Clanless (8 page)

Zo had no other choice but to follow her gut instinct. If these people were Raven then they needed to know about the Ram’s plans to attack their clan. “You are welcome at our fire.”

Talon and Raca relaxed and walked over to their circle.

“Tell me,” said Talon in his slow-paced Raven accent, “how do two young women, a boy, and a child find themselves outside of clan protection only a day’s journey from Ram’s Gate?”

Eva waved her knife in front of Talon’s nose. “This is our fire,
Bird
. You have no business asking questions.”

At hearing Eva’s harsh Ram words, Talon immediately drew his own blade, with Raca and Joshua following suit.

Zo’s hands shot out to calm the circle. “Enough. Eva, put that away. Joshua.”

One by one, the circle rested their weapons in their laps, though none went so far as to sheath them.

“You’re a Ram,” said Raca to Eva. “I’ve never met a Ram woman before. For some reason, I always imagined they grew beards and had thighs the size of tree trunks. You’re actually kind of pretty.”

“A compliment? Charming.” Eva twisted the knife in her hand.

Joshua snorted, and the dying coals of the fire crackled.

Talon studied Zo. “We don’t mean to be rude, Ram. It’s not every day you see a pair of Ram and a pair of Wolves enjoying the same fire.”

Joshua said, “How did you know that Zo was a—”

“Wolf?” finished Talon. “Well, look at her. Long neck, elegant lines, the feminine curve of her jaw. It’s easy to spot.”

“You can stop staring,” said Joshua in a hard tone at odds with his usual affable nature. “She is not yours to look at.”

“Joshua!” The last thing Zo needed was Joshua picking a fight with this Raven.

“No, he’s right.” Talon rubbed the back of his neck and looked up at the deepening blue of the night sky. “I didn’t mean to stare.” He glanced back at her, and one side of his lips curled into a half smile. “You’re very pretty.” He cleared his throat. “And that is why I’m concerned about you all. I doubt you’ll make it to the Wolves alive, if that’s where you’re headed.”

“We aren’t traveling all the way to the Valley of Wolves,” said Zo. “We’re tracking a group of Nameless. They had two day’s head start on us after we all escaped Ram’s Gate.”

Raca and Talon exchanged a long look and, without a word spoken between them, snatched up their packs and stood. “We better be moving,” said Raca with an apologetic smile. “It was nice meeting you all.” She said it like a eulogy. As if there was no way a group of defenseless women could escape the Gate and live to see another day.

“Wait!” said Zo, “There is something you should know. I have news of the Raven.”

She took a deep breath and told them that the Ram had discovered the secret location of the Nest and were marching there now. As she spoke both Raca and Talon sank back to the ground as though the weight of a boulder rested upon their shoulders.

“I don’t want to believe you,” said Talon.

“Our companion, Gabe, knew the way to the Raven settlement. He left a day ago to warn your people. He’ll get there at least a day or two before the Ram, giving your people a chance to evacuate.”

“Gryphon is with him. He’ll make sure they get out in time,” said Joshua, with so much confidence Zo’s chest tightened and she felt the need to rest her head on the ground and curl into a ball.

Fight the grief,
she urged herself.

“Who’s Gryphon?” said Raca in a quiet voice, looking at Zo with her brows knit together.

Zo tried to keep her expression even, but her devastation felt completely transparent.

Joshua spoke up before she had to answer. “Gryphon is a Ram Striker. He’s my mentor and the one who helped us all escape the Gate.” He met Zo’s eye with a proud smile. “He’s also in love with Zo.”

Aside from Craw, Gryphon was the last to cross the ladder.

“I don’t understand,” said Gryphon. “How will you get across without leaving the ladder in place?”

Craw wiggled his bushy black eyebrows and said, “I am a bird. I will fly.”

These people were crazy. Gryphon shook his head and took a deep breath. Before he stepped out to follow the others, Craw stopped him. Even though Gryphon was taller, there was something in the way the Raven carried himself that made him feel as though he was looking up to the Bird.

“Your Ram upper half is much larger than your lower. Keep your center of gravity low. Crawl if you must. No one will think less of you for it. The wind is strong today.”

Gryphon nodded, determined to surpass the Raven’s expectations of him. No way would he crawl like a beggar to the Raven Nest. He might be a deserter, but he hadn’t lost all of his pride.

Gryphon stepped onto the first wooden plank of the horizontal ladder, determined not to think about the thread-like material supporting the wobbly structure. The board sank with the pressure of his weight. Gryphon crouched low, threw his arms out wide and traded the sturdiness of the platform completely for the ladder. The whole ladder shook along with his knees, so much so that Gryphon couldn’t find the balance to lift his foot and take another step.

“Drop to your knees. You must keep moving.”

With his jaw clamped so hard his teeth might shatter, Gryphon forced himself to take the next step. Then another. Then another. On the rope bridges he’d been able to hold onto the railings and look ahead to the next platform. Here the gaps in the wooden planks were spaced more like a ladder and required him to look down to find the next footing. But it was a long, long way down—the distance so extreme, so deadly, that Gryphon fought a tremor that raced up and down his spine, churning his stomach to the point of needing to be sick.

When he was nearly halfway out, a gust of wind hit Gryphon and the ladder so hard the entire structure lifted several feet in the air then fell back down again so rapidly that Gryphon’s feet lost traction on the wood before gravity brought him swiftly down. But it was too late for Gryphon to recover his balance and footing. He missed the plank with one foot and hooked the ladder in between boards with the other.

