Damian FINUCANE's Arc

Chapter 54 of 57

Damian and Rolo rode the ridge road until midday. The high house waited past the ridge, but Damian would not ride in blind. He needed the guard layout first. So he stopped in a stand of pines and waited for his raven. His hands were steady now. His mind was not. Each hour the last man could arm his gate or run. "It should be back," Damian said. He watched the pale sky. Empty. No black shape cut across it. Rolo crouched by the horses. "Give it time. That house sits far." But the sun crossed the trees, and still the bird did not come. Damian's jaw tightened. He had sent the raven at dawn from the drafthouse. A scout flight should take hours, not a full day. He paced. He tested his grip on the sword hilt. Steady, but useless without eyes ahead. "I can't ride in blind," he said. "If I don't know the guards, I die at the wall." "Then we wait," Rolo said. "You rested for a reason. Don't throw it away by charging in stupid." Damian sat against a pine. He forced his breath slow, the way his master taught. Clear the mind. He let the fear of the empty sky drain out. His shaking hands had cost him a day. He would not let a rushed ride cost him his life. He would trust the bird one more hour. The hour passed. Then, low over the ridge, a black shape beat toward them. Damian stood. The raven dropped hard onto his wrist, wings ragged, one feather bent. It gripped his arm and did not let go. Its chest heaved. "Easy," Damian said. He ran a thumb over the glossy feathers. A thin red line crossed the bird's back. Something had grazed it. An arrow, maybe. A thrown blade. Rolo leaned close. "They shot at it." "Which means they saw it." Damian's stomach dropped. "They know a raven scouted the house. They know I'm close." But the bird had done its work. Damian read the truth in how it had circled before landing, in the dust caked on its claws from a hard, low pass over walls. The raven had flown the high house and returned. He knew now the house had a wall, a gate, and men who watched the sky. He knew the guards were alert and armed. "So we lost surprise," Rolo said. "We lost surprise." Damian set the raven on a branch and gave it water from his palm. It drank. "But I know the shape of the place now. A wall. A gate. Guards who watch for scouts." He wrapped a strip of cloth around the bird's grazed back. Then he stood and faced the ridge. The last man on his list waited past it, warned and ready. Damian drew the blue-stoned sword a hand's width. His grip held firm. "He knows I'm coming," Damian said. "Good. Let him wait for me."