Aris hit his opponent across the chest next and cut along the leather belts with precision. The armor fell away, and he kicked the knight away.
The knight didn’t get back up.
Aris had won again. He raised his blade in victory.
Faust was pleased with the way the cheers echoed around the arena. The people here wanted Aris to win, and the natural magic coiled with his people’s energy as if it wished the same. He felt confident Aris would prevail, but if he didn’t, Faust bet his people wouldn’t be quiet about it.
Emoris rose from his seat and walked past Faust. “Number one hundred: Aris. You are hereby the victor of the Knight’s Challenge. There is only one task left for you to fulfill.”
Faust watched Relan walk into the far side of the arena, blade drawn.
“You must defeat Relan in battle, and the right to be King Faust’s personal knight will be yours.”
Aris gazed at the veiled area.
Faust stared back at Aris even though Aris couldn’t see him. He was so bold. Faust remained still, but Aris’s magic brushed with his as if questioning who he was. Their magic danced and curled curiously, and Aris’s surety hit him. Aris intended to win and meet him face-to-face.
“Let the match begin,” Emoris bellowed.
Emoris took his seat once more, but Faust didn’t take his eyes off the arena floor. Wind magic fluttered in the air, and he clenched his armrest.
“You’ve done well to come this far, but you will be defeated here,” Relan sneered.
Aris shrugged. “We’ll see about that, old man.”
Faust could hear them speaking as if he were standing right there. He eyed Aris. This had to be Aris’s doing. Faust never would’ve thought to throw voices along a wind path to others like this.
Relan paced in circles with Aris.
Faust gripped his throne.
Relan charged.
Aris braced himself. He clashed swords with Relan again and again, each blow forcing Aris’s feet to dig into the ground.
“What’s the matter, can’t you take a little pressure?”
Aris let himself fall backward enough to throw Relan off-balance and spun around for a blow to Relan’s back only to hit air. Aris’s feet were knocked out from under him, but he brought his sword up just in time, grunting at the loud clang of the clashing blades.
Relan pushed his blade down with a chuckle. “You should stay on the ground where you belong.” Relan kicked Aris in the side and pulled back to punch his helmet.
Faust tensed, a dull ache forming in his chest.
Aris grunted when his helmet was pushed up too high. He curled his body and pushed his legs up in a forceful shove. Aris flipped as Relan stumbled away, throwing his helmet off mid-flip. Aris held his blade up in front of him, long brown hair now loose at his back.
“You,” Relan spat. “You’re the boy from earlier.”
“Is that supposed to make a difference?” Aris charged and parried with Relan, each blow forcing a rush of wind to rustle the surrounding dirt.
“You shouldn’t have been allowed to enter,” Relan said.
Faust knew it! Relan did try to rig the tournament.
Aris swung around for another roundabout with no comment.
Relan swung and sent a much stronger thrust Aris’s way. “I won’t let you win.”
Green blades of magic crashed into Aris.
Faust rushed from his seat into the sunlight. “Aris!”
“You can’t interfere,” Emoris snapped.
Vines grabbed Faust’s arm and slammed him back into his seat. He arched his back, holding his side, the pain shooting through his body. “But he is,” Faust took a ragged breath, “using Lathil’s power. This is not a fair match.”
“The whole purpose of this challenge is for someone to be worthy of protecting you,” Emoris said. “If Aris is not on par with Relan, then he will not be welcome.”
Faust gritted his teeth and slumped in his chair. The vines retreated, but he was certain his arm would be bruised. He rubbed his arm and watched the match, listening to the wind.
Aris dashed through the kicked-up dirt with the speed of the wind, his blade whistling as it cut the air and went into a spin. The jewels of the blade streaked a vibrant sky blue when he struck the other man’s chest.
Relan flew back into the arena wall. The brick shook, cracked, and crumbled underneath him.
Faust gasped. Aris actually repelled Relan.
Relan growled and tapped his foot on the ground. His armor responded with a bright green fury as it crawled up to his neck. He peeled himself from the wall, charging with a bellow. Relan swung his sword, and a blade of green flew out in front of him.
Aris jumped and flipped to avoid the light. He dug his heels in and launched himself forward with his own yell, his blade leveled to pierce Relan’s chest plate.
Relan dodged and swung for a strike of his own. His fist and hilt knocked Aris’s back, plastering Aris to the ground.
Aris rolled several times and flipped over to gain some distance from Relan.
The roars of the crowd grew in favor of Aris, and Faust’s heart pounded. The magic in the air was energized and beckoned his own as if letting him know they stood with him. This wasn’t just a match for him, but for his people as well.
Faust’s lips twitched in a smile as Aris lunged again. The air shifted, and he felt malice mixed with Aris’s wind. Relan wanted to kill Aris.
Faust gripped at the arms of his throne. Green and blue light danced around as Relan and Aris continued to clash, but the blue light grew stronger with every swing Aris took. Sky stones had even begun to shine beneath Aris’s armor.
The sounds of the match amplified along the breeze to Faust. The wind whistled with Aris’s magic, mixing in a way he’d never felt. Something bigger was amplifying it. Faust zoned in on Aris’s every move and committed them to memory, his chest aching.
Aris had to win.
Faust needed him to win.
Sky blue seared Faust’s vision and the screech of metal on metal pierced his skull.
Aris went down and didn’t move.
Faust curled in on himself, gripping at his chest. He staggered off the throne to his knees, his breathing ragged. Sky blue continued to dance across his vision, and he struggled to get a hold of himself. His magic flared through the arena, swiping at any stone it found before concentrating around Aris. His vision blurred, as if he had walked into a dream.
Linos lay in the dirt, covered in blood. It seeped into the ground, and Linos snarled when green struck near him.
“Faust.”
Faust gasped, his vision focusing on Emoris’s harsh glare. The deity held his chin up, and Faust realized he had a tight grip on Emoris’s tunic. He unclenched his fingers, his breathing slowing to a normal pace, but the pain in his chest didn’t fade. It grew worse. Did it have to do with Aris? Was Aris going to lose? Was he going to die?
“Faust,” Emoris growled.
Faust blinked hard, but he quickly reined his magic back in. “Forgive me, I—”
“Silence,” Emoris said. The deity dragged Faust back to his chair, threw Faust in it, and took the seat next to Faust instead. “Get a hold of yourself.”
Faust focused on the crowd, surprised at the way the stones all pulsed in unison. He hadn’t intended to do anything. Relan burst past the royal seating with the Volant armor activated. Faust bit his lip. Relan intended to kill Aris, and Emoris would let him.