The Spirit Wilds: Magic of the Green Sage (Fall of the Sages Book 1), стр. 45

Dorrick didn’t want to approach, didn’t want the verbal lashing that he was sure was coming, but he had to. He had to see his friend, gone as she was, so with each painful step, he inched closer until he was only a few paces away, close enough to see the wrinkles on the man’s face, and the familiarity of him. Close enough for the man to notice him.

He whipped his head around as if Dorrick had snuck up behind him and attempted to scare him. The man stood fast, his face still red and streaked with tears. It was only then that the familiarity of the man struck the younger Vane. This was Marcella’s father, Lord Elron Bather. Not a man one wanted to cross, and Dorrick was in line for his ire.

Lord Elron erupted and snatched up Dorrick by his collar. “You!” he yelled, spit flying in the new knight’s face. “What happened here? Tell me why my daughter is dead!”

The lord’s grip on Dorrick was ironclad and he was still weak from the fight. He wanted to break free, to run and flee and hide and cry and mourn alone, but that wasn’t an option. He was a Knight of the Red Flame, and he could not retreat from this. He took a deep breath and calmly put his hands over the other man’s.

“Sir, I’m— I’m so sorry. If you would please calm down and allow me to explain—”

“Don’t tell me to calm down, you worthless son of a—”

“Lord Bather!” Commander Vane roared. Elron went completely still, though the fire didn’t leave his eyes. “I’ll politely remind you that you are addressing a knight of the order, and my son.”

The nobleman scowled with disgust but wriggled his mustache and released his hold on Dorrick. He took one step back, but he remained within arm’s reach. He stuck a stubby finger out and jammed it in Dorrick’s chest.

“Tell me now.”

Dorrick gulped. He looked to his father. The man just nodded grimly. “Speak plainly, boy.”

He was too overwhelmed by the scene and emotions to even be mad at the fact that his father still called him boy. That was insignificant in the face of all this death. He didn’t want to have to recap what happened, relive it, see his friend die, recite it like it was just some news he heard from a barker…but he had to.

So he told them, every detail he could remember. How they’d had the upper hand until that witch and girl showed up. How they’d stopped them from being able to kill the spirit, how they fought them and allowed the spirit to overwhelm them. Dorrick was never one to make excuses, to assign blame to another, but in this instance, how could he not? They weren’t prepared for someone with magic showing up to help the spirit.

With each word, Lord Bather seemed to get madder. “This is ludicrous,” he finally spat, throwing his hands in the air. “Another magic user…pish posh. Only Lady Reshni can use magic. Everyone knows that.”

“With all due respect, milord, I know what I saw.”

“Yeah, well, maybe you saw wrong. Maybe you’re lying to cover up your incompetence. Incompetence that got my daughter killed and four young, promising squires cut down.”

Dorrick tried to keep his anger down. He understood that the lord was upset, and he had that right, but this wasn’t his Dorrick’s fault.

“Sir, please. I did all I could do. We were totally unprepared—”

“Ha! See? Unprepared he says.” The man was hysterical. He got in Dorrick’s face and pushed him, hard. “Unprepared, incompetent. You killed my daughter!”

That about did it. The young knight couldn’t hold in his rage or stay patient any longer with this pampered lord. Maybe it was his fault. A part of him felt that way. A part of him blamed himself for what happened. But he would not stand this, not from this man, not from someone who knew nothing of him or what he’d gone through and done to make it to where he was now.

So, with a roar, he lashed out and punched him square in the jaw.

There was a terrible crack. White hot pain exploded from his hand. The lord reared back, blood spurting from his mouth. Dorrick’s momentum carried him forward, and he was ready to follow Lord Elron to the ground and pummel him further, but then his father was suddenly there. He shoved his son back into the waiting arms of two knights who Dorrick couldn’t see. They grabbed him by his arms and forced him onto his knees.

“Enough of this nonsense,” his father said, calm as ever.

But Dorrick would not calm. He was nowhere close to calm. He was scared and tired and sad and angry and in pain. He just wanted to make someone hurt.

“Why are you even here?” he yelled, struggling to free himself from the knights’ grips, but to no avail. “Why is Lord Bather here? And how did you get here so fast?” The time for decorum was over. Dorrick wanted answers and his father would give it to him. This whole situation made no sense to him.

His father was unfazed by Dorrick’s outburst. He folded his arms behind his back, cape billowing in the wind. “Lady Reshni received a vision. She was vague on details as usual, but she advised that I personally lead a company of men here, along with Lord Bather. She would not tell me what I would find, but she was urgent, and I have learned to heed her warnings.”

So one magical witch causes my friends to die, and another makes my father come to personally torment me over it? Dorrick was quickly losing faith in magic and sages and other unworldly things.

“As for how we got here,” his father continued, “we got here as you did. All my men and our mounts took Wild Breath. We galloped through the wilds and mountains, nonstop, and arrived in two days.”

“So, I— I’ve been unconscious