The Spirit Wilds: Magic of the Green Sage (Fall of the Sages Book 1), стр. 12
The girl spread her arms wide. The cobrunnies were charging down the hill now. In the girl’s right hand was a long wooden staff. It appeared to be a branch of some sort. At the top of it were several leaves and a beautiful gold-and-white flower. Tuni didn’t know if it was significant, but it was nice to see some beauty before she died.
Tuni didn’t know what became of the girl. She couldn’t keep her eyes open, couldn’t stave off death. In the end, she didn’t feel any pain as her body had become completely numb. She was thankful for that. Her eyes grew heavier and fell shut, and Tuni went to greet death like a long-lost companion.
5
Dorrick
The mission started out pretty standard for Squire Dorrick Vane. He and his squad had marched into the Spirit Wilds under the orders of Sir Nogrund Ryme, one of the senior knights of their order, the Knights of the Red Flame. Most knights usually went on missions with one or two squires, but as the order had an abundance of trainees recently, many of which were upper squires on the verge of knighthood, Dorrick’s father had decided to bunch his friends together into one squad.
So there they were, trekking through the savage Spirit Wilds, in full chainmail and gear, hot as hell and loud as a flock of gulls by the quay.
And Dorrick couldn’t be happier.
He’d worked for so long to prove himself to the knights, his fellow trainees, and to his father, the esteemed Commander Vanter Vane. He did everything asked of him, went above and beyond in everything. He volunteered for anything, even mucking the stables, just so his father would be proud of him.
Now, he was finally going on a mission into the Spirit Wilds. Maybe I’ll earn my knighthood soon, he thought with a smile. One could only hope.
He wasn’t thrilled about the wilds, of course, for what sane person would? He’d heard all the stories, of all the wild and dangerous spirits and creatures that ran rampant throughout, the mischievous tree folk, and the barbaric humans that populated the vast expanse of wilderness south of their great city. They were steadily expanding, making farming communities and opening mines, but it was hard and slow.
The people of the wilds, as backward as they may have been, were still people, and thus needed their help. And the knights would oblige. Hence their mission today.
Dorrick gripped the hilt of his sword at his hip as he trudged along with his comrades. His eyes darted amongst the trees, between their gray bark and large blue-green leaves. They’d walked for hours since dismounting at the waystation miles back, as Sir Nogrund didn’t want to risk the horses to tree folk corruption, whispering in their ears. And Dorrick had kept his eyes peeled for tree folk and spirits, but as yet, the Spirit Wilds had appeared not so spirit-y.
He couldn’t decide if that was a good thing or not.
“You’re never going to see them if you stare so intently,” said the voice of his best friend, Marcella Bather, as she strolled alongside him, not seeming to have a care in the world.
Dorrick didn’t heed her advice. “I won’t let them get the jump on me.”
“They’ll get the jump on you if they want to get the jump on you.”
Which was probably true. He’d learned in his studies that the elvish tree folk, who were not quite spirit but definitely not human, could dematerialize into the trees and travel between them via the root systems. They could be in the trees right now…watching, waiting for the perfect time to attack.
He smirked and shook his head. That type of paranoia could get a knight killed. Still, he wouldn’t let his guard down.
They stayed silent and in formation for another hour, Sir Nogrund in front, Dorrick and Marcella at the rear, and their fellow squires Evan and Ollo in between. Evan and Ollo were brothers, sons of a low district butcher, but they had hearts of gold that Dorrick sometimes envied. Dorrick was a good person, but those two were the sweetest things on the planet. Perhaps too sweet for the knights, as sometimes you had to be hard to get done what needed doing, but that didn’t make Dorrick like them any less.
Although they were brothers, only a year apart in age, they looked almost nothing alike. Someone passing them on the street would find no resemblance in the two. Evan was as big as an elephant beetle and hit like one too. Wide face and big ears and a nose as big as an apple, his eyes were small and gray, and his round cheeks were streaked with dimples. Ollo was a hair taller than his brother, lean with muscle, chiseled features to his brother’s round ones. He had a terrible burn scar along the left side of his jaw from when he’d played too close to the oven as a child. It did not deter the affections of their fellow female squires, though it was frowned upon to take on lovers within the ranks.
Dorrick found himself often dreaming of the chance to have a relationship like those two. As an only child to the commander and with an absent mother, he’d had a lonely childhood. Those two and Marcella were his only family, really, but he’d never had the same love from them that they showed each other.
“You’re being introspective, Dorr,” Marcella said with a cheeky smile. His face warmed.
“I don’t catch your meaning.”
“You always get this blank expression when you’re deep in thought, and your brows knit together so fierce they look like a bushy caterpillar.”
Ahead of them, Ollo sputtered a laugh at that comment but said nothing further. That just made Dorrick’s whole face red, until even his ears felt warm. Marcella snickered, running a hand over her red hair. It was tied back in a tight knot, though a few