Clanless (Nameless #2)(16)
“I don’t want to believe you,” said Talon.
“Our companion, Gabe, knew the way to the Raven settlement. He left a day ago to warn your people. He’ll get there at least a day or two before the Ram, giving your people a chance to evacuate.”
“Gryphon is with him. He’ll make sure they get out in time,” said Joshua, with so much confidence Zo’s chest tightened and she felt the need to rest her head on the ground and curl into a ball.
Fight the grief, she urged herself.
“Who’s Gryphon?” said Raca in a quiet voice, looking at Zo with her brows knit together.
Zo tried to keep her expression even, but her devastation felt completely transparent.
Joshua spoke up before she had to answer. “Gryphon is a Ram Striker. He’s my mentor and the one who helped us all escape the Gate.” He met Zo’s eye with a proud smile. “He’s also in love with Zo.”
Chapter 7
Aside from Craw, Gryphon was the last to cross the ladder.
“I don’t understand,” said Gryphon. “How will you get across without leaving the ladder in place?”
Craw wiggled his bushy black eyebrows and said, “I am a bird. I will fly.”
These people were crazy. Gryphon shook his head and took a deep breath. Before he stepped out to follow the others, Craw stopped him. Even though Gryphon was taller, there was something in the way the Raven carried himself that made him feel as though he was looking up to the Bird.
“Your Ram upper half is much larger than your lower. Keep your center of gravity low. Crawl if you must. No one will think less of you for it. The wind is strong today.”
Gryphon nodded, determined to surpass the Raven’s expectations of him. No way would he crawl like a beggar to the Raven Nest. He might be a deserter, but he hadn’t lost all of his pride.
Gryphon stepped onto the first wooden plank of the horizontal ladder, determined not to think about the thread-like material supporting the wobbly structure. The board sank with the pressure of his weight. Gryphon crouched low, threw his arms out wide and traded the sturdiness of the platform completely for the ladder. The whole ladder shook along with his knees, so much so that Gryphon couldn’t find the balance to lift his foot and take another step.
“Drop to your knees. You must keep moving.”
With his jaw clamped so hard his teeth might shatter, Gryphon forced himself to take the next step. Then another. Then another. On the rope bridges he’d been able to hold onto the railings and look ahead to the next platform. Here the gaps in the wooden planks were spaced more like a ladder and required him to look down to find the next footing. But it was a long, long way down—the distance so extreme, so deadly, that Gryphon fought a tremor that raced up and down his spine, churning his stomach to the point of needing to be sick.
When he was nearly halfway out, a gust of wind hit Gryphon and the ladder so hard the entire structure lifted several feet in the air then fell back down again so rapidly that Gryphon’s feet lost traction on the wood before gravity brought him swiftly down. But it was too late for Gryphon to recover his balance and footing. He missed the plank with one foot and hooked the ladder in between boards with the other.
The horizontal ladder bounced up and down, the strain on the Lion’s Silk made obvious by a metallic, high-pitched whine. Gryphon gripped the wood with both hands and a leg, terrified the Silk would snap.
Hearty laughter boomed from both the men on the island and from Craw—the last Raven left on the platform—while Gryphon struggled to pull himself back onto the ladder. Though his heart felt as though it might leap from his chest, he couldn’t help but offer a shaky smile. Almost dying could be exhilarating. He supposed.
“What am I doing here?” he grumbled to himself. It was a fair question, one he’d asked himself a hundred times over.
The wind calmed and the ladder stopped bouncing enough for Gryphon to pull himself up. A mild breezed cooled the sweat running down the sides of his face. He knelt on the ladder and commanded his arms and legs to stop shaking. Maybe crawling wasn’t such a bad idea after all.
He reached out for the next rung of the ladder when a spear launched from the ground below Craw’s platform. It struck the board where his hands rested, splitting the wood in two. Instinct took over. Forgetting his fear of heights, Gryphon grabbed the spear before it dropped to the ocean and, somehow, found himself in a low crouch on the teetering bridge. He dodged a second spear before identifying his attackers.
A group of men dressed in boiled leather with large circular shields stood beneath the canopy of trees and the platform. Gryphon’s people. The Ram. A volley of Raven arrows soared down to meet them, but the Ram linked their shields in perfect unison to deflect the attack. The fluidity of their movements startled him. He never realized how precise, how beautiful the dance of war could be. The moment the arrows stopped, a spear—like lightning—launched from the shields toward Gryphon’s chest.
Gryphon flattened himself against the wooden boards, the spear jetting only inches above his head. The Raven answered again, only this time Gryphon didn’t squander the cover their arrows provided. He stood with spear in hand and sprinted the remaining twenty yards across the chasm, numb to the deadly drop below.
The arrows stopped. The Ram retreated back into the cover of the trees.