Page 49 of Warrior of the Wild
In all my warrior training, patience was not something I excelled at. I tap my fingers along the bark, crack my neck from side to side, attempt to swallow the yawn that surfaces.
Maybe the ziken don’t venture out this way? Maybe they’ve learned to steer clear of the god’s lair. I doubt he tolerates any beasts in his wood.
As soon as the thought hits, my patience is rewarded.
A ziken has its nose tipped up, sniffing at the air. It follows the path I took earlier, right up to the god’s invisible barrier.
I hold my breath as the beast… steps right over it.
When the valder crossed the barrier, I thought perhaps dead flesh wasn’t a danger, and so the god had no such restrictions for it. But the ziken, a predator, steps right up to the mountain and even stepsintothe gap to retrieve the meat I’ve thrown inside.
My surprise is overridden by frustration. What does the barrier protect him against? If a dangerous beast can get through, but Ican’t, then what does that mean?
The only things that haven’t managed to cross over are me and my ax.
Does the barrier solely protect against humans and their weapons, then?
I stare down at my body, glance from it to my ax.
Wait a moment.
I let myself down from the tree and stalk toward the barrier. I pause at the tree line when I remember the ziken is still inside. With my new idea pounding within my head, I wait for the beast to finish its meal and run off. I can’t very well do battle with it when Peruxolo could overhear at any moment.
When it’s safe, I take careful steps toward the god’s lair. I watch my feet to ensure I don’t overturn rocks or give any hint that I’m here. It’s overkill, I’m sure. If he didn’t hear the ziken chomping outside his threshold, he won’t hear me. But I can’t help it. I have no doubt that if he catches me, he will kill me. Mercy is not a concept Peruxolo has been known to show anyone, and he never breaks his word. I remember all too clearly what he promised if I returned to this spot.
When at last I step up to the barrier, I reach out. But this time I press my forearm flat against it and try bending my wrist in half. My fingers go over, but my arm stays firmly in place. I try the same tactic, this time with my torso, bending at the neck.
My head goes through, but not my body.
Not where I’m covered in armor.
Inmetal.
With two fingers, I find the seam on my forearm and slide the metal from the leather. One sheet from the top and one sheet from the bottom. Then I try pressing my arm against the barrier.
It goes through.
But I’m halted at the upper arm, where more armor rests within the seams of my clothing.
A small laugh escapes my lips. I slam a hand over my mouth, but as I look up to check the gap, I realize it’s too late.
Peruxolo is already there, watching me. Either he can sense when my metal is near, or the timing was simply not with me.
Ice seems to wash through me, starting at my head and falling to my toes. I drop my forearm guards to the ground and take a slow step back.
“You again,” he says. “Do you not remember what I told you would happen if you returned?” He takes slow steps toward me, and for every advance he makes, I mirror it with a retreat.
“I do.”
“And you came anyway. Why?”
I cannot lie. The goddess forbids it. I can’t risk her anger when I’ve already failed my trial. My options are to not answer or to answer truthfully. I have no doubt that silence will result in a speedy death. But answering—talking—it might distract him while I think of something.
“I have to kill you,” I say.
A breath of a laugh brushes out of that hood. “You’ve been watching me. And I suppose the first time we met you were—what? Looking for a weakness?”
I hate how he says everything, as if reading the thoughts right from my mind.
