Nameless (25 page)

Right?

She watched a bottle get absorbed into the steady current and sighed. She didn’t have much to offer Commander Laden and the Allies downriver. Gryphon and his mess would leave soon. She didn’t know the nature of his mission, but the fact that there was some movement seemed worthy of mention. She wrote briefly about the Nameless’ rebellion, intentionally leaving out her reckless promise to help a pregnant Ram woman escape. She ended the missive by reemphasizing that the Ram planned to relocate south before winter this year.

Living with an actual Ram soldier on the outskirts of the city made things both better and worse for Zo. Better, because, like today, she noticed when Gryphon left on excursion, warning the Allies to have scouts follow them, worse because it made reaching the heart of the city, where all the tactical decisions were made, nearly impossible. Still, she had to confirm her suspicions about the Ram’s relocation. She couldn’t shake the feeling that the Valley of Wolves was the targeted destination.

Zo dropped her last bottle into the rushing river and settled to rest against a nearby mulberry tree. The sound of water always brought back memories of Gabe. Not many people found tromping through a freezing river invigorating. Gabe had. The only thing he liked better was throwing Zo over his shoulder and dunking her with him. Tess would laugh and Zo would hold his head under for as long as she could before marching out to find dry clothes and a fire.

At least he died fighting. Gryphon had given him that small gift. Zo ripped apart a piece of newly shed bark. The wood crumbled in a satisfying way in her hands while a hundred questions zigzagged across the streets of her mind.

Zo shook her head, blinking away tears of guilt.

If she had accepted Gabe from the beginning, she likely wouldn’t have come on this suicide mission. Tess wouldn’t have followed her into the Gate. Gabe wouldn’t have brought his men so close to the wall to wait for her. He’d still be alive, resting his lean muscled arms around her on cold spring nights like this one. Promising there wouldn’t be another raid. Vowing to protect her and Tess.

Zo wiped at tears with her forearm and laughed. It wasn’t a healthy laugh—the kind that begins in your stomach and rolls out unaffected. It was dark delirium, without the slightest bit of mirth attached. Hollow.

It wasn’t reasonable to think of such things. Zo’s hatred of the Ram clouded every other emotion. She could never have been happy with Gabe. He wasn’t broken like she was. He could have given a woman everything she could ever want or need from a man. His whole self.

Zo didn’t have room enough to love him and hate the Ram. Hers was an all-consuming hatred. The kind held until reaching the grave. Zo had been broken so long, she didn’t know how to fix herself. She didn’t care to fix herself.

Run bottles. Run.

It didn’t take long for Gryphon and his mess to find remnants of the small enemy outpost the Wolf prisoner had mentioned. The grass lay flattened where tents once sat. A circle of hollow logs surrounded charred ground where a fire had been. Gryphon walked to the bank of the river where a small, man-made dam and rigging of nets had been hastily destroyed.

“Someone warned them,” said Zander as he squatted near the fresh tracks.

“Scouts?” asked one of Gryphon’s mess brothers.

Zander rested his thick forearms on his knees, still crouched on the ground. “S’possible.” He turned to Gryphon and narrowed his gaze. “But my gut disagrees.”

Gryphon’s hands turned cold. Rushing water tugged on what remained of the wrecked nets. The stale air tasted wrong. He jogged over to the ashy circle where the campfire had been. “Warm,” he said, more to himself than anyone else.

“A scout couldn’t have given them more than a half hour’s notice. We’re only five miles from the Gate,” said Ajax.

Gryphon slowly rose to his feet, his golden eyes unfocused. He refused to believe Zo dropped bottles this morning before they left. She wouldn’t. Not after he’d just taken her sister in.

But he had mentioned that he was leaving …

Gryphon looked around the small clearing and wrinkled his brow. “Something’s wrong here.” He marched to the edge of the abandoned camp and scanned the thick trees. The rest of the men followed his example, fanning out to form a standard search along the perimeter.

A deafening blast erupted from the camp as one of the hollow logs exploded. Lethal flying darts of debris soared in every direction. One of Gryphon’s mess brothers cried out in pain.

Gryphon spotted the distant figure of a man through the thick forest.

“Jax!” he called, through the chaos. His voice sounded muffled in his ears.

Ajax was only a few feet away. “There.” He motioned with a slight tilt of his head in the direction where he’d spotted the movement in the forest. Ajax nodded his understanding and the two brothers took off in opposite directions under the cover of the commotion to investigate.

Gryphon ran in a wide arc around the spot where he thought the scout was positioned. Wild rose thorns snagged his pant legs and tore his skin as he silently covered ground. The flower’s deadly beauty made him think of Zo. He closed in on the point where he thought his enemy lay hidden and spotted a lone soldier with long black hair braided down the middle of his back. Two feathers hung from the leather band about his neck.

Raven. Low rank. Probably here to report the damage of the blast.

The young soldier carried an unstrung bow in one hand and a hatchet at his hip as he crouched behind the trunk of a tree.

Gryphon couldn’t spot Ajax in the dense foliage. Of course, that was the whole point. The man was more panther than human.

