Fearless

by Jennifer Jenkins

  With that nod, lute, drum, pipe, and fiddle jumped into a melody that had Zo’s foot tapping and hips swaying without her permission. Gabe turned from Chief Naat and stood before her with hand extended.

  “Will you dance with me, Zo?” He fidgeted. “Someone must start things off.” Then he added, “For old time’s sake?”

  From the corner of Zo’s eye, Raca nodded encouragement, as if watching would bring her pleasure.

  Zo placed her hand in Gabe’s. “I’d love to, old friend. I only hope you can keep up.”

  They were joined by only a few other couples. Zo and Gabe bowed and curtsied to the guests of honor on the dais then turned and bowed to each other. A wicked glint shone in Gabe’s eye as he gripped her waist and took her by the hand. The steady beat of the drum reached deep into her chest, past the plight of the Allies and the hunger of the region, past fear of losing loved ones and the worry of failure. All Zo heard was the steady rhythm of her heritage.

  Her feet moved without any encouragement, the dance steps more instinct than practice. Laughter filled her chest and spilled from her mouth. She tipped her head back as Gabe spun her across the dance floor. Her skirts flew around her legs and the bonfire danced along in her blurred view. The crowd clapped out the life-giving beat and other couples joined the dance.

  When the music stopped Zo’s vision didn’t, and she began to fall before Gabe caught her against his firm chest. He gave her a brotherly squeeze, then—once she had her feet—stepped away and offered a deep bow. Zo responded with a curtsy of her own, and the pair walked arm in arm out of the center of the clearing. Another tune picked up where the first left off but Zo needed a minute to catch her breath.

  “You are a fine couple,” Chief Naat said as they neared the dais.

  Gabe squeezed her hand and said, “We’re only dear friends, honored chief.”

  The chief looked over Zo’s shoulder and frowned. “A pity.”

  Just then, Gryphon arrived with Joshua at his side. The boy’s hair was combed and his clothing clean. “All this time, I thought your shirt was brown!” Zo exclaimed, wrapping the boy in a quick hug, his cheeks heating to match the flaming red of his hair.

  “You should talk,” said Joshua. “Is that a skirt?”

  Gryphon ruffed the boy’s hair, turning it back into the familiar mess Zo loved. “Never offend a man’s dance partner,” he said in his delicious, deep voice. Zo used to cringe whenever she heard his Ram accent. Now she associated it not with the Ram, but with the kind, gentle man she’d come to love.

  “Dance partner?” she asked. As much as she wanted to dance with Gryphon, he didn’t know the steps to the traditional dances of the Wolves. She accepted his hand just as the music shifted from a fast-paced jig to a slower melody.

  In this dance, men were supposed to take their partner by the waist and let their free hand hang by their side. It was called the “Seeing Dance,” the point being to allow the couple to really look at each other and talk as they moved through the complicated steps.

  “If you want, I can teach you,” Zo offered. “You’re coordinated enough that I’m sure you’ll learn it in no time.”

  Gryphon led her to a spot close to the fire and musicians. “I think I’ll be fine, thank you.”

  He took her waist in his warm hand and, without missing a step, led her through the dance. Zo gawked at him. Though it was slower, this dance was not as simple as the one she’d had with Gabe.

  “How did you—”

  “Gabe.”

  Her mouth formed a round O as her gaze shifted to Gabe, who watched them from a spot near the dais where he danced with Raca. A tear of gratitude leaked from the corner of her eye. It was the perfect apology for his dishonesty and such a Gabe thing to do.

  “He’s not all bad,” said Gryphon, echoing her own thoughts. His face turned distant and after a few moments he added, “If anything should happen to me in this war, you should—”

  Zo’s mirth quickly dissolved into something completely different. “Don’t,” she warned. “Don’t even speak it!”

  Gryphon sighed and pulled her close enough to plant a chaste kiss on her forehead. “I have no intention of giving you up, even to death. I just want you to know that your future happiness is everything to me and if it had to be someone else, I can’t think of a better man.”

