Clanless (Nameless #2)(66)
“With me,” he whispered to Joshua. Adrenaline exploded within him. This was it. She was here. She was alive. He just knew it.
Together they crept toward the sleeping camp, sticking to the shadows outside the light of the fire. Gryphon’s whole body yearned to sprint, but they kept every movement painfully slow. Nothing, not even a breeze, covered their careful steps. Only the subtle crack of the fire and the pounding rhythm of Gryphon’s heart beating in his ears, and Joshua’s heavy breathing.
Someone from the camp would be standing watch. If he could somehow take out the watchman without alerting the rest, they might have a chance of escaping. He could throw his spear, but a man could still scream with a spear in his gut.
Gryphon scanned the black trees for any sign of Zander and his mess. Every moment wasted could mean the difference between leaving with Zo and getting all three of them killed.
He touched his fist to the ground, calling halt. “Do you still have your sling?” he half mouthed, half whispered.
Joshua nodded, a thin smile spread across his face. He cupped his hand to Gryphon’s ear to block the sound. “You want me to take out the watchman without waking the others.”
This is why Joshua was so valuable to Gryphon. They’d worked and trained together long enough that the kid seemed to read his very thoughts. “You sure you can knock him out with that little thing?” Gryphon said.
Any other time Joshua would have scoffed at Gryphon’s request and pranced up to his target like a peacock. But this was Zo’s life hanging in the balance. He sat down on the muddy ground, his chest still pumping from the climb. “What if I miss?” He pressed his palms into his forehead.
“You won’t,” said Gryphon.
“But what if I do?”
Gryphon covered Joshua’s mouth and looked over his shoulder to make sure the watchman didn’t hear. They were still far enough away that he couldn’t make out a man’s form. The tall shadow standing near the rock—the watchman, if Gryphon wasn’t mistaken—didn’t move from his position.
Gryphon turned back to Joshua and tugged at a leather strap, freeing the boy’s sling. Gryphon weighed the child’s weapon in his hand and whispered, “I’ll do it.”
Joshua snatched the sling from Gryphon’s hands and climbed to his feet. “You’re a terrible shot.” Too loud again.
“Kid, if you’re doubting yourself—”
“I know, I know. If I doubt myself, I’ve already failed.”
“Then I’ll ask again.” Gryphon placed the sling reverently in Joshua’s smaller hands. “Can you do this?”
Joshua’s fingers closed around his weapon of choice. “Yes. I can do this.” He took a deep breath. “For Zo.”
Zo rested with her hands by the fire but couldn’t turn off her thoughts long enough to allow sleep to set in. She’d promised these barbarians she’d help free their Nameless families and packaged her life in the deal! It was pure madness. But she’d likely do it again if it ensured that she wouldn’t have to walk into Ram’s Gate as a bargaining chip for Boar.
What would she tell Tess and Joshua when they reached the Allies? “Yes, I’m back, but don’t count on me staying for long. I’ve got to help wild men free their families from Barnabas.”
Utter insanity.
Commander Laden would be furious that she committed herself—and vicariously, his men—to this new endeavor. Maybe she’d have a chance of freeing the Nameless while the Allies went to battle with the Ram, but that could be five years from now or even ten, depending on the growth and preparedness of Commander Laden’s forces. Ikatou and his men wouldn’t wait that long.
What have I done?
Zo turned to rest her head in the crook of her elbow, still making sure to keep the backs of her mangled hands facing the fire. Ikatou said she couldn’t stitch the cuts; the wounds needed to heal naturally to create a proper scar. A lifelong reminder of her promise. Fearing infection, Zo relied on the heat of the fire to seal the wounds. That was, of course, assuming the bear claw used to make the cuts wasn’t contaminated. She doubted Ikatou took the time to regularly clean the evil tool.
Restless, Zo rolled onto her back to study the wounds with hands raised to the light of the fire. The flesh looked torn instead of cut. As it was, blood dried thick on clumps of ragged skin. Whenever she flexed her hand into a fist, the wound reopened and fresh blood leaked through the marred mess to add yet another layer.
Zo rolled over again, this time facing the fire. When she was only a little girl and her parents were still alive, Zo associated campfires with stories and songs, not a place to dry out gory wounds. She closed her eyes and imagined a melody from her childhood, a song Wolves sung when they pondered the state of the region. A lament with a melody so careful and clear it brought tears to her eyes. If only she could hear it aloud. She hadn’t sung since she was a child—did she even know how to sing anymore?
Zo wiped her eyes, smearing a streak of blood across her cheek, but paused when she spotted movement above one of the rock pillars.
Chapter 27
While Joshua hiked over the giant boulders to peer down at the sleeping camp, Gryphon approached the fire head on. He crawled on hands and knees, only daring to advance when the man at the entrance of the cave wasn’t looking.