Who had spoken of that arrow?
I remembered, Tanofir.

I was to think of certain things that he had said when I noted what it pierced.

I unslung my bow, strung it and set that arrow on the string.
By now the Great King was far away, out of reach for most archers.

His chariot forging ahead amidst the remnant of his guards and the nobles who attended on his sacred person, travelled over a little rise where doubtless once there had been a village, long since rotted down to its parent clay.

The sunlight glinted on his shining armour and silken robe, whereof the back was toward me.
I aimed, I drew, I loosed! Swift and far the shaft sped forward.