Fearless

by Jennifer Jenkins

  “I’m here, bug.” She held out her hands but Tess didn’t run to her. Instead, her sister pushed aside a few tears and stomped right past Zo’s outstretched arms with quivering chin held high, refusing to speak or make further eye contact. When the tent flap closed behind Tess, Zo couldn’t help but stare at the fabric so thoroughly separating them.

  “She’s glad you’re back, child. She just doesn’t know how to show it yet,” said Millie as the old woman poured hot water from a kettle into a wooden bathing tub already half-filled with water.

  Zo understood Tess’s anger. Even at eight, the girl didn’t appreciate any kind of coddling, especially not the kind that included lying to spare her feelings. Zo thought to go after her, but knew the wisdom of Millie’s advice. She’d give Tess time to simmer a bit.

  From her pocket Millie withdrew a few sprigs of lavender and a lump of pumice soap and added them to the steaming water. It didn’t take long for the calming scent to fill the tent.

  The tub was a work commissioned by Laden when they first came into the valley. Caring for two young girls in a military camp required some special arranging. While everyone else in camp bathed in the river, Millie, Zo, and Tess bathed in the circular tub in the privacy of their tent.

  “I have to tell the cook to expect more for the Commander’s dinner. Raca can help you clean up.” She set out a drying linen and a bundle of Zo’s old clothing on the only table in the room. “You’ll feel better after you clean that stinky layer of filth off your body.” Millie’s tired smile did little to reassure Zo as she left without even introducing her to the stranger in the room.

  “She really is a darling girl.”

  Zo turned around to meet Tess’s former companion. “I’m happy to see you again, Wolf.”

  Blinking at the dark-haired woman, Zo asked, “Raca, is that really you?”

  Zo barely recognized the young woman she’d met while traveling to the Allies only a few weeks earlier. On the road, the Raven girl had done well to hide the majority of her beauty. But here, safe among the Allies, Raca didn’t bother concealing her hip-length hair and womanly figure. Dark charcoal outlined her eyes and the afternoon sun shining through the walls of the tent turned her skin the color of slightly burnt honey.

  “I wasn’t expecting to see you here,” said Zo as she accepted the Raven girl’s hand. “The last time I saw you, you were on your way to the Nest.”

  “When Gryphon explained the flight of our clan, we had no other option but to return to the Allied Camp and wait for our kinsman to join us. My twin brother is very excited that his wife and small children survived the journey well. And it was our duty to see that our little brother, along with the other flock of warriors who stayed behind to slow the Ram pursuit, reached the Allies safely.”

  Raca explained that she and her twin brother, Talon, had been commissioned to visit the Allies as ambassadors. They hadn’t confessed as much to Zo when they first met merely because it wasn’t safe to advertise their high rank among strangers in the wilderness.

  “I’m surprised Gryphon didn’t tell me.”

  Raca laughed. “I suppose he had more pleasant things to consider with you at his side.”

  Zo blushed. “If you call our fight with his old mess unit ‘pleasant’ then I suppose you’re right.”

  “Well, I can help you if you wish.” Raca gestured toward the water, casting a sideways glance at the tent flaps.

  “I think I can manage,” said Zo. “But thank you.”

  Raca nodded. “Then I’ll leave you to it.” She ducked out of the tent in something of a nervous rush and left Zo, for a second time, to stare at the flaps in mild confusion.

  After a long soak, Zo scrubbed the filth from her body and hair. The lavender soothed away a building headache, but Zo still couldn’t bring herself to fully relax. How could she, knowing Gryphon and Joshua were in Laden’s custody and Tess wasn’t speaking to her? She leaned back, rested her head on the back of the wooden tub, and raised her hands above the water to examine the raised cuts marring her skin.

