Page 117 of Warrior of the Wild
Shards rain down onto the rocks.
Whatever the contraption was that Peruxolo had strapped under his cloak, I’ve broken it. No more metal triangles being flung toward me now.
But my ax has caught between two rocks on the ground, and before I can right it, Peruxolo clips me in the chin with the pommel of his weapon.
I go crashing onto rocks and sharp twigs, and one of the muscles in my arm pulls as I land on it awkwardly.
“Recover!” A shout goes up from the sidelines, and I roll, roll, roll, as Peruxolo swings his ax down at me with two hands again and again and again.
When I finally get a chance to come up on my feet, Peruxolo is looking at the crowd.
At Master Burkin.
“I’ll deal with you after I finish with her.”
My weapon is still in the ground several feet away. All I have are my limbs as weapons.
I fly at Peruxolo while he’s distracted with Burkin and knee him in the groin. The god uses a latrine, so I’m fairly certain he hasthat part.
He goes down like a bag of rocks, just like any human man would, and I race over to my ax.
Murmurs rise from the crowd.
“She’s struck him twice now—the god!”
“He feels pain.”
“He’s not invincible.”
Peruxolo forces himself to his feet as I turn around with my weapon in hand, and as he does so, his hood falls from his face.
More chittering as the crowd goes on about his human face.
Peruxolo quickly rights it, grimacing as he does so. He’s still in pain.
I adjust my position slightly, putting Aros’s rope trap between me and Peruxolo.
The god advances, and I duck just a couple of feet into the tree line, keeping my eyes on the god instead of the loop of rope hidden on the ground beneath leaves and twigs.
Peruxolo steps right through it, cracking the stick holding thetrap in place. The bent tree beside me swings upward, hoisting Peruxolo up with it by a single foot.
Now the crowd dares to laugh as Peruxolo’s cape dangles to the ground, and his whole body swings about madly.
I grin and take a moment to look toward Aros. Iric is elbowing him and likely singing his praises for me.
I put my hand against the god’s waist and give him a spin. More laughter. It’s contagious. I’ve never been comfortable being the center of attention. But right here, exposing the god, hearing everyone’s reactions—it’s easy to get lost in the moment.
“Rasmira!” Soren shouts from the sidelines. “Hurry and end it!”
By the time I look back at Peruxolo, he’s already finished sawing at the rope with his ax. He falls in a heap on the ground when the rope snaps, and he finds his feet and blade once more.
Cursing my foolishness, I take up position at the road once more, never giving my back to Peruxolo.
“I’ve had it with you!” He charges, ax held in front, ready to skewer me. I block it, and in the same motion, I curve my ax back around toward his body.
The blade cuts through armor, skin, and bone. Peruxolo cries out and grips his side.
There it is again.
