The Spirit Wilds: Magic of the Green Sage (Fall of the Sages Book 1)

by Jada Fisher

  Another hour south and a few conversations with some playful spirits later, she came across something else she’d never seen before: a new creature, one that she had to draw.

  Ahead of her and sitting beside a rotting mushroom stalk was a strange little animal. It looked very similar to a rabbit, only it had purple fur, and instead of a small fluffy tail, a long and slimy snake tail adorned its backside. Tuni had never seen an animal like it, but she had heard stories of it and knew the creature to be a cobrunny.

  Tuni absolutely loved any and everything that she deemed to be cute and adorable, and the cobrunny fit that description. She tiptoed her way toward the creature, trying her best not to startle it in any way. It lifted its head from eating grass and stared at her. It wiggled its little button-like nose and looked at her with what Tuni guessed was both caution and curiosity. She kept creeping toward the animal and it in turn kept eyeing her with suspicion, but it did not flee. Tuni expected the little thing to bolt any second, but it stood pat.

  The cobrunny still hadn’t moved and now Tuni stood before it. She crouched down so that it was almost at face level with her. It continued to watch her with curiosity. She reached out and began to scratch the hairs on its cute little head, between its long ears.

  “What a nice little pet you are,” Tuni said with a giggle. “We have nothing like you back home.”

  Tuni couldn’t help but smile brightly as she gently caressed the cobrunny. She adored its fluffiness and desperately wanted to bring it home with her. She was sure that Telli would love it too. For several minutes more, she continued to pet her new furry friend and they both seemed as content as could be.

  That was when it all went wrong.

  The hairs on the cobrunny’s head and spine rose and a sudden air of hostility unfurled from the creature. Tuni looked down at it and saw a new reddish glint in its eyes. Suddenly, her sense of wonder was shattered, immediately replaced by fear. The cobrunny reared back from her hand and revealed two long, sharp, and wicked fangs and before Tuni could even think to pull away, the cobrunny lunged and bit down on her arm.

  Tuni screamed.

  The cobrunny’s fangs tore into her tattooed forearm and caused a terrible, burning pain to race through her. Tuni swatted the little demon away and then unceremoniously recoiled and fell onto her bottom. She clutched her injured arm to her chest, willing the pain to leave her, but it only got worse. Tears stung her eyes as the hot ache spread throughout her whole arm. She looked down at the wound and what she saw made her want to cry even harder.

  The wound had already turned black and the veins running away from it were black as well. Her whole arm was turning black. Venom… a powerful venom.

  Tuni looked back at the beast that had bit her, and her heart nearly stopped. The cobrunny was no longer alone but surrounded by dozens of its fellows. They all sat silently and stared soullessly back at Tuni, ready and waiting for the venom to take her. A hundred eyes, a hundred fangs, prepared to end her.

  Tuni didn’t plan on making it easy for them.

  She jumped to her feet, turned, and bolted. A second hadn’t passed before she heard the sound of hundreds of little paws pattering against the ground. The chase was on. She didn’t care that she’d left her bow and bag behind, Tuni just ran as fast as she could. She didn’t pay attention to her surroundings or to what direction she was going because she knew that if she stopped, she was dead. The sound of fifty squeaking carnivores filled her ears. They were right on her heels.

  The deathly pain in her arm was only getting worse and had spread to her shoulder. She dared not look at her arm for fear that the sight would weaken her senses. It was hard enough running with one arm clutched against her chest.

  Tuni didn’t know how long she ran, she didn’t care, but soon enough, her legs grew tired and her chest tightened as her breath became haggard, her lungs finding it harder to acquire air. But she couldn’t stop, for the demons still nipped at her heels as she sprinted for dear life. She did not care about the cuts and scrapes and bruises she accrued as sharp branches reached out and tried to impede her. Blood trickled from cuts all over her body, but she didn’t care.

  Her legs were failing her. One cobrunny caught up to her and sank its fangs into her ankle. The pain was so sudden and terrible that she crashed and stumbled, but she somehow managed to regain her footing without losing a step. At some point, she suspected that she screamed, but she couldn’t hear it over the sound of her breathing or the loud thumping of her frantic heart.

