“Lord Arcus,” Roe called.
The High King lifted his head.
“Let’s test your grip.” Roe handed the king a glass. “Try gripping this for me.”
Faust eyed the glass. The request seemed simple enough. He curled his fingers around the cold glass. Pain shot through his wrist and up his arm, his hand jerking. The glass fell from his grip.
Roe caught the glass just in time. “See?” He stood and crossed an arm across his chest, holding the glass loosely in his other hand.
Faust averted his gaze.
“A few more weeks and it should go away. After that, you should be fine, but until then, you must accept our protection. You need us, Lord Arcus,” Roe chided. “Trust us.”
Faust tried to form a fist and failed. His shoulders slumped. He had no choice. The guild members were the only ones between him and Vasil. “All right.”
Earl sighed in relief. “I must finish our preparations for battle. It might get rocky in about fifteen minutes.”
“I understand,” Faust said. “I expect to hear everyone is accounted for when it’s over.”
Roe chuckled. “As do I. Treating a bunch of sissy babies isn’t exactly appealing.”
Earl saluted with a smirk. “As you command.”
Roe shooed Earl off and only turned to Faust once Earl was out the door. “We must get strapped in before the battle starts. Our helmsman likes to show off his skills far too often.”
Faust raised his eyebrows.
“I will be back victorious, Lord Arcus,” Vasil said through the door.
Faust paused. “I wish you a swift victory.” He eyed the door when the deity grunted with what sounded like a haughty smile.
“Smug bastard,” Roe grumbled.
Faust had to agree.
Six
Faust’s vision swam. Roe hadn’t been kidding. Their helmsman was wild. The Volliare rocked from another explosion and the hum of Volar zoomed by again. “I do not think I can take much more of this,” he mumbled and covered his mouth with his hand.
Roe grinned. “It should be over soon, hang in there.”
“Is he the reason Ignas is afraid of heights?” Faust gripped at the leather belt across his chest. It was strange being strapped to a chair by the bed. Blankets were all over the floor, but nothing else moved. It was as if they designed this room with the helmsman’s flying in mind.
Roe barked out a laugh. “He is part of the reason Lord Walder refuses to fly. Once we’re in his presence again, we will pass the job off to someone else. Captain Zara is about the only one Lord Walder trusts to fly.”
Faust blinked. “Captain?”
“Yes, captain,” Roe said with a finely arched eyebrow. “Did she not tell you?”
“She did not,” Faust frowned.
Roe shrugged. “She must have been letting Ignas impress you then. She’s the reason he can do what he can. Trained him from scratch. He used to be scrawny.”
Faust could not imagine a scrawny Ignas—at all. He could, however, see Zara kicking Ignas’s ass in combat and telling him off. “I am disheartened I did not witness it.”
Roe snorted. “It was many years ago, Lord Arcus. Now they are very much on equal terms.”
Fire magic crackled with a shrill sound and Faust stilled. Vasil had just ended the fight. “It is over.”
Roe furrowed his brows. “That was far too quick.”
The Volliare leveled and creaked as it settled down to land. Planks vibrated as the Volar joined the descent.
“Vas is an exceptional mercenary,” Faust said for Roe’s benefit.
“Troublesome is more like it. He’s dangerous.”
Faust nodded. Vasil was dangerous but for a different reason. He was a deity.
Heat hit Faust like he had run into a brick oven. Faust covered his face, unamused.
The Volliare jostled to a halt. The creak of the wood settling filtered through the air bringing the echo of heavy boots with it. Vasil’s magic felt rather sure of himself, no doubt high from the battle.
“Are you all right?” Roe asked, leaning over to unlatch the king.
“I am fine,” Faust forced a smile. “I am just tired.” He eyed the door. The footsteps were coming closer and closer. He balled his hands and rubbed at his nails, keeping his breathing steady.
The door opened to reveal a bloodied and rather smug Vasil.
Faust took a slow breath, unclenching his hands. Vasil meant to impress him, but he was repulsed. There was so much blood soaked into Vasil’s clothes and hair. The deity must have killed several in a short time without pause. Killing did not impress Faust. Not that he had much room to judge. He killed at a distance. The execution was different, but it didn’t change the matter at hand—Faust’s hands were just as stained with the blood of others.
Roe finished unlatching himself and Faust from the wall. He stood with his hands on his hips. “Go wash!”
“It is only blood,” Vasil said.
“I will not allow you near Lord Arcus like that,” Roe seethed. “You could infect him with some disease. Out with you! Go wash.”
Vasil grumbled.
Faust pointed to the door. “Wash.”
The deity’s expression flattened, but he rounded and disappeared with a grunt.
Roe took pause. “You’re the first he’s listened to. Why is that?”
Faust shrugged. He knew the reason, but he didn’t need to voice that just yet. He hadn’t realized being the High King gave him such power over a deity. Emoris and Lathil never listened to him.
“Well,” Roe said, “since he will be gone a while, I will retrieve a wheelkin for you. Earl should have at least one on this airship.”
“Wheelkin?”
Roe lips thinned out. “You cannot walk on your own yet. Once the cane is made, I will permit you to walk a bit every day, but you mustn’t overdo it. Are you familiar with the rolling chair?”
Faust thought about it. “I have only seen it a few times.”
“Its formal name is wheelkin. Many of our innovations have proper names that are disregarded in Alios.” Roe sighed. “The deities wanted nothing to do with us, so we allowed the Guild of Artisans to create their own naming schemes to keep our advances among the people. Enough of that. Here.” Roe moved his hands out to help the king. “Let’s get you back to bed while I track down the wheelkin.”
Faust hobbled with Roe’s help to the bed, sitting with a heavy breath.
“I will be back,” Roe said and left with urgency.
The High King settled by a pillow, loosely holding it in his hands. Faust didn’t know what to do with Vasil so close. His identity could come out at any time and he would be powerless to stop the deity if Vasil chose to kill him for his crimes against Windilum.
Heavy footsteps returned to the door.
Faust pushed himself up on his arms and scooted into a more favorable position.
Vasil let himself in, drying his hair with a rag.
Faust gawked. Vasil wore no tunic. The deity hadn’t changed from his vision. He had small scars along his arms and a much larger scar along his side and one on his chest. Faust swallowed. He hoped whoever had the ability to hurt Vasil wasn’t still out there.