Fearless

by Jennifer Jenkins

  Gryphon still couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Four deep to counter the notorious drive and push of the Ram … ” he mused out loud. Gryphon had to admit that if there was one advantage the Allies had over the Ram, it was their numbers. But still …

  As they approached the training field where hundreds of men sparred, a growing sense of dread filled Gryphon’s chest. “And my men? I doubt they’ll be pleased to have a young Ram for a captain.”

  When the men on the training field spotted Laden, all sparring ceased. Laden’s officers formed a clean line before a group of ragtag men of various ages and sizes.

  They looked more like farmers than soldiers. Which, Gryphon had to admit, they probably were. Inside the Gate, Gryphon’s only job had been to train and become a warrior. These men fought only when necessity demanded and they appeared weak for it.

  Laden turned to face Gryphon, probably sensing his unease. “Relax, Striker. You’ll do just fine. Ignore my officers. Ignore the rest of the training field. Just focus on your men.”

  Flexing his jaw, Gryphon spoke in a low voice so only Laden could hear, “These men hate me, sir. This isn’t going to work.”

  Laden narrowed his eyes. “They must raise Ram softer than I believed. I thought a Striker wasn’t afraid of anything.”

  Gryphon narrowed his eyes at Laden. He knew the Commander was goading him, but his pride got the better of him regardless.

  “Four lines!” Gryphon ordered, staring the Commander down.

  Smiling, Laden crossed his arms.

  Gryphon left his side to walk among the forty, noting the shortcomings and strengths of each man with a single sweep of his gaze. Mostly he saw fear.

  Fear of battle.

  Fear of losing families.

  Fear of him.

  Good, thought Gryphon. Fear might keep them alive.

  “We have little time to master this, so pay attention. The Ram have the power to demolish the Valley of Wolves and destroy your homes and everyone you love … ” He paused. “Unless you are strong enough to stop them.”

  One of the men stepped forward. He had a little bit of a belly, but strong arms and fire in his eyes. His nose sat crooked on his face. His chin laced with determination and his fists balled at his sides. “Why should we trust you? Ram don’t betray their own.”

  There was a collective sharp intake of breath.

  Gryphon stopped in front of the man and frowned. He actually respected the man for saying aloud what everyone else must be thinking. “Trust me or don’t. It makes no difference to me, Wolf. But know this,” he raised his voice so his entire company and the onlookers nearby could hear him, “I am your best hope for defeating the Ram.”

  Gryphon didn’t wait for a response. This wasn’t the time for meaningless talk. There was work to be done.

  When Gryphon had spoken with Laden earlier, the Commander had compared their fighting strategy to that of the Ram on every point. How many times had the Commander survived contact with the Ram over the years without meeting his own death? His knowledge of Ram fighting techniques and stratagem was eerily accurate. Laden had even rambled about secret training tactics—things Gryphon had been taught to guard with his very life—like they were common knowledge.

  “Link,” Gryphon called. The men weren’t expecting the command. They scrambled together, assembling a shield hedge so every man carried his shield on his left, guarding the man to his left. They carried six-foot spears on their right. This too was another page ripped from Ram battle tactics.

  Gryphon walked the perimeter of the phalanx, instructing men to tighten gaps that might welcome hungry spears. Overall, they were better than he’d expected. Not a huge compliment, given his limited confidence, but at least it was a start.

  “Forward ten,” he called.

  The phalanx moved ten paces forward in a synchronized mass. Gryphon ran before the wall of shields, threading his sword through the more obvious gaps, and calling out orders to “Guard your man!” and “Stay together!”

  When they halted, the line of shields slammed to the ground in a heavy thump.

  “Birds,” Gryphon ordered.

  The back rows of shields wove together to form a roof over their heads to deflect an aerial assault.

  Gryphon had seen enough. “Stand down,” he shouted. Forty men relaxed their shields and looked smugly to Gryphon.

  “Where are you weakest?” Gryphon asked as he paced the front line of the phalanx.

  “On the right side,” one of the men called out.

