But Thorn did not have time to think about that possible loss. He jumped out of the container car and looked around wildly for his colleague.

Incredibly, Warren was still alive. Blood was beginning to well out of the side of his mouth, and his shirt was soaked with gore where the two rusty points had driven into his chest.

'My God! Charles! Horror stricken, Thorn moved to help his dying friend.

Warren held out one hand feebly, the hand holding the crucifix. ‘Take it,' he said in a thin, hoarse whisper. 'And take ... the daggers.' He struggled for breath. ‘The boy... must... be killed.'

'The daggers?' Thorn asked. ‘You have them?'

'Get out,' Warren rasped, 'before it's too late!'

Thorn looked up. The raven was sitting on top of the boxcar, looking down at them with piercing, unflinching eyes. Thorn looked back at Warren. 'Where are the daggers?' he shouted, fearful now for his own life.

But Warren could no longer hear him. His eyes had rolled back into his head and the crucifix had dropped from his lifeless hand.

Thorn backed away in horror. The raven released a hoarse, ugly cry and lofted up from the boxcar, wheeling around sharply and heading swiftly straight back for Thorn.

Thorn lunged for the crucifix. He grasped the cross, whirled around, shoving it up quickly into the air just a moment before the raven had reached him. The bird screeched savagely and then flew away, circling angrily in the air above him. Thorn moved forward again with the crucifix held high, and the raven moved off. Thorn started to run.

And this time he kept on running.

Chapter Fourteen

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

It was the evening of the annual sword-giving ceremony at Davidson Military Academy, the most solemn occasion of the year.

The affair was held in the indoor parade ground; the parents and the rest of the student body were assembled on the balcony, in order to watch the honored cadets below receive the glittering symbols of their achievement.

This year, six cadets were being so honored. Among them was Damien. Mark, too, was to have received a sword, and the five cadets below had spaced themselves in such a way that it was clear one of them was missing. Damien stood in line, very tall and very proud, awaiting his turn. He was still wearing the black band wrapped tightly around his left arm.

Ann stood in the balcony with Buher beside her. She was on the verge of tears. Buher noticed and quickly offered his handkerchief, and Ann took it with a grateful smile.

Down below, a lone bugler stood apart and played as each cadet stepped forward to receive his sword.