Warrior of the Wild

by Tricia Levenseller

  I’ve let Torrin win long enough.

  “I’ll be fine,” I say. And though it hurts me to say it, though everything in my body screams at me to run away, to strike out on my own and not trust anyone, I add, “You’re on.”

  I pick up my ax and resume chopping. Soren watches me for a moment, as though he’s unsure what he should do.

  “Do you have a strong desire to do my laundry, Soren?”

  He smirks before returning to his own ax.

  When I chop through my last piece of wood, I look over at Soren’s pile. He still has five large rounds to get through.

  I won.

  I beat Soren.

  And I beat Torrin’s memory.

  I’m getting my life back.

  “I’ll just add my clothes to your dirty pile, then,” I say with a grin.

  Soren stares at my mouth for just a beat longer than necessary, but before I can do anything about it, he says, “Or maybe we could just slip everything into Iric’s pile.”

  “Are you kidding? Iric hasn’t laundered his clothes in weeks.”

  “Good point,” Soren says. “Fine. You win this time, but next time we’re raising the stakes.”

  “Loser does laundry for a month?” I ask.

  “Laundry and cooking.”

  “Better sharpen your ax before then.”

  “Oh, I will.”

  Soren and I stack the wood in the storage shed, until the large space is fit to bursting. There’s something so satisfying about staring at the work I’ve done and knowing how it will keep me alive for the next several months.

  Just as we finish loading in the last of it, Iric races up one of the trails, holding long metal rods in his hands. “I’ve done it. I know how we’re going to kill the hyggja!”

  “Are those spears?” Soren asks, eyeing the weapons.

  Iric comes to a stop in front of us. “Yes! I’ve just finished them.”

  “How is falling back on flimsy weaponry going to help us?”

  “We can’t very well kill the water beast with axes! We’d never be able to throw or swing them through the water. But spears can be thrown from above the water. They can impale things beneath it! They may be older weapons, but they have their purposes!” Iric points to a space on one of the spears just beneath the sharp tip. “We can attach the end of a length of rope here, so after we cast a throw, we can haul the spear back to us and throw again.”

  Iric looks from Soren to me and back again, a boyish hope spread across his face.

  “I think it’s brilliant,” I say.

  “But spears?” Soren asks.

  “If you don’t like them, you don’t have to help us with the hyggja,” Iric snaps. “Raz and I can go home, and you can climb the mountain on your own.”

  “Fat chance,” Soren says. “I’m in, but I have no idea how to use a spear.”

  “Good thing we have nothing but time out here to practice.”

  * * *

  IN THE WASHING POOLS, we hold our breath under the water, challenging each other to see who can withstand the longest.

  Surprisingly, Iric always wins. But then, he is the one who has the most riding on this.

  We practice with Iric’s spears, throwing them both while above the water and while in it. It’s different than throwing an ax or throwing a rock. While the ax was meant to turn end over end when thrown, a spear is supposed to cut through the air like a bird. Straight, unwavering.

  It’s difficult. My wrist always wants to snap at the last moment, and I have to force it to be still, to let my fingers release the rod while holding my arm straight, but after a while, I get the hang of it.

  Soren, however, is abysmal at it, and he has no problem letting his frustration show.

  “These things are ridiculous!” he says after a throw that sends his spear straight into the ground a short distance away.

  “You’re just not used to being terrible at handling a weapon,” Iric says. “Try again.”

  Soren rips his spear from the ground. “Flimsy, skinny, useless. People were not meant to kill things with these!” He turns his angry gaze on the spear. “You’re an overly large eating utensil!”

  “Try throwing higher,” Iric suggests.

  Soren throws again. The spear goes farther, but he somehow manages to make the wrong end strike the ground first.

  Iric clutches his stomach while he laughs, and Soren looks ready to traipse over and bash him over the head with his fist.

  I step in before he can turn those thoughts into actions.

  “Here,” I say, handing Soren my spear.

