I force my stiff limbs to make the climb back down the tree. Though my stomach grumbles, I don’t touch the food in my pack as I make the trek back to the tree house.
I’m not hungry at all, despite feeling so hollow.
* * *
DAYS LATER, WHEN I make it back, I can’t bear to stay in the tree house. I return to my little fort. I haven’t been here in weeks.
Before I arrive, it starts to rain, a few drops dampening my hair before I leave the road and cut back into the foliage. My shelter has held, though the place looks a little run-down. Leaves and needles cover the floor, having fallen through the cracks in the logs making up the ceiling. Twigs and moss have scattered onto my things. Smaller plants have broken through the earth in the places I once used as walkways.
The rock I used to carve the clues about the god in my tree seems to have disappeared.
Doesn’t matter. I’ve learned as much as I possibly can about the god. It’s all up in my head.
I go to my shelter, pull the bark door aside, and collapse onto the ground.
I sleep, now that I feel utterly defeated.
The next morning, I return to the tree house. There is still no sign of Soren or Iric.
If they’re back, maybe they went straight to the forge? Iric still needs to build me a new ax.
I race down the trail to the forge, leaping over the traps Iric placed to keep out critters. The whole place smells like ash, the rain from last night likely churning up the scent.
Iric’s tools are neatly in a line, his castings cleaned and stacked. One of his buckets has filled with rain water. Another holds wet coal.
But neither boy is here.
My eyes sting.
But that small pressure only makes me angry.
Fine.
I will defeat Peruxolo on my own. I can try to leave notices outside the villages and hope the hunters from each village find them and take them seriously. Will they travel to the Payment site because a letter from an ostracized girl asks them to?
My throat grows dry. Would my father at least show up? He’d recognize my writing. He’d come, wouldn’t he?
But he’s let me down before.
Everyone has let me down.
Raz …
The sound is so faint, like a whisper on the wind. I’m certain I’ve imagined it.
“Rasmira.” Louder this time and Soren’s deeper tone.
“Raz! Quit playing games. Where are you?”
I pick my head up from where it’s fallen against my chest. Not everyone.
“I’m over here!” I call out.
There’s a smattering of wet footsteps on the rocks, and then both boys come into view. First Soren, with his hair mussed, and his eyes tired. Then Iric, his taller frame hunched slightly and his cheeks red.
I launch myself at Soren. I’m not alone. I never was. Not since the first time I met Soren in the wild.
These boys are everything to me, and they came through when it mattered most.
“Did you run all the way here?” I ask.
“Yes,” Soren says irritably, looking at Iric. “We had to make up for lost time. I tried to make him hurry, Rasmira.”
“Hurry?” I ask.
Iric’s smile stuns me. It’s the first I’ve seen that isn’t mocking. It’s honest and so happy.
“Someone insisted he join us,” Iric says.
I was only looking for the faces of my two boys, so I failed to spot a third hiding behind them.
He’s at least a couple of inches shorter than I am, with hair so dark it’s almost black. He wears a short beard, and his eyes are a striking green. Strapped to his waist are throwing hatchets. A large pack bulges on his back.
“Aros?” I ask.
He throws himself at me, squeezing me against his chest. For one so short, I hadn’t expected such strength.
“Thank you,” he says, “for bringing this one back to me. I heard what you did, and I can’t ever repay you for it.”
I think to shrug off the words. To tell him it was nothing. Instead, I say, “You’re welcome. It’s nice to meet you.”
He steps back. “I apologize for delaying them, but I wasn’t about to let Iric out of my sight again.”
I look at Soren. “I can understand that. I’m glad you decided to join us, Aros. I’ve been wanting to meet the man who willingly puts up with Iric.”
“Hey, now,” Iric says.
Aros grins and slides an arm around Iric’s waist. “He can be an ass, but I love him anyway.”
Iric glares down at him, but he can’t hold it. Soon it morphs into a goofy grin.
“Why don’t we give you two a moment to get yourselves situated,” Soren says. “Rasmira and I are going to head to the tree house.”
Iric and Aros don’t hear a word he’s saying. They’re already drawing closer.
Soren threads his fingers through mine and leads me down the trail.
“Sorry we kept you waiting,” he says. “I couldn’t leave the two of them to make the trip here on their own. They’re too busy looking at each other to keep an eye out for danger.”
“You made the right choice. I should have been more patient. You both just took so long, and you seemed so happy to be with your parents again. Iric had Aros. And you—I saw a girl. Anyway, I thought you’d both have to be mad to want to come back out here anytime soon.”
We stop at the base of the tree house, and Soren pulls me close. “My girl is right here in front of me. The girl you saw in Restin?”
“The blonde.”
“Yes, the blonde. She was looking to get some attention. Iric and I were declared village heroes, and she was looking for fame by association. I never spoke to her, except to assure her she was unwanted, and her attempts were petty.”
I squeeze my eyes shut tight, a wave of embarrassment taking me over. “I’ve never been jealous before.”
“You never need to be again.”
The smile feels so good against my lips. I feel as though I could stand here in this spot with him for an eternity and never be bored.