  The pain in her foot traveled up her leg. The venom in her shoulder was nearly to her heart. Tuni knew she would be dead soon, but she didn’t stop. Running was all she had now.

  Tuni sobbed. It made it much more difficult to run, but she couldn’t help it. She overflowed with emotion as she neared the certainty of her end. She wept for the life that she was losing and wept for the friends and family she was leaving behind: her baby sister Telli, her mother, Sava, and Rukshin and his sister Rika. She’d miss them and they’d miss her terribly.

  And the last she’d said to her mom were those horrible words. Gods, what an idiot she was. This would destroy her mother.

  She had to risk a glance back. Tuni knew that she shouldn’t, told herself that she shouldn’t, but she went against her better judgment and looked back at her pursuers. Immediately, she regretted her decision as she saw that the cobrunnies were barely a few feet away. One misstep and she was dead. Tuni knew that she was likely dead anyway on account of the venom coursing through her body, but she preferred not to be eaten alive. She turned her head back in front of her.

  WHACK!

  Stars appeared in Tuni’s vision and pain exploded in her head as a branch surprised her and smacked her on the forehead. I’m going to die, she thought. Now she knew it was a certainty. Before she knew what was happening, she was falling, her feet no longer touching solid ground.

  She hit the ground hard and continued to roll down a hill that had appeared out of nowhere. Everything in her being was screaming, pain encompassing her. She was wrapped in a cocoon of agony. Tuni crashed through bushes and shrubs and was stabbed by branches and beaten by the hard ground. She tumbled for an eternity, until she was sure that she would be dead long before she hit the ground. But at last, she landed hard and didn’t move again.

  The taste of blood filled her mouth. Tuni tried to move, but none of her limbs would obey her. All she knew was pain. The left side of her body was burning from the venom and her right leg was at a horrific angle. She suspected that she had a few broken ribs and maybe even a fractured skull. She couldn’t be sure, but it didn’t really matter much.

  She craned her neck and looked back at the hill from which she had fallen. The cobrunnies were all still near the top, but they were coming, their progress slow and cautious. They knew that Tuni was done for; they didn’t need to hurry.

  “This is it,” she croaked through bloody teeth.

  Her vision, already riddled by nausea and tears, began to blacken as death reached out its arm to greet her. The burning of the venom had nearly reached her throat and heart. Her body was becoming numb. It was a small blessing as she neared her end. The cobrunnies were making progress and soon they would be upon her. I’m coming, Dad.

  She was ready for death’s cold grip, but then she heard a voice.

  It started as the softest of whispers, so soft that it was completely inarticulate. Then it built, until it sounded as if someone was whispering into her ear, someone standing beside her. It was a girl’s voice, a voice no older than herself.

  Esha belia med tiu casee elle velli celida.

  The voice repeated that line several more times, each time louder and clearer. It sounded like the spirit language, but Tuni didn’t recognize any of the words. It sounded ancient, a tongue not used since the time of gods.

  Tuni tried to open her eyes, but it felt like the greatest chore in the world, as if a herd of elephant beetles sat upon her eyelids. She struggled, but she managed t
o open them. That was when she saw the source of the voice, standing at the foot of the hill a few steps away. She had bright red hair that stood out like a beacon in the lush green that surrounded them. The girl seemed to be only wearing leaves. Atop her head sat a pointy, green hat.

  The girl spread her arms wide. The cobrunnies were charging down the hill now. In the girl’s right hand was a long wooden staff. It appeared to be a branch of some sort. At the top of it were several leaves and a beautiful gold-and-white flower. Tuni didn’t know if it was significant, but it was nice to see some beauty before she died.

  Tuni didn’t know what became of the girl. She couldn’t keep her eyes open, couldn’t stave off death. In the end, she didn’t feel any pain as her body had become completely numb. She was thankful for that. Her eyes grew heavier and fell shut, and Tuni went to greet death like a long-lost companion.

  5

  Dorrick

  The mission started out pretty standard for Squire Dorrick Vane. He and his squad had marched into the Spirit Wilds under the orders of Sir Nogrund Ryme, one of the senior knights of their order, the Knights of the Red Flame. Most knights usually went on missions with one or two squires, but as the order had an abundance of trainees recently, many of which were upper squires on the verge of knighthood, Dorrick’s father had decided to bunch his friends together into one squad.

