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  Gryphon took his chance. Using the dagger gifted to him by the hidden ally in the tree, he sliced through the tight ropes around his ankles in one fluid motion and jumped to his feet.

  Gryphon leapt over a bush and raced around a tree. Then another. He didn’t get more than twenty strides before Zander shouted, “Stop him!”

  Gryphon took off at a wild sprint into the dark forest. A spear shot past him within inches of his head. Arrows flew behind him, likely Gabe helping to cover his escape. Men shouted in pain. Gryphon didn’t turn around. He ran as hard as he’d ever run, pushing through the absolute darkness as if the wings of hell beat at his heels.

  After a couple hundred yards, the earth fell out from beneath him and he plummeted, rolling down the sheer side of the mountain. Rocks bruised his body. Brush and foliage scratched wicked gashes into his skin. He used his arms to protect his head as he tumbled, end over end, into the belly of a rocky gorge.

  He landed hard in a freezing stream of mountain water that came up to his waist. In the distance Zander wailed with frustration. The ghostly sound cut through the pouring rain and echoed off the walls of the gorge. It was no small miracle Gryphon survived the fall. Now Zander’s men would have to backtrack half a mile to a nearby ridge to get down into the ravine. He struggled to his feet then fell back into the water after his first step, clutching his head to clear away the dizzy spell that robbed him of precious time.

  He lifted a hand to the back of his head and found a lump forming. He must have hit it in the fall, but didn’t remember.

  He pushed himself up onto his battered hands and knees and crawled through the stream until the dizziness in his head cleared. Pulling himself out of the water, he collapsed on the black soil to catch a couple of breaths, then forced his weary body to stand. He kept his pace slow but consistent, heading northeast in the direction of the Raven settlement even though he wanted nothing more than to run back to the tree to see if Zo was alive and to check on Joshua and the others.

  Until Zander and Chief Barnabas captured him or met their own end, Gryphon and the people he cared for would never be safe again. Their only chance for survival now was to follow the initial plan: warn the Raven. He’d promised Zo that he would help them evacuate the elusive Nest before the Ram raided and destroyed the clan.

  He’d keep his promise and pray that those he loved were kept safe while he led his mess away from them.

  From now on, Gryphon was a hunted man.

  Zo scrambled out from under the tree to find Eva on the ground and a dripping gash on the intruder’s arm. In the darkness it looked more like spilled ink than blood.

  “Gabe!” Zo flung herself at the bleeding man. Gabe was more than a fellow Wolf fighting to bring down the mighty Ram—he was Zo’s childhood friend and self-proclaimed protector. He’d gone to scout the wall for Ram movement before Gryphon was taken, but when he hadn’t returned, Zo had assumed the worst.

  “Where have you been?” Zo grabbed the front of Gabe’s shirt, as if he’d somehow disappear if she let go of him. “Tess, bring me my kit,” she called over her shoulder.

  “It’s not bad, Zo,” said Gabe. He pulled her into a tight embrace.

  Was she crying?

  “Shhhh,” he said, clearing her wild hair from her face and tucking it neatly behind an ear. “I’m here now. Everything will be fine.”

  But it wasn’t fine. “The Ram took Gryphon,” her voice cracked. “He tried to lead them away from the tree and they took him.” She collapsed into a puddle at Gabe’s feet. “I couldn’t help him. The Nameless … Tess and Joshua … ” She knew the words spilling out of her mouth didn’t make sense. She’d made the right choice by staying hidden when the Ram captured and beat Gryphon. Too many people depended on her to help them reach the Allies.

  It was the right choice. So why did it feel like betrayal? How could she survive the guilt of knowing Gryphon’s death was on her hands when he, a Ram, had saved her? He was supposed to be her enemy.

  “I’m going to go check on Joshua.” Eva dusted herself off, scowling at Zo and Gabe down her long Ram nose. Her lips pursed together enough to accentuate her defined cheekbones.

  In her excitement at seeing Gabe, Zo had almost forgotten Eva was there.

  “Sorry about your arm. Decent block, by the way,” Eva added over her shoulder, and then ducked back under the boughs of the tree, likely escaping their affectionate reunion.

