Fearless (Nameless #3)(85)

Cold fire ran the length of his side from the wound. Gryphon turned and barely had time to block a blow that would have taken off his head. He used his free hand to sink his dagger into the man’s stomach.

“Retreat!” he yelled.

The Wolves obeyed as best they could. Many forgot to guard their own escape and took a spear to the back.

“Form up!” The order came from Barnabas, standing bloodied and bold fifty yards away.

Gryphon looked to the safety of the trees then back at Barnabas. He should stick to the original plan. There wasn’t time to linger. Every moment was vital.

But the reminder of Barnabas’s sick smile haunted him.

Rage won out.

He took off at a wild sprint toward his father’s killer barely caring to knock away the few swords that stood between them. Barnabas would pay for the lives he took, for the crimes he’d committed against Laden and the countless Nameless in his possession.

When he was only twenty yards away, Gabe tackled him from behind. They tumbled to the earth and rolled several times before gaining their feet again. Gabe grabbed his arm and tried to tow him away. The chaos thinned as the Ram found formation and the remaining Wolves ran for the safety of the trees in retreat.

“We have to leave, now!” said Gabe.

“I have to kill him!” Gryphon yanked free his arm. Gabe, more than anyone, should know how desperately Gryphon needed his revenge.

Gabe grabbed him again. “There’s no ti—”

A Ram dagger sank into Gabe’s left shoulder. Gryphon picked up a spear from the ground and lodged it in the attacker. Gabe studied the hilt for a confused moment then yanked it free.

Gryphon looked longingly in Barnabas’s direction then turned and pushed Gabe toward the trees. The Wolf staggered, but kept his feet. “I have your back. Now run!” Gryphon yelled, using his shield to deflect spears launch at him from behind as they raced toward the tree line.

“Don’t let him escape!” Barnabas’s voice bellowed behind them.

Gabe tripped and Gryphon stumbled head first over the Wolf’s limp form. He jumped up and tried to tow Gabe along, but his friend lay unconscious on the ground.

Ten Ram soldiers charged them. Gryphon hoisted Gabe’s body over his shoulder with a grunt and ran as fast as his burning legs would carry him. Arrows shot from the trees passed his head, aimed at his pursuers. Heavy Ram footfalls thundered at his back, quickly closing the distance. One by one the Ram hit the ground with a thump.

Bless those Birds!

Gryphon ran past the tree line, deeper and deeper into the thick forest, until all sight of the blood-soaked meadow and Ram army were lost to the trees. Men ran to his assistance as he crumpled to one knee.

“Take Gabe as far from here as you can.” Gryphon took a few greedy breaths, not once peeling his eyes from the direction of his enemies. “Is everyone in place?” he panted.

“Yes, sir. Waiting for you, sir.”

Gryphon nodded and climbed back to his feet. He could hear the traditional shouts from the Ram as they reveled in their victory. Barnabas would send teams to hunt Gryphon and the insignificant number of Wolves who escaped the field, but he would let the men celebrate first.

“Enjoy your victory, Chief. It will be your last.” Adrenaline hammered in every vein of Gryphon’s body as he sprinted deeper into the woods.





Chapter Thirty-Three





Gryphon bolted through the narrow ravine leading to the mouth of the canyon—the only entrance to the Valley of Wolves. The walls on either side of the path were sheer, angled at a steep grade; so steep it would take the use of two free hands to climb. Pine trees grew from the sidewalls, their trunks bending at right angles to reach the light of the sun. Raven nodded their allegiance as they perched like birds from the branches and behind rock jutting from the walls.

Gryphon hoped they could conceal themselves well enough to deceive Barnabas and his men. Small veins of water wove through collections of polished rock on the ravine floor. The path curved like a snake, creating blind corners that Gryphon hoped would work to their advantage.

As he reached the end of the ravine, the Wolf Alpha and Chief Naat greeted him. “Where is Gabe?” Chief Naat craned his neck to see past the bend of the trail.

“Injured but safe. I left him in the care of a pair of his men.”

“You’re alive. That’s something, I suppose,” grunted the Alpha as his fingers ran the length of this light beard. “Do you think they know our plan?”

Gryphon considered the battle. “They are celebrating victory even as we speak.”

“You’re certain?” asked the Raven.

Gryphon could still hear the shouts of victory in his mind, mocking the sacrifice of the Wolves lost in battle. “Even without the help of the other clans, the Wolves fought well.” Gryphon looked away. “We were … convincing.”

They heard the hurried footfalls of the scout before they saw him turn the corner. “Sir, the Ram. They’re marching.”

“How long?” Gryphon’s eyes narrowed.

“Ten, maybe fifteen minutes, sir.”

Where are Stone and Murtog?

Gryphon looked to the Raven warriors dotting the mountainsides and prayed their arrows would be enough. He placed a hand on the Raven Chief’s shoulder. “Your men will wait for my signal?”