Fearless (Nameless #3)(79)
Even at that age he understood the shame. His father wasn’t buried with his shield. The giant metal circle had literally hung over Gryphon’s head all his life. A symbol of weakness. For as long as he could remember, Gryphon had worked to restore the dignity of his family name. To belong to something greater than he was.
“You left me and mom.” Gryphon didn’t even know if anyone could hear the mumbled words. It didn’t really matter if they could. He needed to process the shock. “You left us to save my … my sister.” He blinked to clear the fog from his eyes. “She died five years ago.”
Laden looked like he’d swallowed a squirming frog. “I left you a sealed letter with Gabe back at camp. It explains everything. I’m sorry, son.”
“Well, isn’t this charming.” Barnabas rolled his eyes. “I accept your offer. I don’t blame you for abandoning your little band of Allies, Troy. Were I in your position, I’d likely do the same, but then I never would have left my clan in the first place.” The slight curl at the corner of the chief’s lips made Gryphon want to ram his fist against his fat nose. “Should I accept your surrender now?” said Barnabas.
“No,” Gryphon and Laden said at the same time, in the same tone. Now that Gryphon knew the truth, the similarities between them were overwhelmingly obvious. True the heavy scarring distorted Laden’s features. Even still, he should have seen past the angry lines to the thick shelf of dark eyebrows, the dimpled chin, the defined jaw, their identical build.
He’d been so blind.
“Good,” said Barnabas casually. “My men have looked forward to this day with great anticipation. There is no honor gained in wiping out a clan without a decent fight.” His smile dripped venom. “Who is your successor?” He pulled a long sword from his belt.
Gryphon couldn’t look at his father. “He doesn’t need one, because I don’t accept his offer.”
“Gryphon will lead the Allies,” said Laden. Both Barnabas and Laden stared at each other like they hadn’t even heard Gryphon.
“So be it.” Barnabas slowly drew his sword and signaled the men from Gryphon’s mess to meet them.
“No!” Gryphon shoved Barnabas in the chest then turned on Laden. His commander father caught his wrist and flipped him around, pinning his arms to his chest in one fluid motion.
“Let me go! I won’t let you do this. I won’t let you.” Gryphon struggled out of his father’s grasp and faced him, panting. “You haven’t earned the right to die for me or my brothers. I won’t live the rest of my life in your debt. Not when it was you who left and forgot me. You, who stripped me of honor from birth. I’m done mourning my father. I’m done!”
Gryphon balled his fists. He didn’t have the right to be angry. Leaving Gryphon was selfless, brave, and ironically something he, Laden’s son, had mimicked years later with Zo and Joshua.
But when was anger ever rational? Gryphon had to let his rage out or else he might drown.
“Son,” Commander Laden said with his hands raised to rest on Gryphon’s shoulders.
Gryphon batted them away. “Stop calling me that. I am not your son.” The words echoed over the sound of the two rivers.
Pain manifested itself throughout the Commander’s whole body. Across his face. Along the set of his shoulders. In the buckling of his knees. Laden’s hand smeared down his face. “You’re right.” He looked away. “I’m sorry.”
But Gryphon wasn’t right. He was angry. There was a difference.
Zander and the rest of the mess reached Barnabas. Not one of his brothers would meet his eyes. Shame. Gryphon understood, because he felt it himself in so many ways and on so many levels. If only he could take back those bitter last words.
Barnabas shook Ajax’s hand. “You and your men have done as I required. I remove your banishment and welcome you back into my good favor.” Then he pointed toward Laden and Gryphon. “Seize your fallen brother and his traitor father so we can be done with this business.”
“This isn’t what we agreed upon!” shouted Laden as he worked frantically to fight off the swarm of men around him and Gryphon. “Let my son go!”
Gryphon plowed his way through the mess of bodies toward his father, but his brothers were too numerous. They grabbed him by his arms and legs and pinned him to the ground. “Release him! This is my debt. Release him!” Gryphon shouted until his voice went raw.
Harsh light gleamed off Barnabas’s heavy blade as he bounced it between each hand. Delight played about his face, making him seem more like a child than the ruthless Chief of the Ram. Gryphon’s brothers forced his father to his knees and pressed his head to a tree stump.
“Father! No, Father, please!”
“You’re a good man, son,” said Laden.
Barnabas raised the blade over his head.
“I’m so sorry, Father. I’m so—”
The blade whistled as it cut through the morning haze. All of the air compressed from Gryphon’s lungs. He slumped deeper onto the ground, no longer fighting the men he once called family who rested on top of him. Mucus mixed with dirt and the sting of tears that would not fall.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Zo had promised not to watch. She was supposed to be miles away by now with Tess, Millie, and Joshua, retreating to the narrow pass that led to the Valley of Wolves. But how could she relinquish the chance to see Gryphon through his final minutes? She knew he didn’t want her there, but leaving him felt too much like a betrayal.