  Zo offered Gabe an apologetic shrug before Tess crawled out from under the tree carrying Zo’s kit. Gabe ruffled Tess’s hair and tapped her nose like he always did when they saw each other. Tess rewarded him with a beaming grin.

  “I need to talk to Zo. Will you be all right if I take her for a minute?” he asked.

  Tess offered one of her brave nods. “I’ll stay with Joshua.”

  Gabe pulled Zo under a low-hanging shelf of rock, out of the rain. Blond stubble dotted his chin and the want of sleep hung heavy under his eyes.

  “Take off your shirt,” said Zo. She searched her satchel for the proper remedies, sniffing away a runny nose brought on by tears. When she looked up, Gabe stood half naked before her. His shoulders and arms were mounds of lean muscles, his stomach two neat columns of definition. Zo caught herself staring, blinked, and went to work repairing his arm.

  It wasn’t like she hadn’t seen Gabe without a shirt before. When they were younger, he and Zo used to steal away to swim in a pond in the summer, when the sun made the cold water refreshing. He’d looked different then, more gangly than anything. His time training under Commander Laden had changed him. She didn’t see that same scrawny boy now. At nearly twenty years old, Gabe was suddenly a man. Somehow Zo had missed the transformation.

  “I saw what happened.” He rubbed his hands into his forehead and let them melt down his cheeks. “When Ajax came back, I hid in the nearest tree with an arrow aimed at his back. Lucky for him, he spared you. I followed Gryphon and his mess to the Gate.”

  “And?”

  “And the Ram didn’t let them in. The ladder was up and there was no movement on the wall.”

  Zo looked up too fast. A rush of cold prickled along her cheeks and neck, and dark splotches invaded her vision. It had been like that since healing Joshua. She held her head in one hand to fight the dizziness. “So Gryphon’s not actually inside the Gate yet?”

  Gabe frowned and stepped closer to her. His blond hair fell into his eyes as he scanned her face, looking for the source of her pain. “No, but … ”

  “We have to save him! We have to try!”

  Gabe leaned away. Uncertainty lanced across his face as he regarded Zo. Whatever he discovered seemed a disappointment.

  “I did try,” he said.

  He hadn’t said he would try. He’d said he did try. Past tense. Zo’s hope for Gryphon’s survival shattered in those three simple words.

  “Tell me,” she whispered.

  “No.” He shrugged an apology. “You’ve been through too much. The Ram soldier helped us, but that doesn’t change our goals. Our future. You and Tess need to get back to the Allied Camp.”

  Zo pushed Gabe’s hands away when they rested on her shoulders, suddenly furious. “Tell me what happened to Gryphon!”

  Gabe’s lips pressed into a hard line. “After Ajax spared you, I knew I could trust him to help us. I confronted him before he rejoined his unit. He told me he’d give Gryphon the key to his manacles. Together we created a diversion to help Gryphon escape.” Gabe stared off into the distance as if lost to the memory. “I owed Gryphon as much after he spared my life and helped us leave the Gate.”

  “So he’s alive?” She held her breath and hope in her chest. “Please, Gabe. Tell me he made it. That he escaped.” She looked around, almost expecting him to pop out from behind a tree to surprise her.

  Gabe frowned. He didn’t answer for several moments, as if debating his answer.

  “Gabe!”

  “I tried to help him,”
he blurted. “Gryphon was outnumbered, and Ram spears never miss their mark.”

  Zo held up a hand to silence him. She bit into her lip and shook her head, forcing herself not to fall apart.

  “I did everything I could,” said Gabe. For some reason he wouldn’t look at her. Why wouldn’t he look at her! “I had to think about the Raven. I can’t warn them about the Ram invasion with a spear through my gut.”

  She wanted to say, “Forget the Raven!” But that wasn’t right. As much as she cared for Gryphon, as indebted to him as she was, it wasn’t reasonable to risk the chance of Gabe getting caught when so many lives hung in the balance. She placed a hand to her stomach and staggered backward. An ache grew inside her, a void expanding, a candle that once provided warmth and light, snuffed out.