He leans his forehead against mine, and I relish the closeness. “We should probably go get Iric the metal for my ax.”
“In a moment. I want to kiss you first.”
* * *
SOREN AND I MAKE several trips to and from the mountain, always on the lookout for Peruxolo. Either the goddess is watching out for us, or Peruxolo doesn’t leave his lair, because we don’t run into trouble. We gather buckets and buckets of lodestones for Iric over the next several days. It’s tricky, because Soren isn’t able to get too close to the metal while wearing his armor. He drags the lodestones behind him in a net and carries both of our axes on his back.
When we’ve delivered more than enough of the stuff, Soren says, “It’s time for me to go.”
I know this, and I know I need him to deliver my invitations to the villages, but I hate seeing him go.
“We’re all going home,” he reminds me, and he places a kiss against my forehead.
“You be safe,” I say. It somehow comes out as a threat instead of a plea.
“I promise.”
I watch his back until it disappears to the south. He’s going to Seravin first to tell my father I’m alive and I’m going to challenge the god. From there he’ll head north to all the other villages.
I return to the forge to take my mind off of worrying over him.
It’s fascinating watching Iric work. He melts down the lodestone and separates it from all the other minerals. He patterns my new ax after the one my father gave me, spike and all. I help by pounding at leather hides, dyeing them black, and then wrapping them around the newly finished handle. Aros helps by checking the traps and cooking our meals so we can focus on the work.
It takes a good deal of time and sweat, but in the end, I have an ax that can wage battle against Peruxolo.
* * *
I THROW MYSELF INTO Soren’s arms when he returns. After weeks of going sick with wo
rry, of toiling over the hot fires in the forge, I have him back.
“Are they coming?” I dare to ask. “Is it done?”
He’s covered in weeks of travel grit, but I don’t let that stop me from holding on to him. “They’re coming. All the leaders seemed quite eager to attend.”
“And my father?”
“I spoke with him.”
I swallow.
“Torlhon was happy to hear you were alive.”
“Happy?” I ask skeptically.
“He may not have said as much, but I could see it in the way his face changed. I told him what you did for Iric and me—how it was because of you we found the strength to complete our tasks. I told him you will make a great leader when you return with glory to Seravin. Torlhon will be at the battle. He is looking forward to it.”
I don’t know if things can ever be the same for me and my family. After the way my father turned his back on me, I don’t know that I could ever welcome him in my life, even if he wants to mend things.
But I am glad that he will be there.
“I also spoke with your sister Irrenia. She tried to give me a pack full of medicinal supplies before I left the village.”
“That’s Irrenia,” I say with a sad smile.
“She wants you to know she will be at the battle. She’s eager to see you.”
A wave of emotion shoots over me. So many people will come, looking for entertainment. It is such a relief to know my sister will be there to offer support.
“Then we should go scope out the battleground and prepare.” Peruxolo will receive his invitation last. I want him to have as little time as possible to prepare for the battle.
* * *
THIS SPOT ONCE HELD such awe for me. The Payment site is the first place I ever saw Peruxolo and witnessed his powers. It’s fitting that it will be the last as well. Whether I win or die.
The space is large and circular in shape. There will be room for those who want to watch the battle to stand along the outskirts. The road that extends all the way to Peruxolo’s mountain ends on the west side of the clearing. That single line will be the easiest place for me to fight him. Since I’ve seen Peruxolo floating in the air, I doubt he will worry over the rough terrain.
“If I can keep to the road, I’ll have an easier time fighting him,” I say aloud.
Iric and Soren snort at the same time.
Aros stares the two of them down. “Why do you doubt her? She has saved the both of you from banishment. If anyone is equipped to take on the god, surely it is her.”
Sufficiently chastised, they both look toward the ground.
“Thank you, Aros.” I continue my assessment of the area and list everything I’ve learned about the god. “He carries hidden blades on him.” The healed wound on my abdomen pulses just at the memory. “I’ll have to watch for that.”
“And what if he chooses to strike you down with his power?” Soren asks.
“That can be dodged. I’ve done it before. I recognize what that motion looks like.”
Iric kicks at a pebble with his boot. “So you’ll battle him ax to ax, while trying to keep to the road. You’ll watch for hidden weapons, and you’ll try to dodge anytime he uses his power.” He pauses. “There has to be more we can do to give you an advantage.”
“Can we use this new lodestone against Peruxolo in some way?” Soren asks.
We all think for a moment.
“Rasmira’s ax is also made from the new lodestone,” Iric says. “Anything we might do with iron will also affect her.”
“Perhaps,” Aros says. He reaches for a coil of rope at his side. “But this won’t react with anything.”
* * *
ONCE WE’RE DONE SETTING up the area, the boys and I head back to the wild. They wait in the tree house, while I make the trek to the god’s lair.
Your silver blade wasn’t enough to kill me. Let’s finish what we started. The day after tomorrow, at first light, all the villages will be gathered to watch us duel. It ends at the place where our suffering begins.
I attach the note to a sturdy branch and then pound it into the ground like a stake. When I leave the mountain this time, I revel in the feeling that I never have to return.
