Warrior of the Wild(81)

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 the trap 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.

Blood.

He tries to cover it with his fingers, but red seeps through.

The crowd is practically shouting now. They’re growing closer, giving Peruxolo and me less room to move.

“My name is Rasmira Bendrauggo,” I say. “I want you to know that before I end you.”

“This will not be my end!” He flies at me, more calculated and careful this time.

Our axes connect, and Peruxolo sends a fist sailing at me.

I hear Burkin’s cry of outrage as my neck cranes to the right, cracking from the force of it.

“There are no rules out here,” Peruxolo seethes.

“I shouldn’t have expected you to fight fair.”

“I’m a god. This was never a fair fight.”

He detangles himself from me. He’s no longer running at me, but away from me. In great leaps, he starts scaling the air, as though climbing an invisible staircase. Higher and higher.

There must be more iron plates in the ground, growing in purity, letting the metal soles in his shoes carry him higher and higher. It’s an act for the crowd. He’s trying to redeem his reputation, make them see him as their powerful god.

It’s both fascinating and terrifying to watch, even though this trick is no mystery to me. If only I, too, had lodestone soles in my boots, I could climb just as he does. What would the spectators think then? That I’d suddenly gained godly abilities from being out in the wild? Or would they put it together as I have?

Peruxolo switches his ax to his left hand and reaches behind his back with his right. A gleaming silver dagger, like the one he used to pierce me before, appears in his hand, and he flings it.

I’m ready this time, prepared to flick the weapon away with my ax, but it’s not turning end over end in my direction.

Did the wound I dealt to his side throw off his aim?

The dagger sails over my head and lands in the branches of a tree only a few feet away. A cracking noise emits above my head, and I look up in time to see something spinning for me.

It connects with my ax faster than I can even follow. No, it sticks to it. More lodestones at work. It’s similar in size to the metal triangles Peruxolo projected from his arms, but this one is circular, with little metal teeth. Only this is another new metal. Something that is drawn to the lodestone just as powerfully as iron repels it.

My stomach sinks as I realize—if I’d been wearing armor made out of the lodestone, this sharp little disc would have punctured straight through and wounded me. A small loop of rope hangs off the disc. When Peruxolo threw his dagger, he must have severed the only thing holding the metal back from connecting with the nearest lodestone.

Despite Peruxolo floating in the air, despite most of the crowd waiting to watch me fail, I laugh.

“You prepared for someone figuring out your secret!” I shout up to him. “If anyone else made an ax out of lodestones, you needed to be ready. You positioned me here, closest to the tree, so this”—I point to the metal disc—“would stick to me.”

Peruxolo leaps from his height advantage. I flip the switch on my ax to unleash the spike, readying for him.

Our blades tangle at the tips as he hits the ground, rocks rolling away from his landing. He tips his chin to the side so he can better see me from under his hood. His knuckles whiten on his ax as he pushes toward me, forcing me back a step. Then another, and another.