Nameless (Nameless #1)(13)
“I’ll be back.” Gryphon patted Joshua’s leg and left to follow the healer. Master Leon might be entitled to treat the girl as he wished, but Gryphon couldn’t ignore the need to make sure he didn’t take things too far. She had, after all, saved Joshua’s life.
The bells summoned Nameless and Ram alike. Nameless, because these fights were mandatory, Ram, because of the entertainment value. Gryphon arrived at the raised, square platform in the city center just behind Master Leon and the girl. Through the heavy layer of grit on her face, the healer’s features betrayed unique beauty. She had a small nose and a set of full lips that, at the moment, turned down as she leaned away from the Gate Master. Her ebony lashes matched the wisps of hair that often escaped her head wrap.
A new wave of lyrics came to mind as Gryphon studied her soft features. He yearned to hum the dark song as he walked through the thick crowd. Of course, he fought the urge. It wasn’t long before the rush of spectators carried the girl and Gate Master from Gryphon’s view. He had pushed up on his toes to spot the healer over the crowd when Ajax, his favorite brother of the mess, smiled and slapped him on the back. “Gryph! You look like hell.”
Gryphon laughed and half-heartedly slugged Ajax in the stomach. “Thanks.”
“The rest of the guys are near the front. Come on.”
Gryphon looked back to find the healer through the throng but gave up.
“Still baby-sitting the boy?” Ajax said as they walked.
Gryphon nodded. “It’s a place to sleep.”
Ajax shook his head, then his smile melted into a tight line. “I have a reason not to sleep with the mess unit. Sara’s going to deliver her baby any day now. You,” he stabbed Gryphon in the chest with a finger, “have no excuse.”
“I’m all Joshua has,” said Gryphon.
Ajax gestured toward Zander who stood with arms crossed at the front of the pack. Serious as always. “Tell that to him.”
Drums pounded an echoing rhythm that vibrated deep within Gryphon’s bones. The crowd parted as a Nameless man was ushered to the platform. The shadows beneath his eyes made him look more tired than heated for battle. His black hair hung carelessly past his shoulders. His skin was like tanned leather, coarse enough to sharpen a dull blade.
As he stepped onto the platform a buzz of excitement ignited the crowd. Normally, a prizefight accomplished two objectives: first, it offered a young Ram trainee the chance to get his first real kill, second, it was a way to publically discipline the Nameless. But on rare occasions, a Nameless volunteered to enter the square. If he won he earned his freedom. If he didn’t, well …
“The Nameless isn’t bound!” said Ajax. “How long’s it been since a Nameless walked onto the platform without a spear to his back?”
Gryphon frowned. “Years.” He studied the man with new eyes. The Nameless was lean but not without muscle. He might have been tall without the hunched curve in his back. “I can’t decide if he’s suicidal or just a fool.”
“Flip a coin. I don’t know. Though I hope to hell he’s a fool. I’d love to see a good fight.” Ajax rushed over to another mess brother to hash out betting odds. Gryphon hadn’t seen him so excited since the day he discovered his wife was with child. He smiled at the memory: Ajax dancing around, pounding his chest like an animal for two solid days. The idiot was easy to love.
The young Ram challenger took the stairs of the platform two at a time. The seventeen-year-old called Sam, whose training was all but complete, accepted his training shield with a serious nod. He wore fur bands around his thick arms and forehead. His brown dreadlocks fell to the middle of his back; charms, beads, and animal teeth were woven into each knotted cord.
The crowd shoved closer to the raised square platform as the Nameless was armed with a sword and wooden shield. He would be young Sam’s first kill. The kill that would earn him his shield and entry into a mess.
Gryphon kept his attention trained on the hollow eyes of the Nameless challenger until a sobbing woman near the back of the crowd sobbed, “No! Don’t leave me, Jacob!” The older Nameless woman sank to her knees and wept for the man who must have been her son on the platform. Her screams echoed off the cobbles of the square as guards dragged her away.
Men all around Gryphon chuckled to each other and carried on with their bets.
Zo followed the Gate Master to the square in the center of town though she wanted nothing more than to run in the opposite direction. They cut through a thick crowd of Nameless who seemed to make up the back perimeter of the square. There was an obvious gap dividing the Nameless and the Ram who’d come to witness the fight. The closer they came to the platform, the more excited the crowd became.
The Gate Master stopped near a group of Ram boys and girls around Joshua’s age. Some play-wrestled while others stood on eager tiptoes to see the people on the platform. Zo’s stomach twisted as she followed their gazes. She’d always seen the platform as a place to avoid. Now she knew why.
The Gate Master grabbed Zo by the arm and yanked her in front of him. When he’d struck her at the Medica it was easy to play the victim, to stay down on the floor and even throw in a few whimpers. They liked it when you stayed down. But it wasn’t the hard touches that affected her.
The Gate Master’s hand moved up and down her waist, pulling her closer to him as he watched the two men prepare to fight. A bald Ram stood to address the anxious crowd. He was dressed like most men of his clan: fur-lined clothes and boots with a sword strapped to his side, as if carrying it proved his manhood. Fools.