CHAPTER
23
The rising sun dissipates the morning fog, leaving the clearing dry and bright. This is where our villages sacrifice their livelihoods to Peruxolo. This is where I first laid eyes on the god and saw his mighty power.
This is our battleground.
And this is where either he or I will draw our last breath.
Soren, Iric, Aros, and I arrived hours earlier, when the stars were still out and owls filled the air with their hoots. We brought with us the final touches for the battle, a series of rocks we’ve placed strategically around the area.
“If things go wrong,” Soren said as we lowered the rocks to the ground, “if you need a breather, you get him to follow you to this spot. The boulders will be your marker. Look for them, and Iric and I will handle the rest.”
I survey the three boulders around us, hoping they’re enough if things do go bad.
I hope the battle doesn’t last long enough for us to find out.
A crowd has started to gather. Strangers huddle along the tree line, murmuring to one another. The stench of fear mixed with curiosity wafts over me with the breeze. I am the day’s entertainment. This is no mere warrior coming-of-age trial. This is a mortal facing off with a god. It could be quick, over in an instant, but it will be exciting nonetheless.
It feels as though a caged animal lives in my stomach, clawing to get out. Nerves almost consume me. I think I might be sick.
A hand tugs on mine, spinning me around.
Soren is there.
He places a hand on either side of my face.
“Don’t think about the crowd. Using an ax is as effortless to you as breathing. But you be smart. And don’t you dare die on me. We’ve come too far for it to end now, do you hear me?”
I’m not about to make promises I don’t know if I can keep. “I will do my best.”
And standing here, finally taking the focus off myself and looking at him, I realize—
He’s a mess. He looks ready to crumble. Ready to grab me and run.
“I can’t lose you, Rasmira. Can’t we spill Peruxolo’s secret and call the whole thing off?”
“No. This is my mattugr. I have to kill him if I’m to return home. And it’s not enough to say that this immortal has been using lodestones to instill fear in us. They have to see. Their fear is too great.”
“I understand, but I still don’t like it.”
I take his hands in mine, and he lets his forehead rest against mine.
“Will you promise me something?” I ask.
“Yes.”
“Do not step in at any point and try to kill the god for me. I have to be the one to do it. Iric had to deliver the killing blow to the hyggja. You had to be the one to steal the feather and carry it down the mountain. I have to end Peruxolo. Promise me you won’t try to kill him, even if he’s about to end me.”
“Rasmira—”
“I did it for you, Soren. Now I need you to do it for me.”
He closes his eyes, as if it will take all his willpower to make this decision. Finally, he says, “I promise. You can trust me in this.”
I kiss him, wrap my arms around his neck, and cling to him, try to remember how it feels to have his lips on mine. In case it never happens again.
“Rasmira!”
I know that voice better than any other.
I pull away from Soren, and a happy cry leaves my throat. “Irrenia!”
Her dainty arms go around me, and I lean into her.
“I thought you were dead,” she says, following the words with a sniffle.
“I almost died a few times, but I remembered my promise to you.”
She squeezes me until I can’t breathe, and I wonder how someone so small can manage it.
&nb
sp; “It would seem you’ve done well for yourself in the wild.” Her head rises off my shoulder, and I know she must be looking at Soren. “Very well.”
Despite everything that may or may not happen in the next hour, I laugh. Just once, but it is enough to lighten the moment.
“Quit hogging her.” Another pair of arms comes around me. Tormosa’s. They’re quickly followed by Salvanya’s, Alara’s, and Ashari’s, until I can’t tell where one sister ends and another begins.
A throat clears. My sisters pull back, and my father steps in front of me.
His hand comes down on my shoulder. “What you are doing is very noble, Rasmira. Death at the hands of your mattugr will open the goddess’s paradise to you once more. We will see you again when our times come. This public display is an excellent idea. It will show others that my daughter is no failure.”
For so long, all I wanted was to make my father proud. But in all the time I tried to earn his respect, I realize now that he never once earned mine.
“I am not doing this for you or your image, Father. For once, I’m doing something for me. And I don’t intend to die today. I’m going to expose Peruxolo for what he really is. I neither want nor need anything from either of you.” Mother’s stepped up next to Father. “You turned your backs on me, and I won’t forget it. I won’t let your decisions rule my life any longer. I’ll see you both when this is over.”
I turn away, desperate for some distance. I don’t make it ten feet before a hand clamps down on my arm.
I whirl to find my mother standing before me. I think to pull from her grasp, but then I really look at her.
I almost don’t recognize her. She’s a shadow of her former self: frail, her eyes somehow duller, her cheeks hollow, her skin ashy, her limbs heavy, her hair without its usual shine. She looks helpless, distraught, as if something inside of her is eating her alive.
She looks broken.
“Rasmira,” she says, and even her tone has lost the hateful force it usually contains when speaking to me. “I’m so relieved you’re safe!” She throws herself at me, resting her head on my shoulder and letting her hands stroke my hair. I don’t return the embrace; I’m too shocked.
Warrior of the Wild Page 23