  The words she’d spoken before Ikatou’s giant bear claw ripped through her skin resonated within the currents of her mind. “I willingly tie my life and blood to the task of freeing the Nameless … I swear to do all that was promised in my own blood … ”

  The Kodiak were famous for their oaths and promises. They would die before breaking their word, and expected no less from others. What was worse, she didn’t even understand exactly what her promise entailed. In her mind, it meant taking them to Commander Laden, and making sure the Allies agreed to help. But freeing the Nameless was more complicated then rushing the Gate with a few thousand men. No force had ever breeched the walls of Ram’s Gate, and the few that had met the Ram in battle paid sorely for their bravery.

  Laden had been preparing his army for years, and the chances of him being willing to act right now—just because Zo had a few cuts on her hands—weren’t high. As much as she knew Laden cared for her and honored the memory of her parents, his first objective was to look after his cause. He wouldn’t put one life before so many. Not even hers.

  “Gracious, child. Were you planning to spend the night in that water?” cried Millie as she hurried into the tent. The light outside had dimmed with the setting sun and Zo realized she was shivering in the tepid water.

  “The officers will be waiting on you!” She held up a blanket for Zo to use to towel off and helped her into a traditional Wolf dress, complete with a colorfully embroidered skirt and white blouse. Zo pulled tight the laces of a soft leather jerkin while Millie battled her long hair into a complicated web of braids befitting a girl of her age and standing.

  “Where’s Tess?” Zo asked.

  “The child took her meal with the little Ram demon. The one with hair as red as hell itself.”

  “They released him? Did they release Gryphon as well?” Zo glanced longingly at the flaps of the tent. She still hadn’t recovered from the weeks spent thinking he’d been killed. Every moment away from him now made her anxious. Somehow, with Gryphon alive and in her life, even the thought of her blood oath was less frightening.

  “The Ram soldier is still under guard, but he’s out of his bindings.” Millie tugged on a strand of Zo’s hair to secure another braid. “For now,” she added under her breath. “As for that boy, Tess follows him around like a pup. I’d chastise her for it but the boy has been kind to her, and I prefer her laughter to the sulking she’s been doing for the past week.”

  Millie tied off a final braid and said, “Now, let me look at you.” The old woman tucked a few stray black and silver strands of hair behind her ear and stepped back to appraise Zo.

  And then frowned.

  “What?” Zo’s shoulders slumped.

  “You’ve lost so much weight. I need to take in your clothing.”

  The laces of her jerkin were tightened as much as the bodice would allow, but Zo barely felt the pull of the leather around her torso. She pressed her fingertips into her face, wondering if her cheekbones stuck out as much as her ribs. “Next time I’m a Ram slave, I’ll be sure to ask for seconds.” She tried to offer a smile, but the effort pained her.

  “Never mind, child. You’re still every bit as beautiful as your mother. The men will have a hard time concentrating on anything Commander Laden has to say with you in the room.” Then more quietly, she added, “There’s been a hum around the camp with your arrival among the men. Some are young and strong lads who would do a fine job of taking care of you and Tess.”

  “Not interested,” Zo said, and she grabbed her cloak from the floor and pulled it around her shoulders. She thanked Millie and walked out into the cool spring night.

  “Zo!” Millie called after her.

  Zo turned and hugged the sides of her cloak closer to her body.

  “I know you care for this Ram … but I wish you wouldn’t.” She sighed. “Please be careful, child. He’s not to be trusted.”

>   Zo’s jaw locked, but she managed a terse nod just the same. “Thank you for your concern, Millie. It’s nice to be home.”

  Millie snorted. “This isn’t home, child. This is a military camp.”

  Zo shrugged. “It’s the only home I have, Millie.”

  Chapter Five

  With the help of a bath, a shave, and a fresh shirt, Gryphon walked with head held high through the Allied Camp. The four Wolf soldiers assigned to escort him to the meeting tent carried themselves well enough. Their silent march and clipped commands proved them disciplined.

  And Gryphon would’ve loved to throw a fist into any of their faces.

  Old hatred dies hard. Loathing for these Wolves seemed a part of his genetic makeup—something he was born to do. Too many stories told around campfires in Gryphon’s childhood centered on the greed of the Wolves—all untrustworthy traders and farmers who professed a high moral code but didn’t know the meaning of honor. Even Zo’s longtime friend, Gabe, had lied to her and Gryphon so they would each believe the other dead. All because he’d wanted her for himself.

