I suppose there’s something to be said for pain. As soon as my full weight is pressing into the loop, I forget all about my fears. I can’t think of anything except the pulsing bruise below my heart, the rope digging into my thighs.
When my feet blessedly hit the bottom, I untangle myself from the sling. Two more sets of feet hit the ground as both boys join me.
“Do you already have a spot?” I ask, certain they must.
“Down that trail.” Iric points. “Can’t miss it.”
“Will you be able to”—Soren gestures below my navel—“by yourself?”
My face heats up. “I’ll manage.”
I stride down the trail, and behind me I hear a smack.
“Did you really just offer to help her piss?” Iric whispers loudly enough for me to hear.
“No! I was just making sure she could. Why would you hit me?”
“Because you’re behaving like an idiot.”
I miss the next exchange because I’m too far. I find the latrine. Any sort of bending is extremely painful, but I manage to relieve myself without getting anything on my clothes.
When I make it back to the house, Iric and Soren are still having a quiet argument. They cease as soon as I’m in view.
“Something wrong?” I ask.
“No,” Soren says at the same time Iric says, “Yes.”
I wait for an explanation, but neither boy is forthcoming. Soren is watching Iric, and Iric is grimacing at the ground.
“I doubt you’re about to start helping with the chores again anytime soon,” Iric eventually says to Soren, “so I’d better get to it. You stay here to play manservant.”
“That’s not necessary,” I say. “I’ll leave as soon as one of you retrieves my armor and ax.”
“All right,” Iric says, before pulling himself up the branches leading to the house.
But Soren yanks on his foot and pulls him back down to the ground. Iric barely manages to catch himself on his other foot.
“We talked about this,” Soren says to him.
“Fine,” Iric says with a sigh. He turns his gaze to me. “We’d like to invite you to stay with us until you heal.”
Was that the cause of their argument? Soren wants me to stay but Iric wants me gone? Well, then. I’ll make it easy for them. “Thank you, but no.”
“Rasmira,” Soren says, “if you lie down, you won’t be able to get back up again, and you need someone who can monitor your wound. Let us help. Please.”
He’s asking me to trust them. To willingly put my safety in their hands. I don’t like it. I don’t like it one bit. But he has a point. I won’t make it on my own. Not if I can’t get up to feed myself.
Soren has been nothing but kind and even helpful despite everything. Iric, I haven’t seen nearly as much, but he seems tolerable. Logically, I know staying with them is the smart thing to do, but I can’t change how I feel. The desire to take my chances on my own is almost overwhelming.
But physically, I’m spent.
Even now, standing and moving have taken their toll on me. My abdomen throbs, and I feel light-headed, ready to collapse again.
“Maybe one night,” I finally say, trying to sound stronger than I really am.
“Great,” Iric says, and his voice doesn’t quite match the word. “And I’m off. Since Soren is feeling so extra helpful today, I’ll let him get you situated.” Iric shoots a glare at his friend before taking off down a trail—one that leads in the opposite direction as the latrine.
Soren rolls his eyes after him.
CHAPTER
11
“The floor is fine,” I say once Soren gets me back up the tree.
“Nonsense, take my mattress. Iric and I can share.”
“You’ve saved me as it is. I don’t need to steal your bed.”
“You’ll heal faster this way. Don’t you want to be on your way?”
He couldn’t have said anything that would cause me to take the bed faster. I manage to lower myself to my knees and then flop onto my back. The impact sends a gasp of pain through my lips.
“You’re not one to ask for help,” Soren notes.
“You’ve just now realized this?”
A small smile brushes his lips.
“What was all that about back there?” I ask, jerking my thumb toward the window. I pull a blanket over my naked abdomen. It’s not like both boys haven’t gotten a good look at my bare midriff, but I feel more comfortable covered.
“All what?”
“The arguing. Iric’s strange behavior.”
“Iric has opinions.”
“Many people do,” I say.
“Sometimes he gets caught up in his own problems instead of thinking of others.”
“And I’m one of those problems?”
“You’re not a problem. It’s just that, well, you’re a girl.”
“Noticed, did you?” A ball of irritation forms in my gut. “And Iric doesn’t think a girl should be a warrior, is that it?”
“What? No! That’s not it at all.”
“You’re not explaining very well, then.”
“I just don’t think you’ll like the answer.”
“Tell me anyway.”
Soren sits on the other mattress and laces his fingers together in his lap. “All right, let me explain it this way. Iric has already mentioned Aros.”
“His man back home.”
“Yes. He hasn’t seen him in a year, but they still exchange letters. Aros leaves him one every time he goes out with the hunting party. I’ve tried to tell Iric he needs to end it. He’s banished, and he’ll never see Aros again. Dragging it out like this will only cause him more pain.”
“I fail to see how this has anything to do with me.” I do feel sorry for Iric, though.
“It’s only ever been the two of us out here, but now a girl has joined us in the wild. Iric thinks that because you’re the only option for me and I’m the only option for you that we’ll end up … together. We’ll get together, and he’ll still be alone.”
Huh. That, I didn’t expect.