Trusting Ajax to be in place, Gryphon picked up a dried stick from the ground and snapped it in two. The Raven whipped around and strung his bow with eerie speed.

Gryphon stepped out from behind his cover and caught the Raven’s arrow with his shield. Ajax exploded from the brush and tackled the Raven to the ground. They bound his wrists behind his back and hauled him away without a word. The interrogators would get all the information they needed from this kid. If they were lucky, they might even learn the location of the Raven’s grain stores.

As usual, everything boiled down to food. Survival.

Gryphon and Ajax arrived just in time to see Zander remove an inch-thick splinter from their mess brother’s calf. He nodded approval when he saw the Raven prisoner. “Let’s get back. This wound is going to need stitching.”

One of the men mumbled something about Gryphon loaning out his Nameless healer, and everyone chuckled.

“That’s enough,” said Zander. He pulled his spear from the ground and led the group out of the clearing with a scowl on his face.

The sun was at its highest point in the sky when they reached the Gate. “Hasn’t your wife had that baby yet?” One of the mess brothers asked Ajax as Nameless turned the massive wheel and chains to open the gate.

Ajax gave an unsteady laugh. “The healers think she is still several weeks away.” He looked at Gryphon and forced a smile.

Two days, and the Seer still hadn’t come looking for Tess. Meanwhile, Zo’s reputation as the Nameless healer spread like wildfire throughout the neighboring homes. Gryphon’s mother arranged for slaves to come to Zo in the Nameless’ quarters on Gryphon’s property. If they couldn’t travel, Zo went to them.

Sitting on the edge of her bed, Zo soaked strong-smelling tobacco leaves in boiling water then placed the soggy plants on the swollen ankle of a neighbor’s field worker. “It’s just a sprain.” She wrapped the ankle in linen. “Keep it elevated as often as possible.”

“I’ll do my best, ma’am.” The man must have been in his late forties, but with Nameless it was always hard to tell. The man straightened his tattered shirt and nodded gratefully as he rose to leave. Just as he reached the door, it flung open, banging against the wall. The Nameless field worker fell to the ground, unable to balance himself at the surprise of seeing Gryphon seething in the doorway. The slave covered his head with his arms and whimpered for mercy like he expected a fatal beating.

“Get out.” Gryphon barely offered the Nameless a glance. The man crawled like a frightened spider out the door without looking back.

Zo didn’t remember gathering her feet to stand, but her body reacted to Gryphon’s scowl. Dark hair fell forward to cover one side of his face. In that moment, she felt she caught a glimpse of what Gryphon’s enemies saw in battle. This was not the merciful Gryphon who’d risked his own standing with the Ram to save Tess. This was Gryphon the warrior.

She craned her neck to meet his gaze, refusing to be intimidated. She should have cowered in the corner, but anger was her first language, and she wouldn’t back down.

“I could have died today.” He pushed air out of his nose, like a bull ready to charge. “Two of my brothers were injured. One seriously.”

Zo didn’t understand why his anger would be directed at her … unless he knew about the bottles. Again, she should have faked submission, said the right things. But she couldn’t.

“My people die every day, Striker. Get over it.”

Gryphon growled and grabbed the chair by Zo’s bed. He flung it across the room. It connected with the wall and shattered to pieces.

Tess began to cry from her little hole in the floor.

Gryphon looked down at her place in the ground and frowned. The wind of his storm completely vanished. He grabbed the hair above his ears and groaned. “What am I doing?”

He left without another word.

Did he know about the bottles? If so, why had he shown her so much compassion? Why hadn’t he stopped her?

No. It was impossible.

Gryphon took a moment to look around the splintered barn where the Wolf was kept to make sure he was alone. Long grass swayed around him in the morning breeze. He could hear a hundred different rhythms in that sound. A hundred melodies to match them. Most were conflicted, melancholy bits, while others were sweet and docile. Like a soft caress.

The barn reeked of stale urine. Gryphon closed the creaking door behind him and walked across the dilapidated floor carrying a satchel of supplies. The Wolf slept, his bare chest rising and falling in even time. His hair was a nest of muddy blond knots. The beginnings of a beard covered half of his face. After several days of healing, the bandage on his shoulder was finally dry. Thanks to Zo, Gryphon had managed to clean the wound and sew him up the morning after the stabbing.

When Gryphon cut the ropes the Wolf groaned awake. “Ahhh … finally.”

“You stink,” said Gryphon tossing him a pair of fresh clothes.

Joshua’s knock came right on cue. “I have the bucket.” He spilled half of its contents before setting it next to the prisoner. “There’s a brick of soap in the bottom. Should be nice and soggy by now.”

“How is she?” said the Wolf.

Joshua looked from the Wolf to Gryphon for explanation. “Who … Zo?”

Gryphon rolled his eyes. “They know each other. We practically have our own little Wolf pack staying here on the farm.”

Joshua paled. He knew the consequences of harboring one Wolf. “Three Wolves.” He let the thought simmer for a while then pointed to their prisoner. “Does Zo know he’s alive?”