Nameless (21 page)

“Funny. He likes me all right.”

Ajax scowled but his nose wrinkled in the process, killing the effect. “Don’t force me to end you, brother. Zander will be disappointed if I take out his famous Striker.”

“I’ll do my best.”

Four long wooden tables sat in a square around a blazing fire. Next to the fire, two carved stones created the legs for an altar. Most of the guests clustered around the periphery, chatting in reverent tones while the would-be groom and a few of his mess brothers stood inside the ring of tables laughing and drinking.

“Taurus is an idiot.” Ajax said, looking at Eva’s soon-to-be husband. “I don’t know why Eva accepted him.”

Movement beside the family shed caught Gryphon’s attention, though the smoke of the fire blurred his vision. He took a few steps away from the group to get a better look.

A burly man in Nameless rags stared at Taurus with unmasked hatred. Gryphon knew the expression well, had seen it countless times on the battlefield. The Nameless’ concentrated stare moved from Taurus to Gryphon then to the dirt at his feet.

There was something about the man’s look. His posture. His dark expression that didn’t seem completely right—especially coming from a Nameless. A loud woman with wild russet hair moved into Gryphon’s line of sight. He sidestepped the woman and went to confront the Nameless, but on second glance, the Nameless had disappeared.

“What’s up?” Ajax moved to Gryphon’s side and squinted into the forest.

Not wanting to cause a scene at Eva’s ceremony, Gryphon said, “It’s nothing.”

A soft horn sounded and everyone took their seats around the outside of the square tables. Sara led Ajax away to sit with her family, leaving Gryphon to sit alone near the end of one of the four tables.

All talk ceased and all eyes stared at the backdoor of the house, awaiting the bride’s entrance.

“May I sit with you?”

Gryphon looked up, surprised to see the white-haired Historian, Barnabas’ grandmother. He fell over himself trying to stand, knocking the table with his knee in the process. “Of course.”

The Historian’s presence seemed to stop the whole ceremony. Sara and Eva’s father stood from the center of the head table. “You do us a great honor, Wise One.” He bowed to the Historian.

She nodded and gestured that the ceremony should continue before taking her seat next to Gryphon.

The backdoor to the home was painted red, representing the blood that accompanies new life. Eva stepped out of the house, and turned to shut the red door. The death of her old life. She stood before the engagement party dressed in fur boots and a long wool dress of simple design. Her hair fell down to the middle of her back. She was a plain girl with a small mouth and Ram nose, but the smoke of the fire and the whimsical mood of the evening made her breathtaking.

The Historian lifted a shaking hand to wipe a tear that escaped her lashless eyes. “Poor lamb,” she mumbled to herself.

Gryphon wrinkled his brow. Wasn’t this supposed to be a happy occasion?

And yet, Eva did seem somber, for some reason.

Eva stepped inside the square of tables where Taurus waited with a smile too large for his face. He handed Eva a wand of sage and placed his round shield at her feet. She stepped up to the altar, twisting the bundle of herbs in her hands.

Eva’s whisper sent a wave of chills up Gryphon’s back. “I claim your shield as my shield. May it protect our family and always bring you home.” She dropped the sage into the fire. It hissed and cracked, causing fragrant clouds of smoke to rise from the flame and waft over the group.

Taurus drew his knife. He stepped closer to Eva and gathered her hair in his fist. “I claim your beauty and your womb. May our family bring honor to the Ram.”

Gryphon flinched as Taurus pulled his knife through Eva’s hair, leaving only a few inches from her scalp. Marking his territory.

The Historian seemed to exhale after holding her breath. “God protect that girl.”

The couple turned to face each other. Taurus sheathed his blade and took his intended by the hands. Just as they bent to kiss—the last rite of the engagement ceremony—Gryphon again spotted the Nameless man in the forest. He looked wild and anguished. A bear caught in a deadly trap.

