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.
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.
In metal.
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.
“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’t have one. 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.
A clink to 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 … something at 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.