Damian FINUCANE's Arc

Chapter 56 of 57

They waited out the day in the pines. Damian lay still and watched the sky darken. The raven rested in the crook of the low branch, wrapped in his cloak. Its chest rose slow and even now. It could not fly, but it lived. Rolo checked the wound twice and said the bird would heal. Damian held the picture of the wall in his mind. The east corner. The blind gap. The gate. He waited for the walkers to pass wide. When the moon was low, they climbed. Damian went first, sword strapped to his back. He crawled the last stretch of the ridge and slid down toward the wall. The stone was rough and cold under his hands. He crouched at the east corner and listened. Boots scraped above. One walker. Then the sound moved off, slow, toward the far side. The gap opened. "Now," Rolo breathed. Damian jumped. He caught the top of the wall and pulled himself up. His arms shook, but they held. He rolled over the edge and dropped into the yard. Rolo landed beside him without a sound. They pressed flat against the stone and waited. No shout came. No torch swung their way. The walkers kept their slow round on the far side. Then a guard turned the corner ahead. He was close. He carried a lamp low. He saw the two shapes against the wall and opened his mouth. Damian moved before the man could shout. He drove his shoulder into him and clamped a hand over his mouth. The lamp fell. Rolo caught it before it struck stone. Damian wrestled the guard down and pressed his forearm across the throat until the man went limp. His heart slammed. He waited. Still no alarm. "Breathing," Rolo whispered, a finger at the man's neck. "Not dead." Damian dragged the guard into the dark against the wall. He took the lamp from Rolo and shut its hood. They were inside. The gate men still watched the road. The walkers still watched the sky. No one knew. He looked across the yard at the house. A single window glowed on the upper floor. The last man on his list slept behind that light, or waited behind it. Damian's hunt ended in that room. "He's here," Damian said. "Above." Rolo drew her knife. "Then we go up quiet. No noise until you stand in front of him." Damian nodded. His hands were steady now. The wall no longer blocked him. He had passed the stone without a single blade raised against him, without a shout, without a bell. The blind corner had opened, and he had taken it. He crossed the yard toward the lit window, low and fast, Rolo at his shoulder. The last door stood between him and the man who had ordered it all.