  He grips the shaft, and I wrap my hand over his. Being pressed so close against him is odd, and thoughts of Torrin threaten to surface, but I put my focus into teaching Soren.

  “Arc back, swing forward, and release. That’s all. Don’t bend your wrist,” I say. We mimic the motion together, going through the steps without releasing the spear just yet.

  “Good,” I say, stepping back. “Now don’t be so concerned with throwing it hard. Focus on throwing it straight first. Speed and strength can come later.”

  Soren stares at a point in front of him, taking aim, I think. He puts his arm through the motions we just practiced, and at the perfect moment, he releases.

  The spear goes sailing, thudding satisfactorily into a tree trunk some ways away.

  “Whoop!” Iric hollers, slapping him on the back.

  “Well done,” I say.

  Soren walks off to retrieve the spear, a new spring in his step. As he does so, his left hand rubs over his right. Just not in the spot where his skin was touching the spear.

  He rubs where my hand made contact with his.

  PART 3

  THE

  MATTUGRS

  CHAPTER

  15

  The lake is just as I remember it: massive, eerie, and surrounded by smooth stones. The water is clear in some places and murky in others, where plants cover the ground and mud is churned up by unseen critters.

  I step up to the edge of the lake, staring out across the water. It looks so peaceful right now. One would never know a deadly beast lies hidden within.

  Iric takes an especially long length of rope and ties it sturdily around the base of one of the thick trees. He then begins uncoiling the rest of it in the direction of the lake’s edge. When he reaches the water, he drops the rest of the coil right on the ground.

  Once we catch the hyggja, we’ll need a way to get it out of the water. Iric’s already thought of that.

  The lake is quiet save for a few bubbles that breach the top. I think they’re too small to have been caused by the hyggja.

  “We have the advantage so long as we can stay on land,” Iric says. He’s already told us this multiple times on the trek to the lake, but I think he needs to say it again to reassure himself. “We throw our spears at the beast until it’s weakened, and then we haul it on land, where I’ll deliver the final blow. We do not go in the water.”

  Teaching Iric to swim was a precaution. Should anything go wrong, he needs to know how to swim, and he needs the extra confidence while standing near the water’s edge.

  “Do you suppose the hyggja has finished off the gunda’s corpse yet?” Soren asks. “Maybe it won’t be hungry.”

  “If that’s the case,” Iric says, “it might not leave the bottom of the lake. Then we’ll have to come back later.”

  I do not like the sound of that. I don’t want to wait to continue my task of killing Peruxolo. I can’t. I need that armor.

  Soren makes a face. “If anyone falls in, they’ll be swimming in rotting gunda guts.”

  “I could have done without that image in my mind,” I say.

  “Just don’t drink the water.”

  I gag.

  “Enough,” Iric says. “Let’s get this over with.” He reaches down, picks up a round rock, and casts it as far as his arm will reach. It sends up a great splash, and we watch until the rippling water stills once more.

&nbs
p; “Maybe it’s sick,” Iric says. “Gunda didn’t sit well with it.”

  Soren grabs his own rock, selecting a round, flat one. He casts it from his side, and we watch as the rock skips across the water’s surface. One. Two. Three. Then it plunks down below, just a ways farther than where Iric’s landed.

  I grab my own flat stone, size up the water, and cast it. One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

  “I was just getting warmed up!” Soren insists.

  “Everything doesn’t have to be a competition,” I say.

  “No,” he agrees, “but it’s far more fun that way.”

  He throws a second rock, and we count the bounces. One. Two. Three. Fou—

  The rock barely hits for the fourth time before an enormous body launches out of the water, attempting to catch the rock in its jaws. All three of us stagger backward from the shock of it, instinctively putting more space between the hyggja and us.

  It’s easily three times the length of a man from head to tail, though only twice as wide. One would expect something flat like a fish, but no. If two men were to lie on their stomachs, one atop the other, it would be similar to the hyggja’s shape. It has fins placed where a four-legged monster would have legs. They’re thick and membranous, and I think it must use them to help swim and maybe move along the lake’s bottom. But there’s no way it can use them above the surface.

