Warrior of the Wild

by Tricia Levenseller

  The only things out of place are the shackles dangling from one of the walls, blood crusted to the metal. They rest atop an empty bed. I realize it must be where he keeps the woman sacrificed to him each year. How long was the one I watched dragged away from the clearing kept here before she died? And what did Peruxolo do to her?

  Perhaps it’s cowardly, but I don’t want to know. The important thing is that I can stop another girl from ever being sacrificed if I can kill him.

  At the far end of the cavern is another path, and I follow it even deeper into the mountain, wondering what I’ll find next. But as I travel, I realize the path doesn’t curve deeper, it moves back around toward the mountain’s edge. Light filters in up ahead, growing more and more bright as I approach. Another entrance.

  Whereas the opening I took was a mere slit in the mountain, this entrance is gaping.

  And for good reason.

  It’s a forge.

  Branches hang down over the entrance, providing it with some camouflage while still allowing in plenty of airflow. A larger gate blocks the opening, so nothing can get in. In the ceiling are several openings that appear to have been crafted for ventilation.

  The oven is similar in shape to Iric’s. But the castings lining the walls are different, and I can’t make sense of what they’re used to make.

  Resting against an anvil are a hammer and a metal sheet about the length of a man’s foot. Little metal triangles are scattered across a table, but they are made from a different metal than the new lodestone, something darker. The edges are sharp—I nearly cut my finger when running it against one of the triangles. Also atop the table is one of Iric’s traps. Did Peruxolo stumble across one? He’s started taking it apart. Was he examining it? Trying to learn how to replicate it?

  I hold my hand over a barrel that appears to be full of ash. When I don’t feel any heat emanating off it, I dip in my hand and let the substance slip through my fingers.

  Metal fragments. Iron, I think. What is that for?

  There is much more to see in the god’s forge, but I’ve tarried long enough. It’s time to leave.

  My head swims with images of all the things I discovered in the god’s lair as I trek back through the cavern. I have even more questions than before. What are all the things he builds in his forge used for? Why does an immortal god rely on natural elements to keep us afraid?

  At least I can say I’ve confirmed my theory.

  Peruxolo uses lodestones to keep mortals out of his home. He wears them as armor so no one can approach him.

  But now I know how I can approach him. I know one of his secrets, and I think it’s time someone challenged Peruxolo to a fair fight.

  I retie the knot on the gate just as it was so he will be none the wiser and take the spent torch with me. I leave the mountain and head for the tree line where Soren hides.

  As we take a long route home, Soren asks what I found, and I tell him everything.

  “Iron fragments in a barrel? Sharp metal triangles? What does it all mean?”

  “I don’t know,” I answer. “But I don’t care. I think I’m ready to face Peruxolo.”

  Soren nearly trips. “Ready! How can you be ready? It would take years to study Peruxolo and learn all his secrets. Learning one doesn’t mean you’ll survive against him in a fight!”

  “The important thing is that he doesn’t know what I’ve learned! He’ll think I can’t get anywhere near him because of the iron. Iric’s ziken-hide armor will change that. It will make the battle a fair fight!”

  “What about your ax? You still don’t have a weapon that can defeat him.”

  “I have the silver dagger he tried to kill me with.”

  “It won’t do you any good against a battle-ax.”

  It’s true. I need a new weapon, but—“The mountain is full of this new metal! I could ask Iric to make me an ax from the new lodestone. Peruxolo’s weapon must be made from the same metal. Then the battle would be fair.”

  Soren scoffs. “Rasmira, you’re forgetting one important thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Peruxolo is centuries old. He’s had centuries to practice the ax. You’ve only had ten years! Just because you can finally reach him with your weapon, it doesn’t mean you can defeat him in battle. The battle will in no way be fair.”

  The words hit home, making me feel like a speck of dirt, an insignificant being when compared to a mighty god.

  “Just whose side are you on?” I ask.

  Soren reaches out a hand and takes one of mine, never missing a step. “I’m on your side. I just want to make sure that when you go into battle, you will come out the victor.” He gives my hand a squeeze.

  “There is no guarantee. There never will be. Even if I spent the next fifty years of my life training, I wouldn’t catch up to Peruxolo’s skill. The only advantage I have is knowing his secret. If I wait for the right time to strike, perhaps he won’t see it coming.”

  “Perhaps.” But Soren doesn’t sound convinced.

  We fall into silence as we walk, but my mind is turning. Soren and Iric have completed their quests. Now it’s my turn. I finally have an advantage over Peruxolo.

  All I need is a plan.

  * * *

  IT’S NEAR DARK WHEN we finally reach the tree house. Smoke billows out of the chimney, and the smell of meat wafts down to us. I miss hot food.

  Soren climbs ahead of me, and when he gets through the trapdoor, I see Iric launch himself at his friend, gripping him in a hug.

  “You made it back! The feather?”

  Soren turns to the side so Iric can see the hint of blue peeking out of his pack. “Right here.”

  “Take it out! Let me get a proper look at it!”

  I cough loudly. “I don’t suppose you two could scoot over so I can come in?”

