Fearless

by Jennifer Jenkins

  “Stop.” She didn’t mean to raise her voice, but she didn’t want to hear those words. They were the words her mother and father said to her as they prepared to defend their home. She hated those words.

  She handed him his shield. “What is it your women say?”

  Gryphon reached out to caress her cheek. “Come back with your shield, or on it.”

  Zo adamantly shook her head, grabbed his wrist, and kissed his palm. “That’s a terrible saying.”

  Gryphon exhaled a painful sort of laugh. “It really is.” He kissed the top of her head. “I love you, Zo.”

  Breathe. I have to keep breathing.

  “I love you, too.”

  The deep grays and blues of early morning still shrouded the camp as the Allies came to life, preparing for battle. Clinking metal did little to distract him from his weighted thoughts. He received several sympathetic glances from his men making it clear that his fate was now public information. There was nothing like sympathy to help a man feel bad for himself.

  Commander Laden materialized as an extra shadow among the trees. Gryphon soundlessly gathered his pack and rolled up his blanket before weaving through the men he’d grown to respect.

  Gryphon hadn’t slept the night before. After a few hours spent talking with Joshua, the boy had finally fallen asleep. Gryphon had left the tent and wandered the trail that led through the long pass to the Valley of Wolves. It had been dark, but the moon cast enough light on the Valley for him to see how vast and flat it was. Perfect for farming.

  Runners confirmed the Ram army camped on the other side of the two rivers. The meeting for this morning was scheduled at dawn. Gryphon looked over his shoulder at the line of guards trailing them by twenty yards. The rest of the Allies wouldn’t be far behind.

  “Zo did a good job with that shield,” said Laden matter-of-factly as they walked.

  “How did you know?”

  “She asked for your things.” He looked over at Gryphon with pity, like he was already on the chopping block. “She loves you. It’s a lot to give up.”

  Gryphon grumbled under his breath. He didn’t want to talk to Laden about Zo. Even the thought of her made his legs turn liquid.

  Laden went on, “She understands the tradition, Gryphon. With that one gesture she all but asked you to marry her.”

  “I know what it symbolizes,” hissed Gryphon.

  “And you’re still ready to give her up?” Laden shook his head. “Sad.”

  A hot fire burned within Gryphon. His jaw clamped tightly, his teeth ground together. Every word that escaped was clipped with heat. “What kind of man would I be without my honor?” Gryphon rubbed his face in his hands to loosen the tension stored there. He wanted to rip out his hair. “She deserves better.”

  They walked along the bank of the river for another half mile. A thick fog had settled in the valley. Gryphon could hardly see more than twenty yards in front of him, making it easy to forget that the Allied army tailed them. Luckily they had the river for a guide.

  Laden said, “What will become of the boy? I assume your death will make a difficult time for him.”

  Gryphon stopped walking. “My affairs are in order, Commander. Why the questions?”

  Laden turned back to Gryphon with power in his stance. “I want you to change your mind. It’s still not too late.”

  Gryphon stared at him. “I will not.”

  Laden sighed and shook his head, laying a heavy arm around his shoulders. “You can’t blame me for trying. Come. Barnabas is as impatient as a lonely woman. Best not to keep him and your mess waiting.”

  With every heavy step, Gryphon thought of Ajax and the other men of his mess. He conjured their faces in his mind, cataloging details about each brother—his interests, his family, conversations had, and jokes shared. When he ran out of faces he started from the beginning again. Thoughts of Zo and Joshua and little Tess leaked through the crevasses, but Gryphon dutifully pushed them away every time.

  He couldn’t afford to think of what he would lose; only what he would save. Nature demanded a balance for his actions against his people. A payment for the lives lost and those spared. It was simply the way of the world. Gryphon’s head was that payment.

  Through the fog, the gentle sound of a second river met Gryphon’s ears. The blurred shape of the sun crested the eastern mountain range. Gryphon hadn’t realized he was cold until the filtered rays kissed his hands and cheeks.