  So there they were, trekking through the savage Spirit Wilds, in full chainmail and gear, hot as hell and loud as a flock of gulls by the quay.

  And Dorrick couldn’t be happier.

  He’d worked for so long to prove himself to the knights, his fellow trainees, and to his father, the esteemed Commander Vanter Vane. He did everything asked of him, went above and beyond in everything. He volunteered for anything, even mucking the stables, just so his father would be proud of him.

  Now, he was finally going on a mission into the Spirit Wilds. Maybe I’ll earn my knighthood soon, he thought with a smile. One could only hope.

  He wasn’t thrilled about the wilds, of course, for what sane person would? He’d heard all the stories, of all the wild and dangerous spirits and creatures that ran rampant throughout, the mischievous tree folk, and the barbaric humans that populated the vast expanse of wilderness south of their great city. They were steadily expanding, making farming communities and opening mines, but it was hard and slow.

  The people of the wilds, as backward as they may have been, were still people, and thus needed their help. And the knights would oblige. Hence their mission today.

  Dorrick gripped the hilt of his sword at his hip as he trudged along with his comrades. His eyes darted amongst the trees, between their gray bark and large blue-green leaves. They’d walked for hours since dismounting at the waystation miles back, as Sir Nogrund didn’t want to risk the horses to tree folk corruption, whispering in their ears. And Dorrick had kept his eyes peeled for tree folk and spirits, but as yet, the Spirit Wilds had appeared not so spirit-y.

  He couldn’t decide if that was a good thing or not.

  “You’re never going to see them if you stare so intently,” said the voice of his best friend, Marcella Bather, as she strolled alongside him, not seeming to have a care in the world.

  Dorrick didn’t heed her advice. “I won’t let them get the jump on me.”

  “They’ll get the jump on you if they want to get the jump on you.”

  Which was probably true. He’d learned in his studies that the elvish tree folk, who were not quite spirit but definitely not human, could dematerialize into the trees and travel between them via the root systems. They could be in the trees right now…watching, waiting for the perfect time to attack.

  He smirked and shook his head. That type of paranoia could get a knight killed. Still, he wouldn’t let his guard down.

  They stayed silent and in formation for another hour, Sir Nogrund in front, Dorrick and Marcella at the rear, and their fellow squires Evan and Ollo in between. Evan and Ollo were brothers, sons of a low district butcher, but they had hearts of gold that Dorrick sometimes envied. Dorrick was a good person, but those two were the sweetest things on the planet. Perhaps too sweet for the knights, as sometimes you had to be hard to get done what needed doing, but that didn’t make Dorrick like them any less.

  Although they were brothers, only a year apart in age, they looked almost nothing alike. Someone passing them on the street would find no resemblance in the two. Evan was as big as an elephant beetle and hit like one too. Wide face and big ears and a nose as big as an apple, his eyes were small and gray, and his round cheeks were streaked with dimples. Ollo was a hair taller than his brother, lean with muscle, chiseled features to his brother’s round ones. He had a terrible burn scar along the left side of his jaw from when he’d played too close to the oven as a child. It did not deter the affections of their fellow female squires, though it was frowned upon to take on lovers within the ranks.

  Dorrick found himself often dreaming of the chance to have a relationship like those two. As an only child to the commander and with an absent mother, he’d had a lonely childhood. Those two and Marcella were his only family, really, but he’d never had the same love from them that they showed each other.

  “You’re being introspective, Dorr,” Marcella said with a cheeky smile. His face warmed.

  “I don’t catch your meaning.”

  “You always get this blank expression when you’re deep in thought, and your brows knit together so fierce they look like a bushy caterpillar.”

  Ahead of them, Ollo sputtered a laugh at that comment but said nothing further. That just made Dorrick’s whole face red, until even his ears felt warm. Marcella snickered, running a hand over her red hair. It was tied back in a tight knot, though a few strands fell onto her face and over her honey-colored eyes.