  It cannot leave the water.

  The hyggja’s skin is a dark green, like grass under the pale glow of moonlight, but it doesn’t bear scales. No, the texture is wrong. It’s bumpy and hardened, just like the rock-strewn bottom of the lake.

  And its mouth—

  Oh goddess, its triangle-shaped mouth seems to go on forever. It’s partially open with a row of top and bottom teeth peeking through the gap.

  I see all of this in the second it takes for the beast to fall back down into the water.

  “This was a terrible idea,” Iric says into the silence that follows. I look to find him already turned around, heading away from the lake.

  “Wait a moment!” I call after him. I follow him at a run, not stopping until I’ve cut him off.

  “You saw that thing!” Iric says. “Nothing can kill it! It’s practically made of teeth! And did you see how far it jumped out of the water?”

  “Not far enough to reach us on the cliff. We’ll be safe up there.”

  “No, we’re safe back at the tree house.” Iric tries to get around me.

  I move with him. “You’ve come all this way. Iric, you made us spears! We have a good plan. We can’t leave before we’ve even tried. What harm will a few throws be?”

  Soren steps up beside me. “She’s right, Iric. Let’s give it a try first.”

  Iric wraps his arms around himself. “I can barely stand the sight of it. That beast has haunted my dreams for the last year. I hadn’t realized just how big—”

  “It doesn’t matter how big it is,” I say. “Nothing can survive with its head cut off. You said the plan yourself. We weaken it. We drag it on land. You saw those fins—it will be useless on land. Then you deliver the killing blow.”

  “You can do this,” Soren says. “We’re not leaving you to do this alone.”

  Iric rubs his arms before dropping them. “Fine. One throw.”

  “Each,” I say. “One throw each. Then we can discuss our next move.”

  Iric agrees, and he leads us up the small cliff face. We each carry our own spear, the length of rope attached to it coiled around one of our shoulders. We come to a stop in a line along the edge, and we carefully place our ropes behind us, so that when we cast our throws, they will unspool without trouble.

  “Let’s do this,” Soren says, the prospect of a battle exciting him.

  I nod. “For Iric.”

  “For Aros,” Iric says quietly to himself. “For Mother and Father. For us.”

  Iric begins pulling the sheets of armor from his clothing, and Soren and I follow his lead. It feels so wrong to go into battle without armor, but I know it is a necessity. Should we fall into the water, we can’t be burdened down, and armor will not stop the hyggja should anything go wrong, anyway. Though I can’t help but wonder which death would be less painful, drowning or being eaten by the hyggja?

  Would it bite a person in half? Or would death be more slow and painful? Perhaps I should not indulge in such thoughts.

  From up here, I can see the hyggja. The skin of its back skims the top of the water, and the rest of its outline is easily discernible below the surface. Its eyes are located at the top of its head, and I swear I see them watching us.

  As soon as we approach the edge, the water beast swims toward us, moving in circles below the rise.

  Definitely watching us.

  Iric holds his spear at the ready. He sizes up the beast. “The water plays with the eye. You’ll want to throw just ahead of where it looks like the hyggja is.”

  “How do you know that?” I ask.

  “Aros,” he says, and he throws.

  The spear moves too quickly to track it, but I know it hits home because it halts when it’s halfway submerged in the water, and a gurgling growl, unlike anything I’ve ever heard before, surges upward. It’s the kind of sound that instinctively makes me want to run.

  “I hit it!” Iric gets his hands on the rope at his feet. He holds tight as the hyggja starts swimming in a mad jumble below us. Red turns up with the bubbles. “Hurry! Someone else cast!”

  I take aim and throw, but the hyggja is moving too disjointedly. My throw misses by a foot, and I hurry to reel my spear back in.

  In the next instant, Iric’s spear dislodges from his quarry, the hyggja’s pulling finally freeing it from the weapon. “Damn!” Iric says as he pulls his rope end over end to go for another throw. A small chunk of flesh comes up with the spear’s tip.

