Nameless (Nameless #1)(24)

“That’s where I thought you went,” Tess whispered once the Ram were out of sight. “Freeing the Wolf. I wanted to help. I can be very useful, if you’d only let me.”

“No.” Zo started walking back to the barracks with her sister in tow.

“Please, Zo. I’m so little no one will even see me.”

“Absolutely not.” They walked through the woods, parallel the road, to avoid detection. Tess stopped when they reached the barn-like structure that served as their barracks.

Zo turned around, impatient to lie down in her bunk. “Come inside, Tess.”

The moon made Tess’ face even more pale than usual. “You’re not the only one who gets to be angry, Zo. They were my parents, too,” her little voice trembled.





Gryphon marched into the main part of the city to request an audience with the chief for the second time that day. The first time he came, the sun was just peeking over the distant mountain. Chief Barnabas had still been asleep and Gryphon was all but thrown out of the building. By midday, Gryphon’s nightlong craze had subsided into something more practical. He approached the line of guards who blocked the entrance to Barnabas’ home with wet palms. “I want to speak to the chief. Will he see me?”

A guard Gryphon knew by reputation eyed him for a moment before saying, “You can’t just show up and demand a private audience with Barnabas. If he needs you, he’ll send for you.”

Gryphon cleared his throat. “It’s regarding the Wolf prisoner. I am Gryphon, son of Troy.”

This time the guard straightened. He raised an eyebrow at the men at his side, and they nodded. “I’ll let him know you’re here.” The guard tugged on the ram horn door handle and ran into the ornate building to deliver the message.

Gryphon exhaled.

One of the remaining guards, the youngest, from what Gryphon could tell, stepped forward. “Is it true what they say about you? Did you really fly off a cliff to capture the Wolf?”

Curse Gryphon’s mess and their exaggerating tongues. “No.”

The guard opened his mouth to respond just as the two metal-framed doors opened. Gryphon filled his lungs to calm his hyper nerves and marched into the chief’s private home.

“You can wait in here.” The guard said, before turning on his heels to leave.

The candlelit waiting room smelled like stale bread. The walls were lined with shelves filled with dusty scrolls. Ancient swords and spears hung above every doorframe in the room. Shields were respectfully absent, likely buried with their owner, as they should be. Gryphon’s cheeks burned as he once again thought of his father’s shield hanging shamefully in his family’s front room.

He’d worked too hard to fix his family’s broken honor to let senseless mercy get in the way. Mercy for a Nameless, of all things. He scratched the back of his head and looked at the door. He shouldn’t have come. The clan deserved to know the truth about the healer. It was his duty to disclose everything. Right?

Just as Gryphon turned to leave, an old woman wearing a long sage-colored dress entered the room. Deep wrinkles lined her face and thin, white hair created what seemed to be a halo around her head and neck. She rested her cane in front of her, the sound of wood striking the stone floor echoed off the room’s four walls. She nodded to the scrolls stacked orderly on the shelves. “Find anything that interests you?” Her lips barely moved as she spoke.

Gryphon didn’t think he’d ever seen someone so old. “Those scribblings mean nothing to me.” He gestured to the weapons above the door. “Action always speaks louder than words.”

One of the woman’s tufty, white brows rose so high it became lost in the cloud of her hair. “You don’t read?”

Gryphon shrugged. “What is the point of it?”

The old woman’s deep laugh turned into a cough that rattled her frail chest. Gryphon crossed the room and helped her sit in a lone chair in the corner.

“You’re laughing at me.” He couldn’t see what was so amusing.

It took her a moment to collect her breath. “You mock yourself, soldier. I’m just enjoying the entertainment.” She lifted his chin with the tip of her cane to get a better look at him. “I see the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. Your father, Troy, was just as foolish in the beginning.”

“You knew my father?”

Layers of translucent wrinkles lifted with her smile. “I knew him better than most.”

The last thing Gryphon wanted was to discuss his fallen father. “Who are you? What sort of place do you have in the chief’s home?”

Her eyes twinkled, and for just a moment, Gryphon thought he could see the young soul trapped in her aged body. “Before I passed on the responsibility to the woman you call the “Seer,” I kept records for the Ram during the reign of the last two chiefs. Now I fill a more docile role.” She sagged in her chair, clearly exhausted from the conversation. “Your father used to call me the Historian.”

Again with Gryphon’s father. It seemed he could never escape him.

A guard entered and looked between Gryphon and the old scroll keeper. “The chief is ready for you.”

“I’d like to chat with you sometime about these scrolls and the past,” the old woman said.

Gryphon nodded. He didn’t know if he wanted to talk to the woman, especially if she planned to discuss his father. “Enjoy your words.” He dipped his head in respect.