The Spirit Wilds: Magic of the Green Sage (Fall of the Sages Book 1), стр. 40
There was a problem, though. The guard towers on either side of the open gates were smashed to bits, the debris littering the opening. Even from a distance, Dorrick could make out the bodies.
He cursed. “Be on your guard.”
It was amazing that not even a fortnight ago, he was on the receiving end of those orders, just a young squire on his first mission into the wilds, terrified and excited all at once. Now he gave the orders, and these squires’ lives were his responsibility. Boy, life can really turn on its head in a flash.
The squad preceded through the gates and found the town in worse shape than they feared.
The mining town of Merenstead was on a long street that led up the mountain, each side lined by tall, dark wooden buildings with steep gabled roofs to keep the brunt of the snow off. The town had a very warm look to it. Or it would normally, if not for the blood, the bodies, and the destruction.
The town was in ruin. Many of the buildings had holes punched in them, with whole walls smashed away. Windows shattered, roofs caved in, doors broken, porches and stairs broken under a terrible weight.
And there were the bodies. Townsfolk were strewn about, broken bodies, arms and legs bent at nauseating angles. Some were smashed to a bloody pulp. Dorrick knew he would see some horrible things in his years as a knight—it came with the territory that they wouldn’t always be able to save everyone or get there in time—but this… This was horrific.
He had to avert his gaze. The others didn’t fare any better. Borner keeled over and emptied his stomach. Tomys gagged. Marcella and the other two simply kept their eyes on the ground and covered their mouths. Dorrick would have reprimanded Borner for being so loud with his vomiting, but he understood. It wasn’t like the squire was doing it on purpose.
Once they gathered their wits about them, they continued on, though the sense of unease didn’t leave them.
They weren’t alone. Dorrick felt eyes watching them, and he knew it wasn’t paranoia. Perhaps there were some survivors, hiding in their homes, watching from the windows of houses that hadn’t been demolished. But that wasn’t all. He distinctly heard the high-pitched, rapid chatter of tree folk, their words as fast as a hummingbird.
If they were here, then the wards that the town used to keep out minor spirits were down. Tree folk weren’t actually spirits, but the wards usually deterred them too.
When Dorrick turned down an alley and found two tree folk crouched over a body, he yelled and waved. “Hey, get out of here!” The tree folk jolted up and melted into the wood of the buildings beside them. That was a very unnerving ability they had.
Dorrick ran to the side of the body, hoping perhaps they were still alive. But it was abundantly clear that they were dead. Their chest was crushed in, blood and bone everywhere. Dorrick grimaced.
He cursed and stood. “Let’s keep moving. We have to find this monster and put it down.”
“Before it can do this to another town,” Marcella said, her voice soft and somber.
“Right.”
They came to the end of the town, where the road then sloped up the mountain to the mines above. There were huge craters in the road—no, footprints. As wide as a merchant’s cart. And they led up the mountain. As he looked behind him, Dorrick noticed the imprints in the town road, but they weren’t as deep or as noticeable.
The monster had to be above, so they followed the road up.
He figured that it would have gone all the way back to the mines and into its home deep in the earth, but when they came over the first rise and the earth flattened out, there it was: the rock spirit, hunched over.
It was beyond massive. Bigger than he’d anticipated. Dorrick knew that rock spirits were large, but the stories didn’t do them justice. This thing was as tall as the buildings in town, and nearly as wide. It looked like it was just a piece of mountain that broke off and started walking. All craggy lines and gray stone and loose brown soil that fell from it with every bit of movement. He understood why the town looked like it had been through a rockslide.
This thing was gigantic.
His squires gasped behind him. They were as surprised as he was.
“We have to kill that thing?” Payne gasped, unsure and frightened.
Dorrick nodded. “Aye. The trick will be getting the drop on it.” He took a knee and started digging through his pack. “I just need to get—”
He didn’t get a chance to continue. The spirit suddenly whipped its head around to look at them. Uh oh. The spirit roared, grabbed a bolder nearby, lifted it like it was a pebble, and hurled it at them.
“Scatter!” he cried.
They all dove apart as the bolder, which was bigger than an ox, smashed into the spot where they’d stood. The force of the impact made him fall. It landed with a resounding boom that shook the earth.
In no time, the spirit was up and bounding for them. He reared back a fist and brought it down. Dorrick only had time to dive. It crashed. Boom. He was rolling down the hill. He stopped himself. Caught his breath. Scampered back up the hill to the others. He reached the top and his heart skipped.
The others were dazed. Borner was in a motionless, bloody heap with Tomys at his side. Payne had his sword out and was standing at the ready. Marcella was still dazed, but she was helping a shocked Nessa to her feet. They’d be too slow if the spirit attacked