tree, across the enclosure, and over the roof, seemingly with a life of its own, but Kevin was sure that Archie was pulling it—which meant he had survived that incredible flight out of the enclosure. Finally, the loop of rope vanished from sight.

A huge sigh surprised Kevin. It was his own breath coming out in a whoosh.

The whole episode had lasted only a few minutes.

No zookeeper. No alarm bells or sirens.

Archie had escaped without a scratch.

Kevin ran to the exit. He turned left out of the zoo and headed for the spot where he thought Archie might have landed beyond the wall.

"Young Friend!"

Archie, in the corner of the parking lot. He was standing casually next to the garbage can, not looking one bit
like he'd just performed a series of impossible feats that included petting a tiger.

"Archer!" Kevin hurried over. "You—how—I can't believe—the tiger—"

"Ah. The tiger. I am afraid he could not be of assistance. He comes from a land far from my own. Even if I were to ride him, and the magic were to carry me out of this world, I am quite certain we would arrive at a destination in
his
ancestral homeland, not mine."

"He—he
to Id
you all that?"

Archie shook his head. "Do not be ridiculous, Little Frog. There may have been a time long ago when animals and humans could speak with each other, but that time is, alas, well past." He cocked his head to one side. "At least, in my world this is so. Are you able to converse with animals here and now?"

"Well, no. Not exactly. But you didn't talk to the tiger, and you still found out that he's not from your country." Another question that wasn't a question.

"Yes. I felt his coat, you see. Mountain tigers such as those I know best have dense, heavy coats to protect them from the bitter cold and snow of winter. This tiger had a much thinner coat, from which I surmised that he must come from a far warmer clime."

Kevin recalled the plaque in front of the enclosure:
Indian tiger. He's absolutely right.

"Which means," Archie continued, "that we must find another tiger."

But Kevin wasn't ready to move on just yet. "Weren't you scared—I mean, um, it must have been frightening to be in there with the tiger."

A slight pause. "It is true that I did not know this tiger well. But my need was greater than my fear."

Wow. That made it sound pretty simple. But Kevin had been there. He'd seen what Archie had done, and there wasn't anything simple about it.

"As well, that tiger has spent a considerable amount of time, perhaps all its life, around humans. He did not feel threatened by my presence, which enabled me to return the courtesy."

Born in the San Antonio Zoo
—that was what the plaque said. Archie was right again.
So if Archie's right—if he had ridden that tiger and the magic had worked, maybe they wouldn't have gone back to India at all—maybe they'd have ended up in San Antonio.

"In truth, there are few times when animals wish to harm us," Archie went on. "If it were their choice, animals would coexist with us in peace and harmony, and even come to our aid from time to time, as I have witnessed myself."

"Archer, the way you got in and out of the tiger's pen—that was incredible!"

Archie looked pleased. "It was nothing. When one has spent as much time as I have in practice with the bow, the skills acquired over the years are ready when one has need of them."

"But the way the arrow landed—right where you wanted it to! I just don't see—" Kevin stopped. There didn't seem to be words for the amount of amazement he felt.

"But you
did
see," Archie said, "as did I. That is part of the discipline. You must see, in your mind, the target complete with the arrow in its place. How can you reach the goal if you do not know what it is?"

Visualization.
That was what Kevin's soccer coach called it. Picture the ball going into the net. Picture the perfect pass. Wasn't Archie saying the same thing?

But Kevin had tried that. Time after time, he'd imagined himself scoring a great goal. Same as he'd tried to imagine the answer to tough math problems the way his dad wanted him to.

Most of the time, it didn't work. And when it did work, Kevin always suspected it was more luck than anything else.
I just don't get it. Wishing for something isn't the same as making it happen.

He said it out loud. "But, Archer, seeing the goal isn't the same as getting there."

Archie nodded. "True enough. Seeing the goal is useless without practice. Regular and rigorous practice until the actions are as natural as blink or breath."

"But don't you think—I mean, I think you must also have a special talent."

The corners of Archie's mouth twitched, and his eyes crinkled. "Well, yes. But I am reminded now of my first encounter with the bow. I nocked the arrow as I had been shown, drew back the bowstring, aimed, and released." A chuckle. "The arrow fell at my feet! I was truly ashamed. But that was nothing compared to my shame ten arrows later. Not a single one of them flew!"

Kevin made a mental note.
Nocked—he said that once before. It must be the word for what you do with an arrow. Not loaded, like a bullet.
"But if you were so bad at it, how come you—um, it must have been hard to keep trying when you kept missing all the time."

"Indeed. And perhaps therein we find the most worthy definition of talent: the desire for discipline."

"Discipline..."

"The wish to improve one's skills coupled with the awareness of the need for practice. In other words, those who possess the willingness to work hard toward their goals. I would rather have a student like this than one who can let an arrow fly on his first try."

Kevin shook his head. "But, Archer, practicing the same thing over and over is so boring."

"The boredom lies not in the task itself, not even in the repetition. The boredom is in the mind of the one performing the task. In our minds, anything can be boring. And the inverse is also true: Our minds can make any task interesting."

Any task? He obviously hasn't had to do sixth-grade social-studies homework.

"Okay," Kevin said and leaned forward a little. "Say you're starting out, and you're going to practice by shooting a hundred arrows. Maybe the first twenty or thirty—that's interesting. But after that it isn't interesting anymore. A lot of people would just stop and go do something else."
Including me.

"Those who lack the desire for the discipline, yes. But for those with the desire, there are certain strategies that can be applied."

"Strategies? Um, I mean—strategies. How interesting."

"Yes. I myself used numbers a great deal when I was first learning, and still do so to this day. To continue with your supposition, if I decide to shoot one hundred arrows, I assign points for the value of each shot. Each day I try to amass more points than I did on the previous day. I have the desire to surpass the previous day's total, which therefore makes the hundredth arrow as interesting as the first." He chuckled again. "After years of
hundred-arrow days, it is said that I am talented! You decide for yourself—talent or discipline?"

Kevin drew in a long breath. His heartbeat had finally returned to normal. But he knew he'd replay the scene in his mind over and over for the rest of his life—Archie shooting those arrows, swinging on the rope, petting the tiger.

Even if this
was
a dream, right now he felt lucky to be having it. It was way better than any video game.