  Iric looks through the hole in the floor. “Raz, you made it, too!” He holds down a hand to me and hoists me the rest of the way up.

  “Did you ever doubt I would?”

  “Of course not. Now tell me everything.”

  Iric sews up the gash in my arm while Soren talks. The needle bites into my skin again and again, a pain worse than the initial slash from the bird.

  “How is it that you’re always the one who gets injured?” Iric asks.

  “Probably because I’m always sticking my neck out for you two.”

  Iric grins while Soren has the good sense to look guilty.

  As Iric finishes off the last stitch, he asks, “And did you have a nice time together?” The tone of his voice makes it very clear what exactly he means by that.

  My cheeks heat up, and I find myself looking anywhere but at Soren.

  Iric laughs. “You two are so utterly predictable.”

  I hear a smack, probably Soren taking a swing at Iric. “Leave her alone.”

  “So long as there is no touching in front of me, I won’t say another word.”

  “Why, Iric? Would that make you uncomfortable?” I ask. Feeling brave all of a sudden, I stand up, move over to where Soren is seated in his chair, and place myself in his lap.

  Iric’s eyes narrow. “Stop that.”

  My arms go around Soren’s neck.

  “Rasmira, don’t you—”

  And I lean in for a kiss. Soren is more than happy to play along. His hands press into my back, and before I know it, he’s tilting me backward.

  A gagging noise comes from behind us. “Okay, stop! You’ve made your point. Please! Dear goddess, stop!”

  It’s awfully difficult to focus on Soren when Iric is yapping in the background. Soren’s lips turn up into a smile against mine.

  “Do we take pity on him?” I ask.

  “I’d rather not.”

  “Rasmira, I swear I will dump the new armor I made you into the gunda-guts-infested lake if you don’t stop this instant!”

  That gets my attention. “You finished it?”

  “I will not say another word until you sit in your own chair!
”

  I sigh, but rather than do as he says, I simply turn, pressing my back against Soren’s front, so our mouths aren’t anywhere near each other.

  “That’s as good as you’re going to get,” I say. “Now talk.”

  Iric narrows his eyes, but he gives in. “It’s done. Should fit you like a glove. I’ll take you to see it tomorrow.”

  “Good, I’m going to need it. I think it’s time I challenged the god.”

  Soren freezes underneath me as Iric’s eyes widen. Soren hadn’t gotten to the part in our story where we learned about the lodestone and I explored Peruxolo’s lair, so I tell Iric the rest now.

  “So you need a new ax,” Iric says after I finish.

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll build you a new one. No problem.”

  “Iric, don’t encourage her!” Soren says.

  “What are you talking about? This is what we set out to do! We both can go home now, and you want to deny that privilege to Raz?”

  “It’s not that,” Soren says. “I just don’t think we’re ready for Peruxolo yet. We need a plan on how we’ll face him. Where we’ll do it.”

  “I already have most of that figured out,” I say.

  “You do?” Soren asks.

  “Yes, I spent our walk back to the tree house thinking about it. If you spent less time trying to talk me out of it and more time being supportive, we could have discussed it together.”

  Soren lowers his head to my shoulder. “Sorry. I’m listening now.”

  “Here’s what I think we should do. First, you two need to go home to Restin.”

  “What?” Both boys snap at the same time.

  “Iric’s hyggja head isn’t going to last out here, and that feather could blow away with a breeze. You two should take your proof home while you can, and I’ll come with you in order to see how you’re received. I want to know if the village will really welcome you back. That’ll change how I decide what to do next.”

  “How so?” Soren asks.

  “If you are not welcomed back, then I’ll face Peruxolo alone. Because if your villages still treat you as outcasts, then there’s no way my father would show up to witness my battle against the god. But if your village takes you in with open arms? I will formally challenge Peruxolo. I will face him publicly, in the clearing where the villages make the Payment each year. Soren will do his part and invite all seven villages to watch the battle.”

  “Are you sure?” Soren asks.

  “I’m sure. Let’s head for Restin tomorrow. Then we’ll set our plan into motion.”

  PART 4

  THE

  GOD

  CHAPTER

  22

  Before heading out, Iric takes me to his forge.

  He comes to a stop at a wooden chest tucked underneath a table full of tools. He bends down, fiddles with a latch, and then hoists up the lid.

  Shiny black armor winks from within.

  Iric pulls out a gleaming breastplate and holds it out to me. I take it, rubbing my fingers along the bottom edge.

  “How?” is all I can manage as I stare at the beautiful craftsmanship.

  “Wasn’t easy. I made this piece from a single sheet torn from the back of the largest ziken we caught. Had to hammer at it for hours to get it into the right shape. Trimming the edges down was even more difficult. Had to take my ax to it. You should know, now that the armor isn’t connected to a living creature, the regenerative properties don’t work anymore.”

  “That hardly matters. It’s wonderful.”

  “Would you like to try it on?”

  I replace my iron armor with ziken hides. The new armor is lighter, but just as strong. I walk through a set of warm-up strikes, amazed by how much more quickly I’m able to move.

  “It’s fantastic! I’ll never wear iron again,” I say, rubbing my arm over where the guards are tucked into my sleeves.