  Gabe gathered her to him.

  “You arm,” she whispered into his shoulder.

  “It’s fine, Zo.”

  Reluctant, but needing the contact of another person, she returned his embrace. Her arms fell a fraction of a second before his. She stood on clumsy feet, afraid she might topple over if she couldn’t center her equilibrium. Falling, and proving her illness, her emptiness, would be disastrous. Knowing Gabe, he wouldn’t leave her behind—even to save the Raven—if he thought she wasn’t well.

  Gabe gathered his pack and weapons. “Are you sure you can get back to the Allies? You don’t look so good.” His bright blue eyes seemed deeper than normal in the low light.

  Healthy or not, Zo didn’t have the option to remain on Ram soil. Too many people depended on her.

  So much responsibility …

  “As soon as Joshua is ready to travel, we’ll follow the Nameless tracks. You know as well as I do that they won’t survive long without the Allies’ protection.”

  “Be careful. You know the dangers … ” Gabe trailed off, possibly thinking of all of the ways this might end badly. Wild animals and wild men called Clanless roamed the mountainside, and there was also the added possibility of Ram troops tracking the Nameless.

  Gabe reached out and took her blistered hands in his. “Go to Commander Laden and the Allies, and I’ll meet you there as soon as I can. After this is over, I’m taking you away from this war. It’s the only way we can be together.”

  Zo’s head spun again. This time it was only partly due to the vertigo. She hadn’t planned on surviving her time as a spy inside Ram’s Gate. For so long there had been nothing beyond the need to avenge her parents’ death. She never considered that Gabe would expect them to be together if she lived. She had to admit the arrangement made sense. They’d known each other all their lives, even before the raids began. And now they both worked for the Allies. Gabe already acted like an older brother to Tess. He was handsome with his fair features and easy smile. There was no question they could find happiness together.

  Why did she feel so empty?

  The image of Gryphon came to mind, his scruffy dark hair and the kindness in his eyes that turned to liquid fire when he was angry. She put a hand on her aching stomach and bit down on her tongue to keep from falling apart.

  Gryphon was gone. She had to let him go.

  Gabe bent down and kissed her frozen lips. Zo startled at the touch. Thunder rolled. With all their history together, Gabe had never tried to kiss her. His lips pressed into hers as rainwater trickled down her forehead and cheeks. Her stomach ached.

  Gabe left her standing with her arms hanging helplessly at her sides and the betrayal of his kiss on her lips. The same lips that, only that morning, had belonged to Gryphon.

  Chapter 3

  Wet boots.

  Dripping cloak.

  One small dagger that would hardly scratch a rabbit.

  It didn’t take long to inventory Gryphon’s gear as he trudged through the night. The list of things he didn’t have was much longer and—though it did him no good—occupied the majority of his thoughts.

  Light.

  Food.

  Bedroll.

  Shield and spear.

  Joshua’s million questions.

  A map to the Raven Nest

  A home.

  A clan.

  With every step away from the Gate, his spirits drooped lower and lower until he wasn’t sure if his footsteps carried him toward his goal or away from it. He’d never traveled outside the Gate without a mess unit. His whole life until now was spent advancing in the hierarchy of his clan. Every goal that once drove him to improve, every day spent training to become the warrior he was today, meant nothing now.

  If he wasn’t a Ram, what was he? What was a man without a clan?

  Gryphon headed north along the rocky bank of the river, where his tracks would be harder for Zander and his mess to follow. He had tonight to put as much distance between them as possible before his brothers searched for his tracks in the morning. They would study every blade of grass, every dent in the mud, until they confirmed his direction of travel and followed.

  His clothes were soaked through from the night’s rain, his nose and fingers felt like they’d fallen off long ago, and his wrists still ached from being bound. Blowing warmth into his cupped hands, he studied the wilderness around him.

  The Wolf, Gabe, had told him to travel north for several days to reach the hidden Raven settlement. The chances of them finding each other in this vast stretch of mountain forest in time to warn and evacuate the Raven didn’t bode well. That was assuming Gabe survived the night.

