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The trolls burst from their hiding spots and crashed into sight, dodging around trees and hefting their weapons as they ran.
Farrendel held his ground, waiting for them to come to him. Behind him, the others were hastily urging their horses to lie down in a circle, growing a sapling wall for protection, and nocking arrows to their bowstrings.
Farrendel drew his swords and unleashed more of his magic, letting it crackle outward from him until he shielded those behind him.
Gunshots echoed from the forest, and the bullets fizzled as his magic incinerated them, filling the air with the stench of overheated metal.
A troll leapt over a log and lunged at Farrendel. With ice filling his veins and heart, Farrendel dodged the troll’s ax and sliced his sword across his neck. Springing off the falling body, he launched himself into the air. As he came down, he used his momentum to drive a sword into another troll’s chest.
Even as he fought with his swords, he let his magic blast around him, slicing through far more trolls with his magic than he did with his swords. More and more of it begged to be released, and he eased his control a fraction to send bolts of his magic extending in all directions, protecting Essie and his family hunkered in their defensive circle behind him.
His power lashed the trees around him, leaving black scars. He was killing the forest. How soon before he accidentally killed those huddled behind him? They were far too close. All it would take was one slip of his control, and he would destroy his family as surely as he destroyed the marauding trolls.
He would simply have to finish this fight before he lost control.
In a blur, he tore into the charging trolls with both swords and magic. The air reeked of the sizzling tang of his power, the metallic taste of blood, and the stench of burned body.
The trolls were circling, going around him to try to reach the others. Elven magic lashed out with roots and tree branches, pummeling the charging trolls.
Troll magic filled the air, hurling stone and ice. It fizzled out against Farrendel’s magic, but it battered the wooden defenses of the others. Some of the elven guards popped up, releasing arrows, before they dove back into cover.
Farrendel’s magic tore at his control, lashing out in a whirling fury around him. He had to protect them. He had to protectEssie.
The trolls kept coming. They were spreading out, trying to escape the reach of his lashing magic to attack Weylind and the others. The elf and troll magic washed back and forth between them, and Farrendel did not dare release more of his magic to help. What if he lost control?
The war howls of the trolls turned into a gruff, rhythmic chanting. It was hard to tell with the trolls’ accent, but Farrendel thought they were chantingGun, gun, gun.
Why would they chantgun? They had plenty of guns already, far more than Farrendel had ever seen them use in battle before. And these guns seemed different. They could shoot five shots before they needed to be reloaded, and they were not loaded at the muzzle like the guns Farrendel had seen used before.
Yet those guns still made little difference. One shot or five, Farrendel’s magic easily incinerated them.
Except…Farrendel peered at the trail ahead at the faint sound of creaking. There, four well-muscled trolls hauled the largest gun Farrendel had ever seen. It was mounted on two wooden wagon wheels and appeared to be made up of a circle of gun barrels banded together. A string of cartridges looped from the gun down to a box while a crank stuck out of one side.
Whatwasit? And where had the trolls gotten it from? It did not seem very troll-like in design.
None of that mattered right now. It was a gun, and it was a danger.
Farrendel started running toward it, blasting out with his magic. Yet even as he ran, one of the trolls turned the crank at the side of the gun.
With successive concussions, the gun spat a near continuous line of bullets, aimed directly at Farrendel.
At the same time, all the trolls on the battlefield, now arranged in a semi-circle around him, pivoted and turned their guns and magic on Farrendel.
Farrendel skidded to a halt, yanking his magic in close to absorb the hailstorm of bullets. He had never fought a barrage like this. He could fend off axes and swords and berserking trolls, but he did not have experience fighting off so many guns.
A gunshot sounded from behind him. Had the trolls gotten behind him? Were they shooting at Essie and his family?
His magic faltered for a moment. He stumbled down to one knee as a bullet made it through the bolts of his magic and whizzed past his head, clipping a section of his hair.
One of the trolls fell, blood blossoming on his shirt. That gunshot must have been Essie, not one of the trolls.
But his control on his magic had slipped. The shield he had wrapped around himself had loosened, and he scrambled to draw the scattering bolts back to himself. More bullets whizzed past him, cutting far too close.
He had to unleash more power. But his control was already frayed and fragile. More would just burn through his fingers. He could destroy this entire swathe of forest. He could kill Essie if he lost his grip on the magic.
But if he did not release more magic, he could die.
His magic pulsed in his chest, burning down his arms as it begged to be unleashed. To destroy. To kill.
