His barely intelligible sigh disappeared in the air around him. He could feel the slightest energy travel from his throat and vibrate down his underarm and through his hands which still rested on Neven’s shoulder.
Neven’s shoulders were tight as his body tensed under the onslaught of the mage’s chaos magic.
The wind gently wrapped around his ear again, tickling his cheek, then disappeared.
Sol could hear the mage intoning his dissonant chant from the edge of the forest a short distance away. Frantic footsteps from the road told him the other soldiers were heading back toward the camp.
“What’s going on?” A soldier yelled.
The mage, still intoning his dissonant chaos magic, did not stop to respond.
Sol hoped his unseen allies would be able to distract the rest of the soldiers for a few moments longer.
Inhaling against the panic that rose in his chest, Sol reached inside himself for any remaining thread of magic. Each moment, each breath restored his reserve, but not quickly.
Gripping Neven’s shoulders, he tried to stop hearing the noises outside of himself and listened instead for the sounds of the forest leaves rustling around him. Sol exhaled as slowly as he could, relaxing his throat so the air moving through it caused a low, deep note.
Again, the pitch of the vibration traveled down out from his throat, reverberating through his chest and tingling down his arms to his fingertips. He relaxed his grip on Neven’s shoulders as the breath continued to leave his body.
His fellow prisoner was in pain and Sol focused his entire being into wishing his friend to be well.
Finally, the breath in his lungs wavered. He squeezed his chest, forcing out every last drop of air he could muster. The vibration in his chest turned into a tremor as his lungs emptied. The final wave of energy tingled down his arms to his fingertips.
He was spent. His magic was gone. He could do nothing to help his immobile friend.
The sound of the mage’s voice grew louder. He was walking toward them. Other footsteps followed.
Sol had to leave. Immediately. It was likely too late.
As the final tremor of energy flickered through his fingertips, Sol felt a heavy wind whip through his hair, stinging against his cheek.
The power of the wind increased, pressing against Sol’s entire body.
He increased his grip on Neven’s shoulders to keep himself from doubling over.
A new strength returned to his arms, flowing through him and wrapping around him, seeping into Neven.
Bolstered, Sol stood back up. The wind was still moving fiercely, but it no longer pushed against him, rather it seemed to be supporting him.
Neven slumped forward, gasping for air. He was released from the mage’s grip.
Relieved, Sol immediately supported his friend with an arm, but his ears and eyes immediately returned to the situation outside him.
The wind had picked up everything in its path, creating a wash of moving shadows in the leaves and dust it had gathered. Sol could see nothing.
But he could hear the curses of the soldiers barely a few steps away.
“After them,” the mage yelled.
“I can’t see,” a soldier yelled.
Sol grabbed Neven’s arm and moved fearlessly into the spinning wind, away from the voices chasing them.
“Try opening your eyes, you fool,” the mage said. “I’m lighting your way.”
“I can’t,” a soldier replied.
“This dust is worse than a sandstorm.” That was another soldier.
