Oath of the Broken Sword Chapter 10

The drake’s confusion lasted only a heartbeat. A fly-sting of irritation, not true submission. Its low growl rumbled through the cage floor, a promise of renewed violence. My head throbbed from the mental backlash of my desperate command. I’d reached for it like I reached for Silvershine, but this creature’s mind was a swamp of primal hunger, with no gleaming threads of intelligence to grasp.

*Stupid. Arrogant.* The thoughts were my own, sharp and clear amidst the panic. Silvershine’s bond was unique;

this was just a beast.

It charged again, faster this time, claws digging furrows into the packed earth. I had no more tricks. No grace, no hidden technique. Just the burning in my blood and the desperate will to survive. I dropped into a slide, mud and something worse staining my trousers, passing underneath its snapping jaws. The stench of its breath—rotting meat and ozone—filled my lungs.

I scrambled to my feet, putting the cage’s central pillar between us. The drake circled, its tail lashing. I could hear the trial-master’s steady, emotionless count. “…Forty-seven… forty-eight…”

Each number was a lifetime. The drake feinted left, then lunged right. I misjudged, stumbling. A clawed foot slammed into my side, throwing me against the bars. Ribs screamed in protest. The world swam, spots dancing in my vision.

*Get up. Get up!

*

A different heat flooded me, not the warning thrum of my bloodline, but the raw, familiar fire of anger. Anger at Marcus for this spectacle. Anger at my own weakness. Anger at this damned creature. I pushed myself up, tasting copper.

The drake was poised for the final pounce. Its muscles coiled., a voice, cold and clear, cut through the roaring in my ears.

“Its left hind leg. It favors it. See the slight limp?”

Kaela. She stood at the edge of the cage, her arms crossed, her gaze analytical, as if studying a tactical diagram. She wasn’t cheering. She wasn’t sympathizing. She was… advising.

My eyes snapped to the drake’s leg. A old, gnarled scar ran across its haunch. It *did* put less weight on it.

“Sixty!” the trial-master called.

The drake leaped. This time, I didn’t try to dodge fully. I rolled directly *towards* it, towards its weaker side. It was a suicidal move, a gambler’s throw. Its jaws snapped shut on empty air where my head had been, but its momentum carried its vulnerable flank past me. I drove my elbow, with all the strength I had left, into the scar tissue.

A pained shriek, different from its roars of fury, echoed in the cage. The drake stumbled, its leg buckling momentarily.

That was the opening. I didn’t attack. I just ran. I kept the pillar between us, now consciously driving it towards its injured side, forcing it to pivot on the weak leg. It was slower, more hesitant.

“Eighty!”

“It’s tiring,” Kaela’s voice came again, steady. “Its breaths are deeper. The initial frenzy is fading. Just survive. Don’t fight. Survive.”

Her words were a lifeline. I focused on my feet, on the rhythm of my own ragged breathing. The drake’s charges became clumsier, its roars more frustrated than lethal.

“Ninety-eight… ninety-nine… one hundred!”

A shrill whistle blew. The trial-masters advanced with electrified prods, driving the drake back towards its inner cage. The adrenaline vanished, and the pain in my side flared, white I slumped against the bars, my legs giving way.

The cage door opened. Lieutenant Renn entered, his face an unreadable mask. He looked from me, gasping in the mud, to Kaela, who had already turned and was walking away without a second glance.

“Cadet Elia,” Renn’s voice was flat. “You pass.”

He offered a hand. I took it, hauling myself up. Every muscle protested.

“That was… unconventional,” he murmured, his grip firm. “Reaching into a beast’s mind is a dangerous path. Few have the strength for it, and fewer still the control.” He released my hand. “Report to the infirmary. The Marshal wishes to see the survivors at dusk.”

***

The infirmary smelled of antiseptic and blood. My ribs were tightly bound, and a dour-faced medic had forced a bitter-tasting potion down my throat. I sat on the edge of a cot, watching the medics tend to Tomas. His arm was in a complex splint, his face pale. He saw me looking and managed a weak smile.

“Told you I’d share my bread,” he croaked. “Didn’t think I’d be sharing a medic, too.”

I tried to smile back, but it felt more like a grimace. Guilt gnawed at me. He was here because of his courage. I was here because of… what?

A fluke?

A forbidden bloodline?

And Kaela’s help.

As if summoned by my thought, the curtain to my cot was swept aside. Kaela stood there, cleaner than any of us had a right to be.