  Gryphon nodded. “Because you guard the man at your left and trust the man on your right to guard you. It leaves the last man on the right the most vulnerable.”

  Gryphon looked to the man at the far right of the phalanx. He was a monster of a man, with a tree-trunk neck resting on a mountain of body. A Wolf in a Kodiak body.

  “How long has this group been together?” asked Gryphon.

  “Nine months,” came the answer.

  Gryphon swallowed. He and his brothers of the mess had been family. Some, like Zander, had been part of that family for almost two decades. These Wolves didn’t have a prayer.

  “Are any of you family? Longtime friends?”

  A few scattered raised hands dotted the forty. “Come forward,” said Gryphon. Various clusters of men worked their way to the front of the group. Gryphon could see some family resemblances. Brothers. Fathers. Uncles. Sons.

  The way this group had been arranged made sense in a lot of ways. Putting the best fighters at the front, with the back line pushing them forward. Giving the right flank a giant of a man. Logically speaking, that was the wisest setup.

  But when was war ever logical?

  “Are these your sons?” Gryphon asked a man with a full, graying beard.

  The man nodded. “Yes, sir. Justin is twenty. Isaac is sixteen.”

  Gryphon arranged the sixteen-year-old boy to the left of his father and the twenty-year-old brother to the left of the sixteen-year-old. “Father protects youngest son. Youngest son protects the big brother he likely worships.”

  Gryphon went about rearranging the whole troop into four lines, placing the closet kin together. Then he conducted a series of drills to test each new line. Instead of putting the strongest in the front, he placed the best shields there to protect the rest. In each line, he assigned a leader at the center to call orders. Instead of captains, he placed fathers, men who were used to being listened to, in command.

  Once every line was occupied with a series of tasks, Gryphon stepped back to observe his men. None of them knew that the Ram would be marching in only a few short weeks. Many lives would be lost. Too many. He’d have to think of some way to keep them alive, some way to help them learn the phalanx well enough to defend themselves so they might have a sporting chance.

  It would be so much easier to give up. What difference did it really make to him what happened after he was gone? Men die. The strong overtake the weak. It was the most ancient order of life. He was just one man walking to his own death. How could he make any sort of difference? Why should he try?

  Laden appeared behind one of the lines of men. He walked slowly, but not without purpose, to Gryphon’s side. “I like what you’ve done. Clever, given our time constraints.”

  “Commander?”

  “Yes, son.”

  “How do you know so much about the Ram?”

  Commander Laden regarded him carefully, his lips pinched together on one side. The scar covering his face morphed into something dark and gruesome. “I learned the same way you did, Striker. One beating at a time.”

  On the second day of their journey, Zo, Raca, Talon, Ikatou, and his two Kodiak companions traveled a game trail east through the hilly terrain. Pine and fir trees grew amongst quaking aspen whose leaves shivered in the wind. The whistling of the leaves grew and died with every gust. Zo caught herself unconsciously scraping at the skin around her thumb until it was raw and
bleeding as she constantly scanned their surroundings.

  The area wasn’t known as the Kodiak Hills simply because the clan made their home nearby. Giant brown bears roamed this region. Ikatou explained they were especially aggressive in the spring because they’d just come out of hibernation—some with new cubs to protect and feed.

  Zo wasn’t the only one wary of these hills. Both Talon and Raca walked with bow in hand and arrows loosely nocked. But their caution was contradicted by the three Kodiaks’ lack of it. Ikatou and his men laughed and jeered at one another, growing louder and louder the farther east they traveled—much to Zo’s annoyance.

  As the sun began to set, Ikatou led them off the game trail up the side of the mountain to a small wooden hut that sat in the middle of a steep slope. Zo clutched plants and tree roots to help pull her up the mountainside. The weight of her pack threatened to pull her backwards, forcing Zo at some points to lean forward, her stomach nearly pressed against the slope.

  By the time they reached an old wooden structure, Zo’s breath came heavy and her heart threatened to jump from her chest.

