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The trolls loyal to Rharreth shifted, raising their weapons as if they intended to attack Farrendel as well. They might not like those who rebelled, but they still hated Farrendel more, even if he fought at Rharreth’s side.
Through the elishina, Farrendel sensed Essie’s questions, her readiness to protect him. She alone knew with certainty that he was fully in control of his magic this time.
Farrendel risked a glance at her, trying to communicate what he wanted.
After a moment, she pulled magic from the elishina and surged it into a shield around the elf and human army, putting out a hand to hold Averett back.
Behind Farrendel, Julien waited, crouched with his sword in his good hand.
Rharreth held up his hand, holding his army in place as he faced Farrendel. “What is the meaning of this, Laesornysh?”
Farrendel worked to keep his face hard, his eyes blazing as he met Rharreth’s gaze, willing Rharreth to understand the calculation beneath the mask of wild anger. “You tried to end the war your way, Rharreth. Now I will end it my way.”
Farrendel yanked the weapons and shields from the grips of the rebel trolls. He held the weapons before the trolls where all could see them before he squeezed tight with his magic, melting the swords, axes, and shields to nothing.
The army of trolls that Farrendel held captive flinched or groaned, eyes widening. If they had not believed they were about to die before, then they did now.
Rharreth held Farrendel’s gaze, jaw hard. But then, his head tipped in the slightest of nods. He dropped into a crouch, his magic flaring around his fingers as if prepared to attack Farrendel. “Stand down, Laesornysh. If you kill them, it will destroy the treaty.”
Farrendel tightened his grip on the magic, letting it brush against a few of the huddled troll warriors so that they cried out again. “They already destroyed the treaty. They will attack my kingdom yet again if given the chance. I might as well kill them now.”
“Please, shashon.” Melantha strode forward, the dark red of her skirt flapping in the slight breeze kicked up by his magic. Her short black hair spiked around the troll queen’s diadem tied around her forehead, the emerald of the diadem flashing in the sunlight. She held her head high as she joined Rharreth’s side, meeting Farrendel’s gaze. “Please do not kill them. For my sake.”
These trolls would see their king and queen united. Hopefully, by seeing Farrendel stand down thanks to Melantha’s request, they would believe their elf queen was all that stood between them and death at Farrendel’s hands.
Farrendel held the magic pinning the trolls for a heartbeat more, letting the power course against their skin in a way that would be painful but would not do any permanent damage. Just enough to let them know just how close to death they all were.
Reaching deep inside his chest, Farrendel gripped his magic. He was an elf warrior, wielding the magic of the ancient kings. As the last great elf warrior before him, he was capable of securing peace for Tarenhiel. Not just for today. Not just for tomorrow. But for hundreds of years to come.
He would just have to hope he did not kill himself in the process.
“Very well. I will not kill them for your sake, isciena. But I will protect Tarenhiel with all the strength of my magic.” Releasing the rebel trolls, Farrendel held out his arms as he shoved his magic outward along the edge of the gorge.
A crackling wall of his magic rose into the sky until it loomed taller than the nearby trees. The troll warriors of both armies scrambled backwards, trying to put more distance between them and his fiery magic running along the gorge.
On his left, the human and elven army huddled inside the barrier that Essie held surrounding them. He could feel her reaching in the heart bond, bracing herself for whatever he had in mind.
He closed his eyes, pouring more power into the wall as it traveled along the gorge. Farther and farther until his magic covered miles in either direction.
More, he needed more magic. If an elf warrior like himself had once created the Gulmorth Gorge, then surely Farrendel could coat its length in magic.
He dug deep inside himself until it felt like he was being torn in two with the force of magic surging from him. He fell to one knee and braced his shoulders under the strain of holding so much magic. The wound from the mace clawed at his side with each ragged breath he took.
His magic stretched for miles. Then hundreds of miles. Flowing along rock and beside trees. Following the contours of Kostaria’s side of the gorge.
Sweat beaded on Farrendel’s forehead and trickled between his shoulder blades to trail down his back. Somewhere deep in the heart bond, he could feel Essie as she gripped the roaring wall of magic alongside him, holding it steady even as he gave every drop of magic he could find within himself until he sensed his magic sizzle against the distant ocean to the east and into the far-off freshwater lakes from which the Gulmorth River flowed.
Magic joined the sweat pouring across his body. When he raised his head and snapped his eyes open, a crackling blue haze covered his vision until the cowering troll armies were nothing but a blur of shadows.
His voice came out raw in his throat, his body pulsing with heat and fire. “I am Farrendel Laesornysh, and I promise you now that no troll shall set foot in Tarenhiel with thoughts of war in his heart ever again.”
Gathering the last of his strength, Farrendel shoved the great wall of magic down into the ground with all the force he could muster.
The ground shook, heaving with the explosion of Farrendel’s magic. Farrendel had to press both hands to the now burning stone to keep himself in his crouch, gasping as he released the tide of magic, letting it dissipate into the earth.
When he managed the strength to lift his head, he found himself the center of attention for all the armies. Some of the warriors were still picking themselves off the ground, but most had kept their feet. In the stunned silence, not one troll made a move toward Farrendel.
All along the gorge, the stone glittered faintly blue with Farrendel’s magic seared into it like the section of Kostaria around the ruins of Gror Grar that Melantha had described.
