Fearless

by Jennifer Jenkins

  The line of Ram warriors broke through the mist at a sprint. Gryphon and his men only had a few seconds to prepare for the impact. Shields boomed together as the two armies collided. Gryphon roared as he pushed against his shield, using his spear to stab at the enemy through the thin gaps of the Ram phalanx. The force of the Ram kept Gryphon and his company on their heels, struggling to find purchase in the soft soil and hold ground.

  So this is what it feels like to be on the other side of the Ram.

  A single wave of Raven arrows cut through the mist. They shot from a long distance into the Ram troops. The arrows bounced off Ram shields—a nuisance more than a threat—causing little if any damage to the enemy. By now, the archers would have retreated back into the tree line, a few leaving their bows behind as evidence of their abandonment.

  “Push!” Gryphon grunted.

  A wide gap formed as Gryphon’s shield mate fell back. A Ram spear shot through the gap and into a Wolf’s thigh. He howled in pain as he struggled to push against his shield and keep his weight forward. The spear stuck out of his leg like a stick in messy red mud.

  With one slash of his short sword, Gryphon cut through the shaft of the enemy spear. The splintered remains made a sickly suction noise as he yanked it free of his mess brother’s leg. Chunks of flesh clung to the spearhead. Blood drooled down the wounded man’s leg, soaking his pants. To his credit, the Wolf didn’t fall. Gryphon jabbed back at the enemy with even more vigor than before.

  “Push!” Gryphon called into his shield so the sound would carry along the line. “Move them back!” He dug in and with the help of the three men at his rear, was able to gain several feet of ground. He stabbed again with his spear and this time connected with flesh. The enemy fell and Gryphon took advantage, advancing farther until the Ram soldier was trampled underfoot. Gryphon could feel the man’s bones break beneath his feet. A wail of agony ended with a quick jab of his shield mate’s spear.

  Gryphon looked down and vaguely recognized the Ram, mangled as he was. Stomach rolling, he vowed not to look into the face of another Ram if he could help it.

  Forgive me, brother.

  Gryphon’s side of the mess had made more progress than the other. The mess bowed into an L shape, folding around the enemy like the open mouth of a monster preparing to crush its prey. From the corner of his eye, Gryphon could tell his mess was having a great deal more success than others near him.

  The noise was so loud he could hardly distinguish cries of pain from grunts of exertion. With a quick glance to his side, Gryphon saw the Wolves in the next mess over pushed back so far, bodies began to fall at the feet of the Ram.

  He blocked an attack with his shield and jabbed his spear into the chest of a faceless Ram.

  Gryphon pulled three Wolves behind him from their place in the phalanx and motioned to the battle raging next to them. “With me!” he beckoned, drawing his sword.

  Having broken through the Ram line, Gryphon and those who remained of his forty approached the enemy from behind. The Ram were so focused on moving the Wolf phalanx backward that they didn’t even notice Gryphon and his men until it was too late.

  Gryphon slit a man’s throat while stabbing another through the heart. He was onto his next man before the dead weight of his victims crumpled to the ground. Half of the Ram in the rear line lay dying or dead before the other five could defend themselves.

  The Wolf mess gained ground as Gryphon and three other Wolves battled for their lives from behind. Gryphon made quick work of the men, determined not to look at their faces, knowing his resolve would waver if he recognized another victim.

  I have no other choice. I have no other choice. He chanted the phrase over and over in his mind, timing his blows to the rhythm of the words. I have no other choice. I have no other choice. The Ram phalanx broke formation. Gryphon slashed and stabbed, wild in his hypnotic frenzy. By the time he finished, his hands and forearms were slick with blood.

  Gryphon looked around the field for Barnabas, but there were too many bodies, too many men still locked in phalanx trying desperately to gain advantage.

  Gryphon spotted Gabe across the field crossing swords with two Ram soldiers at the same time. He feinted right and slashed an enemy behind the knees. The man crumpled to the ground, the major tendons of his legs severed.

  Around him Wolves fell on all sides. Limbs detached. Blood spilled. Cries for mercy ignored. Gryphon hoped he’d given the others enough time as he pulled the small horn from its place in his belt and blew.