  “What is this place?” she panted. The cabin seemed to grow out from the side of the mountain, with only three of its four walls visible. The rundown structure boasted a door and only a few small windows. The wood was worn and some of the plaster between the logs deteriorating.

  “Our resting place for the night,” Ikatou panted, pulling open the door to the cabin with a grunt. He held it for Zo and Raca, and let the other men follow him inside. Four squares of soft light filtered through the high windows. They did little to dispel the heavy shadows of the bare room.

  “Let’s gather some wood and get a fire going.”

  Zo hadn’t noticed the small stone fireplace built into one of the corners of the room until she knew to look for it. They dropped their packs and headed for the door. “Stay close to the cabin,” Talon said to Raca and Zo. They both nodded and joined the others to collect wood and kindling for a fire.

  It wasn’t long before the five sat inside the cabin with warm cheeks and full bellies—thanks in part to the handiwork of Raca’s bow and a pair of rabbits who’d crossed its path.

  “Who would build a home in such a place?” Talon asked, as he threaded his hands behind his head and leaned back against his pack. The fire whizzed and popped as Zo studied the beautiful flames. She’d wondered the same thing and was glad Talon asked.

  “Before the Ram desecrated our caves, men were stationed here to monitor this entrance into the Cave,” said Ikatou. “I think my people are too lost and scattered, too demoralized mentally and too shamed by their defeat from the Ram, to bother guarding it.”

  Zo perked. “Did you just say this was an entrance?” She looked around the room again, uncertain.

  Ikatou pulled back his bedroll and threaded his fingers into two holes in the ground. The floorboards groaned as he pulled up a large square of the floor to reveal a gaping black hole.

  Zo, Raca, and Talon crawled over to get a better look into the dark abyss, but all that was visible were the top three rungs of a ladder.

  “This is the entrance to the Cave?” Raca asked.

  Ikatou laughed. “It’s more of a back door. Chief Murtog’s father found it by accident while hunting as a boy, close to Joshua’s age. He fell down the shaft and broke both of his legs. Luckily he wasn’t alone. It wasn’t long after that they discovered the tunnel belonged to part of the great network of Kodiak Caves. The cabin was built as a marker and outpost for weary travelers, but this entrance is rarely used anymore.”

  “I don’t understand. Why are you bringing us through the back door? We are ambassadors for the Raven and Wolves. Shouldn’t we come through the main entrance?” asked Raca. She pulled her legs close to her chest and studied Ikatou with her calm, often unnerving demeanor. With the flickering light dancing on her brown skin and her hair brushed and hanging around her shoulders, she posed a striking figure.

  Ikatou’s companions grunted something to one another, and Ikatou shot them a dark look.

  “What is it?” asked Talon, looking between the three Bears. “What aren’t you telling us?”

  Ikatou leaned over to place another log on the fire. Whatever secrets he kept, it was clear he wasn’t ready to divulge them yet.

  Zo reached out and placed a scarred hand on his forearm. The bear flinched under her touch, as though burned by the contact. “Tell us, Ikatou. You claim to value honesty. Tell us the truth.”

  Ikatou met her gaze and offered her a firm nod. “We are taking this entrance because we don’t know if you will be welcomed in the Caves.”

  Talon and Raca exchanged a sharp glance. Zo guessed, given their travels together, they were quite adept at communicating without words.

  Ikatou continued, “There are rumors that since Murtog’s inaction after the raid, factions of Kodiak have taken to self-governing. We’ve been gone long enough that we don’t know who is loyal to the chief and who is not.”

  Talon seemed to hold his composure by a thin thread. “Did you tell Laden of this?”

  Ikatou slowly shook his head. “He would not have sent you if I had.”

  Nostrils flaring, Talon’s voice bordered on shouting. It was the closest Zo had ever come to seeing a Raven lose his temper. “You expect us to follow you into that hole, when you have no idea whether or not we will be received or killed on sight?”

  “Talon,” Zo warned.

  “An attack on either my sister or myself will be viewed by my clan as an act of war.” He sat back and folded his arms. “We will not enter the cave under these circumstances.”

