Fearless (Nameless #3)(82)

Chief Naat folded his arms. “We don’t have much time.”

Gryphon swallowed and tore his eyes from the chief, casting his gaze out over the vast gathering of expectant, uncertain faces. Faces he would have marked as enemies not long ago.

Men his father wanted him to lead.

“Gryphon?” Gabe stepped closer. “Will you do this? Will you help us?”

Heat filled Gryphon’s chest, burning outward through every limb until it completely consumed him. Could he do this? A sense of destiny nearly blocked the words from passing his lips.

He closed his eyes and nodded. “For my father’s sake.”

Chief Naat looked down to Sani’s beads, still tied to Gryphon’s wrist, and offered a sad sort of smile. “What are your orders, Ram?”

Gryphon’s mind raced. Two thousand inexperienced Wolves to Barnabas’s three thousand Ram. Narrow field surrounded by thick pine and fir trees. Low visibility. A little over one thousand Raven archers.

One-to-one odds until the Kodiak and Freeman arrive. If they arrive.

“Gryphon?” said Gabe. “Your orders?”

Other leaders had gathered. They looked at him like hungry children expecting to be fed. Gryphon glanced over their shoulders at the despondent soldiers whose fate he now carried.

“We cannot defeat the Ram in head-to-head combat,” Gryphon finally said.

“Our scouts estimate we will outnumber them three to one once Murtog and Stone join us,” said one of the lieutenants.

Gryphon crossed his arms. “Good odds by any Ram standard.”

“Commander Laden thought—”

“Commander Laden isn’t here!” Gabe and Chief Naat flinched at Gryphon’s poor choice of words. “Listen.” Gryphon massaged his temples. “Even if we outnumbered them five to one, we still couldn’t beat them at their own game.”

“If we surrender, the Ram will be merciless when they raid the Wolf clan,” said Gabe. “Failure means death and starvation.”

“I’m not suggesting surrender,” said Gryphon. “I’m suggesting we exploit their greatest weakness.”

Gabe twisted up his lips. “And what is that, brother?”

An evil smile stretched across Gryphon’s face. “Pride.”

Gryphon spent the following minutes explaining the plan of attack. As he spoke, the leaders grew quiet, eyes round with disbelief, but Gabe was nodding and shifting his weight in anticipation.

“It will never work,” said a Raven.

“It’s perfect!” said Gabe.

“It might be insane, but it’s our only option unless we’re willing to lose the majority of our men in battle, which I am not,” said Gryphon, thinking of Isaac and the other young boys of his forty.

“How do you know Barnabas will fall into your trap?” asked Chief Naat.

It was true. The entire plan hinged on Barnabas’s reaction. Gryphon thought back to his time spent with Barnabas, of his Ram arrogance and low opinion of anyone lacking Ram blood. “He’ll take the bait.”

The Raven folded his arms across his chest. “And if he doesn’t?”

Gryphon looked him in the eye. “He will.”





Chapter Thirty-One





The eerie sound came just after Gryphon sent half the Wolf and Raven soldiers away.

“Is that the wind?” asked Gabe. He and Gryphon stood like statues in the white mist that swept through the canyon. It shifted like a ghost, at times making it impossible to see more than a spear’s throw ahead of them. A thousand Wolves formed twenty-five mess companies at Gryphon’s back.

“It’s not the wind.” He listened to the ghostly Ram battle horn, muted by the dense fog. The eerie chorus broke off and was followed by pounding Ram shields that rolled like distant thunder.

Wolves shuffled their feet staring blindly out toward their enemies with bated breath.

“How far out?” asked Gabe.

Gryphon squinted through the mist, but it did him little good. “I’d say at least a half-mile. Maybe less. They’re preparing to move.”

Gryphon didn’t have to turn around to sense the unease of his men. Their fear thickened the air, suffocating Gryphon’s resolve. He’d staked their lives on an admittedly reckless plan. A plan that demanded unfathomable courage.

Have I asked too much of these men?

Gryphon shook his head. The time for doubt had long passed. He would not allow fear to cripple his mind. Instead, he thought of Zo. Her graceful movements as she sang her washing song under the light of the full moon. He thought of Joshua’s unruly red hair and the hundreds of freckles that dotted his face. Then he thought of the countless Nameless who had suffered under Barnabas’s reign, of the innocent Wolf women and children who would die tonight if Gryphon and his men couldn’t stop this army.

Fear turned to anger. Anger to determination.

“The men are frightened, Gryph,” said Gabe, echoing Gryphon’s own thoughts. During his time with the Wolves, Gryphon had learned to respect their bravery. But even a lion cowers in the shadow of a mighty dragon.

Gryphon turned to face his troops. He walked through the thick fog down the line of men with shield and spear in hand, staring directly into the very souls of his soldiers. Their focus turned from the Ram army to Gryphon prowling the line of their defenses. The twenty-five mess units fit snugly into the narrow strip of bald earth framed by thick woods and sloping hills. Wild wheat grew around their ankles, helping to firm the soggy spring ground. The fate of all of the clans would be settled on this soil.