Fearless (Nameless #3)(42)
Laden, finally, had the decency to look ashamed. “That is a mighty sacrifice.”
“Whether I die by the ax in a few weeks or from an arrow in a year, it makes no difference to me. Death will come. The only thing I can control is whether I am honorable in this life. I will not live with the guilt of knowing I could have done something to stop this war.”
“Is that really what you want, Gryphon?”
“I want peace. Peace of mind and peace for the region. And if … if I had a chance at life, I’d want to share that peace with Zo. That is what I will fight for, Commander. That is my religion, clan, and purpose.”
Shadows gathered beneath Commander Laden’s weary eyes. With a reluctant nod, the commander thrust out his hand and waited for Gryphon to close the handshake. “I will do my part. I will send dispatch to alert the Wolves to prepare for invasion. All will be decided at the Ostara when the Wolf Alpha, Chief Naat, and—if Zo can work a miracle—Murtog join us.”
Gryphon offered a short bow and turned to leave.
“Gryphon!” Laden called, causing Gryphon to freeze in place. He turned his head but not his body. “Yes, sir?”
“You are a good man.”
Gryphon tried to swallow but his throat was too dry. He nodded and walked away, hoping his trust in the Commander wasn’t misplaced.
They left the giant cavern and entered a wide tunnel filled with glowing stones, similar to the one Ikatou carried, embedded in the wall. The gleaming stones spiraled floor to ceiling in one giant coil that gave the illusion they were walking on air in a star-filled sky.
Though the lights were dim and the ground barely visible, Zo allowed herself to calm in the presence of such unexpected beauty. She turned to Ikatou and asked, “What are they?”
“Moonstones,” he said, his voice barely carrying over the quiet echo of their footsteps. “A sacred stone reserved for royalty. This is the hall of stars, leading to the exalted one. The man in the sky is our maker and supreme leader, but his chief exacts his will.”
Zo jogged a little to walk shoulder to shoulder with Ikatou. “Do you think of Murtog as a holy man?”
Ikatou choked on what might have been a shot of laughter. “No,” he finally managed. “He is just a man. Flawed as the rest of us. But as our ruler, he has our oaths of fealty. It is the reason no one has ever tried to overthrow him. We would die before breaking such an oath.”
“Even if he is a poor leader?” asked Zo.
With the faint light of the moonstones, Zo just made out his nod. It seemed to take all of his self-discipline to offer it. “Many are frustrated by Murtog’s inaction to face the Ram. Some, like myself, have left to take matters into their own hands, but I still keep my oath of fealty to the chief. Without my word and honor, I am nothing, and neither is my family.”
At the end of the hall they came to a large set of wooden doors where two guards stood as giant sentinels. The concentration of moonstones around the doors illuminated the guards clearly.
“What is this, Poi?” one of the sentinels asked as he scanned their company.
“Messengers from the Allied Camp,” said Poi. “They come with word from Commander Laden with the voice of the Raven and Wolf.”
“And the deserters?” the sentinel asked. Ikatou stepped forward, ready to rip the man’s head from his neck.
“What of you, Bator? What man allows his family to be taken without a fight?” Ikatou said each word with slow, careful intention. “Isn’t that true desertion?”
Poi pushed his way between the two men just as the sentinel reared back to strike.
“Enough!” Poi said. “Now open these doors.”
The guard crossed his arms. “You know the chief will not see them.”
“Will you take the choice from him? Or have you joined the filth that would abandon their oaths to do as they please?” said Ikatou.
The guard glared at Ikatou, clearly despising the space between them. With a grunt he stepped aside, and Poi pulled the highly polished latch on the door. Hinges whined. Flickering torchlight danced along the floors and walls as Zo shuffled into the barren receiving room behind Ikatou, Talon, and Raca. She looked back to realize the others hadn’t followed. Perhaps they didn’t wish to see Murtog in his wrath at being disturbed. “This room leads to his private chamber. I’ll announce you,” said Poi. He approached the chief’s bedchamber door like one might a wounded wild animal. As one of Murtog’s guards, Zo assumed they’d have something of a relationship.
If Poi was worried …
“Sir?” Poi knocked. “You have company.”
Nothing. Not a sound beyond the quiet murmur of the torches fastened to the walls.
Poi cleared his throat and straightened. Rolling back his shoulders, he didn’t bother using a quiet tone. “Chief Murtog. May I enter?”
Again, no response.
Next to Zo, Raca adjusted her weight from foot to foot, humming with agitated energy.
Poi turned back to them, an apology fixed to his kind face. “You may have to wait here a bit. I don’t recommend going back out there.” He pointed to the door from which they’d just entered. “I’ll have some food delivered in a few hours once the sun is up. In the meantime, I suggest you settle in.”