Ravenna Nightblade's Arc

Chapter 6 of 8

Ravenna climbed out of the hollow with the crest in one hand and her sword in the other. Below, torches spilled from the keep's gate. She did not wait for Finnian to come to her. She walked down the slope to meet him on open ground. Scarlett followed, bow ready. The red cat trotted beside them, tail high, calm as still water. Then the ground closed on both sides. Guards poured across the field from the keep, spears leveled. Behind Ravenna, over the ridge, a second wave came. Orcs. A whole warband, clubs and stone axes raised, teeth bared. Finnian had aimed both at her. She stood between them with nowhere to run. "They'll crush us," Scarlett said flatly. She raised the bow anyway. "I count forty. Maybe more." Beside Ravenna, the werewolf's shoulders bunched. This was Fenrir, the fighter who served her direwolf and asked nothing of anyone. Once a fight began, nothing called him back until it ended. He stepped forward, claws out, ready to lose himself in it. "Wait," Ravenna said. The cat sat down in the grass. It looked at the guards, then the orcs, and did not move. Its calm reached her. She understood. She had killed enough hunters. She did not need to kill her way to a chair. Ravenna lifted the crest above her head. Torchlight caught the twin gryphons and the small throne worked in the metal. The crown gleamed at its top. Every man in the empire knew that symbol. Their orders came from it. "This is House Nightblade's crest," she called. "Finnian wears no crown tonight. He gave you orders with a symbol he no longer holds. I hold it. I am the last true heir." The front rank of guards slowed. Spears wavered. The orcs stopped at the ridge, confused, snarling at empty air. The whole field went still. Fenrir's claws stayed out, but he did not charge. "Say the word," he said. "Not yet," Ravenna said. Scarlett lowered her bow a hand's width and spoke to the nearest guards. Her voice was plain and flat, no dramatics. "His brother sealed a death warrant on his own blood. He sent you against her. He sent orcs against his own people. He has no crest. She does. Look at it." A guard captain stared at the crest, then at the empty ground where Finnian was not. He lowered his spear. Behind him, a dozen others did the same. The orcs, paid in a coin that no longer bought them anything, turned and melted back over the ridge. Ravenna lowered the crest slowly. The field was hers. Not the throne, not yet. But the guards who had come to kill her now stood waiting for her command. From the keep gate, a lone figure watched. Finnian, bare-headed, small against the dark stone. He had spent his last army in one throw, and it had turned to face him.