  “Shall we start our journey now? Or are you too busy admiring yourself?”

  I smack him.

  * * *

  IRIC LEADS US back to Restin. He is most familiar with the way, having traversed the path once a month for the last year to exchange letters with Aros.

  “We’re going to see Mother and Father,” Iric says feebly, as though he doesn’t dare to let himself get too hopeful. He carries his own sack on his back. With all the salt inside slowing the decomposition of the hyggja head, I can’t imagine how heavy it must be.

  Soren carries his feather on his back, with all our bedding squishing it tight so it doesn’t budge. That leaves me to carry all our food and supplies for the three-day journey.

  “You are,” I say. “You’ll see everyone you left behind.”

  I just hope it will be a happy reunion. At my own banishment, I seem to remember Father mentioning something about what would happen if I actually completed my mattugr, but I hadn’t been listening by that point. At the time, I never thought I’d get to go home.

  But now, with Iric and Soren heading for their own home, my hope is brighter than ever.

  * * *

  SOREN GIVES ME A quick kiss just outside the borders of Restin. “We won’t be long. Wish us luck?”

  “You don’t need luck,” I answer. “You’ve already done the hard part. Go see your family.”

  “Thank you again, Raz,” Iric says. “For everything. We’ll be back out before nightfall.”

  And then they weave around the inna trees, until they come to the stone archway leading into Restin.

  I turn around and climb the tree at my back. The boys helped me select the perfect vantage point to see their homecoming. I wish I could go with them, but it’s not possible. When we’re banished, we’re banished from all villages. Newcomers stand out, and I’d be recognized as an intruder instantly.

  I climb the tree higher and higher, feeling lighter as I go. I helped them go home. They would never have done it without me.

  I may not have been the perfect leader my village deserves. But I did something right out here.

  When I’ve climbed high enough, I find a thick branch to sit on and rest my back against the bark of the trunk. My eyes seek out Soren and Iric.

  It’s midday, and the village is busy. It’s not very different from how Seravin looks. Cut-rock houses. Display tables showcasing foods and hides and gems available for trade. A dog loops around people in the road, trying to catch up to its owner. Children run through the street, making a game of dodging all the people. A scolding mother grabs one of the children before he can run across the path of a nocerotis.

  Iric and Soren hover at the edge, watching it all. Perhaps waiting for someone to notice them.

  I’m too far away to hear anything, but I watch as one head turns and points. Then another and another, until all the activity in the market stills, as everyone sees the banished boys returned home.

  Eventually, a man cuts through the crowd and approaches Iric and Soren. Both boys remove their packs from their backs. Iric sets his on the ground, grips the end of the sack, and pulls it up. A mound of white slips through the opening. When the salt falls away, the head becomes visible for all to see.

  I can hear the gasps, and then the cheers.

  Soren offers his feather to the man who must be the new village leader of Restin, after the last one was killed by Peruxolo.

  He takes it, and the shouts and screams are deafening, as the villagers surround Iric and Soren.

  What are they doing? Mauling them?

  I’m about to rush out of the tree, when I see Iric and Soren hoisted up in the air on the shoulders of some of the hunters and warriors.

  They’re welcomed as heroes.

  Iric and Soren aren’t set back on the ground until two new figures enter the square. I can’t see much of their features save their gray heads. They must be Iric’s parents, for they’re rushing at the boys, smothering them with their bodies in fierce hugs. The woman kisses each of their cheeks before ushering them down the street.

  But then one more pers
on makes an appearance.

  Iric pulls himself away from his mother.

  The newcomer, who I’m sure must be Aros, launches himself at Iric. The two nearly fall over from the force of the hug. Aros doesn’t even come up to Iric’s chin, so the latter has to bend down so their lips can meet.

  A smile comes to my own lips, and I recline my head against the trunk of the tree. They made it. They’re home. And all is well for Soren and Iric.

  But then a girl breaks out of the crowd, someone with golden locks far brighter than mine. She’s dainty, elegant, and I’m sure her face is beautiful. She goes right up next to Soren and wraps her arms around his neck.

  My eyes narrow.

  Who the hell is that?

  Soren detangles himself from the girl, but she doesn’t go far, hovering around his shoulder. The proud parents, Pamadel and Newin, hurry their boys down the street, likely to their home, with Aros and the girl following.

  I’m leaning forward so far that I nearly lose my balance on the branch. I right myself, scowling at that blond head of hair. Just what does she think she’s doing? I stare until the group disappears from sight and the market resumes to its previous state.

  And I wait.

  One hour. Two hours. Three.

  I wait for my boys to come back to me. To help me kill the god and make my own way home.

  But they don’t come, even after night falls.

  For a moment, I wonder if they ever intended to come back at all. They’ve got what they wanted. They’re reunited with their parents. Iric has Aros, and Soren—

  Soren has the blonde.

  They have their old lives back.

  Maybe they’ve decided they’re done with me.

  I shake my head. This is Iric and Soren. If they’re late, it’s because they’ve gotten caught up in the excitement of being with their loved ones again.

  Nothing more.

  I wait one more hour, praying to see their faces come back through the stone archway, but they don’t.