Warrior of the Wild(34)

“Six daughters!” Soren exclaims. “Your father must have been so proud.”

At first, I think Soren is jesting, but after a moment, I realize he’s serious. He honestly believes that my father is proud of his large family.

“He would have been proud if we were all sons.” I don’t mean to say that aloud, but out it comes anyway.

“How can that be? After hearing you talk about your sisters, they all sound wonderful.”

“They are, but my father is blinded by his legacy. He thought me his one chance to pass down the role of village leader and warrior. And then I disappointed him by…”

Failing is what I was going to say. But I didn’t fail. I was failed.

“I’m sorry,” Soren says. “It sounds like Torlhon is an excellent warrior, but a terrible father.”

I’m surprised by the words, but they sit so right in my chest. “Yes, that is exactly the right way to describe him.”

I look up toward the sky; the sun is fading fast. “It’s time for me to head back. I don’t want to be out in the open when it’s dark outside.”

“Are you sure I can’t persuade you to come stay with Iric and me?”

I don’t even try to let him down gently. “No.”

For some reason, he seems to find my quick answer amusing. “All right. Well, don’t forget your bucket.” He nods to the one we’ve filled with berries.

“That’s your bucket.”

“Then you’d better bring it back after you’ve eaten its contents.”

I can’t help the small grin that surfaces. Well played, Soren. Well played.





CHAPTER


10


I have just enough time to set the trap Soren brought me and make it back into my fort before nightfall. I bring the bucket of berries inside with me so they hopefully can’t be sniffed out by hungry vermin.

The next morning, when I go to check my trap, I find that the mechanism worked perfectly. A dead valder is crushed between the metal teeth. It probably died on impact.

I also note, however, that Soren’s warning about placing the trap away from my camp was justified.

A ziken is already chewing the head off my catch.

“Hey!”

The ziken turns around and licks the blood from its lips. It raises its head and lets out a cackle. I slam a blade of my ax right into its gaping maw, cracking teeth and taking the top half of the head clean off.

Just to be safe, I sever the neck with another swing, then stare at the mess on the ground. I managed to dislodge a canine perfectly. I pick it up from the ground and stare at it. It’s the length of my finger but much wider. The tip is sharp, but I don’t dare test it by touching it. I’m sure the tooth is still coated in venom. If it were to pierce my skin, I’d be a wriggling, uncontrollable mess.

I pocket the tooth. It’s a nice token. Maybe it will bring me good luck.

But my face turns down in disappointment as I stare down at my ruined meat. I open the trap, pull the small beast from it, and cock back my arm to chuck it into a tangle of ferns, but stop.

An idea for a better use of the ruined valder hits me. I tie it to my pack, move and reset the trap, then head to the god’s lair for another day of observation.



* * *



FROM UP IN MY usual perch, I watch the god’s lair. I’ve already relocated the valder I brought with me. At first, I worried the dead beast wouldn’t be able to cross Peruxolo’s barrier, but after I cast the throw, it sailed right through without meeting any resistance, landing just inside the dark opening in the mountain.

Peruxolo must not have heard the impact, because he hasn’t come to investigate. I hope he’s somewhere deep in his lair and well occupied.

What does a god do all day?

Count his gems?

No, wait, he never even took the gems from the Payment inside with him.

Maybe he relishes the pain and suffering he causes by robbing mortals of their necessities? That sounds far more likely.

I wonder if he feeds off our pain. If that is what strengthens his powers, I’ve no hope of lessening it.

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 steps into the 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 I can’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.