Nameless (Nameless #1)(17)

“What are these?” The Ram supply clerk came around the table and snatched up the blankets Zo deposited.

“They’re blankets,” said Zo, her voice flat and hollow.

The clerk’s pockmarked face reddened. “I know what they are. What are they doing on my table?”

“They need to be washed,” she said.

The clerk hissed a string of curses as he added the load to a pile in the back of the supply room, grumbling about taking orders from an ugly Nameless.

Zo hurried away. After rounding the first bend in the corridor, she heard a muffled man’s voice drifting through the door of one of the newest rooms. Zo made sure the hall was empty before pressing her ear to the door.

“Zander and his men are a part of First Company, sir. Their search quadrant is the farthest away,” said a shaky voice.

“I want them here, now! It’s been five days!”

“Yes, sir.”

“I can’t lead our people south until I quell these little rebellions. I want whoever killed that ram! I want his head staked to my wall!” The voice held an air of command, like a man who wouldn’t be questioned. Zo pushed closer to the door, hoping to hear something, anything, that might help the cause.

“Have we found the Wolf pup who taunted Zander’s company a few weeks ago?” said the leader.

“No, sir.”

There was a loud crashing sound, like a chair thrown against a wall. “I can’t have Wolves roving these hills, Captain!”

Zo forgot how to move. Her thoughts turned immediately to Gabe. His promise to stay close. To help when she needed him. Was he really foolish enough to linger at the Ram’s doorstep?

Yes. Yes, he was. He’d enjoy the challenge, not to mention the bragging rights. The fool.

“We gave Zander the coordinates of the last spotting. His mess will find them. They are the best.”

“Yes, as long as that Striker doesn’t botch the job,” said the leader.

“Sir.” The shaky captain cleared his throat. “According to our numbers, Gryphon is the best—”

“Training figures do not impress me! I want results outside the wall.”

“Yes, sir.”

The sound of footsteps pulled Zo from her trance. She hurried down the hall before anyone could catch her snooping around important doors.





Gryphon’s mess puffed white clouds of morning air as they ran. Their steps fell sure, if somewhat slower than they had five days ago. Zander finally called halt when they reached the top of a steep plateau. The men could barely hear his orders over the gusting wind. “Shields … shelter … rest.”

The group of brothers didn’t need further explanation. They staked their shields into the half-frozen soil in a perfect ring then huddled along the inside wall formed to escape the wind. Zander tossed them all some dried meat and flat bread. They chewed while he spoke.

“How far to our target search point?” Zander asked Lincoln, the navigator of the group.

Lincoln pulled out the compass and chart. He scratched the peppered beard that made him look much older than he was and walked his fingers along the map. “We’re practically there, sir. No more than two or three miles out.”

Zander nodded. “We’ll split up to cover more ground. My team will veer west. Gryphon’s team will veer east. Make a full circle. Search every rock, every trail. Meet back here at sundown.”

Gryphon swallowed hard on a dry crust of bread. Since when did he have command over a team? Striker was one thing, but this …

“Sir?” he said.

“Walk with me, Gryphon.”

Gryphon followed his captain out of the circle of shields. His muscles were stiff from the brief rest. They stopped behind a lone tree to hide from the loud wind.

“Sir, I’m one of the youngest in the mess. I have no right—”

“You have every right if I give it to you,” Zander growled. “You’re the best I have, Gryphon. Don’t let me down.”

Gryphon nodded, gulping down the contents of his churning stomach. “Thank you, sir.”

Zander walked away, his words nearly swallowed by the roaring wind. “Thank me by finding some Wolves. The chief wants them alive.”





They slept for two hours before readying their packs and weapons. Gryphon, Ajax, and six others followed a trail northeast, while Zander and the rest of the mess moved northwest. Gryphon had never been this far north, even the wind blowing through the high grass sounded foreign. Spring came later here. The spongy carpet of green gave way beneath their boots as they zigzagged across the hilly terrain.

“Five square miles is too much for one group to search,” said Brutus, one of Gryphon’s mess brothers, between gulps of air when they stopped for water. Brutus wasn’t a feather over five and a half feet tall. He had a shaved head and bloated muscles that commanded respect. “Split us up. We can cover twice the ground.”

Gryphon corked his water skin and shook his head. “Too dangerous. We have no idea what’s out there. We can’t risk it.”

Brutus showed Gryphon his back and muttered, “Too afraid to get the job done.”

Gryphon yanked his brother around and stabbed his spear into the ground, an inch from the man’s foot. “Are you calling me a coward? If so, have the honor to say it to my face!”