Nameless (34 page)

Eva, with her chopped hair and wrinkled brow, was one of the first faces she recognized among the throng who’d gathered to witness her death. She was a year or two older than Zo, but she clutched a traveling pack to her chest like it was a comfort blanket. Nameless men stood in conspicuous groups, whispering to each other and casting shifty glances in Zo’s direction.

She had a distinct feeling like something was happening inside the Gate. Something bigger than the prizefight. Some Nameless faces carried the burden of fear while others stood with arms folded across their chests, with chins set high in defiance.

What is going on?
Only one man could be responsible for the tension in the clan. One revolutionary so blinded by love that he’d lead men to their deaths to protect his mate.
Stone, what have you done?

A wave of nausea crossed over her, painful and threatening. She walked on, one foot in front of the other. Had Gryphon and Gabe been successful? Was Tess safe? And what of Joshua? She
needed
to know that they would live. She
needed
to know that Gabe would alert the Raven before the Ram invaded. That candlelight of hope would give her strength beyond measure. Perhaps even strength enough to defeat whatever budding young man she was put up against and walk away from the Gate a free woman.

The trail opened up to the main square. A mass of bodies clamored around the platform. As Zo passed, excited voices diminished to whispers. Zo didn’t have her mud and wrap to hide behind. Her ebony hair was braided along the crown of her head to frame all of her damning features.

“Wolf,” a soldier exclaimed. Others joined; speculation of what she was dawned like a sporadic wave across the stunned crowd. The horn sounded a third time, silencing all but Zo’s pounding heart.

A Ram wearing a string of ancient metal coins climbed the wooden stairs of the waist-high platform and held up his hands to address the crowd. The old man escorting Zo nudged her up the steps.

The old man’s instructions along with the white noise of the crowd were lost to Zo—the sound choked to death by fear and utter shock.

For on the other side of the platform stood a young boy with a short sword in his limp hand. He was all red hair and freckles, looking at her with large eyes rimmed with tears.

Her opponent. Joshua.

Gryphon raced to the Chief’s home before reason could catch up to him. He skirted the square by weaving between the main buildings of the town. At every opportunity, he glanced into the growing crowd, hoping to be rewarded with a glimpse of Joshua or Zo, but only managed to stumble over an old man pushing a cart of wool.

When he finally made it to the other side of the square Gryphon ran down the cobbled road to Barnabas’ home. The guards at the massive oak doors aimed their spears at his chest. “Stop,” they ordered.

Gryphon ran so hard he almost fell over trying to stop in time to avoid the guards’ spears. It took him a moment to catch his breath. “I need to speak with the Historian.”

“What do you want with my grandmother?”

Gryphon whipped around to find the chief looking like he wanted to filet Gryphon’s innards in the belly of his shield. The Historian rested a withered hand on her grandson’s arm. Gryphon had hoped to convince the old woman to use her authority to open the Gate. But now …

He stammered an apology, but the Historian cut him off. “Gryphon, I’m so glad you made it. Look for my Nameless man back in the square. He’ll assist you in your goals.”

“My goals,” Gryphon repeated flatly.

“Yes, a big fellow with a red tie wrapped around his arm. I require him to wear it. All those cattle look alike to me.”

Barnabas patted his grandmother’s hand. The old woman sighed. “I imagine he’s helping Eva as we speak.”

“Eva?” Gryphon knew he sounded ridiculous, but he had absolutely no idea what the crazy woman meant.

Chief Barnabas’ lips formed a tight line. “What are you up to, Gryphon?” he asked. “And why does it involve my grandmother?” He placed a protective arm around the woman’s frail back.

“I’m sorry, Sir. It’s just—”

“I’ll fill you in on everything on our way to the prizefight, dear. They can’t begin without you.” The Historian pulled the reluctant chief away from the house. She turned back and winked at Gryphon when Barnabas wasn’t looking.

Gryphon didn’t waste time contemplating the Historian’s words. He ducked off the path and into the woods again, jumping over logs and pushing away branches until he broke through the tree line at a sprint and entered the throng of Ram and Nameless gathered in the center of town for the prizefight.

A sea of Ram surrounded the platform. The tips of spears stood out in the crowd like porcupine quills, swords reflected the early morning light, blinding Gryphon as he looked up to find Joshua huddled in one corner of the platform. He kept his arms folded and his head down. His eyes were trained on the floor in the center of the platform, as if trying to avoid the hundreds of eyes trained on him. Mostly he just looked small. Too young for what lay ahead.

Joshua’s challenger was yet to arrive, but Gryphon knew it wouldn’t be long. He searched the crowd for Eva and the mysterious Nameless with the red strip of cloth tied to his arm. He had no idea how this man was supposed to help him, but he knew the Historian mentioned the Nameless for a reason. After several minutes of searching, Gryphon couldn’t help but feel like he was wasting time.

Joshua wasn’t ready for a prizefight. What if the kid lost?

A horn sounded and most of the crowd quieted as Joshua’s opponent walked through a tall aisle of Ram toward the platform. Gryphon stood on his toes to get a look at the Nameless, but was too far away to see anything. Ram soldiers gasped, the hum of their reaction to the challenger filling the square.