  By the time they arrived at the point where the two rivers formed into one, beams of sunlight had dissolved enough of the haze to make the images before him ethereal and dreamlike. The rugged form of Barnabas and a small band of guards appeared on the other side of the bank. Gryphon knew—lost in the mist behind them—sat a patient Ram army. Ahead, on Gryphon’s side of the river, stood his mess brothers with Ajax at the lead.

  “We agreed to meet at the peninsula between the two rivers.” Laden never took his eyes away from Barnabas as he spoke. “Neutral territory.”

  “I don’t need you to come with me, sir. It won’t be safe.”

  “I’m coming,” Laden said.

  Following custom, Gryphon walked the traditional three steps behind Commander Laden as they waded through waist-high water to get to the stretch of land in the middle of the two rivers. The pull of the river combined with the unsure, rocky footing made Gryphon almost lose his balance. The water was cold and alive.

  He scanned the faces of his former mess again. Ajax struggled to hold his gaze; his head bowed, it seemed, with guilt.

  Barnabas waited for them in the center of the strip of land. He rested both hands on the edge of his round shield, making thick triceps jump beneath the healthy layer of fat stored there. “I thought I’d never see you again, Striker.”

  Gryphon opened his mouth to respond, but Commander Laden cut off his words. “That was the plan. The years haven’t been kind to you, Barnabas.”

  Gryphon looked between the two men and frowned. Striker? Why had Laden never told him? Unimportant information. But Gryphon’s nagging subconscious disagreed.

  “Don’t tell me you’re Commander Laden.” Barnabas belted a twisted laugh that turned the air sour. “Is that what you’re calling yourself these days, Troy?”

  Troy.

  Gryphon took an involuntary step backward. He looked between Commander Laden and Barnabas. Their mouths moved, but all sound muffled. Dozens of memories from Gryphon’s childhood carried a connection to that one name. Taunts from his peers growing up, the extra trainings from his instructors, the promise of more violent yearly beatings … all because of that one name. One terrible legacy from which he’d spent most of his life desperate to escape.

  Gryphon looked to Laden to have the Allied Commander correct the mistake. Laden couldn’t be his Striker father.

  A mere coincidence.

  Gryphon assumed his father had been captured. Killed.

  Barnabas saw Gryphon’s confusion and broke into a fit of laughter. “Are you serious, Troy? You honestly didn’t tell the boy?” He sucked back his laughter. His face reddened. His cheeks shook and his voice turned deadly with hate. “Were you too ashamed to let him know who you really are, or too ashamed to claim him?” He gestured between them. “The son repeats the sins of the father. Not a new tragedy, I’m afraid.”

  Laden stepped forward, unwilling to return Gryphon’s questioning glare. “My son has come to pay ransom for the lives of his mess. As his blood, I demand the right of substitution.”

  Barnabas shook his head. “You forfeited any right you once claimed the day you ran away like a coward with your deformed child. Your son is a traitor, Troy. I will have his head.”

  The Commander pushed his traveling cloak off his shoulders to show the Allied Crest embroidered to his chest. “Let me be clear. I am Troy Laden, Commander of the Allies, and I am offering you my life in exchange for my son’s.”

  Barnabas, Laden, the two rivers, they all disap
peared. Gryphon was back in the front room of his home inside the Gate. He was younger, maybe five or six. Old enough to have his first beating but young enough not to understand why. His mother was rolling out bread dough by the kitchen fire. Gryphon stared up at the spear and shield hanging on the wall, wondering why he never got to meet the man who once wielded the weaponry. Wishing he could believe that his father was an honorable man who hadn’t been captured in battle.

  Even at that age he understood the shame. His father wasn’t buried with his shield. The giant metal circle had literally hung over Gryphon’s head all his life. A symbol of weakness. For as long as he could remember, Gryphon had worked to restore the dignity of his family name. To belong to something greater than he was.

  “You left me and mom.” Gryphon didn’t even know if anyone could hear the mumbled words. It didn’t really matter if they could. He needed to process the shock. “You left us to save my … my sister.” He blinked to clear the fog from his eyes. “She died five years ago.”

  Laden looked like he’d swallowed a squirming frog. “I left you a sealed letter with Gabe back at camp. It explains everything. I’m sorry, son.”

