The Spirit Wilds: Magic of the Green Sage (Fall of the Sages Book 1), стр. 19
There was no time to waste. He hopped to his feet and whirled around, ready to face the monster again, to do whatever it would take to keep it from his friends. But when he turned, he found the monster staggering, eyes on him. It groaned—no, more of a mewling whine—as it took one step forward, then another, before it disintegrated into black flakes that disappeared into the air.
And just like that, it was gone.
He’d done it.
He threw down his helmet and ran his gauntleted hand through his thick blond locks. Holy hell, I did it!
Though it was gone, Dorrick didn’t take the time to dwell on the enormity of what he’d just done. He went to the black Godly Ruin crystal that was still pulsing, still drawing in spirits, and smashed it with his sword. It was no longer needed. When the shattered pieces hit the grass, it returned to liquid form and seeped into the earth. The air instantly felt lighter.
With that done, he made his way to where Marcella and Sir Nogrund still lay. Marcella was struggling to stand, though she seemed okay. Sir Nogrund, however, was not as well. He groaned and lolled about the ground, blood running along his chainmail from where the monster had cut him.
Dorrick rushed to his side while Ollo went to help his brother. Marcella knelt beside their captain and rolled him onto his stomach.
“Help me undo his armor,” she said, voice firm. Dorrick didn’t argue.
Sir Nogrund winced as they did their best to get his breastplate and chainmail free without hurting him too much. But still, he groaned and cursed.
“So sorry, sir,” Marcella said, her brows furrowed with concern and concentration. “We’ve almost got you out. Then I’ll bandage you as best I can and get you back to the village.”
He pinched his eyes closed from the pain, his bald head shiny from the sweat. He smiled. “Sounds good.” Then he bit on his lip as Dorrick and Marcella finally got the last of his armor free. Marcella, who was the best out of them at first aid, started cleaning and bandaging the wound. From what Dorrick could tell, it didn’t appear too deep, but they had to be cautious. No telling what the scratch from a wild spirit could do.
As she did her best, Sir Nogrund craned his neck to look at Dorrick. He smiled. “Y-you did good, young Vane.”
Dorrick went rigid from the praise. “Thank…thank you, sir.”
Sir Nogrund chuckled, then winced immediately. “That was the stupidest move I’ve ever seen, but sometimes a knight needs to be brave and do what needs to be done.”
“I’m sure glad it worked.”
“Agreed.” Sir Nogrund gritted his teeth and put his head against the grass, eyes shut again. “Your father…will be proud.”
Dorrick didn’t say anything to that, but it made his chest explode. He felt light as a feather. Warmth spread thought him. My father? Proud of me? He smiled. He didn’t think he’d ever see the day.
He wiped the sweat from his brow. He’d done it. First mission: accomplished. They were alive, the beast was dead, and Dorrick Vane was the crazy soon-to-be-knight who slew it and saved his friends.
7
Dorrick
Once Sir Nogrund’s wound was dressed, Ollo and Evan, who was feeling a lot better, helped carry him back to the village. They received a hero’s welcome, lots of applause. It was a long hike back, slow going since they had to be careful with the captain, so it was sunset when they arrived. Marcella and what passed for a doctor in the village did what they could with Sir Nogrund. They cleaned the wound again, careful to make sure that there was no poison or infection, then he was stitched and bandaged and given a painkiller potion that must have cost quite a pretty penny.
After that, the village threw them a feast. They all drank mediocre wine and ate bread and roasted bird, though Dorrick was unaware what kind of bird. It seemed that even the villagers were unsure. But that hardly mattered. It was a night of celebration, which Dorrick enjoyed like he’d never enjoyed anything in his life.
They stayed the night with one of the families. They had to sleep on the floor, but none of them minded. Dorrick was just happy that everyone was alive and relatively well. His head still hurt on occasion and his limbs were sore, but otherwise, he was fine. Same with Evan, though he probably had a concussion. Marcella and Ollo were perfectly fine, which was good news.
The next morning, they bid their good-bye to the grateful villagers and left. Dorrick hoped that they would stay safe, away from the wrath of any future angry spirits. Traveling through the wilds though, he had his doubts.
Though still banged up and hobbled, the troupe was in good spirits as they trekked west back to the city. They had to stay on their guard, since you never knew what the wilds would throw at you, but they stuck to the road and nothing eventful happened.
Dorrick did notice that since they’d defeated that giant spirit, the wilds had returned to being…well, wild. Birds, insects, and all manner of creatures chirped and made their calls, filling the morning air with a cacophony of songs. They no longer walked alone, as small sprites of varying colored lights bounced between the trees along the road, whispering in their indiscernibly high-pitched language. He even swore he saw one of the tree folk hanging from a branch, gold-green eyes staring intently, but when he looked again, nothing was there.
Best to be on the lookout, he thought. Tree folk weren’t usually hostile, but he knew that they weren’t fond of knights.
They all breathed a collective sigh of relief when they arrived at the waystation. Their steeds were all in the stables, looking clean and fed. Sir Nogrund paid the stable boy and the station master well, as those helping the knights was always given