Gryphon unconsciously put hand to the hilt of his short sword, but the Historian touched his arm. She stared at the wounded-looking Nameless and subtly shook her head. Her lips formed the word, “No,” though no sound escaped them.

The man in the forest bit into the back of his hand and stared one last time at the newly engaged couple, then darted away.

The couple kissed and the engagement was official. They would wait the standard month before the chief announced them man and wife, giving both bride and groom time to prepare for their new life together.

“Who was that man?”

The Historian studied Gryphon from the corner of her eye. “You have not earned the right to know that, Gryphon, son of Troy.”

Gryphon blanched at the use of his father’s name. “What does that mean?”

The Historian turned and took one of Gryphon’s hands. She turned his palm to the sky and ran her finger along its creases. “You are a gifted warrior, Striker. But that tells me nothing of your character.” Her knobby finger froze as the lines of his hand intersected. Her head whipped up, mouth open. Fast as an arrow, her hand reached up and took hold of Gryphon’s chin. She squinted, staring into the depths of his eyes for several seconds.

Just as quickly as it happened, the old woman dropped her hold. “How is the Nameless healer faring?”

“She is fine, I suppose.” Gryphon didn’t think it necessary to mention the fact that she’d been stabbed by a pitchfork within minutes of arriving at his family home.

The old woman snorted. She struggled to her feet as people around them took turns congratulating the newly engaged couple. She took hold of the key around Gryphon’s neck. “Give the Wolf my greetings.”

All of the blood rushed from Gryphon’s face as the old woman, with cane in hand, hobbled over to Eva. The throng of well-wishers parted as the clan’s matriarch approached the bride. She took Eva’s face in her hands. The girl bent her head and accepted a light kiss on her brow. Gryphon couldn’t hear the words the old woman whispered in the girl’s ear, but Eva cracked her first genuine smile of the evening.

It was several minutes before Gryphon’s shock wore off enough to approach the bride. He numbly pulled out a small dove-shaped carving and pressed it into Eva’s hands before others would notice, still ashamed of his time-wasting talent.

“A dove for joy.” He, like all the rest, bent to kiss her brow.

Eva looked up at him and a tear streaked down her cheek, chased immediately by a second. She shook her head. “You’re wrong.” A smile broke through the obvious, yet inexplicable agony in her face. “The dove is the symbol of hope, too, did you know?” She fingered the carving. “Thank you, Striker. For giving me hope.”

Gryphon’s mother, Mrs. Drea, barged into the room carrying a bundle of clothing. “Well, I’ve finally found good use for you.” She dropped a long, wool dress on the bed and urged Zo to change out of her worn Medica clothes.

“Our neighbor’s best worker just broke his arm. They’ve promised me a barrel of apples if I send you to set it for him.”

The stitches in Zo’s stomach tugged as she pulled the threadbare shirt off over her head.

“Do you know how to set an arm?” Gryphon’s mother put her hands on her hips. Clear definition cut into the woman’s biceps and forearms.

“Yes, Mrs. Drea.”

“Good. Joshua will take you.”

Zo grabbed her kit and hurried after Mrs. Drea to meet Joshua on the road. “Do a good job,” Mrs. Drea called after them.

After a short walk, Joshua led Zo down a narrow lane neighboring a flowering apple orchard. Several ragged-looking Nameless passed them, carrying buckets and shovels. The men kept their eyes trained on the ground until the last second, then stared accusingly at Zo. Like she’d done something wrong.

She pressed her hand to her stomach, as if to hide the clean clothes Mrs. Drea had given her. When they reached a farmhouse, Zo waited by the road while Joshua spoke with the Ram woman at the door. She tucked her short, strawberry hair behind one ear and laughed at something Joshua said while holding her ripe, pregnant belly. When the Ram woman spotted Zo, her whole demeanor darkened. With a sharp hand, she pointed around the house to a barn.

Zo nodded her understanding and walked along the curved cobblestone path to the barn. The wooden building looked similar to Gryphon’s Nameless’ quarters with one lone door hanging a little off square and a small window to let in light.

