Home > Sovereign(4)

Sovereign(4)
Author: Kilian Grey

“Also, it seems there’s been a thief on the prowl. Be careful out there, got it? A map was stolen last night. Keep an eye out, will ya?”

Faust nodded and waved on his way out, pulling his hood up and over his head, never to return. He bolted toward the forest, determined to leave the town far behind him.

He kept his head down as he walked. A grumbling man with a guild medallion at his hip Faust didn’t recognize passed him with brisk steps. Faust lifted his head, sparing a fleeting glance at the man. The man had dark hair, brown eyes, and pale skin.

The man halted and swung his gaze to Faust’s with a spark of recognition.

Faust whipped forward, avoiding eye contact. Magic bounced around the man with the movement, a fleeting pass of questioning in the air. The magic continued to flutter with worry and urgency, but Faust ignored it. There was no way the man could’ve realized he was the High King. Faust had never seen him.

Faust squinted behind him one last time and nearly tripped.

The man’s aura flickered with white, disappearing in such a quick flash of light, Faust thought he’d imagined it. It was brief, but it was a real aura. That man belonged with Sortiris.

No one in Drokan should’ve had any color but gold.

He glanced back, locating the man’s retreating back.

“You there! Why didn’t you leave with the others?”

Faust jerked to a stop, eyeing three older-looking Drokan Knights headed his way. Great.

The knights stopped in front of Faust, the leader bending to get a good look at Faust. “Which unit are you with?”

Faust remained silent. He didn’t have enough information to weave a believable story.

“You don’t look familiar,” the man said. “Come with us, lad.”

Faust clenched his hand, resisting the urge to grab for the gemstone hanging off his bracelet. Panic twinged at the edge of his mind, magic swirling with it. He couldn’t lose control here—too many innocent people lived here. Faust risked a once-over of one knight, and his hands shook at the sight of a whip hanging from the knight’s hip.

The knight in front of Faust narrowed his eyes. “There was a report of a thief in town and I’ve never seen you before.”

Faust clamped his mouth shut, frozen. He didn’t see a way out of this. He didn’t want to be a prisoner again.

The knight motioned his two companions forward. “Bring him in. If we find nothing, we’ll let you go, kid. Cooperate if you know what’s good for you.”

Faust narrowed his eyes, clenching his hands tight. “No.”

A single gunshot sunk into the shop door beside the lead knight.

The lead knight snarled, searching for the gunner. “Arrest him. Find that gunner!”

“Gladly, Marc,” the knight with the whip said, unhooking it with a gleeful chuckle. The movement was fast, the crack of the whip loud in the morning air.

Faust’s breathing quickened. He threw a hand out, throwing magic into his earth stone. The ground turned and spiked, and the buildings creaked, distorting and spiking at his call, the magic sweeping through the buildings and swiping at other stones within the establishments. The whip curled around a snarl of vines in front of Faust, and the earth stone cracked but didn’t shatter.

“What’s going on?” Marc yelled, going for a sword.

Faust took one step backward, then another, and fled.

“Don’t let him get away!” Marc bellowed. “Capture him!”

Faust spared a glance back, his heart leaping to his throat as knights poured from around the corner.

 

 

Chapter Four

 

 

Faust sensed the magic around him rise, but he hesitated to push it into his earth or sky stone. If they shattered and released the magic, the damage would be too great. It was different when he was in the middle of the forest by himself where no one else could be hurt.

One bullet swiped Faust’s thigh, and he tripped, rolling into his fall. He scrambled to get to his feet. His cloak swung forward, and the map fell from his pocket.

“Stop!” a knight shouted.

Faust froze, his hand hovering over the map.

The knight’s eyes widened. “He’s the thief!”

High King.

Faust jerked into motion, thankful to the voice for once. He snatched up the map, rising to his feet in an ungraceful manner as bullets whooshed past his hood, tearing into the fabric.

Faust shoved magic into his earth stone and forced the ground to rise, but the stone shattered, and the dirt exploded into a mass of vines and rock, hurtling debris into the shops. Faust dodged and ran, his heart pounding as faint screams erupted within the mangled shops he raced past.

Faust heaved, reaching for the natural wind magic this time, determined to spark a blow back, hoping it didn’t become a storm. These knights wouldn’t let him go now. The wind rushed at his back, gathering with far more force than he intended. “N-No—”

Fire magic crackled through the air alongside the storm ripping through the street and unsuspecting shops. Bullets rained through the windows and ricocheted off a few walls, whizzing by Drokan Knights’ heads and legs, burrowing into the shops with a crackle and hiss of fire.

The firing style reminded him of Windilum. Their bullets sizzled after contact, full of fire magic. Faust searched for the gunner. His attention caught on a flash of white from a nearby alleyway, embers trailing after it. The man he’d passed landed heavily along the dirt path, gun drawn, a gaze of fiery determination locking on him. Alimphis shoved Faust in the man’s direction, and he stumbled, taking off toward the man without question, sliding under a tangle of vines.

“Don’t let him get away. After him!” Marc shouted, pulling out a gun.

The mysterious man sprinted, signaling Faust to follow him, firing more sizzling bullets behind Faust.

Faust rushed alongside the man, uncertain if he was an ally, but the man adjusted his pace to match his hobble. His leg burned from the bullet wound, but he had to keep going.

The man snapped his fingers and Faust reacted on instinct, magic bursting around him, flowing into the wooden panels around them, twisting them into an awkward shield.

“I’m not going to hurt you. Stay calm,” the man said as a water veil settled over them.

Faust swallowed, forcing his unease to steady and his magic to silence. He settled into a sort of skipping run with the man. He’d have to take his chances on this man’s help.

“I’m Cian,” the man said, motioning for Faust to stop behind a set of tall crates.

Faust favored his right leg as he peered into Cian’s eyes, searching for any ploy. “Rath,” he said eventually. Qinn had given him an alias, and he was going to use it. There was no telling if anyone in Drokan knew he was Lord Arcus.

Cian’s eyes flashed with triumph, but it disappeared beneath a far grimmer expression. “Well, you’re in safe hands now, Rath. I am a part of the Guild of Antiquity, a page to Gawain Boon, the guild leader.”

Faust wanted to rejoice at his good fortune, but he knew nothing about this guild, so he only nodded.

Cian gave Faust a once-over, pausing at the injury on Faust’s thigh. “We need to run to the guild’s base just outside town. The map you have is rightfully ours, so you’ll be safe with us. Think you can make it?”

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