Nameless (Nameless #1)(36)

Heavy legs wrapped around Gryphon’s chest and slammed him backward into the ground. Gryphon twisted and broke free from the trap as the Wolf struggled to reach his sword.

The two wrestled for advantage, rolling around the ring like animals until the Wolf pulled a dagger from Gryphon’s own sheath. Fire burned across Gryphon’s thigh before he realized what had happened.

The Wolf shouldn’t be this challenging. He’d been starved and tortured in a cave until only a few hours ago. The man fought with heart unequalled by any opponent he’d ever faced. Inhuman strength.

“I said I’d kill you.” The Wolf spoke through gritted teeth as the two men locked arms again.

Gryphon could feel himself weakening. Blood poured from the wound on his thigh. He grappled for a better hold as the Wolf hissed and spit in his ear. “I won’t die in front of her.”

Gryphon caught a glimpse of the healer from the corner of his eye. The Gate Master held her back from the platform by her hair but she didn’t seem to care. Her eyes were only for the Wolf. Through all the shouts from the ruckus crowd, Gryphon singled out her lone cry.

Gryphon exploded out of the Wolf’s hold and flipped him onto his back. He felt the crunch of the Wolf’s jaw under his fist. Gryphon took him by the throat with both hands and squeezed.

I must be crazy.

The Wolf kicked and flopped about like a fish on dry land. Gryphon held strong. His practiced hands tightened around his neck but slipped on the blood gushing from the Wolf’s nose. His arms shook as he fought to hold the man down. His fingers found their mark again, and this time he didn’t let go.

The Wolf’s legs slowed. His hands went limp and dropped to his sides. Several people in the crowd gasped.

Gryphon picked up the dagger with both hands, raised it high above his head, and stabbed the Wolf in the chest, just below the shoulder.

The crowd went completely quiet in anticipation. Gryphon’s chest rose and fell as he wrenched the dagger from the Wolf’s body. He gathered himself off the ground like an old man, one foot and then another. His whole frame trembled from the effort. A cold sheen of sweat collected on his forehead.

He held out the red-stained dagger, blade up, for the chief’s inspection. Hundreds of excited Ram looked to their chief with bated breath. Barnabas lounged in his chair, propping up his head with a fist. Time dragged on like a cold winter but the chief eventually nodded his approval.

Gryphon sighed in relief while the audience exploded into cheers. He motioned for a pair of young guards to cover the body in lamb’s cloth.

His relief died the moment he saw the healer. Her stoic eyes stayed fixed on the Wolf’s limp form. Gate Master Leon grabbed her chin and shouted something while gesturing in the Wolf’s direction before striking her with the back of his hand. She hit the ground, but no one heard. She didn’t flinch when his boot met her side.

Gryphon found himself walking toward the Gate Master, his fists balled and eager. But before he could do anything, the chief took the platform stairs two at a time. He slapped Gryphon on the back and said, “The clan is indebted to you, son. Name your reward.”

Gryphon knew this offer was coming. He’d planned to ask for command of a new mess. The same request any forward-thinking Ram in his position would make. Redemption for his father’s disgrace was his to claim. The shield hanging on the wall of his home would be forgotten. He would be the youngest mess leader in his clan’s history.

The actual words that slipped from Gryphon’s mouth shocked him as much as the stunned crowd.

“I want the healer.” His arm stretched out, finger pointing down at the limp form at Master Leon’s feet.

Barnabas stared at him with mouth gaping until a clipped burst of laughter erupted from his chest. Slow at first, it grew until his whole belly shook. The crowd mimicked his reaction, as usual. Between bouts of laughter the chief waved for his guard to bring the stunned girl up to the stand. Master Leon turned three degrees of red as they ripped her from his grasp. He glared at Gryphon with pure and utter loathing.

Gryphon squared his shoulders and stared back. He would not be bullied. As the healer approached him with her head cast down in shame, a chilling oversight settled in. Everyone in the clan would assume he took the girl as a personal slave. A very personal slave.

Gryphon walked over to the Wolf’s limp form and used the rest of his energy to pull the man up over his good shoulder. He was so exhausted from the fight that his legs shook under the weight. The crowd parted for him as he struggled down the platform with the Wolf slung on his back. It was customary for the victor of an honor killing to bury the body of his opponent in the soil of his own fields.

The healer trailed him looking white.

“Go and enjoy her, Striker,” the chief called over the crowd, accompanied by laughter and jeers from the Ram.





Chapter 19





Zo studied her dirty shoes as she trailed Gabe’s killer. Gryphon leaned heavily on his dark friend, with one arm draped over his shoulder for support as he struggled under the weight of Gabe’s body. Their conversation didn’t hold her interest; neither did the waning moon or the pale stars against the almost night. No, she only bothered to look at her feet and the earth below them. Looking down, she could be anywhere. The earth here in hell wasn’t so different from home. If she hadn’t left, Gabe and Tess wouldn’t have followed. If she’d had the courage not to chase after the pain of losing her parents, the disease that she was couldn’t have spread.