Nameless (17 page)

A soldier yanked on the rope around Gabe’s neck and brought him to his knees. “Striker Gryphon, son of Troy, has brought us a little present.” The chief grabbed a fistful of Gabe’s thick, blond hair and pulled up his head to show the handsome face of the Wolf.

“Today, the Wolf and other enemies to the clan,” he gestured to the line of accused on the stand, “will die for their crimes.”

Again, a predatory roar erupted from the massive crowd. Zo wanted nothing more than to find Tess and shield her from what was to come. The Gate Master’s leathery hand inched up her arm to the back of her neck, leaving a trail of fire on her skin. The sensation triggered her gag reflex.

Gryphon looked down from the stage at Gate Master Leon as he caressed the bare skin around the healer’s neck. The man whispered something in her ear. She closed her eyes, as if willing him away. Hot anger coursed under Gryphon’s skin. An impulse he could only compare to the adrenaline he felt on the battlefield. Only this anger was much more complicated.

Chief Barnabas took the rope from his servant and handed it to Gryphon. “The Wolf is your prisoner. How will he die?” Gryphon could have said anything:
“Let him be hanged. Let him be stoned. Let him lose his head.”

The Wolf looked up at him without fear, prepared to meet his end with dignity. No pleading. No begging for mercy. How could Gryphon kill such a worthy opponent with his arms tied behind his back? Some men deserved that shame. Not this Wolf.

Gryphon looked out at the expectant crowd, then back at the Wolf. He cursed under his breath and drew his own sword. “Let him die fighting!” he shouted. His declaration echoed throughout the entire square.

The murmurs of the people rolled like a giant wave, crescendoing into a chorus of chaos and cheers. Gryphon looked down at the brothers in his mess. Most had smirks on their faces. Ajax looked furious while Zander kept his arms folded, composed as ever. Joshua stood a ways back with the boys in his age group, his head whipping from right to left in confusion.

“Release the prisoner and arm him.” Barnabas rested a hand on Gryphon’s shoulder. His voice was all but swallowed in the buzz of the crowd. “I never figured you for a politician, Striker.” He smiled approvingly and walked off the platform to take his padded chair close to Gate Master Leon and the healer.

Ajax was at Gryphon’s side before he had time to process the chief’s words. “What. The. Hell?”

Gryphon smiled and shrugged. “He doesn’t deserve to die without a weapon in his hand.”

Ajax shook his head. “This is nothing but your own blood lust.”

Gryphon’s eyes darkened. “This is mercy, Jax. A chance for him to die with dignity. It’s what I’d want if the circumstances were reversed.”

Ajax looked down, still shaking his head in anger. “Do you think this maggot would show us mercy?” He yanked on one of the straps of his breastplate. “Your
mercy
will get people killed one day.”

The Wolf stood statue still on the opposite side of the platform. His unkempt hair was hastily tied back by a Nameless attendant. He held a loose grip on a short sword and a Ram shield at his side.

Gryphon locked eyes with his enemy and didn’t break contact until the Master of Arms walked up to the center of the platform where they stood and placed his hand on the ground between them. The whole square went quiet. “On this day Striker Gryphon, son of Troy challenges the Wolf prisoner in a battle to the death,” he roared.

The officiator lifted his hand from the ground. The two fighters prowled the perimeter, back and forth in a deadly dance until the Wolf sprang forward, fast as a gust of wind. His blade met Gryphon’s shield like quick whips of lightning. The force knocked Gryphon on his heels then sent him reeling backward into a roll. Gryphon pushed up onto the balls of his feet, weapon ready. He didn’t have time to regret his “mercy” before the next attack from the Wolf and his lightning arm.

Gryphon dodged and rolled again. The Wolf was abnormally fast, especially considering his current condition. Gryphon went to strike his left shoulder then swept the surprised Wolf’s feet from under him. He jumped on top of the Wolf and jammed his shield into the Wolf’s mangled hand. The Wolf cried out and dropped his weapon.

Heavy legs wrapped around Gryphon’s chest and slammed him backward into the ground. Gryphon twisted and broke free from the trap as the Wolf struggled to reach his sword.

The two wrestled for advantage, rolling around the ring like animals until the Wolf pulled a dagger from Gryphon’s own sheath. Fire burned across Gryphon’s thigh before he realized what had happened.

The Wolf shouldn’t be this challenging. He’d been starved and tortured in a cave until only a few hours ago. The man fought with heart unequalled by any opponent he’d ever faced. Inhuman strength.

“I said I’d kill you.” The Wolf spoke through gritted teeth as the two men locked arms again.

Gryphon could feel himself weakening. Blood poured from the wound on his thigh. He grappled for a better hold as the Wolf hissed and spit in his ear. “I won’t die in front of her.”

Gryphon caught a glimpse of the healer from the corner of his eye. The Gate Master held her back from the platform by her hair but she didn’t seem to care. Her eyes were only for the Wolf. Through all the shouts from the ruckus crowd, Gryphon singled out her lone cry.

Gryphon exploded out of the Wolf’s hold and flipped him onto his back. He felt the crunch of the Wolf’s jaw under his fist. Gryphon took him by the throat with both hands and squeezed.

I must be crazy.

The Wolf kicked and flopped about like a fish on dry land. Gryphon held strong. His practiced hands tightened around his neck but slipped on the blood gushing from the Wolf’s nose. His arms shook as he fought to hold the man down. His fingers found their mark again, and this time he didn’t let go.

The Wolf’s legs slowed. His hands went limp and dropped to his sides. Several people in the crowd gasped.

