Fearless (Nameless #3)(84)

“I look forward to seeing how her pregnancy has progressed. I’d like to make sure the baby is well before I cut it out of her worthless body.”

Joshua’s hand rested on the hilt of his short sword, exposing a portion of the blade from its sheath around his waist.

Zo reached out and took his arm. No, Joshua. Please don’t.

His whole body was a tightened spring, shaking with the need to release.





Chapter Thirty-Two





The line of Ram warriors broke through the mist at a sprint. Gryphon and his men only had a few seconds to prepare for the impact. Shields boomed together as the two armies collided. Gryphon roared as he pushed against his shield, using his spear to stab at the enemy through the thin gaps of the Ram phalanx. The force of the Ram kept Gryphon and his company on their heels, struggling to find purchase in the soft soil and hold ground.

So this is what it feels like to be on the other side of the Ram.

A single wave of Raven arrows cut through the mist. They shot from a long distance into the Ram troops. The arrows bounced off Ram shields—a nuisance more than a threat—causing little if any damage to the enemy. By now, the archers would have retreated back into the tree line, a few leaving their bows behind as evidence of their abandonment.

“Push!” Gryphon grunted.

A wide gap formed as Gryphon’s shield mate fell back. A Ram spear shot through the gap and into a Wolf’s thigh. He howled in pain as he struggled to push against his shield and keep his weight forward. The spear stuck out of his leg like a stick in messy red mud.

With one slash of his short sword, Gryphon cut through the shaft of the enemy spear. The splintered remains made a sickly suction noise as he yanked it free of his mess brother’s leg. Chunks of flesh clung to the spearhead. Blood drooled down the wounded man’s leg, soaking his pants. To his credit, the Wolf didn’t fall. Gryphon jabbed back at the enemy with even more vigor than before.

“Push!” Gryphon called into his shield so the sound would carry along the line. “Move them back!” He dug in and with the help of the three men at his rear, was able to gain several feet of ground. He stabbed again with his spear and this time connected with flesh. The enemy fell and Gryphon took advantage, advancing farther until the Ram soldier was trampled underfoot. Gryphon could feel the man’s bones break beneath his feet. A wail of agony ended with a quick jab of his shield mate’s spear.

Gryphon looked down and vaguely recognized the Ram, mangled as he was. Stomach rolling, he vowed not to look into the face of another Ram if he could help it.

Forgive me, brother.

Gryphon’s side of the mess had made more progress than the other. The mess bowed into an L shape, folding around the enemy like the open mouth of a monster preparing to crush its prey. From the corner of his eye, Gryphon could tell his mess was having a great deal more success than others near him.

The noise was so loud he could hardly distinguish cries of pain from grunts of exertion. With a quick glance to his side, Gryphon saw the Wolves in the next mess over pushed back so far, bodies began to fall at the feet of the Ram.

He blocked an attack with his shield and jabbed his spear into the chest of a faceless Ram.

Gryphon pulled three Wolves behind him from their place in the phalanx and motioned to the battle raging next to them. “With me!” he beckoned, drawing his sword.

Having broken through the Ram line, Gryphon and those who remained of his forty approached the enemy from behind. The Ram were so focused on moving the Wolf phalanx backward that they didn’t even notice Gryphon and his men until it was too late.

Gryphon slit a man’s throat while stabbing another through the heart. He was onto his next man before the dead weight of his victims crumpled to the ground. Half of the Ram in the rear line lay dying or dead before the other five could defend themselves.

The Wolf mess gained ground as Gryphon and three other Wolves battled for their lives from behind. Gryphon made quick work of the men, determined not to look at their faces, knowing his resolve would waver if he recognized another victim.

I have no other choice. I have no other choice. He chanted the phrase over and over in his mind, timing his blows to the rhythm of the words. I have no other choice. I have no other choice. The Ram phalanx broke formation. Gryphon slashed and stabbed, wild in his hypnotic frenzy. By the time he finished, his hands and forearms were slick with blood.

Gryphon looked around the field for Barnabas, but there were too many bodies, too many men still locked in phalanx trying desperately to gain advantage.

Gryphon spotted Gabe across the field crossing swords with two Ram soldiers at the same time. He feinted right and slashed an enemy behind the knees. The man crumpled to the ground, the major tendons of his legs severed.

Around him Wolves fell on all sides. Limbs detached. Blood spilled. Cries for mercy ignored. Gryphon hoped he’d given the others enough time as he pulled the small horn from its place in his belt and blew.

Gabe finished off the second attacker, met eyes with Gryphon, and brought his own horn to his lips.

“Retreat!” Gryphon ordered, twisting away from a fatal slash aimed at his chest. He wasn’t fast enough. The blade cut through his boiled leather armor, earning him a shallow cut along his side and back.

The horn won him unwelcome attention from the Ram around him. He blocked an attacker and tried to break free without engaging in an actual fight.