The Spirit Wilds: Magic of the Green Sage (Fall of the Sages Book 1), стр. 17

More came, and then more after that. All small spirits, so many and so fast that Dorrick couldn’t even get good looks at them before they were zapped. He still didn’t know where they’d been all this time while they’d hiked through the wilds, but they were there then, in full force and eager to kill. This was what the knights were made for: to protect humanity from the monsters and spirits of the world.

Things went very well for a while. It was almost all small spirits, instantly vaporized by the warding circle. One large spirit made it through, a dog-like thing with inky black skin and eyes that burned like hot coals. It howled a cry that was so demonic and unnatural that it made water well up in Dorrick’s eyes. A hellhound, a creature that emitted sorrow. He didn’t know they even lived in these wilds. The monster rushed them, but it was filled with rage, blinded by it. It barely saw Sir Nogrund before he slammed into it with his shield and stabbed it through the chest with his sword. It wailed one last rage-filled cry before it disintegrated.

So this was what being a knight was really about.

The spirits slowly stopped coming a few minutes later. There were only so many within the Godly Ruin’s range. Still, nothing too big, and certainly nothing like the thing described by the villagers. Perhaps it was too far away, out of range of the potion.

Dorrick almost thought that maybe they’d just go back, call it a day. They couldn’t track it to the ends of the earth, after all.

That was when it showed up. When Dorrick had foolishly let his guard down.

It came out of nowhere, somehow, despite its size, which was very worrisome. It tore through a thicket and appeared, a mass of bark and moss and dead flowers and…just an abomination. Just as it was described by the villagers, the nature spirit was a monster, something out of a nightmare.

Saying that the spirit resembled a bear did not prepare Dorrick for what he would see. Yes, it looked like a bear, but a bear with an unhinged jaw and glowing red eyes and skin that looked both to be rotting and made of soggy bark. It had bear arms and legs up until the point where the joints were. From there down, large rough eagle legs sprouted from the fur, an unnatural sight if he’d ever seen one.

In short, it was an unholy abomination. And it stared right at him.

Dorrick cursed.

Without a moment’s hesitation, the monster charged him. It bellowed, a rage-filled sound that shook the air and made his ears tremble. It was guttural and awful, a sound that grated on his very soul. For a split-second, he was frozen with fear, watching the beast charge at him, but as it got close, Dorrick snapped out of it.

He dove to his left as the spirit swiped the space he’d occupied with its talons. They were the size of daggers, and they’d mince him to pieces in an instant if he let them.

Just narrowly avoiding death, he came up in a crouch and brought his shield out in front of him just in time to block the monster’s next blow. The force of it was like being rammed by a boulder rolling down a mountain. His arms buckled, pain flaring through him, as he was tossed back like he weighed nothing. With a bone-shaking crash, he landed against a tree, the wind thoroughly knocked out of him.

With a groan, Dorrick tried to open his eyes. His vision was blurry. He’d hit his head against the tree, and the small helmet they all wore wasn’t exactly designed to take blunt blows. Still, as much as he would have preferred to just sleep, he couldn’t quit yet.

He pushed to his feet, though with the chainmail and his throbbing body, it proved to be a chore. With some concentration—and a fair amount of grimacing that bordered on teeth-grinding—he managed to get his head straight. If they lived, he was going to be very sore later.

The spirit had forgotten about him as it charged Ollo and Evan. Ollo was nimble enough to dodge the beast, but Evan barely had time to bring his shield up. The spirit barreled into him, leading with its shoulder. With a cry, Evan was lifted off his feet and thrown against a tree. He broke a branch and fell hard into a bush. He didn’t get up.

“Evan!” Ollo yelled. He raised his sword, ready to charge headlong at the monster.

“Stay steady, Ollo!” Sir Nogrund cried as he turned to block another spirit with his shield. It looked like a green, gassy mess of a bird. His shield slammed against it, staggering it before he drove his sword home.

Ollo was wise enough to heed their mentor’s words. Dorrick was closest to Evan, who still hadn’t gotten up. Thankfully, he hadn’t been thrown from the warding circle, or the spirits may have torn him apart. They were still charging the clearing, though there were considerably less of them now.

“Chella, Ollo, you two distract it! Keep it in front of you!” Dorrick called. “I’ll check on Evan!” They nodded and spaced themselves a few paces apart so they could maneuver with space and still evade the monster.

It roared and rampaged toward them, giving Dorrick the opening he needed. He ran toward Evan. Before he got there, a serpentine spirit with bright blue scales that glowed like flames pushed through the wards and launched itself at Dorrick. It was too fast for him to throw up his shield, so instead—with a yelp he wasn’t proud of—he dropped onto his rear, just narrowly avoiding the creature’s fangs.

His instincts kicked in. He knew it was about to rebound and come at him again. It was fast, too fast, but this was what he trained for. Without even looking, he slid out of his crouch and swiveled