Firestorm (The Sword of Light Trilogy Book 2) by Aaron Hodges

of white light lit the confines of his mind. He heard a dark, angry cackle, and then silence resumed.
    “Eric, are you okay? Caelin asked.
    Eric cracked open his eyes, groaning as the light set his skull afire. Like a dream, memory of his internal battle quickly faded away, vanishing from his thoughts.
    “What happened?”
    Caelin offered a hand. “You pulled a bold move, but made the mistake of placing your head in range of my knee.”
    The contents of Eric’s stomach threatened to come up as he took the Caelin’s hand. “What?” he mumbled.
    Caelin placed a steadying hand on his shoulder. “While in a fight, it’s almost always a terrible idea to lower your head. It makes a very tempting target.”
    Eric nodded, holding back another groan. His stomach swirled again but he fought it down. Mud soaked his clothes, and he wanted nothing more than to be dry again. Swallowing the nausea, he looked around for this sword. His legs shook when he tried to take a step.
    Caelin laughed. “I think that’s enough for today, you’ve both taken quite the beating. Anymore and Inken might just kill me. Come on, let’s get out of this rain.”
    They made their way to the dormitory and pushed open the wooden doors. As they crossed the threshold a wave of warm air swept over them. Eric closed his eyes in relief, already feeling halfway better. Looking inside he spotted Inken and Enala sitting on the couches in quiet conversation, each holding a steaming mug. A fire blazed in the hearth, casting a warm red glow across the lounge. The scent of roasting meat wafted over from somewhere deeper in the building.
    Inken frowned when she saw Eric. She rose and made her way over. “That looks like a nasty bump.”
    Eric raised a hand to his forehead, wincing as his fingers brushed across the bruise. “Blame Caelin.”
    He grinned as Caelin shot him a glare.
    The look Inken shot back was far worse. “Oh I will,” she growled, taking Eric’s shoulder. “For now though, let’s find you some clean clothes.”
    “I can look after myself you know,” Eric attempted to take his own weight and stumbled sideways into the wall. The room began to spin.
    “Oh really?” Inken raised her eyebrow.
    Eric fought back a laugh. “I guess you could help, just this once.”
    Inken smiled and took his arm again. Together they made it up the hall and into their bedroom, where he struggled into a clean set of clothes. When they returned to the living room they found everyone already seated and dry, each with a glass of the steaming red liquid.
    “What are you drinking?” Eric asked.
    “It’s mulled wine,” Enala answered. “Apparently somewhat of a Lonian specialty. Warms the stomach on cold winter days like this,” she picked up an empty mug from the coffee table and poured more wine. “Here, try it.”
    Eric took the offered glass and sank onto the spare couch. As Inken joined him he took a sip of the wine. The rich red was coupled with the spice of cloves and cinnamon, and when he swallowed warmth flowed down his chest. He took another sip.
    “I have some herbs that could help with the pain, Eric,” Michael offered. “Or some ice might help,” he tossed a bag across the room.
    “Thanks, Michael,” Eric placed the icy bag against his forehead. “The wine and ice will do for now.”
    He looked around the room at his friends. Michael and Caelin sat opposite him, while Gabriel had taken the seat beside Enala. Inken leaned into him and sipped from her own mug. They all looked worn out from the day’s exertions. Through the clouded glass window behind Enala, he saw darkness had fallen outside. They would need to light the lamps soon.
    “You must be the only one who won’t be hurting tonight, Michael,” Eric offered.
    “Agreed,” Enala groaned. “I’ll be staying on Inken’s good side from now on.”
    Inken laughed. “You did pretty well yourself. You almost had me a few times. Whoever trained you was very good.”
    “I don’t know,