Warrior of the Wild(84)

“And all his powers?” Father asks.

“All simple uses of lodestones. He’s found those that react strongly with one another in the wild. He has metal buried in the ground and strapped to his feet to make it look as though he can fly. There’s a sheet of iron nailed to that tree.” I point to where my ax still rests in midair.

There’s nothing but contemplative looks from the village leaders now.

That resignation, their failure to acknowledge their guilt—it infuriates me. I rip my hand out of Irrenia’s and stand.

“This is all your fault. The stupid mattugrs prove nothing. All they did was make those banished hate you enough to starve you, to hurt your women, to place burdens on your backs for revenge. You have no one to blame but yourselves.”

“Rasmira,” Irrenia says as a warning. These men all hold my fate in their hands, and I don’t care one bit. I survived the wild. I survived a god. And whatever else they decide to do to me next, I will survive that, too.

“Perhaps,” my father finally says. “But we have you to thank for our salvation.”

Father reaches down and hoists me onto one of his shoulders. I nearly lose my balance, because I’m unprepared for the movement. “All hail Rasmira Bendrauggo, God Killer!”

Deafening noise engulfs me. I know Father tacked on my surname so he would receive recognition, so all would know it was his daughter that slew the man who terrorized all the villages.

And for once, I don’t care.

I feel whole.



* * *



EVERYONE GOES HOME TO their villages afterward. And Peruxolo—Cadmael? The leaders decide to leave him right where he is. For the ziken to feed on, just as he’d doomed the previous leader of Restin. An order, I now realize, Cadmael gave to hide the metallic triangle he used to kill him.

It’s difficult dragging myself away from the crowd. Shouts of “God Killer” follow me all the way from the Payment site to the village. People swarm me, want to talk to me, want to offer compliments up to the goddess on my behalf, thank me for killing the false god.

It’s only by Irrenia insisting she needs to tend to me back at the house, where her supplies are, that Father finally makes the crowds go away.

He’s only too happy to turn their attention onto himself.

Now I sit on Irrenia’s mattress, with an army of ointments staring at me from the shelves in the room. Soren, Iric, and Aros sit on the pillows and furs on the floor of the room, watching. Despite witnessing me kill the god, they insisted they would see me home.

So here we are.

“Are you almost done, Irrenia?” I ask. “I’m ready to sleep in my own bed.”

“Not even close,” she says. “I still have to treat the cuts on your face.”

“They’re barely scratches!”

“You’re my patient, and you will sit through any treatments I deem necessary.”

As I’ve long learned, arguing is pointless. It’s partly an act, anyway. The familiarity of my sister tending to my injuries is a balm to my homesick heart. I was not lying about my bed, though. I crave it desperately.

“And I thought Rasmira was bossy,” Iric whispers to Soren.

“I heard that,” Irrenia says.

Iric grins before scooting closer to Aros.

“If she decides to smack you, I won’t stop her,” Aros says.

“To think I suffered through monsters only to be done in by Raz’s little sister.”

“I’m older,” Irrenia says.

“But littler.”

Irrenia closes her eyes and draws in a deep breath. “You willingly lived with this person?” she asks.

“I didn’t have much of a choice,” I assure her.

She throws a look over her shoulder toward Soren, who watches her administrations carefully. “I suppose I would have suffered through it, too, if it meant spending more time with the handsome one.”

Soren’s cheeks redden, but Iric speaks before he can say anything. “I’m the handsome one!”

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes, he is,” Aros says.

I can’t help it. The bickering is contagious. “No, he’s not.”

Soren rewards me with a perfectly handsome smile.

“Two against two,” Irrenia says. “That means Soren has the tie-breaking vote.”

“He doesn’t get the tie-breaking vote regarding his own looks!” Iric says.

“In that case, your vote doesn’t count, either. So Soren wins.”

Aros eventually calms down Iric’s outrage. Iric doesn’t know Irrenia enough to know she’s only teasing him, and I’m far too amused by the exchange to make her put a stop to it.

The door opens suddenly, and all talking comes to a halt as my father steps inside.

Inwardly, I groan.

“Are the worst of her injuries tended to?” he asks. “There’s a matter Rasmira needs to see to.”

“Can it not wait until tomorrow?” I ask. Is he going to make me talk to the elders? If he intends to parade me around to seek more praise from villagers—

“I don’t think you’ll want to put this off. It’s to do with your mother.”

That has me on my feet so quickly, Irrenia nearly drops the damp cloth in her hand.