Zo knocked before entering. “Hello?” she called into the dark room.

“Over here.” The male voice sounded strangely familiar. She followed the sound to a dim corner where the light didn’t reach. The young man groaned as he sat up from a hay-lined cot. “Hello again, healer.”

“Stone?” Of all the Nameless inside the Gate, she’d been called to help the rebel leader. The man, who not long ago, wanted to throw her off a cliff for information.

Zo took a step backward. Then another.

“There is no need to be afraid, healer. We are on the same team.”

“It isn’t safe to be with you.” She looked at the door and contemplated running out. “Is your arm even broken?”

In the dim light, the scar that ran along Stone’s face caught a fraction of light. It was a gruesome blemish on an otherwise handsome face. He held his arm to his waist like a bird with a lame wing. “I promise I didn’t even know you were coming.” He looked down at her medical satchel and winced. “Can you at least give me something for the pain?”

Zo couldn’t go back to Mrs. Drea and tell her she didn’t perform her task.

She sighed. “I can treat you better in the light.” Gesturing for him to sit down on the edge of a bed, she started mixing herbs and oils for pain. While she worked, Stone stared with eyes that seemed much older than his twenty-something years. She felt his intensity without needing to see the dark bags under his eyes that marked the nights spent working to overthrow the Ram.

“You know what you’re doing is pointless,” she whispered. “You’re only going to get good people killed.”

“No, healer. A bird in a cage is pointless. What we do might be insane, but it’s
something
.”

She stopped and looked up from her work. “How will you do it? Even the entire force of the Allies will struggle against the Ram. They are too strong. Too effective in battle.”

“Yes. But they’re dying.”

Zo’s hands froze. “How so?”

The corner of Stone’s mouth hitched up into a crooked grin. “You aren’t the only one who knows how to steal records, healer. Right now Nameless outnumber the Ram two to one.”

The figure didn’t surprise Zo in the least. For years, fugitives from all over the region came to the Gate as a last resort to starvation. And that number didn’t include the Nameless born into slavery. “But you have no weapons. No training. Shovels and fists make little impact on the Ram shield. They will mow you over like dry wheat.”

Zo measured his forearm for a splint and he slapped her hand away with his good arm. “We will find a way to escape our slavery.” His shaking finger pointed down on her.

Zo saw something in him then. Something she understood more than he could possibly know.

Pain.

An awful brand that seeps into the heart and burns hot like smithy coals.

Head bent, she gently took hold of his broken arm. “May I?” When he offered no objection, she spread the healing poultice from wrist to elbow. The healing words flowed from her lips with the desperation of one who has struggled toward something for so long and still not found reprieve. She ached for this man and willed his strength to return.

Because he could not lead his revolution with a broken arm.

The blessing ended and Zo slumped over to catch herself. Her vision spun as she collected his pain. She closed her eyes and waited until her body felt right again.

“That was amazing.” Stone looked at her in awe.

“You’re not going to like this next part.” Zo prepared some linen to make a sling then set the splint on the bed next to them.

Stone said, “So how does it feel knowing you’re worth more to that Ram, Gryphon, than a new commission?”

“What do you mean?” Zo examined the break with a frown.

“Gryphon killed the Wolf prisoner. He could have asked for anything, but he took you.” Stone shook his head as he studied her. “I watch people, healer. I saw the way Gryphon looked at the Gate Master when he kicked you. I know what it feels like to want to protect someone you care for.”

Zo snorted. “Gryphon cares nothing for me.”

Stone shook his head, unconvinced.

“Is that why you fight, Stone? Who are you trying to protect?”

Stone sat silent for a moment then whispered, “If this Ram is willing to give up his commission to protect a lone Nameless, he might help others.”

Zo walked her fingers up Stone’s forearm until he let out a yelp of pain. The break was just below the elbow joint. “How did you do this?” she asked.