Nameless (Nameless #1)(8)
“Enough,” said Barnabas. He leaned forward, resting his clasped hands on the table and looked down the end of his crooked nose at Zander. “Your mess suffered no casualties, yet also took no lives. Explain.”
Zander stumbled over his words before saying, “The enemy had high ground. We launched our Striker but the Raven retreat was well-timed.”
Barnabas sat back in his chair and gestured for Gryphon to stand. “I’m not surprised to see you make Striker, Gryphon, son of Troy.”
Gryphon’s eyes nearly doubled in size. “Thank you, sir.” He kept his head down but a zing of pride filled his chest. His hard work had not gone unnoticed.
The clan chief said, “Your father was my Striker for a number of years. Did you know that, boy?”
Gryphon’s brow wrinkled. “I didn’t know you shared a mess unit.” No one had ever told him. Not even his mother.
Gryphon’s father had been taken in a Wolf ambush when Gryphon was still a baby. Maybe the first Ram ever taken alive. He’d left his shield and dishonor behind as Gryphon’s inheritance.
“Troy never missed a mark.” Barnabas’ jowls shook as he laughed at the memory. Then, as swift as a changing tide, his laughter cut off and he leaned forward. Without an ounce of humor he said, “It’s a shame you didn’t inherit your father’s aim.”
Gryphon’s head sunk low again. The dishonor made it hard to breathe. What would Barnabas think if he knew the whole truth? That he intentionally spared the boy’s life?
Zander rested a hand on Gryphon’s shoulder. “There was no target, sir. As I said before, the Raven retreated before we could attack.”
“Excuses,” Barnabas grunted. “If there was one Wolf with the Raven, there will undoubtedly be more. We need to find that settlement.” He drummed his fingers on the horn-shaped desk. His eyes glazed over as he stared past them at the back wall of the room.
Gryphon and Zander exchanged uncertain glances. The Seer adjusted in her seat, scowling in their direction. An insect buzzed around the room, hovering from one end of the horn to the next. Gryphon’s legs complained from going so long without rest from their journey. He shifted his weight. The insect landed in front of Barnabas and without warning the chief slammed the bug with his fist, his eyes still eerily unfocused as he pondered.
Moments later, he got to his feet and gestured for the guards to escort Zander and Gryphon from the room. “Dismissed.”
Gryphon exhaled. He could barely make out the low hiss of the Seer’s voice as he left. “I don’t like it, Barnabas. The Wolves are organizing … ” The door closed. Gryphon’s suspicions leapt as he considered the implications. The lesser clans had never banded together in the past. Why now? And why would the Wolves—their strongest enemy—help the others when their main settlement sat well outside the reach of the Ram?
They stepped out of the stone building and Gryphon raised a hand to cover his eyes from the bright sun. As Zander started walking toward the training fields, Gryphon called after him. “Thank you for speaking for me.”
Zander twisted to look over his shoulder. “I said nothing that wasn’t true.” He paused. “Right?”
Gryphon nodded, but the action was delayed by a fraction of a second. “Yes, sir.”
Zander’s lips formed a thin line. “If you look bad, the whole mess looks bad. Especially me.” He walked away without a backward glance.
Gryphon thought of the Raven boy trying to string an arrow. How many Ram would that boy grow up to kill before he died? His body shook with rage. He needed to hit something. Someone. He walked by one of the training fields and yanked a spear staked to the ground. A wild roar escaped his chest as he launched the spear over the training field, deep into a thick copse of trees.
The young boys and girls in training lowered their weighted weapons to stare. One girl actually clapped. The instructor shook his head in disgust and ordered her to fetch the spear.
Gryphon’s shoulders slumped.
He’d only taken two steps toward the mess barracks when a breathless runner caught up to him. “I have a message, sir. It’s from the Medica.”
Gryphon froze.
“Joshua lives!”
Chapter 5
Rough fingers dug into Zo’s arms as Ram soldiers dragged her through the damp, cobbled streets to meet the Gate Master.
From where she walked, the tall wall enclosing Ram’s Gate lay in the distance, barely visible over the massive structures surrounding her. Ram buildings made of stone and plaster conveyed a sense of arrogant permanence contrary to every other clan’s way of life in these desperate times. They were buildings built to last, instead of the adobe and hide preferred by her people. It was no wonder the Ram stood undefeated for two centuries.
They reached an open square large enough to accommodate several thousand people. In the middle of the vast square stood a raised platform sectioned off by fraying rope.
The Ram dragged Zo across the open space, until they came so close to the wooden platform, Zo might have been able to reach out and touch it. Rows of tally marks were carved into the wood. Darks stains ran like tears down the slats in some places and splattered in others. A chill rolled over Zo’s skin and she turned away. It was only a simple platform, but the feelings that seemed to cry from the structure were real. This square was a place to avoid.