Damian FINUCANE's Arc

Chapter 27 of 57

Damian rode hard through the night and reached the temple at first light. Its Gothic arches rose gray against the sky, the tall stone doors shut tight. He wanted to bring the name inside and lay it before his master. But he saw the wide plaza before the doors was not empty. Three riders sat their horses in the open. They wore no marks, yet they watched the temple the way wolves watch a pen. Damian's stomach turned cold. The news had beaten him here. The hand in the distant city had learned the mastermind was dead. Now it had sent killers to strike the temple before Damian could raise its guard. He counted three, then a fourth stepping from behind a tree. Each carried a short blade, and one held a bow. He drew rein and thought fast. If he charged, they would spread and take him from the sides. If he called out, they would rush the doors. His master and the students inside did not yet know they were watched. Damian slid from the saddle and sent his raven up with a lift of his arm. It rose and cut across the plaza toward the temple's high round window. He needed the bird to warn the hall while he held the men in the open. He walked into the plaza with the gemmed sword low at his side. "You came for the boy with the runed blade," he said. "He is here." The bowman lifted his weapon. Damian moved before the string pulled. He crossed the stones fast and struck the nearest rider's horse flank with the flat of his blade. The animal reared. The rider fell, and the arrow flew wide over the doors. Then the four came at once. Damian kept his mind clear the way his master had taught him. He met the first blade, turned it, and cut the man's arm. He stepped inside the second man's swing and drove an elbow into his throat. Behind him he heard the great doors groan open. The raven had reached them. Gray-robed students spilled onto the steps with drawn swords. The killers saw the odds shift and broke. Two ran for their horses. Damian let them go. He would not chase and leave the temple thin. The bowman scrambled up and fled last, empty-handed. When the plaza cleared, Damian's master came down the steps. She looked at the fallen men and then at him. Her face was hard. "They knew to come here," she said. "Someone told them where you would run." Damian pulled the folded letter from his coat and put it in her hand. "Read the name at the bottom," he said. "That is who sent them." She read it. Her hand tightened on the page, and Damian saw she knew the name. The temple was safe today. But now his enemy knew exactly where to reach him, and his master knew something she had not yet spoken.