  Hours passed. The sky turned murky gray in the low light before dawn. Gryphon searched the trees for Raven scouts and tried not to think about how easily they could hide in the dense fir and broadleaf trees surrounding him on all sides. One well-placed arrow from a legendary Raven bow could end him in an instant.

  It was enough to make a man want to cower. But how could hiding serve him when he needed to be found by Gabe, and what was the difference between a Raven arrow to the chest and a Ram spear to the back? His only choice was forward.

  By midday the stream bent eastward with the sloping land and Gryphon left its bank to keep a northern course. He hadn’t eaten in more than a day. His legs shook. His feet tripped over rocks and brambles, but he kept moving.

  After several hours of walking, the thick forest opened to a meadow of tall grass where tiny yellow and white blossoms speckled the ground. In the heart of the meadow, Gryphon spotted a leather pack tipped on its side. He scanned the trees surrounding the meadow and weighed the risk of exposure against the possibility of supplies. Food. A bedroll. In the end, potential comfort for the back and belly won out.

  He darted into the meadow to retrieve the satchel, his mouth already salivating with hope of finding a hard biscuit or water skin. Wind rolled over the grass, making it bend and sway in confused directions while stirring the sweet aroma of wildflowers. Gryphon slung the abandoned pack over his shoulder and scanned the trees again. Chills crawled up his arms and along his spine. He reached for his knife and tried to look in every direction at once as he moved away from the center of the meadow, back to the protection of the trees.

  An arrow struck the ground, inches from his foot.

  Gryphon raised his hands behind his head. “Don’t kill me. I have a message.”

  The peace of the meadow evaporated as at least fifty men stepped out from behind the trunks of trees and dropped from branches. They wore black feathers on leather strings around their necks and animal hide on their bodies. They all had raven-black hair with eyes to match, and wore wood-slatted armor on their chests.

  A man with long hair and red war paint around his eyes stepped forward. As he did, fifty bows stretched to guard him in case Gryphon attacked.

  “A Ram without a flock.” The red-painted man had a full string of feathers around his neck, marking him as the high-ranking leader of the group. He carried a hatchet with a rope tied to the hilt. As he approached Gryphon, he swung the hatchet around his wrist by the rope and caught it. He walked a full circle around Gryph
on, swinging the blade and catching it. Swing. Catch. Swing. Catch.

  Gryphon stood tall, looking over the heads of the men surrounding him.

  “You are a long way from your wall, Ram,” said the leader. All the clans in this region spoke different dialects of the same language. The Raven and other lesser clans of the north dragged their tongues when they spoke, pronouncing each word with precision.

  Gryphon nodded, still touching the back of his head with his fingertips in surrender. “I’ve come to warn your people of an invasion.”

  A smile cracked the corner of the leader’s careful mask. “Your lies will do nothing to spare your life, Ram.”

  Gryphon felt the rage of the men surrounding him, their hatred as tangible as the arrows that would soon pierce his heart. With their bows drawn, his life depended on these men not extending two fingers.

  “One of your men was recently taken prisoner by my mess,” said Gryphon. “Barnabas’ interrogators broke him, and now my chief knows the location of your settlement. He’s sending at least ten units for your grain stores and he’ll kill anyone he encounters in the process.”

  The men in the circle broke into nervous conversation. Ten mess units equaled about two hundred of the most deadly warriors in the region. That many Ram could easily wipe out a thousand Raven in open combat.

  The leader approached Gryphon, standing so close their toes touched. His smirk diminished to a thin line. His nostrils flared and color flooded his cheeks to match the red paint around his eyes. He spoke loud enough for his entire flock to hear, his tone not matching the jovial cadence of his voice. “Thank you for the entertaining story, Ram. But I can think of a better way for you to entertain us.” He gestured to two of his men, and they stepped forward. “Why don’t we let this Ram see how far he can get before we kill him?” He put a finger to his lips, as if pondering some great puzzle. “It won’t be fun unless the Sheep has a head start.” He threw up his hands and faced his men. “What do you say?”