  He’d said it. Giving voice to the fear she’d ignored since they arrived in camp and he’d accepted a training position in Laden’s army. Zo had lost so much since her parents’ deaths. She’d endured the Gate, the Clanless, and the Caves. But losing Gryphon after everything they’d managed to survive would be the end of her. Of that she had no doubt.

  “Hey,” he took her chin between thumb and forefinger. “Forget I mentioned it. Tonight is supposed to be a celebration.”

  The song ended, and Laden called for the attention of the crowd, cutting off the Wolf musicians before they could start into another melody.

  “Usually an Ostara brings together packs from across the Valley of Wolves to trade and discuss threats to the region. This historic event marks the first Ostara to officially include Wolf, Raven, and Kodiak. As such, we will break tradition and invite our brothers of the wing and claw to entertain us with some of their native songs and dances.” He turned to Chief Naat, who didn’t seem at all surprised by the announcement.

  The elderly man stood and escorted his daughter down the dais to a crowd of clustering Raven positioned around the fire. A drum pounded a deep boom, and was soon joined by the clattering of wood blocks being scraped and clapped together in rhythmic variations with the drum. Four men with feathered headdresses and feathers fastened down their arms walked on either side of Raca, then stood motionless.

  Gryphon led Zo to the side of the gathered crowd, near the musicians.

  Raca stretched her arms out wide and, with the grace of a bird, began to dance. Zo’s gaze shifted between Raca’s beautiful movements and Murtog seated at the dais. The Kodiak barely blinked as he watched her fluid movements. The costumed Raven men chanted and spread their arms out wide, showing off their long black feathers, their voices rising and falling as they chanted a language Zo had never heard. No matter how elaborate the men’s synchronized movements were, Raca was clearly the object of everyone’s attention.

  The end of the dance left Murtog sitting at the edge of his chair, his mouth agape and his ever-present scowl replaced with something resembling awe. His dark eyes tracked her all the way back to her seat and lingered there, unabashed even when she returned his stare.

  Twenty Kodiak sporting war paint and mostly bare chests jogged out into the center of the circle. Murtog blinked away the spell Raca had cast over him and stood to face his men and the rest of the Allies gathered. He unclasped his fur cape and let it fall to the floor before stepping to the edge of the platform. Arching his back, with thick veins sprouting along his neck, he shouted, “It is death! It is life!” in the largest, most terrifying voice Zo had ever heard. She felt herself being partially tucked behind Gryphon’s back, as if the war cry—though only meant to be a form of entertainment—warranted his protection.

  She smiled and nudged him until she could move to stand in front of his large chest where, his arms wrapped around her waist. “Sorry. Call it instinct,” he whispered in her ear.

  Murtog jumped from the platform and landed in a crouch with one fist planted in the ground. In Kodiak form, the men shouted their war chant, smacking elbows to fists, pounding their thighs and chests like wild animals and occasionally sticking out their tongues.

  “Why?” Zo asked.

  “They’re trying to intimidate. They think it’s a frightening gesture.”

  Zo couldn’t help but agree. Seeing these mountainous men and knowing they were fighting for the same cause brought new hope to her heart. With the Kodiak and the full might of the Raven, even the Ram might fall.

  The war dance ended in one final “Ha!” from the Kodiak men and
the Allies cheered, likely as encouraged as Zo.

  “We’re going to survive this war, Gryphon.” She hugged the arms draped around her waist.

  Gryphon didn’t respond.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Gryphon received the summons to meet immediately after wishing Zo a good night at the door of her tent. He’d been caught staring like a fool at the closed tent flap while longing stabbed at his gut when Laden’s messenger found him. Saying goodnight to Zo when he was used to spending his nights in the wilderness with her tucked close to his side was his least favorite part of staying in the Allied Camp.

  He needed to marry her. Needed it more than he needed food or water, sleep, or even air. But how could he approach Laden for the right to have her with war looming around them? He couldn’t do that to her, not while sitting at death’s feet.

  Approaching the heavily guarded door to Laden’s tent, Gryphon tucked his feelings for Zo away. He relaxed his shoulders and rolled his head to loosen up the stiffness in his neck.

