Fearless (Nameless #3)(47)
Zo, Ikatou, Talon, Raca, and Poi gathered around a long table with Murtog seated at the head. The upper body of a large Kodiak bear was mounted to the wall above his head. Deep blue gems gleamed from the dead creature’s eye sockets and its arms extended as though it would love nothing more than to rip Zo’s limbs from her body before devouring the rest of her whole.
Zo shivered, unable to pull her gaze from the morbid creature, its beautiful eyes refracting the torchlight of the private room.
The company had been given the chance to soak in the chief’s private hot springs that morning. A large Kodiak woman had attended both Raca and Zo, slathering a black, silky mud onto their bodies and faces before allowing them to rinse in an equally warm, freshwater bath. They were given new clothing adorned with fine gems and expensive cloth while their own was washed. Everything they gave Zo was too large. When Raca’s clothing fit to perfection, the woman shrugged and explained, “They were made for a child.” Both Zo and Raca had laughed.
Now as the dishes from their morning meal were being cleared, Zo marveled at the positioning of those at the table. Raca sat at the chief’s right and Zo sat at his left. The seating arrangement had been intentional and Zo couldn’t help but notice the chief’s attention to Raca. Though he spoke barley a word throughout the course of the meal, Zo caught him casting curious glances at the girl when she wasn’t looking.
Murtog clasped his oversized hands on the table and in his rumbling voice said, “Tell me of this blood oath and why you’ve come.”
Ikatou opened his mouth to speak, but with a simple raised hand, Murtog silenced him. “Not from you.” He turned to Zo. “The healer will speak.”
Where to begin? And why did she have to be the one to tell the story? Then an idea struck her. She’d never spoken about what happened the day her parents died, but standing in Murtog’s room, feeling his grief and mourning, Zo knew that was the story Murtog needed to hear.
She took a deep breath. “The first time I heard the battle call of a Ram horn was at the age of twelve. We lived with a large and powerful pack on the outskirts of the Valley of Wolves. At the sound of the deadly horn, my mother insisted I climb inside a woven basket and handed me my sleeping little sister, making me promise to stay hidden no matter what I heard before closing the lid.
“The holes of the basket were large enough to peek through. I witnessed my father’s murder at the door of our hut as he tried to defend us. I remember hugging my sleeping sister to my chest as my mother was beaten and dragged from the room.” Zo’s voice caught, but she knew she had Murtog’s attention. The bear chief gripped the edge of the table with white, shaking hands.
She continued, “Commander Laden raised us as his own. Brought us to the Allied Camp. But I couldn’t run away from my hatred of the Ram. Desperate for revenge, I begged to be used as an Allied spy inside the Gate. That’s where I met Gryphon.”
Zo went on to explain her time inside the Gate, their perilous escape, the Nameless march to meet the Allies, her run-in with the Clanless, and her promise to Ikatou that saved her life and earned her the scars of the blood oath.
Ikatou leaned forward and pressed his hands against the table. “The Kodiak people want those who were taken from us returned.” He pointed at Zo and she tried not to flinch under the heavy burden of a simple finger. “This girl is the key to healing our clan. Laden sees her as a daughter and because her fate is connected to that of the Nameless slaves, Laden has agreed to help us take back what is ours.” His voice rose, and he took several labored breaths to control himself before quietly adding, “But he will only agree if the Kodiak will join the fight.”
Before Murtog could reply, Raca added, “My people have been forced from the Nest. My father and his warriors stand with Commander Laden in the fight against the Ram.” Her voice carried such power and passion, Zo couldn’t help but envy her. “If there was ever a time that the Ram might be defeated, it is now, with the full force of all three clans joined together.”
Zo added, feeling desperate. “The Wolves and Raven along with a handful of Kodiak will attend an Ostara at the beginning of next week. All of the leaders of the region who have reason to fight the Ram will be in attendance. The Allies need you. Commander Laden asks that you leave your Cave and join the counsel that will determine the fate of so many.” Mine especially, she thought.
Murtog grumbled. “Laden and I have spoken before.”
“Please,” said Raca. Her hand stretched out to rest on his forearm.
Murtog flinched and then stilled under Raca’s touch. Slowly, he looked down at the small brown hand resting gently against his mighty arm. Raca met his gaze, her hand unmoving, her expression supplicant but unafraid of the volatile chieftain.
Murtog’s chest rose and fell once.
Twice.
Then, in one painfully slow movement, he pulled his arm out from under Raca’s, pushed back from the table, and left the room.
Raca stared at her hand, still resting on the table, in silent shock.
They slept that night on cots in the antechamber of the chief’s rooms. They hadn’t seen the chief for the rest of the day. Talon and Ikatou agreed that they would leave under the cover of night, a few hours after the clan settled to sleep, and after a quick nap in the cabin head back to the Allies.