Maybe I would feel some sympathy if I had any faith in real relationships, but I’m certain they don’t exist.
I say, “You’re assuming I like boys.”
This finally brings his eyes back to mine. “Do you?”
I don’t know the answer to that. In one way, it’s simple: I am attracted to men. That is what Soren is asking. But right now, with my broken heart and trust, I don’t see how I could like another boy ever again.
So I say, “I did.”
After a beat of silence, I add, “It’s a ridiculous notion.”
“That’s what I tried to tell him. We wouldn’t get together because we’re the only options for each other. We’d get together because you’re a wickedly talented warrior woman who doesn’t let anyone get close to her, and I love a challenge.”
He laughs at the look I give him. “I’m kidding! Sort of. Okay, mostly not, but would it really be so terrible to give me a chance?”
“Yes.”
“Why? What happened to you?”
Ziken cackling. Sharp teeth. A flash of red. Torrin’s and Havard’s laughter—all of this flashes through my mind in the time it takes me to blink.
“You can tell Iric,” I say, “that he has nothing to worry about. Besides, I won’t be here long. Just until I’m healed.”
Soren watches me for a moment, and I can tell his mind is turning, thinking … something. I think he comes to some conclusion, and I really hope it’s him accepting the fact that we are not a possibility.
“Won’t we at least see more of you now?” he asks.
“Now?” I repeat.
“Now that we’re friends.”
I scoff at the word.
“Surely we’re at least friends now, Rasmira. You saved my life from the ziken. We faced the gunda together. You jumped into the hyggja lake with me to save Iric. Either we’re friends, or you’re really just the most selfless
person in all the seven villages.”
I’m a warrior. I’ve always done what warriors do. We protect others.
And now Soren wants to be friends because of it.
That’s how things started with Torrin. First, he was my friend. Then he pretended that we could be something more. But Torrin’s end goal was to get me killed.
Soren wants to help. Because he owes me a life debt. A boy who is so honor-bound could not have dark intentions. And if he does, I cannot fathom what they would be. Romantically, I have no interest in him, but …
“You saved my life. For that, you may call me your friend,” I say at last, even if I’m uncertain I could consider him mine.
“Good,” Soren says. “I’d like to have at least one out here.”
“But you have Iric.”
Soren shakes his head. “We are together for survival’s sake. But we are not friends. Not anymore.”
I have so many questions for my … friend. But even now my eyes weigh as heavy as stones.
“Get some rest,” Soren says, as though I need the encouragement.
* * *
WHEN I WAKE AGAIN, it’s to the smell of something delicious cooking.
Iric has moved one of the chairs over by the fireplace, and he turns valder meat over on a spit as he stares at the flames.
I don’t know why, but I feel compelled to make conversation with him, so I try to think of something to say.
“You’ve—” My voice comes out as a croak. I cough and try again. “You’ve built a very nice life for yourself out here. I’m impressed by your home. I didn’t think it was possible to survive in the wild.”
Iric doesn’t turn at the sound of my voice, but he answers, “It became easier once we learned more of the wild’s secrets. In the villages, the people are isolated. They only have access to the plants and animals nearby. There is more that grows deeper in the wild. There are trees that remain strong long after they’re cut. There are new metals not found in our mines. There are plants that are edible. Beasts that are more dangerous.”
“About the plants—Soren mentioned sampling them to learn which were edible.”
Iric’s head lifts from the flames. “He did, and back then, I was far too angry to care if he lived or died.”
“I tried asking Soren what happened at your trial.”
“And?”
“He said it wasn’t his story to tell.”
“Soren,” Iric mutters, “ever so loyal. Sometimes he makes being angry with him very difficult.”
“Will you tell me what happened?”
Iric chews on the inside of his lip. “How were you banished? You are clearly a competent ax-bearer.”
“I asked you first.”
“Sometimes you have to give before you can receive.”
“Why am I the one who has to give first?”
“Because you’re in my house and I’m cooking food for you.”
I try to shift my weight to relieve all the pressure on my back. All I manage is to make the pain in my abdomen intensify.
“You are a riveting conversationalist,” Iric says when I don’t comment.
I try for a leading statement. “Soren can’t be the reason you’re banished, surely.”
“You weren’t there. You wouldn’t know.”
An image rips across my vision. Torrin holding a ziken head, red on its lips, a cruel smile on Torrin’s.
Maybe it’s because I don’t feel threatened by Iric. He doesn’t like girls. He doesn’t have any sort of agenda with me. He’s not trying to befriend me or do anything to help me. He tolerates me because Soren owes me a life debt, and maybe it’s because Iric is so upfront in how he feels about everything, but I suddenly don’t care if he knows what happened to me. Part of it, anyway.
“Did he take a decapitated ziken head and use it to pierce your skin?” I ask, hardening myself against the memory.
Iric fumbles with the spit for a moment. “No.”
“That’s what my friend did to me. He only pretended to be my friend so I would trust him. Then he waited until the right moment to betray me. To get me banished.”
“Why would anyone do that to you?”
