Page 208 of Flame and Sparrow

He grumbled something incoherent in response.

“Regardless, let’s make quick work of them and be done with it,” said the God of the Ocean, lifting a hand and starting toward the elven soldiers. With a glance back at me, at the blade that had started to violently shake against my side, he added, “Mind that sword, Elf. My magic will call to it and draw it straight from your hands if you don’t keep it under control.”

I narrowed my eyes at him, clenching the grip of Hydrus tighter and pressing its sheath closer to my body, determined to prove that my earning it had not been a mistake—and that my standing here at the edge of this battle was not a fluke, either.

Before anyone could object, the Ocean Marr was striding forward, moving his hands alongside him in a scooping motion as though collecting magic, swiping it out of the air.

It didn’t come from the air, ultimately, but from the ground—several great cracks soon zigzagged across the path before him, opening up to allow dark water to surge up from somewhere far below. He continued to move his hands, and the waters moved with them as though he held the swells on ropes that he could twist and sway at his will.

I couldn’t help but take a step back as the awesome display of power rose higher—high enough to loom over the top of our enemies.

Hydrus bounced and rattled so hard against my side it was likely bruising my skin, but I fought the urge to draw it out, gripping it tighter and bracing my stance.

The God of the Ocean lifted his hands and dropped them with a flourish. His body lit with dark blue slashes and symbols, his eyes glowed like the moon on a midnight sea, and the waves in his command crashed down with a thunderous sound, submerging the hill.

By this point the elven soldiers had disappeared behind that hill, but I doubted they could have run far enough or fast enough to avoid the deluge coming for them.

The last of the waves crashed down, briefly turning the near-side of the hill into a raging waterfall.

We waited, assuming the other side of the hill looked the same.

Everything was silent save for the rushing of water and the anxious braying of the veilhounds far in the distance.

Then came a shout, followed by an arrow piercing the sky above the hilltop.

It struck nothing, yet somehow it still burst, unleashing a cloud that sank over the dark waters and made them flash with pale energy for a moment before causing the rush to slow. Then evaporate. Absorbing the magic making up those waters, presumably the same way it had absorbed the sea of the Death Marr’s dark magic.

The line of soldiers climbed to the top of the hill once more, their numbers just as great—if not greater—than before.

The God of the Ocean gave a furious shout and swept once more at the air, sending more fissures through the ground. More currents of water surged up, less controlled than before, and roared toward the hill like rapids suddenly released from a dam.

Another cloud of countering poison fell like a net over the waves, calming the magic driving them, rapidly turning them into little more than a trickle.

The Storm Marr ran forward to join the assault in the next breath, slinging currents of electricity into what remained of the summoned water. The streams conducted the lightning swiftly and violently, sending a rush of power hurtling toward the feet of the elves.

It thundered across the hillside, crackling and booming, knocking several of our foes to the ground and sending others darting wildly out of the magic’s path. For a moment it seemed the combined powers of Storm and Sea would be enough to overwhelm them and their tricks.

Then a thin, dark mist rolled over the hillside like a slow-moving sandstorm, stretching as far to the left and right as I could see. The gods’ attacks were drawn into it, swirling up in a vortex of sparking and splashing energies only to scatter and dissipate as soon as they were fully within the toxic mist.

An odd sensation pinched and pulled at my skin as I watched—almost like I was being drawn into the mist along with the magic. I took a few steps backward—mostly to test that I still had control over my body.

In the distance, the Ocean Marr took a step back as well. The God of Storms was not so easily deterred, however; he strode forward instead, the edges of him turning electric and beginning to shift into his monstrous beast form.

But before he could finish changing, an arrow soared through the blanketing mist and struck the ground directly in front of him. As it hit, another explosion of a dark, hazy substance engulfed the god—the largest one yet.

His outline was hazy beneath the smog, but I could tell he had fallen back into his human form and dropped to one knee. A cage of lightning flashed to life around him as he knelt there, scattering some of the cloud, but not all of it.

The Healing Marr rushed to aid his fellow court member, his body blurred by swirling feathers and golden light as his power surged around him. That light bled more furiously from him as he reached Halar…

…but it was quickly eclipsed by the same darkness that had brought the God of Storms to his knees. It seemed to fare even worse than the magics before it, the light flickering out almost instantaneously—as though the pure element of his Healing power was particularly vulnerable to whatever this darkness was that the elves had conjured.

More arrows rained down all around them.

More clouds of fog erupted.

The misty storm of poison continued to drift continuously over us, creating a haze that made it difficult to see, to hear, to think.

It was all deteriorating even faster than we’d feared. There was no chance to truly strategize and little time to spare before the situation spiraled beyond controlled.

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