  Zo looked between the men, her thoughts running out of control. Laden said the Allies couldn’t help Ikatou free his family unless Murtog was convinced to join the cause. And if Laden didn’t help Ikatou, Zo’s ridiculous blood oath would be broken.

  Pinching the bridge of her nose, Zo said, “Let’s just slow down for a minute. Tell us more about the cave. How many people will we see? Where exactly is Murtog?”

  Ikatou explained that the caves were a network of tunnels with large caverns spread throughout. Murtog’s den was located in the heart of the mountain. “I have no way of knowing who or what we will see. I haven’t been inside the caves for almost two years. But I know I can get you to the chief.”

  Talon shook his head, arms still crossed. “Not good enough.”

  Ikatou’s nostrils flared.

  Zo had seen first-hand what happened when Kodiak lost their temper. If a fight broke out in this small cabin, no amount of peace talks would ever unite the Raven and Kodiak. There was just too much pride at stake, too many differences dividing them already, to withstand such a thing.

  “I’ll go down,” Zo shouted. “My hair is darker than most Wolves. Even the Ram believed I was a Kodiak when I told them.”

  One of Ikatou’s men snorted, not helping her case.

  “If we go at night,” said Zo, “we’ll meet fewer people. Once we know the caves are safe and announce ourselves to Murtog’s guard, we can come back and get Talon and Raca.”

  Ikatou nodded as he stared into the fire. “It could work,” he finally said.

  “Why do I feel like you’re about to attach a ‘but’ to the end of that statement?” asked Zo.

  Ikatou turned to Raca and Talon. “I realize my people are known for a lot of things, many of which might be considered negative in your mind. Where you value stealth, we prefer to meet a problem face on. Where you value a man’s spirit, we value a man’s might.” He leaned forward. “But there is one thing I think our two clans have in common.”

  “What is that?” asked Talon.

  “We honor the fearless.”

  Talon slowly rose to his feet, and by so doing caused everyone to follow. Zo braced herself, standing between the two men with hands partially outstretched.

  “Are you calling me a coward?” Talon asked.

  Ikatou, for once, seemed co
mpletely calm. He shook his head. “I know you’re not a coward, Bird. That’s exactly my point. But if you stay hidden in this cabin with the hope that the chieftain of the mighty Kodiak will waltz through his great halls to come to you, he will think you fearful. This is not a social call, Talon. You are asking him to stand with the Allies against our common enemy. This is a call to war. And it shouldn’t be offered from a place of hiding.”

  Zo blinked, surprised by the conviction of Ikatou’s words. She found herself nodding. This journey meant nothing if Murtog didn’t agree to offer his support to the cause. They couldn’t afford to have him think them weak.

  Talon finally bowed his head. “For the sake of the cause, I’ll join you. But we leave well before dawn, when more of your people are still asleep.” He glanced over at Raca and Zo. “And the women stay here.”

  “No.” Both Zo and Raca spoke at the same time and with the same fierce edge, leaving the four men in the company, Talon included, blinking back their surprise. “You listen to me, brother. We started this together. We will finish it together. Besides,” she crossed her arms, “I have the better bow. If something does go wrong in there, you’ll need me.”

  At that, Ikatou actually smiled. “For such a small person, you certainly speak with great conviction, little one.”

  “Never make the mistake of calling my sister small, Bear. Though her head might not come to the level of your chest, she is the largest person in this room,” said Talon.

  The group settled in for a few hours’ sleep. Zo slept closest to the fire, with Raca lying next to her and Talon dividing the women from the Kodiak. He’d been kind to think of protecting Zo as well as his sister. Their relationship made her wish she’d had an older brother.

  Beside her, Raca shifted onto her side, facing Zo. Her eyes fluttered open and met Zo’s unintentional stare.

  “Not tired?” the Raven girl asked.

  Zo yawned her reply, “Too much on my mind.”

  Raca glanced over her shoulder at the snoring men, exhausted from two days of travel. She turned back to Zo and rested her head in her hand. “Want to talk about it?”