“Because I was supposed to be the next village leader. I was raised on a pedestal, praised and cherished above all others. And he hated me for it, as if I could somehow control it.” Or even wanted it in the first place.
It is a relief to get the words out, but it is shortly replaced by vulnerability. When people know your secrets, they can use them to hurt you.
“I don’t know you well,” Iric says, “but I can already tell you didn’t deserve that. You are kind. You are strong. And you’re not entirely dull, either.”
I laugh, but it turns into a groan as my wound throbs.
Iric holds out the spit in my direction. “It’s done.”
I manage to reach out an arm with minimal strain on my stomach and bring the meat to my lips. The grease still sizzles. It burns my lips. But I take a bite anyway and hand it back over.
Iric watches the flames while he eats. “You were wronged. I was stupid. That is the difference between our two trials. You see, I wanted to be a smithy my whole life. I learned the trade from my father, who is still the most skilled in all of Restin.”
“What changed your mind?”
“Soren.”
I should have known that was coming.
“Aros was my world. And the thought of ever losing him—it was the most terrifying thing I could ever imagine happening. We were in our favorite spot, up in the tree where we first met. We often went there for privacy.” A pause. “Did you know he is what gave me the idea for building iron traps? He’d tell me about his hunting trips. They venture out into the wild, find a good spot, and wait. They hold absolutely still, hardly daring to breathe, just hoping for a valder to cross their path. Then they have one shot, a single throw of a hatchet. If they miss, the animal moves out of sight before another throw can be attempted. And I thought there had to be a more efficient way to catch them.”
Iric can’t help but get pulled into the memory. I don’t say anything for fear he won’t tell me the rest of the story.
He pulls himself back and says, “Aros had great respect for the warriors. While we were up there in that tree, a group of them came into view, passing beneath us. I still remember how he looked at them. Wielding an ax makes them so fit, and Aros was admiring them.”
“Surely you don’t blame him for looking?” I ask. “And a smithy is just as fit from pounding metal all day.”
“I know Aros loved only me. I know he was only looking, but still, it needled at me. I couldn’t get it out of my head. For weeks I was in a foul temper. And Soren finally asked me about it.”
Suddenly I see where his story is going, and even though I already knew it had an ugly ending, now I’m realizing the scope of it.
“I told him. Soren wasn’t at all surprised. He went on about how all the ladies wanted to marry warriors. Why wouldn’t Aros?”
“He didn’t.”
Iric looks at me now. “He did. Looking back on it now, I realize Soren wanted to spend more time with me. We were practically brothers. I spent most of my time in lessons, and any spare time I spent with Aros. But if I became a warrior instead of a smithy, Soren would see much more of me. He used my insecurity with Aros to convince me to switch specializations. He tried to convince me I had a talent for it. I knew it was a lie. I was passable with an ax at best, but I certainly had no special skill for it. But I didn’t care. I thought Soren could get me through the trial, and then Aros would never even think of leaving me.”
“And you failed your trial?” I ask.
“I was bitten within the first minute.”
“And then Soren was overcome by guilt and failed on purpose,” I say, remembering what he told me.
“He knew I wouldn’t survive in the wild alone, so he bounded headlong into a group of ziken and let them have at him.”
“So Soren act
ually has some skill with an ax?” I ask.
“He was the best in the village.”
“That so?”
“The ladies practically hung off him.”
“Did he also have someone special?”
“No. He liked all the attention. Didn’t want to minimize it to only one girl.”
“I see.”
“Oh, the wild has changed him. I doubt anyone would recognize him if he ever did make it home. He’s not nearly so arrogant or selfish. But I’m afraid he’s still attracted to anything female.”
The door in the floor opens with a slam, and Iric and I jump. We’d been so engrossed in our conversation, we didn’t even hear Soren climbing the tree.
Iric and I are being entirely obvious with our silence and the way we’re staring at Soren.
“Were you talking about me?” he asks.
“No,” Iric says at the same time I say, “Yes.”
Iric doesn’t believe in the goddess, so lying doesn’t faze him, but I still cringe at the sound of the lie. Obviously, Soren believes me.
“Only good things, I hope?”
“Yes,” Iric says at the same time I say, “No.”
“Have you been harassing her?” Soren asks Iric.
“She’s the harasser!” Iric says. “She keeps pestering me about information from our home and our trial.”
“That’s what normal people do,” Soren says. “They talk. Make conversation.”
“We’re not normal people. Normal people don’t have to try this hard to stay alive.” Iric holds the spit out to him.
Soren takes it and blows onto a portion before tearing into it. A week ago, I might have been disgusted by sharing a spit with two boys. But there’s a sense of camaraderie, of togetherness, that I haven’t felt since leaving home. Oh, how I miss Irrenia.
“My sister’s salve,” I interject suddenly. “Where is it?”
Soren looks down at the spit. “We had to use the last of it on you. Your wound was deep, and the blood pumping out of the injury kept washing the salve out. I had to apply generously.”
“Do you still have the canister?” I ask.
“Of course.” Soren hands me the spit and fumbles through a pile near Iric’s mattress. Eventually he comes away with the empty container.
Warrior of the Wild Page 12
