Fearless (Nameless #3)(83)
Gryphon walked the length of the troops, then returned to stand next to Gabe and drove his spear deep into the ground. “I am not one of you.” He spoke boldly, projecting his voice to reach all of his men. “I cannot know the suffering you have faced because of the Ram.”
Low voices rumbled throughout the troops. Gabe stepped over to Gryphon and said, “What are you doing?”
Gryphon looked over his shoulder. In the distance he heard the faint clattering of metal. The Ram were on the move.
“The men we fight today have more experience than you. They are stronger. They are masters of war and will take great pleasure in seeing you fall by their spears. They will show you no mercy.
“It has been said that defeating the Ram in open combat is impossible. But I say a man is capable of anything if he is defending his family. This day will be remembered as the day men looked directly into the eyes of the giant and slew him. Stand strong, men! Link tight! Hold your line, dig your feet in, and fight knowing your children depend upon your courage!”
The men yelled with weapons raised in the air, their chests heaving, fire glowing in their eyes.
Gryphon could hear the sound of splashing water as the Ram entered the river. Two hundred yards, maybe less. “Link!”
Shields scraped together. Metal glowed, reflecting the white mist. Gryphon took his place in the front weak side of his own forty. The men acknowledged him with determined nods. Gabe found his position with a different mess on the opposite side of the field.
The Ram army came to a halt, a fact Gryphon noted only by the absence of the sounds of metal and marching.
Deafening silence washed over his men as they stared out into the white abyss that blanketed their foe. A bird chirped in the trees at their backs.
Quiet.
The rivers rolled over rock in the distance. Someone vomited at the back of the mess. Gryphon looked over to see sixteen-year-old Isaac wet himself.
Quiet.
Gryphon filled his lungs with air and shouted with all his breath, “Forward!”
Zo practically dragged Joshua onward. They couldn’t waste even a second in their retreat to the sanctuary in the Valley of Wolves. If they were followed, it could mean death for the women, children, and elderly Wolves who’d evacuated the city.
“You can let go of my wrist.” Joshua tugged his hand free, but Zo snatched it right back.
“I know that look, Joshua. You want to go fight with Gryphon.”
“I won’t run off,” he said. “I swear.”
Zo hesitated then released her grasp. “Sorry. I just couldn’t bear the thought of you both fighting today.”
“I know.” If it was possible to sulk while jogging, Joshua managed it. His head hung and he didn’t seem to care whether he stepped on stick or stone along the trail.
“I’m sorry, Ginger. I know this is hard for you.”
Joshua tripped and righted himself. He wiped his nose on his sleeve and trekked on. Zo pretended not to see him falter. Might as well let him keep what remained of his wounded pride.
It didn’t take more than an hour to pass through the narrow canyon that acted as the entrance to her childhood home. Unlike Ram’s Gate, the Valley of Wolves was mostly farmland divided among family groups called Packs. Low walls of cobblestones gathered from the fields marked the boundary lines dividing plots of wheat and barley. The soil looked dark and healthy, unlike the sandy tan soil of the Ram. The fields were well tended and appeared twice as lovely to Zo because she knew that they were tilled by hard-working farmers and their families, not slaves.
Joshua seemed to forget his troubles as he studied the land around him. “No wonder Barnabas wants this,” he said, not taking his eyes from the brilliant valley before him. Beyond the farmland, the ground sloped upward. There, in the foothills of the great mountains, a high wall of carved granite protected the village proper. If the Alpha’s orders were obeyed, the people of the Valley would have abandoned their homes and retreated to the safety of the village keep, known as the Den.
Zo looked longingly at the farms lying on the outer rim of the valley, knowing it was too dangerous to seek out her old family home. If the Ram army managed to defeat Gryphon and the Allies—something Zo didn’t want to consider—they would come straight to this valley to claim their prize.
No. She would lead Joshua to the shelter to wait out the storm with the rest of the Wolves unfit for battle.
Zo pulled Joshua to her side and rested her head against his. He’d grown in the last few months. Soon her head would meet his shoulder. “Come on, Joshua. We shouldn’t linger.”
“No, you shouldn’t.”
Zo and Joshua whipped around to find a woman with dark hair pulled back into a harsh bun. She carried a task whip at her side and wore a boiled leather vest. Her familiar black eyes tracked Zo in a predatory way. “Wonderful to finally see you, my dear. I was beginning to wonder if you decided to stay and fight alongside the traitor.”
The silver sound of a whetstone running against metal tickled Zo’s ears. The Seer peered hungrily over the length of the blade then stroked it again.
“Where is the deserter Eva?” she asked conversationally. With a wave of her hand, three of the Seer’s men stepped out of hiding, surrounding Zo and Joshua in a perfect ring. The Seer gulped up the victory, her black eyes dancing with mirth.