Chapter 409: The Tag

Chapter 409: The Tag

On Friday, Glitch pushed the practice sled a full pace beyond its stopping mark. The handler checked the guide rope from behind the barrier. The sled stopped against its travel limit, and Glitch looked from it to the chalk line under his belly.

"That one was meant to stay here," Jin told him.

Glitch backed up, inspected the mark and snorted. They had started with a light load after two quiet days following the Sync. Jin had expected more strength. He hadn’t expected how readily Glitch would carry that strength into the next step.

The handler reset the sled. "Again at this weight?"

"Same weight. Slower approach."

This time Glitch stopped it inside the marks. Flicker came through for her pass a moment late and found his shoulder filling the line she had expected to use. She climbed instead, returning to her post with an indignant shake of her wings.

Jin lowered his spear. The drake’s lunge had carried farther; his own planned position no longer gave Flicker enough room beside them.

"That’s mine," he told her. "We’ll move the marker."

They adjusted one thing at a time. Glitch practised holding the sled without driving it onward. Flicker waited for the shoulder to clear before crossing. Jin walked the path of his turn, checking both the spear’s reach and where he would be facing afterward.

By the end, they managed two clean runs at the reduced pace. Jin wanted a faster one. Glitch wanted another turn too, judging by the way he stayed at the mark.

Jin called him away. They had time before the assessment. There was no reason to spend it all that afternoon.

On Saturday night, the partly used large stone ran out in his hand. He put it at the back of the drawer with the other empties and unwrapped one of the three left in the cloth. That left two untouched beside the two small Thornwatch stones.

The routine was easy now. The thread came thin and steady, the grit cleared in seconds, and the Core filled and then packed. But something had changed in the packing over the last week.

It felt fuller and denser than it had. When he brought his log to Brand on Monday, she looked at the stop times for a long time.

"You’re close," she said.

"To 3-Star?"

"To being ready for it." She handed the log back. "That’s not the same thing. Keep doing what you’re doing. Don’t push."

He kept the routine measured. His shoulders still tired during spear work, and the new movement skill drew enough energy that he shortened cultivation after harder sessions. Brand wanted consistent control, not a longer entry in his log.

Monday’s drill went better. Glitch held his line, Flicker passed through the space beside him, and Jin finished his turn where he could cover the drake’s flank without blocking her return. The handler varied the sled’s release. They had to watch each other instead of relying on one memorised rhythm.

On the last run, Flicker delayed her approach. Jin nearly sent her sooner, then saw Glitch changing his footing. She came through as he settled. Her shot struck the side pad, and the sled stayed between the chalk marks.

Jin let out the breath he’d been holding.

"That," he said. "Remember that one."

Glitch lifted his head, looking for Flicker. She landed on her post and began tidying one wing as though this had all been very straightforward. Jin’s own practice still went unevenly. When he was fresh, he could choose a useful endpoint and bring the spear round with him. Tired, he landed a step long or turned his shoulders too late. He stopped the short sets before those mistakes became the only thing he was practising.

He began watching Teller between sessions too. Bram rarely hurried after someone who moved away from him. He watched where they would have to put their feet next. Jin marked two possible exits from each of his practice posts. The first time Lucian blocked the one he preferred, he hesitated and took a tap on the arm. The second time, he kept moving.

"Better," Lucian said. "Don’t let me choose it for you."

"You could stop being so helpful."

"Tomorrow."

On Tuesday afternoon, a girl he didn’t know stopped at the rail of Yard Three while he was working with Glitch, and stared.

She was a second-year, by her badge, small and dark-haired, with a notebook under her arm. She watched Glitch take the sled twice. Then she said, to nobody in particular, "Is that the lizard?"

Jin looked round.

"Sorry." She went slightly red.

"I mean — the one from the Highmarch clip. The semifinal. The one with the tiger, and the roar." She looked at Glitch again, at his size and his plates and his horns. "Everyone in my year watched that. He was grey. He was a lizard. He was about—" She held her hands apart, about the size of a large dog.

"He was bigger than that," Jin said.

"He was not much bigger than that." She looked at him properly. "That’s really him?"

"That’s really him."

She stood there for a long moment, looking at the drake who was, at that moment, licking sand off his own nose.

"Huh," she said. She wrote something in her notebook, then stayed for the next run, watching the bird as closely as the drake.

Lucian’s match was on Thursday, the day before Jin’s. Jin watched it from the rail of Yard Two with half the advanced group, Flicker on his arm and Glitch lying behind him.

The yard had been set for the assessments. There was open sand, with three low barrier blocks of padded stone spread across it, waist-high, for cover. Lucian and Owen Saddler each wore a padded vest with a white plate sewn across the chest. Crowe stood at the edge with a whistle.

Owen was quick, quick on his feet and quick in the head. His Gustwing Harrier was quicker. For the first four minutes, they did exactly what Lucian had said they would.

The harrier swung across the yard, low and close, offering itself. Owen dropped his guard and stepped out from behind his block, offering himself too. It was all bait. Jin watched Lucian not take it.

Jin had watched Lucian take that kind of bait in group practice: a Stormstep at the first open angle, followed by an awkward recovery with nowhere useful to go.

Today, Lucian stayed behind his block. When Owen stepped out, Lucian shifted his weight and stayed. When the harrier swung low in front of him, Lucian watched it and stayed.

Kite didn’t stay. She went up, high above the yard, and when the harrier made its next low swing, she came down on it. It wasn’t a stoop to hurt it, just a hard, fast pass that made it break off and climb.

The harrier climbed toward the middle of the yard. Kite followed far enough to keep it from dropping straight back into place, then curved away before the pass became a collision.

Owen had stepped out beside his block, counting on the bird to cover the route around his left. His blade still pointed toward Lucian’s original position. Lucian moved along his own block’s near edge. Owen turned to keep him covered, but had to step around the stone before he could close the new angle.

That was the opening. Jin felt himself lean against the rail. Stormstep carried Lucian past the block’s end into the space the harrier had left. He checked his speed on the final stride, feet under him, instead of skidding through. Owen’s blade came across; Lucian caught it on the stave and guided it aside. One controlled extension put the padded tip on the white plate.

The whistle went.

"Vale," Crowe said.

Jin found him afterward by the water barrel, pouring a cup over his own head.

"You stayed," Jin said.

Lucian shook water out of his hair. "Do you know how hard that was? He stood right there twice, with his guard on the wrong side. I could see it was bait and I still wanted to go."

"You made him wait. He looked annoyed."

"Good." Lucian glanced at Kite, preening on the barrier. "She made the real opening. I just had to leave her time to do it."

"And you stopped cleanly. The stave was already in place when he tried to cover."

Lucian grinned. "You saw that?"

"I was watching your feet. Habit."

Lucian looked at him for a moment, still grinning. Then he slapped him on the shoulder, hard.

"Your turn tomorrow," he said. "Don’t fall over."