“The Marshal summons us now,” she said, her eyes avoiding my bandaged torso. “Can you walk?”

I nodded, standing slowly. The potion was already working, dulling the edge of the pain. We walked in silence through the torch-lit corridors of the Sky Knight compound. The stone walls seemed to press heavy with the weight of centuries of ambition and death.

“Why?” I finally asked, the word echoing in the empty hallway.

She didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “The strong survive. But strength is not always in the sword arm. You showed… adaptability. A resource to be noted. Nothing more.”

It was a cold, calculated answer. The kind Marshal Marcus would approve of. But I remembered the intensity in her eyes as she watched the drake, the quick, precise analysis. It hadn’t felt like mere resource assessment.

We arrived at the Marshal’s strategy room. The other seven survivors were already there, including the hulking Gregor and a slender, sharp-eyed girl named Lyra who had surpassed everyone in the first trial. We were a battered, bruised group, but a new, hard light shone in everyone’s eyes. We had passed through the fire.

Marshal Marcus stood before a massive map of Terragaia. Chancellor’s aide, the sour-faced man from the trials, stood slightly behind him, a scroll in his hand.

“Eight of you remain,” Marcus began, his voice echoing in the chamber. “You are no longer cadets. You are now Probationary Sky Knights of the Orolon Empire.” He paused, letting the title settle. “With this rank comes your first duty.”

He gestured to the map, specifically to a jagged coastline in the Southern Mysterious Domain. “The Emberwind Archipelago. Recent seismic activity has unearthed what our scholars believe to be a significant Titan relic. Your squadron will escort a research team to investigate.”

A ripple of excitement mixed with anxiety went through the room. A real mission. Outside the Empire.

“Probationary Knight Kaela,” Marcus said. “You will lead the squadron.”

Kaela stiffened, then gave a crisp nod. “Sir.”

“Probationary Knight Elia.” His iron gaze fell on me. “You will serve as second. Your… unique resilience may prove useful in uncharted territory.”

I felt the eyes of the others on me. Gregor’s gaze was particularly heavy. Second-in-command?

To Kaela?

It made no sense. Unless he knew. Unless he was testing the limits of my “unique resilience.”

The Chancellor’s aide unrolled the scroll. “By order of the Imperial Chancellor, this mission carries the highest priority. Any findings are to be reported directly to this office. You will depart at dawn aboard the sky-ship *Resolute*.”

Marcus dismissed the others but gestured for Kaela and me to remain. When the door shut, the room felt cavernous.

“This is more than a relic hunt,” Marcus said, his voice dropping. “The Archipelago is a place of strange magical currents. The Silver Federation and the Twilight Cult are both active in the region. Do not trust anyone outside your squad. The relic is secondary. Your primary objective is to observe. Report any cultist activity or Federation movements directly to me, through encrypted channels.” He looked straight at me. “Your bond with your dragon will be your best sensor, Probationary Knight. Use it.”

So that was it. We were pawns in his game, sent into a den of wolves. And I was to be his special, bloodline-tipped pawn.

“Understood, Marshal,” Kaela said.

“Yes, sir,” I echoed, the words tasting like ash.

We left the strategy room. The silence between Kaela and me was thicker now, laden with the weight of our new, complicated roles. Rivals. Commander and subordinate. And perhaps, the only two people in this entire fortress who understood the true stakes of the game we were being forced to play.

As we reached the courtyard, a familiar, vast consciousness brushed against my mind. It was like wind clearing smoke.

*The little spark yet lives,* Silvershine’s voice echoed in my head, a hint of dry amusement. *And now it flies towards the storm.*

I looked up at the star-dusted sky. Somewhere up there, she circled. *What storm?

* I thought back, the communication still feeling alien.

*A storm of old bones and older lies,* came her reply. *The Emberwind Isles… they remember the God-Shattering. They remember the blood that soaked the earth. The Marshal sends you to sniff out cultists, but he is blind. You fly towards the heart of the waking past, little spark. And the past has teeth.*

Her presence faded, leaving me with a chill that had nothing to do with the night air. I glanced at Kaela, her profile stern in the moonlight. We were heading towards a relic, but we were also heading towards a truth. And as I felt the strange, forbidden blood pulse softly in my veins, I knew, with a certainty that terrified me, that this mission was about far more than just observing our enemies.

It was about discovering what I was.