Clanless (Nameless #2)(41)
The image of the woman being killed replayed over and over in Zo’s mind. When the forest was quiet again, and there was no sign of Boar’s men, she said, “We can’t leave her.” Boar considered Zo for a moment then nodded. “You’re right.”
He sent two of his men to retrieve the woman, saying it was too dangerous to let Zo go herself. The men were fast. They returned with faces of stone and laid her reverently on the ground where Zo could administer to her.
Blood covered her neck and chest. A familiar gurgling sound accompanied what Zo knew to be a severed trachea. Without air, the woman had died quickly. Even if she could perform a healing blessing, it wouldn’t bring this woman back from the dead.
Zo, who had wept more in the past few days than she had since her parents were killed, didn’t have another tear to shed for this stranger on the ground, who’d escaped slavery only to die a savage death. This woman’s death was only the beginning of the terror Boar had promised to inflict on the Nameless refugees.
Stone placed a hand on Zo’s shoulder, but she shrugged it off. For so long after her parents’ murder she had reserved her anger only for the Ram. But from her time spent in Ram’s Gate, she had come to realize her anger had less to do with the Ram and more to do with horrible people—people who strut around the world and take and take and take, just because they can. Zo expended so much time trying to preserve life, that the immorality of murder—of taking life—shocked her to the core. She’d never get used to it.
“We’ll get the others back,” said Stone. His face was white. Even his lips drained of color as he looked down at Zo and the woman who’d died because of his decision. “We will protect our people.”
Zo didn’t mean to laugh, but she did, a dark, sinister thing that snaked out of her mouth without permission. “You don’t even know how many men they have, Stone. How can you possibly know that you can defend against them?”
It was the wrong thing to say. She should have been thanking him for not trading her to Boar. But with her fingers soaked in the blood of an innocent woman who’d unwittingly died in her place, it was hard to be grateful for anything.
Shame came much easier.
A heavy raindrop landed on Zo’s forehead and dribbled down into her eye. Another met her arm, and another the back of her neck.
“We can’t stay here,” said Stone. He scooped up the woman’s body and they made a solemn walk back to deliver the news of their failure to the Nameless.
Chapter 15
Little by little, Gryphon fell back from Sani and the rest of the Raven warriors as they ran. Sani glanced over his shoulder to check that Gryphon was still following, eyeing the growing distance between them with distaste. The more time he spent with the boy, the more he struggled to believe he was only thirteen years old. What thirteen-year-old ran around pledging his life to others? He spouted nonsense about honor when he wasn’t even old enough to grow whiskers. The boy had some nerve.
The forest thickened with pines and spruces, forcing them to follow winding game trails. Gryphon lost sight of Sani on a turn and made a quick decision.
He darted east, leaving the trail for an untamed path through the dense forest.
It wouldn’t be long before Sani realized Gryphon’s absence and came looking for him to fulfill his duty as ‘Atiin, but Gryphon knew this mountain and was confident he could easily avoid them.
He sprinted a half mile east then, ducking between a pair of lichen-covered boulders, crumpled to the ground knowing he would never see Joshua again.
I’m doing this for him, he reminded himself over and over again. Joshua deserved a life that Gryphon simply couldn’t offer. Gryphon pressed his palms into his eyes. Without Joshua to care for, his focus fell to the one thing he had left to fight for: Zo’s memory. And he’d start by hunting Zander and Ajax. They’d feel every ounce of pain Zo had before she died, even if it was his final act in this life.
It wasn’t long before the sounds of snapping branches and murmuring voices reached him. They were close enough that Gryphon easily distinguished Sani’s high-pitched tone from the other Raven, but distant enough that Gryphon didn’t bother running. The Raven didn’t seem to look for long before they moved on. Even the son of a chief couldn’t convince the warriors to give their time to a lost cause. And if they mistrusted him enough to think he defected to warn the Ram, they’d run with even more haste than they had up to now.
Gryphon lay hidden between the boulders into the afternoon, long after the sun peeked over the horizon. Waiting. Hating the cruel blow life had dealt him. More hungry for revenge than for any morsel of food. He ran a hand over his face to feel the product of almost two weeks without shaving. His dark beard grew fast and thick and it wouldn’t be long before even his mother wouldn’t have recognized him.
Gryphon plucked a blade of grass and tore it into strips, thinking about his mother and how she ought to have made his list of things and people to live for. Beneath her rough exterior, she had loved Gryphon, even though a chunk of her heart wasn’t available to him.
Yes, he assumed it was because his father had abandoned them when he was a baby. She’d let the disgrace govern her and Gryphon’s lives, insisting that his father’s shield be hung above the family hearth—an ever-present monument to their shame. But as a boy, Gryphon couldn’t understand why the decisions of his father were his fault. He hadn’t left. He’d been right under her nose all that time. Searching for new ways to please her and ease her pain. She’d been so young when his father left, probably close to Gryphon’s age. Her whole life forfeit because she didn’t move on. Gryphon would have forgiven her emotional neglect a thousand times over. But forgiveness was never sought and, consequently, never offered.