  “Well, isn’t this charming.” Barnabas rolled his eyes. “I accept your offer. I don’t blame you for abandoning your little band of Allies, Troy. Were I in your position, I’d likely do the same, but then I never would have left my clan in the first place.” The slight curl at the corner of the chief’s lips made Gryphon want to ram his fist against his fat nose. “Should I accept your surrender now?” said Barnabas.

  “No,” Gryphon and Laden said at the same time, in the same tone. Now that Gryphon knew the truth, the similarities between them were overwhelmingly obvious. True the heavy scarring distorted Laden’s features. Even still, he should have seen past the angry lines to the thick shelf of dark eyebrows, the dimpled chin, the defined jaw, their identical build.

  He’d been so blind.

  “Good,” said Barnabas casually. “My men have looked forward to this day with great anticipation. There is no honor gained in wiping out a clan without a decent fight.” His smile dripped venom. “Who is your successor?” He pulled a long sword from his belt.

  Gryphon couldn’t look at his father. “He doesn’t need one, because I don’t accept his offer.”

  “Gryphon will lead the Allies,” said Laden. Both Barnabas and Laden stared at each other like they hadn’t even heard Gryphon.

  “So be it.” Barnabas slowly drew his sword and signaled the men from Gryphon’s mess to meet them.

  “No!” Gryphon shoved Barnabas in the chest then turned on Laden. His commander father caught his wrist and flipped him around, pinning his arms to his chest in one fluid motion.

  “Let me go! I won’t let you do this. I won’t let you.” Gryphon struggled out of his father’s grasp and faced him, panting. “You haven’t earned the right to die for me or my brothers. I won’t live the rest of my life in your debt. Not when it was you who left and forgot me. You, who stripped me of honor from birth. I’m done mourning my father. I’m done!”

  Gryphon balled his fists. He didn’t have the right to be angry. Leaving Gryphon was selfless, brave, and ironically something he, Laden’s son, had mimicked years later with Zo and Joshua.

  But when was anger ever rational? Gryphon had to let his rage out or else he might drown.

  “Son,” Commander Laden said with his hands raised to rest on Gryphon’s shoulders.

  Gryphon batted them away. “Stop calling me that. I am not your son.” The words echoed over the sound of the two rivers.

  Pain manifested itself throughout the Commander’s whole body. Across his face. Along the set of his shoulders. In the buckling of his knees. Laden’s hand smeared down his face. “You’re right.” He looked away. “I’m sorry.”

  But Gryphon wasn’t right. He was angry. There was a difference.

  Zander and the rest of the mess reached Barnabas. Not one of his brothers would meet his eyes. Shame. Gryphon understood, because he felt it himself in so many ways and on so many levels. If only he could take back those bitter last words.

  Barnabas shook Ajax’s hand. “You and your men have done as I required. I remove your banishment and welcome you back into my good favor.” Then he pointed toward Laden and Gryphon. “Seize your fallen brother and his traitor father so we can be done with this business.”

  “This isn’t what we agreed upon!” shouted Laden as he worked frantically to fight off the swarm of men around him and Gryphon. “Let my son go!”

  Gryphon plowed his way through the mess of bodies toward his father, but his brothers were too numerous. They grabbed him by his arms and legs and pinned him to the ground. “Release him! This is my debt. Release him!” Gryphon shouted until his voice went raw.

  Harsh light gleamed off Barnabas’s heavy blade as he bounced it between each hand. Delight played about his face, making him seem more like a child than the ruthless Chief of the Ram. Gryphon’s brothers forced his father to his knees and pressed his head to a tree stump.

  “Father! No, Father, please!”

  “You’re a good man, son,” said Laden.

  Barnabas raised the blade over his head.

  “I’m so sorry, Father. I’m so—”

  The blade whistled as it cut through the morning haze. All of the air compressed from Gryphon’s lungs. He slumped deeper onto the ground, no longer fighting the men he once called family who rested on top of him. Mucus mixed with dirt and the sting of tears that would not fall.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Zo had promised not to watch. She was supposed to be miles away by now with Tess, Millie, and Joshua, retreating to the narrow pass that led to the Valley of Wolves. But how could she relinquish the chance to see Gryphon through his final minutes? She knew he didn’t want her there, but leaving him felt too much like a betrayal.

