Obsidian Thornwing's Arc

Chapter 7 of 18

Obsidian sat with his back against the stump and watched the trees. The falcon was gone. The letter was gone. His legs still would not hold him. Sylvara knelt beside the mushroom cabin, packing wet moss into a clay jar. The small red birdfeeder swung above her head in a wind he could not feel. "They're close," he said. "The ones who set the blast." Sylvara did not look up. "I know. Moving east. They'll cross the stream by dusk." "How many?" "Four. Maybe five." Obsidian reached for the sword propped against the stump. His hand was steady. His legs were not. He tried to stand and his knee folded. He caught himself on the stump and swore. "Sit," Sylvara said. "I can fight sitting." "You won't have to." She stood and brushed moss from her palms. She walked past him to the edge of the clearing and put two fingers in her mouth. She whistled once, low and long. The sound rolled into the trees and stopped. For a moment nothing moved. Then something heavy shifted in the ferns behind the cabin. Branches parted. A grey shape stepped through, tall at the shoulder as a horse, with the head of an owl and the body of a bear. Green feathers layered its neck. Its beak was the color of old iron. When it looked at Obsidian, a faint blue light rose under its feathers and dimmed again. Obsidian did not move. "He's mine," Sylvara said. She rested a hand on the creature's shoulder. The blue glow eased. "He walks the border when I ask." "You had this," Obsidian said. "The whole time." "I have a lot of things." She looked east through the trees. "Stay behind the door. Bar it." "Sylvara—" "I said sit." Her voice softened only for him. "Please." She spoke three words to the owlbear in the language she had used with the falcon. It turned and moved into the trees without sound. For something so large, it made the ferns look still. Obsidian dragged himself to the cabin door and pulled it shut. He set the bar. Through the round window he watched Sylvara stand alone in the clearing with her arms at her sides. The screaming started a few minutes later. It was not close, and it did not last long. He counted four voices. Then three. Then one. Then none. Somewhere a blade hit a tree and stayed there. The owlbear came back at dusk with blood on its beak and a torn leather strap in its claws. It dropped the strap at Sylvara's feet and sat. The blue glow was gone. Sylvara knelt and pressed her forehead to its. Obsidian lifted the bar and opened the door. "It's done," Sylvara said with a soft smile. "They won't come back?" “They can’t.” She reassured him. A warmth spread through his heart that he’s never felt before. Sylvara felt the same. Their eyes stayed locked.