  These Wolves … they weren’t to be trusted. Laden least of all.

  Gryphon shook his head, seething over Gabe’s betrayal as he walked among the people he’d vowed to hate—to kill on sight—when he was a member of the Ram Clan. Regardless of the flaws of his own people, he didn’t think he could ever trust another Wolf, beyond Zo and Tess, again.

  From what he could tell, the meeting tent was the largest of the whole camp and located in the direct center of the narrow valley. Guards wielding long swords stood as sentries around the tent. With hands rested on the pommels of their long swords, their eyes tracked Gryphon’s every movement.

  Gryphon walked into the dim structure and waited for his vision to adjust. Four torches carved with elaborate designs burned at each corner of a long table in the center of the tent. Commander Laden sat at the head of a diverse group of men—some feathered, some furred—and rested his clasped hands on the table, looking on as the other men shouted over one another.

  “I say we just kill the Ram and be done with it,” said one man. “I volunteer as executioner,” said another, gaining him several laughs, a few growls, and unanimous table thumps.

  Laden was the first to notice Gryphon and his entourage of guards. He pressed his hands flat to the table and pushed back his chair with the back of his knees as he stood. The rest of the men seated at the table turned their heads and all discussion died.

  “Your chair, Ram.” Laden gestured to the empty chair at his left.

  The soldiers surrounding Gryphon fanned out in front of the tent entrance, leaving Gryphon to walk with the room’s unwavering attention focused in his direction. The detailing of the chair and elaborate, long table surprised Gryphon. He took his seat, back erect, using the heavy moment to assess the men seated around the table.

  He was, by far, the youngest of the company. But his age was not his only disadvantage. Seeing these men … taking in their lined faces, their scarred hands and calculating expressions, Gryphon could almost sense their power of mind and leadership. He knew how to fight. He knew strategy and war. But these were leaders of men. No matter their animosity toward Gryphon or the inferiority of their clans, they had his begrudging respect. Just like Laden.

  “While we wait for Zo to join us for dinner, I want my lieutenants to understand how you came to join us tonight,” said Laden. He looked out to address the men seated at the table. His posture changed, his voice hardened. “I want them to know the whole story so they can form a just opinion of you and your intentions, and plot our course of action.”

  Had Gryphon not learned to govern his emotions, he might have laughed out loud. Did Laden honestly believe these men would ever see him as anything other than a Ram?

  “I’ve come to your camp as a friend to Zo, the healer,” said Gryphon. “Nothing more.”

  “Not good enough.” Laden shook his head. “Start from the beginning. From the first day you met Zo, and don’t spare a single detail.” He leaned forward and added, “Your life depends on their mercy.”

  Gryphon’s fingers found the carved grooves on the side of the wooden table. He let his fingertips slide along the intricate lines. They served as a necessary distraction as he cleared his throat and said, “I am a son of the Ram.” He looked directly into the eyes of the men seated at the table. “I love my clan.” He took a few fortifying breaths to muster courage. “A child born into any culture knows nothing other than what he has been shown. I never truly appreciated the faults of my clan until I met Zo. Since that time, I’ve been forced to reconcile myself to a different understanding of what is right and what is wrong.”

  Laden nodded his encouragement for Gryphon to continue.

  “The first day I met Zo she saved the life of my apprentice, Joshua.” Gryphon launched into the details of Zo’s work as a healer, of learning her true identity, of capturing Gabe and sparing his life in the prizefight. He spoke of the complications with his best friend Ajax, his need to protect Tess, Zo, and Gabe from his own people, Stone and the Nameless rebellion, and the confusing help he received from the Historian.

  “My clan seeks power and is proud, but they are motivated by their hunger and depleted resources.” He paused to consider his next words. In the end, honor outweighed his better judgment. “You should know that, although I am banished from my clan and my shield is lost, I still love my people.”

