The Spirit Wilds: Magic of the Green Sage (Fall of the Sages Book 1), стр. 18
The shield smashed into the snake with enough force to kill a mortal man, but this was no man. Then he used the “stun and sting” technique, as the move was called in training. Bash with your shield and bring your weapon down in a single motion. And so he did. As the snake crumbled under the shock of his shield, Dorrick brought his sword around and sliced clean through its neck. He didn’t wait to see it evaporate into nothing.
Heart pounding, gasping for breath, he reached his large friend. Just from first glance, there didn’t seem to be anything wrong. None of his limbs were at unnatural angles, and he didn’t see any blood, though that didn’t mean he wasn’t bleeding beneath his armor.
Dorrick jammed his sword into the ground and tossed his shield aside to cradle Evan’s head. The large brother was out cold, his mouth ajar.
“Evan,” Dorrick said. “Evan!” This time more urgent. He shook his friend’s head lightly, aware that doing it too hard could make matters worse. But if he could get him up and awake, it would do wonders, if only so Dorrick wouldn’t have to watch him and could get back into the fight.
After a few seconds, Evan’s eyes fluttered open, then slammed shut just as quick, his face twisting into a grimace.
“Ugh, that hurt,” he said.
Dorrick smiled. “Everything okay? Does anything hurt?”
Evan still didn’t open his eyes, but he shook his head. “N-no, just my head. Ringing like church bells.”
“That’ll pass,” Dorrick said with a grin. He stood and retrieved his sword and shield. “Take a breather, regain your wits. Then join the fight, but only if you’re able.”
“Aye, thanks.”
The younger Vane turned from his friend and looked to rejoin the others. From the looks of things, the fight was going fine. Marcella, Ollo, and Sir Nogrund had the spirit surrounded on three sides, spaced equally apart, all trying to keep its attention. The rest of the barrage of minor spirits appeared to have ceased, which was a relief.
That still left one big problem to deal with.
Their distractions worked, until it crashed down in an instant. Marcella moved to her left, while she slammed her sword against her shield to keep the spirit’s eyes on her. However, she didn’t notice the large root beside her until it was too late. Her foot caught under it and she clattered to the ground, her sword and shield dancing away from her.
That was all the opening the spirt needed. It focused its wrath on her.
Dorrick was too far away to do anything. He put an arm out helplessly as the beast whirled on her, standing monstrously tall on its hind legs. “No!” he screamed.
It brought down its talons with a roar. This was it, he was about to lose his best friend, the only person that made the rigorous life of training and lectures worth it, made it bearable. She was about to be killed, and on their first mission no less, their chance to finally prove themselves and earn the ranks they’d strived so hard to accomplish.
What kind of sick joke is this? he asked himself, dread weighing heavy on him, making his heart feel like it was made of lead.
Just as he thought the end was there for her, Sir Nogrund came to Marcella’s aid and tackled her, shielding her body with his own. The spirit’s talons raked across his back, tearing through the chainmail like it was nothing. He and Marcella fell to the ground, he on top of her, both disarmed and dazed. Alive…but not for long.
Snap out of it!
Dorrick shook his head and made his feet move. He couldn’t afford to freeze, not in the heat of battle, not even when a comrade was about to die. Any hesitation could mean death, for him or his friends. He couldn’t do that.
Sword tight in his grip, he summoned all the courage within him and yelled at the top of his lungs. It succeeded in getting the rogue spirit’s attention. It turned to him, its smoldering eyes glowering at him, unhinged jaw working a growl. But that didn’t matter, Dorrick had to keep it away from the others.
He gulped, said a silent prayer, and charged the abomination.
Was it bravado? A death wish? He didn’t know. All he knew was he couldn’t sit still and not act. He dropped his shield and gripped his sword in two hands, so that his aim was sure and his arms firm and strong. He ran straight at the beast. It was confused for just a moment before it bellowed again, the sound booming through the forest. He could have sworn that its jagged, nightmare of a mouth smiled at him.
Look at this idiot, it was probably thinking. Did spirits think? He knew some did, but this one struck him as too wild to have any form of rational thought in its mind.
But who was he to talk of rational thoughts? He was charging an enraged nature spirit the size of a house with just his sword and his courage. That wasn’t the pinnacle of human rationality, but it may have been a peak example of their sometimes-unearned sense of bravado and arrogance.
That was all he needed on that day.
The spirit bounded toward him on its unnatural avian legs, him on his two little human ones. They met in an instant. The thing swung at him, but its claw passed through empty air, because with a cry like a barbarian, Dorrick dropped into a slide and slid beneath the spirit. As he did, he brought his sword up and sliced it from its stomach to what passed for the spirit’s crotch.
Dorrick screamed the whole way, heart pounding, the slick grass carrying him surprisingly fast. Before he knew it, he was staring at open air again, the beast behind him. He gasped in shock