Nameless (Nameless #1)(4)
It was his fault.
Gryphon took the mountain trail home from the caves. He attacked the climb like he would any enemy. After the first mile his legs warmed. After the second they burned. He welcomed the dull pain creeping through his fatigued muscles. Pain equaled progress. With enough pain he might outpace his grief.
Joshua.
Gryphon sprinted the last hundred yards of the climb. The wind picked up as he reached the summit overlooking the ocean below. High waves crashed into the cliff wall. An arctic spray carried on the breeze, stinging Gryphon’s eyes.
He turned and showed the ocean his back, casting his gaze over the valley of the Ram. Wind whipped his dark brown hair and made the metal of his weapons clink together. From this view he could see far beyond the training grounds and housing complexes, past the fields where hundreds of Nameless bent over acres of dying soil. Even beyond the fabled wall of Ram’s Gate that corralled the vast lands of his people.
He felt powerful. In control.
Not like this morning when he couldn’t slow Joshua’s bleeding.
The twenty members of Gryphon’s mess unit were encouraged to sleep in the barracks, even though many of them were married men. Unity meant everything to a Ram mess unit. Gryphon abided this and every other command issued by his leaders with exactness. But tonight, the thought of facing his brothers of war with all their questions and condolences seemed too much.
No. Tonight he would hide behind the walls of his inheritance like a child hides behind his mother’s skirt.
The brick-and-plaster house sat back on a five-acre plot. It was one of the furthest family plots from the main gate and the center of town. A red sun dipped behind the towering wall of Ram’s Gate, casting an ominous glow around the house as Gryphon climbed the dirt path. The solid oak door whined with complaint as he nudged it open.
“Who’s there?” Gryphon’s mother reached the entry with her arms and hands covered in white flour and her graying bun sitting at an angle on her head. She studied Gryphon and the corners of her mouth sank into the frown he’d come to associate with his childhood.
“Wash the blood off your hands.” She retreated back to the kitchen without another word.
Gryphon leaned his long spear and shield against the wall and sloughed off his pack. He turned and noticed the rusted metal shield mounted above the hearth. His cheeks colored in shame. He looked away, but it didn’t stop the boiling wave of anger that always came when he looked at his father’s shield. The symbol of his family’s disgrace.
Despite Gryphon’s countless protests, his mother refused to take it down. “It’s good to remember,” she would say. Then she’d go out into the forest where she thought no one could hear her and cry, rocking back and forth with her hands wrapped firmly about her stomach. As if she’d fall apart if she didn’t hold herself together.
No matter how hard he worked in the training field, that shield would always hang over his head. Always.
In the kitchen, Gryphon plunged his hands into a basin of water. As he scrubbed, the water turned the color of salmon flesh.
His mother kneaded her palm into a batch of dough with more force than necessary. She used her forearm to push aside a clump of silver hair that fell into her face. “How many?” she asked with her back to him.
Gryphon couldn’t scrub his hands hard enough. “One. We were ambushed.” His excursions used to be so boring. They used to go weeks without running into another clan, but lately …
“Who?” His mother stood up straight, prepared to take the news like a strong Ram woman was meant to.
“Joshua.” Gryphon felt his control slip. He chewed on his tongue until he could steel his emotions. “Spear,” was all he trusted himself to say.
Joshua wasn’t a member of a mess unit yet. The System didn’t allow thirteen-year-olds to join. He had still been in training, but he’d begged to go, and Gryphon—his mentor—didn’t have the heart to turn him down.
“Will he live?” she asked, kneading the dough again.
“I … ” Gryphon cleared his constricting throat, thinking of the dirty Nameless girl they’d let work on Joshua in the cave. “I don’t think he will.”
Chapter 3
Darkness. The room was quiet except for the dissonant sound of dripping water. Zo sat up from the stone floor and put a hand to her throbbing head. Her eyes burned. Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth, giving a papery quality to the rotting smell of the cave.
Tess!
Zo crawled around, seeing mostly with her shaking hands. When she found another body beside her she choked on a sob of relief.
“Tess, are you all right?”
Zo moved her hand up to Tess’ face only to have it batted away.
“My name is not Tess,” a boy said, his voice weak, yet strangely hard.
“There was a girl with me. Do you know where she is?” Zo could hear the hysteria in her own words. The thought of Tess alone in this monstrous place was too much to bear.
“Please!” she persisted.
The boy might have fallen back asleep. Zo couldn’t tell. She crawled until she felt another blanket and tried to wake a sleeping man. He wouldn’t stir. She moved to another. Then another. Tess wasn’t here. The words of the Gate Master rang in Zo’s ears.