  Gabe finished off the second attacker, met eyes with Gryphon, and brought his own horn to his lips.

  “Retreat!” Gryphon ordered, twisting away from a fatal slash aimed at his chest. He wasn’t fast enough. The blade cut through his boiled leather armor, earning him a shallow cut along his side and back.

  The horn won him unwelcome attention from the Ram around him. He blocked an attacker and tried to break free without engaging in an actual fight.

  Cold fire ran the length of his side from the wound. Gryphon turned and barely had time to block a blow that would have taken off his head. He used his free hand to sink his dagger into the man’s stomach.

  “Retreat!” he yelled.

  The Wolves obeyed as best they could. Many forgot to guard their own escape and took a spear to the back.

  “Form up!” The order came from Barnabas, standing bloodied and bold fifty yards away.

  Gryphon looked to the safety of the trees then back at Barnabas. He should stick to the original plan. There wasn’t time to linger. Every moment was vital.

  But the reminder of Barnabas’s sick smile haunted him.

  Rage won out.

  He took off at a wild sprint toward his father’s killer barely caring to knock away the few swords that stood between them. Barnabas would pay for the lives he took, for the crimes he’d committed against Laden and the countless Nameless in his possession.

  When he was only twenty yards away, Gabe tackled him from behind. They tumbled to the earth and rolled several times before gaining their feet again. Gabe grabbed his arm and tried to tow him away. The chaos thinned as the Ram found formation and the remaining Wolves ran for the safety of the trees in retreat.

  “We have to leave, now!” said Gabe.

  “I have to kill him!” Gryphon yanked free his arm. Gabe, more than anyone, should know how desperately Gryphon needed his revenge.

  Gabe grabbed him again. “There’s no ti—”

  A Ram dagger sank into Gabe’s left shoulder. Gryphon picked up a spear from the ground and lodged it in the attacker. Gabe studied the hilt for a confused moment then yanked it free.

  Gryphon looked longingly in Barnabas’s direction then turned and pushed Gabe toward the trees. The Wolf staggered, but kept his feet. “I have your back. Now run!” Gryphon yelled, using his shield to deflect spears launch at him from behind as they raced toward the tree line.

  “Don’t let him escape!” Barnabas’s voice bellowed behind them.

  Gabe tripped and Gryphon stumbled head first over the Wolf’s limp form. He jumped up and tried to tow Gabe along, but his friend lay unconscious on the ground.

  Ten Ram soldiers charged them. Gryphon hoisted Gabe’s body over his shoulder with a grunt and ran as fast as his burning legs would carry him. Arrows shot from the trees passed his head, aimed at his pursuers. Heavy Ram footfalls thundered at his back, quickly closing the distance. One by one the Ram hit the ground with a thump.

  Bless those Birds!

  Gryphon ran past the tree line, deeper and deeper into the thick forest, until all sight of the blood-soaked meadow and Ram army were lost to the trees. Men ran to his assistance as he crumpled to one knee.

  “Take Gabe as far from here as you can.” Gryphon took a few greedy breaths, not once peeling his eyes from the direction of his enemies. “Is everyone in place?” he panted.

  “Yes, sir. Waiting for you, sir.”

  Gryphon n
odded and climbed back to his feet. He could hear the traditional shouts from the Ram as they reveled in their victory. Barnabas would send teams to hunt Gryphon and the insignificant number of Wolves who escaped the field, but he would let the men celebrate first.

  “Enjoy your victory, Chief. It will be your last.” Adrenaline hammered in every vein of Gryphon’s body as he sprinted deeper into the woods.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Gryphon bolted through the narrow ravine leading to the mouth of the canyon—the only entrance to the Valley of Wolves. The walls on either side of the path were sheer, angled at a steep grade; so steep it would take the use of two free hands to climb. Pine trees grew from the sidewalls, their trunks bending at right angles to reach the light of the sun. Raven nodded their allegiance as they perched like birds from the branches and behind rock jutting from the walls.