  The guards stepped aside at his approach and Gryphon fought the urge to correct them for not searching him for weapons. Laden, of all people, should have instructed them in such things.

  Inside the tent, amber light flickered from the torches surrounding Laden’s long table. Laden waved him forward and gestured for him to sit at the one remaining chair at the foot of the table. Chief Naat sat with Talon at his side. On the opposite side of the table sat Murtog and Ikatou. Gabe was also there, seated beside the Wolf Alpha. With their fair complexions, the two Wolves could have passed for father and son. But where Gabe kept his face clean shaven, the Alpha grew his mustache so long it was braided on either side of his lips until it was lost in the matted hair of his yellow beard.

  “We’re all here,” said Laden. “Every clan represented. Something, I would wager, that hasn’t happened for more than two centuries.”

  Murtog didn’t hide his distaste in sitting at the same table as Gryphon. He leaned forward and said, “Skip the introductions, Laden. Tell me how we’re going to free my people.”

  “You said you had news,” Chief Naat added with a nod.

  “Gryphon?” Laden asked. “Why don’t you do the honors?”

  Gryphon had no way of controlling the scowl on his face. Forcing him to be the one to explain his people’s weakness went a step beyond cruel. He hesitated, then finally said, “The Ram are moving south. Their food supplies are exhausted, and without the hope of obtaining the Raven grain stores they don’t have another option except to migrate south to the fertile lands of the Valley of Wolves. Traveling with supplies, and accompanied by so many who aren’t warriors, I imagine they’re a day or two south of the Gate.” He looked over at Ikatou. “I recommend trying to free your family when they are on the march. In fact,” he cleared his throat, trying not to imagine the fall of an ax to his neck, “I know the perfect time to free them.”

  Chief Naat frowned, dragging the heavy lines of his face downward. “How could you know such a thing?” To Laden he added, “Have your scouts reported movement outside the Gate?”

  Laden solemnly shook his head.

  Gryphon stared at the dark gap between Chief Naat and Laden, not wishing to meet anyone’s eye. “I’m meeting them where the river divides into two just north of the Valley of Wolves. I’ve promised the brothers of my mess I’d trade Barnabas my head if he will reinstate them back into the clan with a full pardon for failing him.” His voice caught as he thought of Ajax and his little family. His old friend was the only reason Zo was still alive.

  “What?” Gabe pushed away from the table, standing over Gryphon with fists balled as though he’d like nothing more than to tear him apart. “Does Zo know?”

  “None of that now, Gabe.”

  “But, sir!”

  “Later. We’ll find a way around this, but right now we need to discuss our immediate actions.”

  Ikatou wiped fat tears from his eyes. Gryphon knew they weren’t for him. He wept with joy at the chance to finally save his family. Instead of being offended that his impending death could bring joy to the Bear, Gryphon surprised himself by feeling happy for the man.

  Murtog sat in stark contrast, shaking his head. “Lies,” he muttered. He turned to Laden and spat. “How can you trust this Ram traitor? I will not commit my men to a mission that is clearly a trap.”

  Laden steepled his fingers, his elbows resting on the wooden table. “It is understandable that you would question Gryphon’s story. He is a Ram and a stranger to you. I sent a scouting party to monitor the Gate two weeks ago. I agree that we should wait until official word comes, confirming Gryphon’s story.” He leaned forward and pressed a firm finger into the table and added, “But know this … ” His gaze traveled to Gryphon. “He is an honorable man. I would trust him with my life.”

  Murtog turned to Gryphon. “Your mess brothers. Did they know you were headed for the Allies?”

  Gryphon held his gaze. “My best friend is the only man I’ve spoken to. He knew of my plans to bring Joshua and Zo to the Allies. I honestly don’t know how much information he would relay to Barnabas.”

  “We have to assume Barnabas will expect an attack,” nodded Chief Naat.

  “But he wants Gryphon’s head, as a matter of honor,” said Laden. “And, he’ll want as many of his troops to witness the execution as possible. It is the Ram way.”