  For once, Tess didn’t put up a fight about leaving with Millie while Zo and Joshua stayed behind. Being forced to watch the prizefights inside Ram’s Gate had cured her of wanting to be anywhere near the rivers for Gryphon’s execution.

  Zo held Joshua’s hand as they waded through the icy river. Mist blanketed the morning, allowing them to get closer than they ever thought possible.

  “This is enough,” said Zo. She blew warmth into her shaking hands, but it did little to abate the relentless cold. Gray outlines of Gryphon and Laden wandered through mist ahead, so blurred it became impossible to tell them apart. It didn’t matter. They didn’t actually want to see the execution in detail—she really didn’t want to see it at all—but needed to witness the moment his spirit passed from this life to the next. To soak in every last second of his mortality.

  Joshua silently wept at her side, wiping tears and shaking every bit as much as she was as they climbed out of the river. Zo wrapped her arm around him as he crumpled into a ball and slumped to the ground with Zo to await the worst moment of their lives.

  Blurred voices reached them, murmurs lost in the rushing river. The meeting must have begun.

  Gryphon’s shouts cut through the mist and had both Zo and Joshua back on their feet, clinging to one another. Without Joshua as an anchor, Zo might have been tempted to run ahead, but for the boy’s sake, she stayed planted behind the tree.

  “Father! No, Father, please!”

  An unearthly wail rent the air.

  And Zo was running …

  Barnabas kicked aside Laden’s bloodied form lying next to the red-stained tree stump. “Bring Gryphon.” Barnabas gestured toward Gryphon, licking his lips, as though savoring the flavor of splattered blood.

  The hands holding him froze in indecision, and Gryphon took advantage of the hesitation, rolling out of their grasp and jumping to his feet and sprinting ten yards away.

  “Bring him here!” A purplish vein throbbed in Barnabas’ forehead.

  The brothers of Gryphon’s mess looked to Ajax, their leader. “Sir, the debt. It’s paid.
” Ajax’s voice held a desperate edge.

  Barnabas’s face wrinkled in fury. “I said, bring him here!”

  Gryphon slowed and turned to track their pursuit. He backed away toward the safety of the river where the Allies waited.

  “Grab him! Now!”

  Gryphon took a few more steps backward, his attention turned to Ajax, his battle brother and best friend. They stared at one another, communicating regret, sympathy, admiration. Ajax set his mouth in a firm line. His face twisted with rage as he gave Gryphon one final nod and turned back to Barnabas. “Did you plan to honor our agreement with the same cowardice as you did Laden’s?” he scowled at his chief. “Where is your honor, Barnabas?”

  Before Gryphon could cry out a warning, Barnabas flung the knife. It flew end over end through the air, its blade flashing in the low light until it sunk to the hilt in Ajax’s neck.

  A jolt of terror zinged through Gryphon’s body.

  A small hand wrapped around his, yanking him back. Barnabas shouted, “Stop them!” but the rest of the men in Gryphon’s old mess stood frozen at the sight of the bloodied form of Ajax on the ground.

  No.

  Gryphon was running. He faintly registered the sun burning off some of the mist. Zo and Joshua pulled and pushed him away from Barnabas. They splashed through the river as Commander Laden’s guard raced to their aid, swords out, bows drawn.

  But no Ram followed them.

  “Should we pursue those men, sir?” the head guard asked Gryphon, gesturing to the sullen men heading north, away from both Barnabas and the Allies. Gryphon watched his brothers jog away in tight formation. Ajax’s place in the phalanx was painfully empty. “No, Captain. Let them go.”

  Barnabas reached the bank on the opposite side of the river Iiná. Holding a head by the hair in his raised hand. A full mess of Ram soldiers stood at his back. “I’ll look for you on the field, Striker. You and your whore,” he called over the soft sounds of the rivers.

  Zo’s hands tightened on Gryphon’s arm. Joshua held fast to his other. Numb with shock, Gryphon barely recognized their presence in this whole nightmare. “You shouldn’t be here. Either of you.”