The Spirit Wilds: Magic of the Green Sage (Fall of the Sages Book 1), стр. 15

6

Dorrick

As it turned out, tracking a massive spirit wasn’t so difficult. It left quite the mess in its path. Trees bent and snapped, grass and bushes crushed, plus the very obvious tracks, which were alarmingly large. Shaped like a bird’s, they were four pronged, with three front talons and a heel talon, and they were so large that Dorrick could curl up comfortably within the space they left.

This spirit had to be humongous. So this was what he got when he finally got to go on a mission to prove himself. Typical.

But he would see this through and overcome it, because that was what being a Vane meant. It was hard work and dedication and never giving up, defying the odds. If he was to make his father proud, he would get through this with a smile on his face. Dorrick just had to make sure that smiling face was still alive when all was said and done.

They kept jogging for about a mile. It was tiring, but part of their training had squires running for miles and miles around the city in full chainmail, shield and sword and all. They had to be able to travel long distances on foot, because sometimes, horses couldn’t make it through the perilous parts of the wilds. So even though this run was very tiring and uncomfortable, Dorrick could have kept it up for hours.

Which was almost needed, given the spirit had gone a long way.

Dorrick suspected that maybe it was this rampaging that was causing the wilds to feel so lifeless. That would explain things, as he could understand not wanting to be anywhere near such a monster while it was rampaging.

After several miles following the path of destruction, it suddenly stopped. The tracks disappeared. They reached the last broken tree, and then it was just the forest, as it had been. That wasn’t good.

Sir Nogrund lifted a fist in the air, the signal for them to stop. “Be on your guard, squires. Spirits can dematerialize through objects, even the big ones. It could be nearby.”

“Is there any way to know when one is coming?” Dorrick asked.

“Unfortunately, there isn’t. You just have to have gut feeling, use instincts. That’s what makes spirits so dangerous. Their unpredictability.”

The squires nodded. It was something they’d been taught: expect the unexpected when it came to spirits. Tree folk had habits, as they were more or less people in a way, and creatures had habits that could be studied and quantified, too. But spirits? They were as numerous and different as snowflakes.

Sir Nogrund unsheathed his sword and strapped his shield to his other arm. He gave the others a look that told them to do the same. As Dorrick unslung his shield from his back, his heart started to race, pounding so loudly in his ears that he was sure the others could hear it. This was it. They were about to fight a giant monster and save a bunch of villagers. This was what he wanted.

His first mission, his first taste of action, his first real chance to prove his father wrong and make him proud.

So why am I terrified?

He took a deep breath and swung his sword around, keeping his muscles and joints loose. It did little to calm the rapid-fire beating of his heart. As the others prepared themselves, Marcella approached him. She was good to go, sword in her right hand and shield in her left.

She arched an eyebrow and frowned. “You okay?” she asked. Of course. Marcella had always been able to read him like a book, so why would now be any different?

His lips flattened into a line. “Just a bit nervous is all. First time and all that.”

“Me too,” she said, her eyes batting. “Feel this.” She grabbed his shield arm and guided his hand to the exposed flesh of her neck. For a moment, he felt nothing, but then he felt it—the frantic rhythm of her pulse. “I’m terrified right now.” She smiled. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to put on a brave face and give it my all.”

Dorrick’s cheeks warmed. He smiled, averting his gaze from her eyes, or the creamy skin of her neck. “You’re right, Chella. Thank you.” He dropped his arm and readied himself.

She grinned and bumped his shoulder with her own. “Buck up, big guy. We got this.”

And as always, Marcella managed to cheer him up. It was her special gift, and she was a woman with many such remarkable gifts. He loved that about her. Of course, these thoughts just made his heart thud even louder.

They prepared themselves, all with swords and shields out and at the ready. Of course, all squires were required to train with all manner of weapons, but on missions, they would just take a sword and shield. It wouldn’t be until they became full-fledged knights that they would they specialize in something. Sir Nogrund, Dorrick, and Marcella were all prototypical sword and shield users, though obviously they were proficient in all forms of combat. Evan would use a warhammer when he earned his colors, and his brother… Well, Ollo always had trouble deciding things. As of then, he’d narrowed it down to using a halberd or dual-headed axes. He was equally deadly with both.

Dorrick was a swordsman, through and through, like his father, who was considered one of the best in all the world. It was a lot to live up to, but he strove to prove it every single day.

Sir Nogrund grunted and rolled his shoulders, the old joints groaning. “Okay, squires. I’m going to draw it to us.”

“How?” Marcella asked.

He lifted an eyebrow. “Ah, someone hasn’t been paying attention in their alchemy lessons.” With a wry smile, he dug into the one of the pouches of his bandolier. A moment later, he pulled out a large, clear flask of black liquid and held it