Fearless (Nameless #3)(57)

Another spear lodged into Gryphon’s shield. The mess hoisted a man—probably their Striker, up and over their dying brother, but Gryphon anticipated the attack and jabbed his newly acquired spear up at the elevated man now struggling to reach him.

Another kill. Another addition to the fast-forming wall of bodies.

With the way blocked by the dying, the Ram pulled their wounded brothers from the crevasse. Gryphon doubled his grip on the spear. Sweat rolled into his eyes and he blinked it away.

Silence. Heart pounding in his ears.

Armor scraped stone. A Ram soldier spidered up the wall above Gryphon, high enough that a jab from Gryphon’s spear wouldn’t reach him.

Gryphon could have thrown his spear, but couldn’t risk losing his best weapon for survival.

Another Ram soldier slid through the gap on ground level, but also stayed just out of Gryphon’s reach. The man above had made it through the gap at least twelve feet above his head. Gryphon held his shield aloft, while at the same time driving the spear through the gap toward the man at ground level, but he was still too far out of his reach.

Too many threats to Gryphon’s one shield and spear.

Where are the Allies?

Another man shimmied through the pinched rock, using the shoulders of his brother on the ground as a stepping-stone.

Gryphon didn’t have time. He’d have to take one of them out and expose himself to the others.

The decision was made for him when the highest climber pushed off the rock and fell through the air with spear cocked, ready to strike.

Gryphon crouched into a ball, raised the shield overhead and braced for impact.

It came like a boulder from the sky. The Ram connected with his shield and rolled to stand behind him. Gryphon thrust his spear upward and caught him in the thigh. Behind them two more Ram scurried through the narrow gap. Gryphon turned and threw his only knife into the gap, turning back to block the attack of the man behind him before even seeing his knife connect with its target.

Fire sliced his side from rib to navel as he spun out of reach from a blade. Trusting his strength more than his eyes, he tackled the man, earning him another gash—this time in the shoulder—as they went down together.

Gryphon hit his head against stone in the fall, but managed to roll on top of the Ram.

New shouts echoed off stone. Cries of pain. Cries of those inflicting pain.

The Allies. Finally!

Gryphon pinned down the Ram’s arms as he sat on his chest, but the Ram wrapped his legs around Gryphon’s torso and pulled him onto his back. The impact forced the air from Gryphon’s lungs.

Movement caught his eye—a small figure climbing the rock high above. A child? His vision spun as he struggled with the man on top of him. The battle sounds swelled and died inside his head—heartbeats alternating between awake and unconscious.

Awake. The Ram searching the ground for a weapon.

Darkness.

Awake. The silver glint of a knife raised above his head.

Darkness.

Awake. The small, boyish figure perched above them. An arrow drawn.

Darkness.

Gryphon rolled onto his side, the violent sounds of battle replaced by whispers and oaths. Next to him, a Ram lay on the ground, an arrow sticking up out of his chest, his fingers clutching it as though he’d spent his final breaths trying to wrench it from his body.

Ever fighting. A Ram through and through.

“You died on your shield, brave one.” Gryphon’s voice came out raspy and nearly inaudible. He placed his hand on the Ram’s shoulder, looked up in search of the boy, and then collapsed to the ground in exhaustion.





Zo’s eyes flew open at the sound of booming drums and the staccato shouts coming from outside the tent.

“What’s happening?” Tess cried.

Zo cursed the gray darkness of early morning and swung her legs around, jamming her feet into well-worn boots. Feeling her way through the dark tent, she hurried to Millie’s cot. The older woman moaned and slowly sat upright.

“I think we’re under attack,” said Zo. “You and Tess prep the healing tent. I’ll be right back.”

“You can’t leave!” shouted Tess. “You promised.”

Zo took her sister by the hand, kissed her palm, and placed it firmly in Millie’s. “We need to know what we’re up against. I’m counting on you, bug. Help Millie. I’ll be right back.”

Zo didn’t bother with a torch as she sprinted out of the tent. The sun was yet to rise over the cliffs of the valley, but dawn wasn’t far off and the glow of morning filled the gray-blue sky. Lanterns had been lit around the camp and men raced past her wearing half-buttoned trousers with weapons slung across their backs.

She ran a short distance to Gryphon’s tent and caught Joshua scrambling out the flap, blinking and distorted.

“Where’s Gryphon?” she asked.

“Gone,” said Joshua. “Sani too.”

Zo’s heart dropped into her stomach. “Where are you going?”

“After him, of course.” Joshua took off at a full sprint in the direction of the men.

It seemed the entire Allied Camp had answered the drums as they headed like a syncopated pack north toward the slot canyon entrance to the valley. If the Ram were foolish enough to bring the battle to the Allies through that small canyon where they’d be forced to travel in single file, they had no prayer of survival.