Page 50 of Warrior of the Wild
“Did you find one?” he asks, and he somehow manages to make the question sound condescending, as if he knows I didn’t. Or maybe he knows that he doesn’thaveone. Because he is in fact unbeatable.
“I’ve only ever killed to survive,” I say. “I’ve killed animals to eat and animals that meant me harm. But I’m making an exception where you’re concerned. You’re my mattugr. I have to kill you if I want to go home.”
At my last statement, Peruxolo throws back his hood.
It’s the same face I’ve seen many times before, when I don’t think he knew I was looking. Blond locks, high cheekbones, blue eyes.
“You dare to challenge a god?”
I wonder why he bothered to throw back his hood. Seeing his face only humanizes him, makes it easy for me to confuse him for an ordinary man, gives me courage I didn’t know I had.
“I dare,” I say.
He spreads his empty hands out wide. “Very well, then. Take your best shot.”
I hesitate, not for fear this time, but because he hasn’t drawn his ax. Something about striking an unarmed opponent feels wrong.
But then I remember the face of that girl who lay unconscious in the back of the wagon train. I remember how Peruxolo put his fingers on her face, turning her this way and that, inspecting her as one might a piece of jewelry before deciding whether or not to purchase it. I remember the hungry faces of the children in my village. The dead, bleeding village leader who couldn’t scrounge up enough gems to satisfy Peruxolo’s greed.
Those memories give me the strength to charge. Ax arced over my shoulder, ready to swing, I hurl myself at Peruxolo, sprinting full speed.
He doesn’t move, doesn’t cringe, doesn’t blink as I get close and swing.
My ax connects with air, solid air, before ricocheting backward and throwing my balance off kilter. I barely manage to find my feet, to spin back around and take another swing, as if catching the god off guard might make a difference.
It doesn’t.
My ax bounces off nothing. It doesn’t even come close to striking the god.
“Pathetic,” Peruxolo says. “The mortals sent a little girl to kill me. Though, if I’m your mattugr, they didn’t expect you to succeed. They sent you to die. I won’t play executioner at your village’s behest, but I can hardly let you live after you’ve come here with the intent to kill your god.”
“You’re not my god. Rexasena is the true goddess over all the world. You are just some foul being who was granted too much power.”
“I’m done with you now,” he says, and he flicks his wrist in my direction.
I don’t think, I just move. I throw myself off to the side as soon as I see the beginnings of the same motion he used on the village leader he killed with one sweep of his hand.
Aclinkto my right—the sound of his power striking against the rocks beside me in a very near-miss.
“Hold still,” he commands, in a tone that still sounds almost bored.
I will do no such thing. I fling myself backward as his hand snaps from side to side unleashing…somethingat me. But I’m too quick, too unwilling to submit to his power.
But then my back collides with something behind me, and I dare a glance over my shoulder from my seated position.
The invisible barrier to the god’s home. I’m trapped.
“Which village sent you after me?” he asks. “I will unleash my wrath upon them.”
I don’t answer, looking around for anything that might save me.
“You’ll die here, regardless, but surely you’d like revenge on the village that sealed your fate?”
Revenge against the entire village? Because a handful of people betrayed me? I don’t think so.
Peruxolo steps closer. “Speak now. I won’t ask again.”
My right hand curls against a fist-sized rock beside me. I remember the first time I came to find the god’s lair, how I flung a rock, and it sailed right into the seam of the mountain when I myself could not enter.
