Fearless (Nameless #3)(9)
Chapter Five
With the help of a bath, a shave, and a fresh shirt, Gryphon walked with head held high through the Allied Camp. The four Wolf soldiers assigned to escort him to the meeting tent carried themselves well enough. Their silent march and clipped commands proved them disciplined.
And Gryphon would’ve loved to throw a fist into any of their faces.
Old hatred dies hard. Loathing for these Wolves seemed a part of his genetic makeup—something he was born to do. Too many stories told around campfires in Gryphon’s childhood centered on the greed of the Wolves—all untrustworthy traders and farmers who professed a high moral code but didn’t know the meaning of honor. Even Zo’s longtime friend, Gabe, had lied to her and Gryphon so they would each believe the other dead. All because he’d wanted her for himself.
These Wolves … they weren’t to be trusted. Laden least of all.
Gryphon shook his head, seething over Gabe’s betrayal as he walked among the people he’d vowed to hate—to kill on sight—when he was a member of the Ram Clan. Regardless of the flaws of his own people, he didn’t think he could ever trust another Wolf, beyond Zo and Tess, again.
From what he could tell, the meeting tent was the largest of the whole camp and located in the direct center of the narrow valley. Guards wielding long swords stood as sentries around the tent. With hands rested on the pommels of their long swords, their eyes tracked Gryphon’s every movement.
Gryphon walked into the dim structure and waited for his vision to adjust. Four torches carved with elaborate designs burned at each corner of a long table in the center of the tent. Commander Laden sat at the head of a diverse group of men—some feathered, some furred—and rested his clasped hands on the table, looking on as the other men shouted over one another.
“I say we just kill the Ram and be done with it,” said one man. “I volunteer as executioner,” said another, gaining him several laughs, a few growls, and unanimous table thumps.
Laden was the first to notice Gryphon and his entourage of guards. He pressed his hands flat to the table and pushed back his chair with the back of his knees as he stood. The rest of the men seated at the table turned their heads and all discussion died.
“Your chair, Ram.” Laden gestured to the empty chair at his left.
The soldiers surrounding Gryphon fanned out in front of the tent entrance, leaving Gryphon to walk with the room’s unwavering attention focused in his direction. The detailing of the chair and elaborate, long table surprised Gryphon. He took his seat, back erect, using the heavy moment to assess the men seated around the table.
He was, by far, the youngest of the company. But his age was not his only disadvantage. Seeing these men … taking in their lined faces, their scarred hands and calculating expressions, Gryphon could almost sense their power of mind and leadership. He knew how to fight. He knew strategy and war. But these were leaders of men. No matter their animosity toward Gryphon or the inferiority of their clans, they had his begrudging respect. Just like Laden.
“While we wait for Zo to join us for dinner, I want my lieutenants to understand how you came to join us tonight,” said Laden. He looked out to address the men seated at the table. His posture changed, his voice hardened. “I want them to know the whole story so they can form a just opinion of you and your intentions, and plot our course of action.”
Had Gryphon not learned to govern his emotions, he might have laughed out loud. Did Laden honestly believe these men would ever see him as anything other than a Ram?
“I’ve come to your camp as a friend to Zo, the healer,” said Gryphon. “Nothing more.”
“Not good enough.” Laden shook his head. “Start from the beginning. From the first day you met Zo, and don’t spare a single detail.” He leaned forward and added, “Your life depends on their mercy.”
Gryphon’s fingers found the carved grooves on the side of the wooden table. He let his fingertips slide along the intricate lines. They served as a necessary distraction as he cleared his throat and said, “I am a son of the Ram.” He looked directly into the eyes of the men seated at the table. “I love my clan.” He took a few fortifying breaths to muster courage. “A child born into any culture knows nothing other than what he has been shown. I never truly appreciated the faults of my clan until I met Zo. Since that time, I’ve been forced to reconcile myself to a different understanding of what is right and what is wrong.”
Laden nodded his encouragement for Gryphon to continue.
“The first day I met Zo she saved the life of my apprentice, Joshua.” Gryphon launched into the details of Zo’s work as a healer, of learning her true identity, of capturing Gabe and sparing his life in the prizefight. He spoke of the complications with his best friend Ajax, his need to protect Tess, Zo, and Gabe from his own people, Stone and the Nameless rebellion, and the confusing help he received from the Historian.
“My clan seeks power and is proud, but they are motivated by their hunger and depleted resources.” He paused to consider his next words. In the end, honor outweighed his better judgment. “You should know that, although I am banished from my clan and my shield is lost, I still love my people.”
Gryphon rested his hands in his lap, knowing he probably shouldn’t have added that last part, but he wanted these men to see him for what he was.