Obsidian Thornwing's Arc

Chapter 4 of 18

The trial ring sat behind the townhall. Obsidian arrived at midday with Iron a step behind him. Three judges from the royal guard waited at a low table, ink pots open, grading sheets weighted with stones. Obsidian did not look at them. He looked at his hands. His hands were still. The first judge called his name. Obsidian stepped in and drew. The bout partner came at him hard, testing the black wing on his back before anything else. Obsidian let the man come. He read the shoulder line, stepped off it, and cut for the throat. Clean. Ribs. Clean. He dropped his weight and cut for the knee. His wing stayed flat. The judges wrote. The bout partner reset and came again, faster. Obsidian ran the sequence again. Throat. Ribs. Knee. The wing did not lift once. He heard the scratch of quills between passes. On the fourth pass the middle judge raised a hand and said, "Enough." Obsidian lowered the sword. He waited for the correction. The middle judge tied a length of braided cord and held it out across the table. "Captain's braid. Awarded." Obsidian took the cord. It was lighter than he expected. He turned and walked out of the ring. Iron met him at the edge and looked at the braid in his hand, then at his face. "Told you," Iron said. "I didn't think I'd pass." "I know." Iron took him by the elbow and steered him down the lane toward the tavern with the sturdy roof and the loft above the main hall. The lanterns were already lit under the eaves. Iron pushed the door open and pointed at a table near the back. "Sit. Ale." Obsidian sat. He set the braid on the table between his hands and looked at it. Iron came back with two cups and slid one across. "Drink." Obsidian drank. The ale was bitter and cold. His shoulders came down for the first time in three days. A half-cat woman with red curls and an amber tail stopped at their table on her way past. She wore a cracked leather vest and had a traveler's dust on her boots. She looked at the braid, then at Iron, then at Obsidian. "Royal guard," she said. "That's fresh ink on the cord." "Today," Iron said. "Congratulations." She flicked her tail once. "You take orders from the crown now, or you still take them from him?" "Both," Obsidian said. She grinned. "Ire. I'm passing through. Heading east at dawn with a glider pilot who lost her wings." She tapped the table twice. "Word is the guard's pulling captains north this week. Ridge trouble. You best enjoy the ale while you can.” Obsidian nodded slowly and then exhaled as he processed the tavern’s owner’s words. Iron put a heavy hand on Obsidian’s shoulder and smiled small, “Hey, just enjoy the night before tomorrow comes.”