  Dorrick cleared his throat. “Tha-thank you for that. Appreciate it.”

  She smiled wide and punched his arm. “Just like to point that out.”

  He snorted, but upon further thought, he realized that she had to watch him intently a lot for her to notice that about him. She pays that much attention to me? he wondered. He smiled. That was good to know.

  “You know, you aren’t perfect either,” he said to her, his spirits suddenly lifted.

  Marcella cocked her head and lifted an eyebrow, a slight smirk forming, “Oh yeah? Please, do tell, Vane, do tell.”

  Dorrick opened his mouth to respond, but then Sir Nogrund called to them from the front. “Quiet, you two, stay focused. Now isn’t the time for chitchat.”

  The young squire gulped. “Yes, sir,” he called back, ears burning yet again. Marcella smiled mischievously. Dorrick wanted to swipe that smile off her face. They were best friends, but sometimes, she was so infuriating.

  They continued like that for another hour, then stopped for lunch, and then another hour of relative silence. And still no spirits or creatures, which made Dorrick uneasy. It made sense for there to be nothing along the main roads, but they’d long ago left them behind for the back trails. Sure, birds still chirped and little critters played in the underbrush, but no spirits or tree folk or the larger creatures? Something was wrong.

  On the other hand, he should have been relieved. He didn’t trust spirits, so no spirits meant no potential problems. He tried to keep that positive mindset. No use being negative. As he’d been taught by the knights, ninety percent of the battle was mental. If you believed in your skills and had the confidence and the heart, you could do anything.

  Dorrick was lost in his thoughts again when he walked right into Evan’s back. Being as solid as he was, he didn’t budge. Instead, it was Dorrick who cursed and rubbed his pained neck

  “Ow! Why did you—” His words fell short as his eyes widened.

  All around them were low trees with golden leaves and gray bark, and seeping out of the veins of the trees was blood-red sap. Dorrick gulped. He’d heard of this place. The Bleeding Grove, a small forest within the wilds where the trees secreted a thick red sa
p that looked like blood. They were simply called bloodwood trees, though Dorrick thought the name was wrong, since it made it seem like the wood was red, when it was the sap.

  “Wow,” Marcella said beside him. Her eyes were wide, filled with awe. She smiled. “This is beautiful.”

  He rolled his eyes. “More like disgusting.”

  She snorted. “It’s not real blood, Dorrick.”

  “I know,” he said defensively, cheeks flushed again. Gods, why does she make me like this? “It just looks weird. Beautiful isn’t the word I’d use.”

  “Maybe you need to broaden your horizons.”

  “Maybe you need to be more cautious with bleeding trees.”

  She stuck her tongue out at him. He shook his head but couldn’t help his smile.

  Ollo walked over to one of the trees. “Never thought this place was real. I mean, bleeding trees? Seemed stupid.” He chuckled. “Guess Nan’s stories were true. I wonder how much of the other stuff was true.” He reached a finger to touch some of the sap. Before he could, Sir Nogrund materialized by his side and snatched his hand away.

  “I wouldn’t,” he said gruffly.

  Ollo stammered. “W-why?”

  “Bloodwood sap is very volatile. At best, it will seep into your skin and give you a euphoric high that will leave you with a devastating addiction that will slowly eat away at you. At worst, it will poison your bloodstream and set you ablaze from the inside. If you’re up for either of those, then by all means, go ahead.”

  Everyone stared at him. Ollo gulped and backed away as Sir Nogrund dropped his arm. “No, sir, I think I’ll decline.”

  Nogrund huffed. “Very wise.” He turned away from Ollo, his grip on his sword. “Keep your wits about you. The village is on the other side of this forest. If the spirit is still in the area, then we’ll handle it.”

  “Yessir,” the squires all chirped. Sir Nogrund nodded and led the way.

  Dorrick followed behind the brothers, his eyes on the veteran knight. Sir Nogrund was one of Dorrick’s father’s most trusted men. He was an imposing man, despite his age, all muscle, bald head, and a long blonde beard that was always impeccably groomed. The red cloak draped over his armor, a sign of his rank, was always pressed and clean. This was the type of man a squire needed to learn under, and Dorrick intended to soak in every minute of it.