  Gryphon hoped they could conceal themselves well enough to deceive Barnabas and his men. Small veins of water wove through collections of polished rock on the ravine floor. The path curved like a snake, creating blind corners that Gryphon hoped would work to their advantage.

  As he reached the end of the ravine, the Wolf Alpha and Chief Naat greeted him. “Where is Gabe?” Chief Naat craned his neck to see past the bend of the trail.

  “Injured but safe. I left him in the care of a pair of his men.”

  “You’re alive. That’s something, I suppose,” grunted the Alpha as his fingers ran the length of this light beard. “Do you think they know our plan?”

  Gryphon considered the battle. “They are celebrating victory even as we speak.”

  “You’re certain?” asked the Raven.

  Gryphon could still hear the shouts of victory in his mind, mocking the sacrifice of the Wolves lost in battle. “Even without the help of the other clans, the Wolves fought well.” Gryphon looked away. “We were … convincing.”

  They heard the hurried footfalls of the scout before they saw him turn the corner. “Sir, the Ram. They’re marching.”

  “How long?” Gryphon’s eyes narrowed.

  “Ten, maybe fifteen minutes, sir.”

  Where are Stone and Murtog?

  Gryphon looked to the Raven warriors dotting the mountainsides and prayed their arrows would be enough. He placed a hand on the Raven Chief’s shoulder. “Your men will wait for my signal?”

  Chief Naat offered a sober nod.

  Gryphon walked ahead with the Alpha, just outside the mouth of the narrow canyon where the other half of the Wolf forces stood. They were joined by the bloodied Wolf survivors. The Allies last line of defense.

  “Whatever happens, do not let them past you. Work together or they’ll cut through your defenses like clay.” The adrenaline wafting off his men was almost tangible as they hid themselves on either side of the canyon exit. They needed to create the illusion that the way was clear. “Quiet down and wait for my order to strike!” Gryphon called as loud as he dared.

  Satisfied there was nothing more he could do, Gryphon concealed himself behind a boulder, bouncing on his feet to keep his muscles warm. Sitting still, he might have had time to consider the consequences of failure.

  Before Zo could stop him, Joshua charged the Seer, sword in hand.

  “No!” Zo cried out. But it was too late. One of the Seer’s men stepped in to parry the attack but Joshua’s momentum carried him forward as man, boy, and Seer collided.

  “Stupid, worthless boy!” The Seer shoved him off her chest. A red gash above her brow wept two distinct trails of blood down her face and into her eyes.

  “You bring Gryphon and your clan shame.” She wiped the blood from her eyes. “You always have.” Joshua rolled backward to gain his feet but another soldier leapt forward and threw his fist into the boy’s face.

  Joshua’s head whipped back. His body went limp and flew through the air before landing in a sloppy skid on the ground. Lifeless. Broken.

  Hands clamped down on Zo’s arms, binding her wrists behind her back. She screamed and bucked, gaze fixed on the motionless form of Joshua on the ground. He’d tried to defend her. He’d probably felt it was his duty.

  “Bring the boy. The chief will enjoy this pair for our first prizefight in our new home.”

  “How?” Zo gasped, between sobs. “How did you get here?” The pass was blocked with Wolves. There was no way the Seer and her men could get past them this morning.

  “There are two passes that lead to the Wolves, my dear.”

  Realization dawned. Impossible. “You came through the slot canyon and the Allied Camp. The southern pass.”

  The Seer laughed. “I’ve known about that camp for years.”

  “Commander Laden—”

  “Is a fool to think he could keep something so large from the Seer.” Her voice took on a hard edge.

  If what she was saying was true, the Ram could have invaded the Allies long ago. “What stopped Barnabas from—”

  “Barnabas didn’t know about the Camp until recently. Men can be so fickle, you know. They let their pride override logic. I am the chief’s eyes and I allow him to see only what is best for our clan.”

  If only Zo could get her hands free. She’d managed to pull energy from men in Gryphon’s old mess when they’d held her captive in the wilderness. If she could just manage to break her bonds, she could do it again.