  I gag again.

  “Soren, throw before it swims off!” Iric bellows. He rearranges the rope at his feet so it will unravel easily with his next throw. It somehow managed to get mixed in with my spear’s rope as the two of us reeled them in. We scramble to separate them. Meanwhile, Soren pulls back his hand to his ear and launches his spear forward.

  Soren whoops. “Got it!” he says over the top of another deep growl from the beast. Soren’s hands go to the rope near his feet.

  “Good!” Iric says. “Whatever you do, don’t let go. We’ve almost got this sorted out.” Iric and I finally have our ropes separated, but we have to wind them carefully on the ground so they will unravel with our throws.

  “It’s trying to swim away,” Soren says with a grunt. He takes a couple steps forward to keep his hold on the beast.

  “Let it go,” I say.

  “Do not let go!” Iric says.

  “Soren, drop it now!” I shout.

  “It’s too strong!” Soren says.

  “Don’t you dare let go of that rope!” Iric yells.

  “Shit.”

  The hyggja yanks Soren clean off his feet, and I watch in horror as he’s pulled right over the edge of the cliff. He lands in the water, flat on his stomach.

  I whirl around. “Why would you tell him that?” I scream at Iric.

  Iric’s frozen to the spot, staring where Soren disappeared.

  “We have to move!” I tell him. I pick my rope coil from off the ground and throw it over my head and shoulder; then I grip my spear firmly in one hand.

  “No one goes in the water,” Iric mumbles weakly.

  “Too late.” In the next second, I take a deep breath and jump.

  The shock from the cold only lasts a few seconds before my body adjusts. The water here is murkier than the washing pools, so I can’t see as far ahead as what I’m used to when we practiced.

  I don’t know how much visibility I have. Seven feet? Maybe ten? Everything looks so different when underwater. Even still, I’m certain I don’t see Soren or the hyggja. I kick my way to the surface and look.

  There.

  Water churns up maybe twenty feet in f
ront of me. Panic sets in as I worry it might be Soren getting eaten alive. I kick my feet right for the spot, and when I’m closer, I dive back down.

  The hyggja tumbles in circles, trying to shake off the spear, meanwhile Soren holds on for dear life to his rope’s end, some ten feet from me.

  A sound hits the water behind me, and I pray to the goddess it’s Iric joining us in the water and not anything else foul living in the lake.

  Before I can reach Soren, the hyggja manages to dislodge his spear. The weapon sinks to the rock-covered lake bottom as Soren swims to the surface for a breath.

  I watch the hyggja turn to the side, so one of its large eyes is pointed directly at me—its prey. But rather than swim at me, it turns tail and swims in the opposite direction.

  Unsure of what else to do, I swim after Soren to get another gulp of air.

  “Where is it?” Iric’s voice from behind us.

  “It swam off,” I say.

  Soren gasps from next to me, still holding on to his rope. While he treads water, his arms pull at his rope, attempting to reel it in. He makes a face.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask.

  “It’s stuck on something.” Before I can tell him otherwise, Soren breathes in quickly and goes back under.

  Damn him.

  I get a mouthful of air before joining him.

  Soren tugs on his rope, using it to pull himself down to wherever it’s stuck. Bubbles fly out of him as he goes. His head must be pounding from going down so deep.

  I swim after him with Iric at my side.

  The sinking feeling in my gut has nothing to do with how far I’m traveling under the water. The hyggja didn’t turn tail and run. It’s doing something. I’m sure it’s not used to anything fighting back with any sort of success in this lake, but all creatures have instincts. The instinct to eat is more powerful than the instinct to flee for a predator that’s never had to fear for its life.

  When I reach Soren’s side, I see it. Not the hyggja, but the remains of the gunda. Its head is still mostly intact, though its eyes are glossy. But the middle area, where that mouth was, is gone. Nothing but bones with faint remains of stringy flesh left to see. Bile threatens to rise in my throat as I think of what I’m swimming in.