Gryphon was out of time. Barnabas would be here any moment and the fight would commence.

“Gryphon!” Eva rushed over to meet him, carrying a light pack and bedroll. She stood with the Nameless along the outer rim of the crowd. “You have to stop them!”

Another horn sounded announcing the entrance of the chief, but Gryphon didn’t bother looking at the platform. Instead he approached the tall Nameless at Eva’s side. His arm was cast in a sling, but Gryphon would have recognized the man even without the red fabric tied to his bicep. It was the same Nameless he’d seen at Eva’s wedding. “The Historian told me to find you.”

The man nodded. “She asked me to give you this.” He handed Gryphon a small linen bag. Its contents clinked together and a strong-smelling powder puffed through the unseen holes of the fabric, smelling very much like the Historian’s shed.

“Careful, Striker.” The Nameless explained the volatile nature of bag and its purpose. “Attach it to the front of your spear. A ladder is set up behind the Building of Records. You’ll only have one chance at this. The Historian and I will help you open the gate, but you must hurry!”

“I can’t just—”

The giant Nameless took Gryphon’s arm and squeezed. “I’m told many of your men will leave today to slaughter the Raven.”

Gryphon couldn’t believe this man, this
Nameless
, knew of the Ram’s plans.

“The Historian said to tell you that if you want to save those you love, you must be willing to cut off your arm.”

Eva couldn’t stop staring at the platform. “Just go, Gryph,” she shrieked. “They need you!”

Gryphon saw the flame of Joshua’s hair out of the corner of his eye as he pushed his way out of the square. He hoped Gabe had found Zo and was ready to free her once Gryphon created the diversion. He found the wooden ladder propped up against the records building, right where the Nameless said it would be.

A pearl of sweat rolled into his eyes as he tied one final knot securing the dangerous bundle onto the end of his spear. He worked in a daze, not knowing if he could do what was required to save Joshua and Zo. He placed one heavy boot on the ladder, pulled a deep breath through his nose then started the climb with one hand holding the deadly spear. Every rung of the ladder brought him closer to his doom, but as if propelled by strength that wasn’t his own, he kept reaching for the next rung. Then the next.

The booming voice of the Master of Arms carried across the square. “On this day, Joshua, son of Kote, and former apprentice to Striker Gryphon, challenges this Nameless in a prizefight for his shield.”

The sound of Joshua’s name sent a ripple of gooseflesh over his arms. He shimmied up the slick rooftop on his stomach—an awkward feat considering the sword at his hip and the deadly spear in his hand. When he finally reached the peak of the roof and looked down on the fighting platform, he nearly fell from shock.

He first saw Joshua’s brilliant red hair, but standing on the opposite side of the platform, wearing nothing but a tiny tunic revealing her slight frame, was Zo. She held a sword in her hand like it was a snake that might bite her.

“Fight!” the Master of Arms called.

A guard slapped Zo’s backside, inspiring raucous laughter from the crowd. Joshua’s ghostly face haunted her when she looked up to meet his eyes.
The poor boy!
Zo dropped her sword and turned around to run off the platform but hit the chest of a brawny guard instead. He whipped her around and shoved her back into the center of the ring.

Joshua peered down at the ground, refusing to even look at Zo. Her mind raced for a solution, a way to save this boy’s life without causing Tess pain. There were just too many Ram surrounding them for an escape. They couldn’t surrender—a prizefight ended only when one of the fighters expired on the platform.

There was really only one course of action.

Zo charged Joshua. His eyes doubled in size at her attack. Out of instinct, his hands met her shoulders to block.

“Fight me, Joshua.” She pushed against him, their arms locked together like the horns of two butting ram. “This needs to look convincing.”

Joshua dug in his feet and pushed against her with surprising force for a thirteen-year-old boy.

Thank you!
Zo could have cried in relief.

With a quick move, Joshua whipped Zo’s legs out from under her. She hit the ground hard and lost her breath. The crowd cheered. Joshua jumped on Zo’s chest, pinning her arms with his knees.

“It will be all right, Ginger,” she encouraged him. “Please,” she panted, “please, just do it.” Tess would be devastated, but Gabe would look after her.

Joshua yanked a knife from its sheath and held it above his head. Moisture formed in his eyes. “I love you, Zo.” His lower lip trembled. “My sister.” His warm tears splattered on Zo’s cheek as he hovered above her.

Zo wished she could at least hug him one last time. To pull him to her chest and rock him back and forth until his tears dried up and he could smile again. It was bad enough to have to watch those you loved die. She couldn’t imagine his pain at having to be the one who killed her.

“I love you, too.” Zo’s voice shook. “Escape this place, Joshua. Tell Tess I’m sorry and that I love her. Tell Gryphon—”

The knife came down. Zo winced but opened her eyes in time to see Joshua plunge it into his own stomach.

“NO!” Zo wailed. The world turned white streaked with red. All noise vanished.

Joshua’s body collapsed onto hers like a limp fish. She tasted his hot blood in her mouth. It soaked her braids and pooled in the hollow of her neck. Her heart echoed in her ears for two beats then everything around her turned to absolute chaos.