  Glancing back, Zo saw a soldier carrying Joshua over his shoulder. The kid’s gangly limbs flopped around, making the journey difficult.

  Zo stumbled. The hands holding her biceps caught her but not before her knee jarred against the ground. “Where are you taking us?” she asked, tugging again on the ropes securing her wrists.

  The Seer’s smile spread like a slow blooming flower across her face. “The battle, of course.” She moved right into Zo’s path, forcing the entourage to halt as she leaned close to Zo. “I want you to witness every life you can’t save, every son of the Wolves whose blood spills. To see what happens when animals contend with the only worthy clan in the region.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Gryphon’s heart beat heavily in his ears, so strong that he hoped Barnabas and the surviving Ram troops couldn’t hear. The sound of boots crunching against loose river rock carried through the canyon. It was hard to tell exactly how far away the Ram were from the mouth. One turn? Maybe two?

  Gryphon looked up the sheer walls on either side of the ravine, where hundreds of Raven perched in hiding. Their arrows would be hungry for Ram blood. Hopefully they could marshal themselves until he gave the signal.

  The sound of the approaching army grew louder, echoing off the walls of the ravine. Even though the Wolves managed to reduce their numbers some, the majority of the approaching Ram army was still intact. Gryphon’s plan was like catching a tiger by the tail. One wrong move and they’d get the teeth.

  “Steady,” Gryphon whispered to the restless men around him.

  Finally, when the echoing clatter of the Ram army seemed to surround them, the first wave of soldiers turned the corner. The path was so narrow that only ten men could travel abreast at one time.

  Barnabas walked alone before the whole group. He carried his massive round shield on one arm but his sword remained sheathed at his hip. He studied the walls on either side of the ravine with such intensity that Gryphon feared the Raven would be spotted if so much as a toe were exposed. Gryphon pressed back against the rock, his chest rising and falling as he steeled his nerves.

  Fifty yards between them. Barnabas led his troops forward without pause.

  A little farther. A little farther.

  Forty yards.

  Thirty yards, and more Ram continued to turn the corner. There were so many. Many more than Gryphon had estimated. For his trap to work, they all had to fit into the straight stretch of ravine floor that arrowed out of the canyon.

  Twenty yards. The army still turned. More Ram came.

  Out of time. Out of room. Please let this work!r />
  With only fifteen yards separating them, Gryphon stepped out of hiding with hands raised in surrender.

  “You!” Barnabas nearly fell over in surprise.

  “We need to talk,” said Gryphon.

  Barnabas’s wicked laugh rose to a hysterical level. “It’s like you want to die, boy!”

  “I’ve come to offer the Ram a chance to turn around.”

  Barnabas’s joy dissolved quickly into rage. “You are in no position to bargain.”

  “A chance to do the right thing,” Gryphon continued, raising his voice so he could be heard by the entire Ram army. “The people whose homes you intend to steal do not have to be your enemy. You’ve seen plenty of fertile, unclaimed land for the Ram in your travels. You don’t need to fight. There is no honor in killing the innocent!”

  Barnabas’s face turned three shades redder. His many chins wobbled and he literally shook with fury. “How dare you.”

  Then someone deep within the ranks of the Ram shouted, “Speak your proposal!”

  Barnabas whipped around, searching the throng of soldiers to see who had spoken. Had word of Barnabas’s mistreatment of Gryphon’s mess reached to the other men?

  “If you will walk away from this valley, forsake your chief, and release your Nameless, I offer you a life outside of war, free of beatings and hunger, where your families hold higher rank than your mess. More to the point, I offer you a chance to leave this canyon alive.”

  No one moved to retreat. Gryphon hadn’t expected they would. Still, these were his people. He had to give them a chance. He cupped his hands to his mouth and shouted, “You are not fighting for the security of your families, Ram! You are fighting for bloodlust and pride. Put down your weapons and leave with your lives, knowing there is fertile land to be had outside the walls of Ram’s Gate.”

  Silence descended over the large group of warriors. Metal clinked as men shifted their weight from one restless foot to the other. Murmuring broke out through the ranks. Arguments. Anger. Doubt.