  Gryphon rested his hands in his lap, knowing he probably shouldn’t have added that last part, but he wanted these men to see him for what he was.

  “Then why are you here?” one man at the far end of the table said. He wore a thick, dark beard and his metal-studded arm guards rested heavily on the table. “You admit you are loyal to your clan. You must be smart enough to know that we can’t let you live when your allegiance lies with our enemy.”

  Gryphon’s faced heated as he stared down the table at the older man. “I’m here to deliver Zo and provide Joshua, my apprentice, a home. If it costs me my life, then so be it.” He didn’t intend to stand, but the conviction of his words demanded it. “But I will say this much,” he swung his head back to Laden and pointed a finger in the leader’s direction. “Fighting will not solve this conflict. All your army will accomplish is getting a lot of people killed. None of you can understand the strength of the Ram. Not really. Not until you’ve devoted your entire lives to training in the Agoge. So long as Barnabas is chief, the Ram will never be reasoned with.” He panted, feeling a tad foolish he’d let his temper run unchecked.

  “Sit,” said Laden.

  Gryphon lowered himself back into his seat and ground his teeth.

  “What I don’t understand is why you let Gabe fight on the day of his execution.” A calm man—clearly Raven, judging from his smaller build and darker complexion—leaned back in his chair and folded his thin arms across his chest as he studied Gryphon in a calculating sort of way. “Why risk letting him live? Surely you knew you would be killed if the wrong people discovered your deception.”

  Suddenly, Gryphon was back inside Ram’s Gate on that prizefight platform, looking down at the crowded square where hundreds of Ram and Nameless waited for him to decide how Gabe should die. It had been Gryphon’s right to determine the Wolf’s path to death since he had captured him. Zo had sat with Gate Master Leon near the stage. It was her pained expression that sealed Gryphon’s decision to let Gabe fight. It was her fearful cry that inspired the suicidal plan to fake Gabe’s death.

  Did she know how much power she wielded? From that moment forward, every decision he’d made bowed to two masters: his conscience and Zo’s happiness.

  Gryphon glanced down the table at the Raven. He cleared his throat and said, “I’d never met a more worthy opponent then Gabe. He didn’t deserve to die.”

  “But the consequences—”

  “Were nothing compared to the pull of my conscience,” Gryphon cut in.


  Laden sat back, running his hand over the coarse salt and pepper stubble of his chin, a smirk lifting one corner of his mouth, disrupting the scarred lines in his face. The heads of every man seated at the table eventually turned in his direction. Laden’s gravity of presence told Gryphon that, no matter the views of the council, their leader’s opinions carried the greatest weight.

  The tent flap opened. The four guards jumped aside, one foolish enough to offer a slight bow to the newcomer. The poor soldier’s cheeks turned red when he realized his mistake.

  Zo’s clean and decidedly feminine appearance made Gryphon’s eyes widen. She wore a modest, traditional-looking dress, but it showcased the velvet skin of her collarbone and neck while clinging to the graceful bends and curves of her body. He envied the material and wished he could see her alone, without having to share her charms with the room of gruff men. How could he ever force himself to leave her when the time came to fulfill his promise to Ajax?

  Only twenty-three days …

  “It appears Gryphon’s conscience has arrived,” said the Raven who’d questioned him earlier.

  “Please join us, Zo.” Laden gestured to the chair at the foot of the long table: a position of honor. One of the guards lunged toward the chair and pulled it out for her to sit. She thanked him, and Gryphon wanted to punch himself for being jealous.

  When Zo sat, Laden gave the order to have food brought in. Trays of boiled potatoes, carrots, and turnips, along with steamed greens and hot bread, were placed on the table for the men and Zo to serve themselves. The crowning dish was a large mutton roast, glazed and golden and served from a spit, carried by one man from person to person and carved and served by another.

  Zo’s mouth watered at the sight of the dish. Lamb was a favorite among Wolves, especially during spring and fall festivals. But sheep were sacred to the Ram, and she gently shook her head, refusing the dish out of respect for Gryphon.