Gryphon picked up the dagger with both hands, raised it high above his head, and stabbed the Wolf in the chest, just below the shoulder.

The crowd went completely quiet in anticipation. Gryphon’s chest rose and fell as he wrenched the dagger from the Wolf’s body. He gathered himself off the ground like an old man, one foot and then another. His whole frame trembled from the effort. A cold sheen of sweat collected on his forehead.

He held out the red-stained dagger, blade up, for the chief’s inspection. Hundreds of excited Ram looked to their chief with bated breath. Barnabas lounged in his chair, propping up his head with a fist. Time dragged on like a cold winter but the chief eventually nodded his approval.

Gryphon sighed in relief while the audience exploded into cheers. He motioned for a pair of young guards to cover the body in lamb’s cloth.

His relief died the moment he saw the healer. Her stoic eyes stayed fixed on the Wolf’s limp form. Gate Master Leon grabbed her chin and shouted something while gesturing in the Wolf’s direction before striking her with the back of his hand. She hit the ground, but no one heard. She didn’t flinch when his boot met her side.

Gryphon found himself walking toward the Gate Master, his fists balled and eager. But before he could do anything, the chief took the platform stairs two at a time. He slapped Gryphon on the back and said, “The clan is indebted to you, son. Name your reward.”

Gryphon knew this offer was coming. He’d planned to ask for command of a new mess. The same request any forward-thinking Ram in his position would make. Redemption for his father’s disgrace was his to claim. The shield hanging on the wall of his home would be forgotten. He would be the youngest mess leader in his clan’s history.

The actual words that slipped from Gryphon’s mouth shocked him as much as the stunned crowd.

“I want the healer.” His arm stretched out, finger pointing down at the limp form at Master Leon’s feet.

Barnabas stared at him with mouth gaping until a clipped burst of laughter erupted from his chest. Slow at first, it grew until his whole belly shook. The crowd mimicked his reaction, as usual. Between bouts of laughter the chief waved for his guard to bring the stunned girl up to the stand. Master Leon turned three degrees of red as they ripped her from his grasp. He glared at Gryphon with pure and utter loathing.

Gryphon squared his shoulders and stared back. He would not be bullied. As the healer approached him with her head cast down in shame, a chilling oversight settled in. Everyone in the clan would assume he took the girl as a personal slave. A
very
personal slave.

Gryphon walked over to the Wolf’s limp form and used the rest of his energy to pull the man up over his good shoulder. He was so exhausted from the fight that his legs shook under the weight. The crowd parted for him as he struggled down the platform with the Wolf slung on his back. It was customary for the victor of an honor killing to bury the body of his opponent in the soil of his own fields.

The healer trailed him looking white.

“Go and enjoy her, Striker,” the chief called over the crowd, accompanied by laughter and jeers from the Ram.

Zo studied her dirty shoes as she trailed Gabe’s killer. Gryphon leaned heavily on his dark friend, with one arm draped over his shoulder for support as he struggled under the weight of Gabe’s body. Their conversation didn’t hold her interest; neither did the waning moon or the pale stars against the almost night. No, she only bothered to look at her feet and the earth below them. Looking down, she could be anywhere. The earth here in hell wasn’t so different from home. If she hadn’t left, Gabe and Tess wouldn’t have followed. If she’d had the courage not to chase after the pain of losing her parents, the disease that she was couldn’t have spread.

“You’re going to get someone killed,” said Gryphon’s dark friend.

I already have
, Zo thought, hitching the heavy strap of her pack higher on her shoulders.

“Everyone thinks you’re an arrogant fool showing off for sport, but I know you better,” the dark man continued.

Gryphon dropped his arm from his friend’s shoulder. His pace slowed as he limped along. “You don’t know me as well as you think you do, Jax. Not by half.”

“I know you’re far worse than a fool!” Ajax snapped. “You think you show compassion, but all you show is weakness! Weakness our enemies will one day exploit.”

Gryphon stopped. Zo kept her eyes trained to the ground standing the standard three feet behind them. She didn’t dare look up to see Gabe, his hand swinging freely under the blanket that covered the rest of his body.

“What are you saying?” Gryphon’s voice shook despite his quiet whisper.

“I’m saying I know you didn’t miss your mark with the Raven boy the day you made Striker. You never miss in practice and you’re twice as good in the field.”

Zo stole a quick glance at Gryphon. It was the second time she’d heard mention of the boy he’d spared. Gryphon glared at Ajax, his jaw flexed, his fists balled menacingly at his side. His voice was calm but his words had teeth. “If you have doubts about my ability to perform in the mess, I suggest you take them up with Zander.”

Ajax shook his head and walked away before looking back. “The men are talking, Gryph. The spear miss, letting the Wolf fight, and now this girl?” His dark eyes targeted Zo. She looked down. “It’s like you want them not to respect you. Like you want trouble.”

Gryphon grumbled something dark and incoherent then said, “What would you have me do, Jax?”

Zo stole another glance in Gryphon’s direction. He rubbed the sweat from his face with a bloody palm. Even in his fatigue, his biceps leapt—a commanding reminder that this soldier was not to be taken lightly.

“Keep your head on. Remember what we’re fighting for. I overheard Zander talking to Barnabas. The clan will move south before next frost. We’re leaving the Gate and all the people of the clan will look to their soldiers for protection. This is the time when legends are born, my friend. We can’t afford to go soft now.”

Gryphon looked over at Zo and frowned. “I won’t let my brothers down.”