The horizontal ladder bounced up and down, the strain on the Lion’s Silk made obvious by a metallic, high-pitched whine. Gryphon gripped the wood with both hands and a leg, terrified the Silk would snap.

Hearty laughter boomed from both the men on the island and from Craw—the last Raven left on the platform—while Gryphon struggled to pull himself back onto the ladder. Though his heart felt as though it might leap from his chest, he couldn’t help but offer a shaky smile. Almost dying could be exhilarating. He supposed.

“What am I doing here?” he grumbled to himself. It was a fair question, one he’d asked himself a hundred times over.

The wind calmed and the ladder stopped bouncing enough for Gryphon to pull himself up. A mild breezed cooled the sweat running down the sides of his face. He knelt on the ladder and commanded his arms and legs to stop shaking. Maybe crawling wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

He reached out for the next rung of the ladder when a spear launched from the ground below Craw’s platform. It struck the board where his hands rested, splitting the wood in two. Instinct took over. Forgetting his fear of heights, Gryphon grabbed the spear before it dropped to the ocean and, somehow, found himself in a low crouch on the teetering bridge. He dodged a second spear before identifying his attackers.

A group of men dressed in boiled leather with large circular shields stood beneath the canopy of trees and the platform. Gryphon’s people. The Ram. A volley of Raven arrows soared down to meet them, but the Ram linked their shields in perfect unison to deflect the attack. The fluidity of their movements startled him. He never realized how precise, how beautiful the dance of war could be. The moment the arrows stopped, a spear—like lightning—launched from the shields toward Gryphon’s chest.

Gryphon flattened himself against the wooden boards, the spear jetting only inches above his head. The Raven answered again, only this time Gryphon didn’t squander the cover their arrows provided. He stood with spear in hand and sprinted the remaining twenty yards across the chasm, numb to the deadly drop below.

The arrows stopped. The Ram retreated back into the cover of the trees.

“They’re climbing!” Craw called from his place on the platform. He reached for his knife and began to saw at the Lion’s Silk.

Orders from the Raven soldiers surrounding Gryphon had the men running in all directions, reloading their quivers, and scrambling for position. Arrows launched toward the base of the tree but flew blind through the thick foliage. Craw sawed through a strand of Lion’s Silk, rendering one side of the horizontal ladder limp.

Gryphon clenched his fist around the spear in his hands, willing Craw to work faster at the second strand of Silk than he had the first. Gryphon saw a flash of metal at the edge of the platform. The Raven archers must have as well—at least fifteen bolts soared in that direction.

Gryphon relaxed some, knowing the Ram would not be foolish enough to attack the platform with a host of Raven providing cover. But Craw couldn’t stay there forever, and eventually one of Gryphon’s compatriots would brave the platform for the glory of the kill.

Craw stopped his sawing just before the spindles of the woven Silk broke. He ran and dove onto the ladder, catching it in mid-air as he flew across the chasm. With deadly speed, he swung into the side of the island cliff, somehow managing to hang onto the lowest rung of the ladder with one hand.

The Raven crowed victorious. But Gryphon knew better than to underestimate his own clan. He checked his grip on the spear and scanned the tree line for Ram. What was a mess unit doing here now? Barnabas wouldn’t want the Raven to learn about his planned attack until the full Ram force was present.

“They targeted you.” Gabe stepped up next to Gryphon. The Wolf had been so quiet on their journey Gryphon forgot he was even there. “They didn’t attack until you were on the ladder.”

But why?

Craw neared the top of the ladder. Gryphon knelt on the edge of the cliff and extended his hand to the Raven leader, surprised by the relief he felt for the man. Craw reached up and clasped Gryphon’s forearm. The Raven smiled, his breath labored. “Not bad, little lamb.”

A spear flew from the edge of Gryphon’s vision. Time slowed. Gryphon pulled with all his strength to lift Craw to safety, but the spear struck the Raven in the back. Craw’s mouth and eyes each formed a circle, shock frozen on his face that slowly melted into agony as his body hung limp in Gryphon’s grasp.

Gabe and the others helped Gryphon pull Craw’s body onto solid ground.

“Gryphon, son of the deserter!” Zander’s voice boomed from somewhere in the trees across the chasm.

Gryphon might have called the man a friend only days ago. Now he wanted nothing more than to return his spear. He should have assumed Zander hadn’t giving up on tracking him; it wouldn’t suit the mess leader’s ambitions to return to the Gate without his prize. But that meant Ajax was there as well—his best friend, the man who’d freed him, but also the man who’d killed Zo. His heart ripped in half: one half cared for Ajax and his young, struggling family, and the other despised him in the darkest, blackest way possible.

Zander yelled, “We will hunt you down with the rest of these Birds. You are a traitor and a coward to leave your mother to bear your shame along with your father’s.”

Gryphon growled and ran to the edge of the cliff. He hitched up his front leg before launching the spear in the direction of Zander’s voice. It shot across the ravine and into the trees. A man cried out in pain and a sense of dread filled Gryphon. Whom had he hit? Was it Zander? Ajax? A different mess brother who was simply following orders?

Gryphon turned back to the crowd of Raven warriors. Those who weren’t bent over Craw’s lifeless form stared at him in wonder—likely marveling at the powerful throw directed at his own people.

Craw gagged and bucked on the ground. His own men gathered around him, pushing Gryphon and Gabe to the back of the crowd.

Standing out on the edge of the cliff, Gryphon looked across the divide to the trees that hid Zander and his old mess unit. “I will kill him,” he said. “I will kill him.”