  Gryphon’s gaze snapped to Laden. He was sure Zo didn’t know about Laden’s heritage and was willing to bet few in this room, if any, did. What would these clan leaders think if they discovered Gryphon wasn’t the only Ram in this tent?

  “Listen,” said Gryphon. “I’ve told you what I know. I am going to meet Barnabas where the river splits in exactly two weeks’ time. I’ve brought you this information not because I don’t care for my clan—a part of me will always be a Ram, whether they claim me or not. But I can’t stand by and watch the Valley of Wolves, with its women and children, be attacked. Not when I can do something about it.” He pushed back from the table and stood. “If you choose not to act, let it be on your heads. Not mine.”

  He only made it three steps away from the table before Laden’s voice froze him in place. “You are not excused, Ram.”

  Gryphon turned his head. He knew Laden’s hostility was mostly just for show, but it didn’t make him appreciate it any more.

  “Sit,” the older Ram ordered.

  Gryphon hesitated only a moment before turning and taking his seat at the foot of the table. His nostrils flared at being spoken to as though he were a child prematurely leaving the dinner table.

  “I have a plan,” said Laden. “But without your help, we cannot succeed. What I’m about to ask of you is no small thing, Gryphon.”

  Tired.

  It was the only feeling Gryphon could register. Whatever Laden’s plan, Gryphon didn’t want any part of it. For once, couldn’t he just fulfill his simple purpose and let fate decide the rest? He wanted to walk away, but, ironically, the Ram blood inside him defied any such weakness. For Zo, he thought. I will do this for her. And if somehow, by some unforeseeable miracle, the fates preserved him and allowed them a chance at forever, it would all be worth it.

  He met Laden’s eye, and though it nearly killed him, said, “I am your man, Commander. What would you have me do?”

  Stone hefted a rock the size of Zo’s two fists and spun in a circle, releasing the stone at the perfect moment. It flew through the air as though buoyed up by the cheers of the Nameless as it sailed over the other contenders’ rocks and landed four feet in the lead.

  Eva put two fingers to her lips and whistled her praise. In the few short weeks she’d been with the Allies, her pregnant belly had finally grown to the point where her condition was obvious. Even though the Ram were no longer her clan, it must have been odd for her to sit among strangers set upon hating her heritage.

  After the wedding ceremony tonight, she and Stone could make a new life. New trad
itions to pass down to their growing family and the people once known as the Nameless.

  The Freeman, she had to remind herself again.

  It was a small band of men and women. But if the Allies ever managed to free the rest of the Nameless inside the Gate, the Freeman numbers would swell. They’d need to find a place to settle and put down roots. There were laws to establish, farms to plant, and trade to build, but at least they had each other—something that had never been a possibility while inside the Gate.

  Zo leaned over, and with hands hovering over Eva’s swollen stomach asked, “May I?”

  Eva nodded and Zo set her hands on her pregnant belly. She closed her eyes and gently pushed her love into the womb of the unborn child. A boy, if her reading of the baby’s spirit could be relied upon. “You bear the child of a chief.” Zo smiled, pulling away with some reluctance.

  Eva beamed at her soon-to-be husband as Stone shook hands with the other men in the competition.

  “I bear Stone’s child. That is all I care about.” She spoke softly, her hand still supporting her belly while staring longingly at the man she loved.

  Throat tightening, envy gnawing away at her insides, Zo had to look away. Eva and Stone reminded Zo too clearly of what she didn’t have. Of course she knew Gryphon cared for her, and when she approached Laden last night after Gryphon had seen her safely to her tent and demanded to know whether Gryphon had asked for her hand, Laden had been gentle in saying he hadn’t.

  How foolish she was! Her cheeks heated even at the thought of wearing her mother’s dress to the Ostara. She’d let the romantic idea of Gryphon’s proposal cloud the fact that, though Gryphon might care for her, he likely wasn’t in any frame of mind to make his connection to her permanent. He’d been different since arriving in camp, so quick to criticize her people. And whenever he smiled there was always something restricting the emotion. Something holding him back.