Faust resented being called a kid but wisely didn’t voice it.
“What’s the last thing you remember?” the knight asked.
Faust paused for effect. “I was in a battle, I think.” The Drokan Knight glanced at Faust’s chest. Sweat trickled at Faust’s brow. If the knight figured out he had Volant armor, it wouldn’t end well. He should have stood with one foot raised to activate it.
The knight regarded Faust for a few moments. “You can come with us. I’m sure our captain can figure something out.”
That was too easy. Faust nodded.
“But he’s wearing Volant armor, sir,” another knight said.
“I am aware,” the lead knight replied.
Faust’s heart skipped. There was little he could say to deter them, but he had to try. “Volant armor?” he asked with his best expression of innocence.
The leader raised an eyebrow. “You don’t know what it is?”
Faust shook his head.
“He’s got to be lying,” the other knight scoffed. “You saw the forest disappear—this guy is dangerous, sir.”
The leader made a crude gesture. “Then tie ’im up and shut it.”
The knights saluted with a shout and turned to Faust.
Faust took one step back.
“Don’t move!”
Faust froze under the order and cursed his lapse. He couldn’t fall prey to his conditioning. He grasped for the natural magic in a rush.
The magic roared.
High King.
One wolf lunged toward Faust and the knights charged at the shift in the air.
Faust drew his swords, the blades glowing brightly. Sky blue scrawled down the blades with the howl of the wind, a crackle of magic sparking around him, but black spotted his vision, and a whine left his mouth, forcing his sight from him.
In the next blink, Faust caught his bearings, disoriented, his breathing harsh, the iron tang of blood in his mouth. He raised his head.
Trees lay toppled and deep crevices clawed into the ground. Aris’s magic lingered in the wind. All the knights, wolves, and even the horses covered the ground in dead heaps, blood seeping into the soil. Malice and bloodlust coated the air, heavy and pronounced, and full of his magic.
Faust dropped his swords, stumbling back.
Blood soaked his blades.
He was covered in blood.
Shouts echoed in the distance, the orders full of panic.
Faust lurched into motion, grabbing his swords. He flicked the blood off and ran deeper into the forest.
Chapter Two
Faust heaved, placing his palms on his knees for stability, his stomach lurching with each cough. He didn’t know how far he’d run, but he hoped, by Alimphis, it was far enough.
The rush of water caught Faust’s ear not too far from him. A small stream reflected the light of the moon, flowing without pause, unaffected by his fading panic.
He hauled himself to the stream, appalled by the blood clinging to his face and hair as he stared at his reflection. He looked like Vasil from his—Faust stopped himself, shaking.
The wind howled, rustling leaves.
He flung his attention to the dark forest, the sway of trees and shadows sending a slow crawl of alarm over his skin.
Alive. High—
“Shut up!” Faust covered his ears, screwing his eyes shut. The surrounding dirt formed a shield and ice swept across the water with a loud crack in response to his outburst.
High King.
Faust was losing his mind. The voice was pleading with him now—full of joy one second and worry the next. He curled in on himself, willing the voice to go away. No one said Alimphis would talk to him like this. This was the wind—just the wind.
His stomach twisted, ice racing down his spine. What if he was becoming Qinn? Aris had moments like this. Linos had said they would not fade, but Linos could have been wrong.
A light drizzle misted against Faust’s face as clouds blanketed the sky and lightning flashed, thunder rolling through the air moments later. His breath left him at the first drop of rain.
Safe.
The stream cracked and flowed again, the spikes of dirt shrinking back into the ground. Alimphis brushed against his senses and he lashed out, forcing another rumble of thunder and wild wind.
The weather reacted to him like it did with Aris. Faust grasped his gemstone, holding it with both hands against his forehead, desperate for calm. He didn’t understand what was happening, but he needed to regain his composure. Koros could find him. Although, the deity probably knew he was here.
He closed his eyes and searched for Koros with the briefest of passes in the natural magic. Koros was missing. Odd. But this meant the deity was asleep and he could awaken at any time.
Faust lowered his hands, rubbing at the gemstone. He opened his eyes. Drills. He could try the block drills Rene had taught him, but first, he needed suitable shelter.
Faust struggled to his feet and surveyed his surroundings. Rain pelted the ground and thudded against the leaves and trees. There was nothing he could use for immediate shelter. He needed to stay dry. He couldn’t risk falling ill.
Wind brushed against Faust’s face and flowed off to his left, whirling through the trees. He bit his lip, hesitant to listen to the wind.
Please. High King, the voice implored, as if it approached Faust with caution.
He followed the wind, not sensing anything malicious. Sounds of the wild filled his ears during the walk, and he jumped at every small noise.
Battle horns rode the breeze, and heavy thuds of Volliare docking echoed where the sky carried an orange tint. He moved toward the edge of the forest and spotted a town acting as an armada stronghold. It bustled with more knights than he dared cross; thus, blending in was also out of the question.
Faust followed the wind back into the forest to a small cave. He checked the perimeter before slumping against the hard rock. His stomach rumbled again, and he groaned. He was hungry, but he wasn’t a hunter. Any animal would hear him coming—he was a mess, jittery and bursting with magic.
He hugged his knees. He’d have to sneak into the town to acquire food, but controlling his magic came first.
Faust uncurled and picked up a piece of bark from the cave floor. He concentrated on the earth magic lingering in the cavern and tried to shape the bark into a block. The bark shuddered and erupted into a twist of vines.
He tried a few more times, but each attempt resulted in more vines. Faust gathered the failures into a pile and concentrated on his fire stone to make a small fire for himself.
The fire stone quaked, shattered, and burned the vines into dust.
Faust coughed, waving away the lingering smoke. So much for that idea. He brought his legs close and rested his chin on his knees, shuddering. Konrad, Vasil, and Aris could still use them. It made no sense why he couldn’t.
Maybe he had too much magic right now, and that was why he had two consorts. That had to be it. He hoped it didn’t mean he needed a third consort. Ignas and Aris should be enough. Adding a third would cause too much tension. He scowled at the mere idea of a third.
He stretched his legs.
Control.
He could do this.
The next few hours piled up even more failures when he tried to make the bark into a cube with magic in the cave. He tossed one last piece and made a pile to rest his head on, closing his eyes despite the gnawing in his stomach. He had lived with it before while Lathil imprisoned him, and Faust knew he could endure a few more days without food.