Page 210 of Flame and Sparrow

The soldier burstfrom the mist, his dark armor blending so perfectly with it that I only caught sight of him by his bright blue eyes and the pale strip of skin around those eyes.

Zell reared wildly. I lost my hold on his mane and was forced to jump from his back, hitting the ground hard, twisting awkwardly to avoid falling on Hydrus.

The dagger Valas had given me was in my hand a moment later.

The elven soldier dove for me, and I didn’t—couldn’t—hesitate.

I plunged the blade into the only unarmored place I could see—that strip around his eyes.

Instantly, every inch of his visible skin froze. I heard the unsettling sound of cold magic spreading, crackling its way under the protective clothing he wore. The armor did indeed seem to resist the magic, as Mairu had said, creating a strange sight as the fabric rippled with the growth of ice only to fall back into place as that ice vanished.

But—like the devices I’d been destroying—the armor didn’t resist it fast enough. The air filled with the nauseating scent of frost bitten and cracking flesh, followed soon after by oozing blood. The soldier squirmed and cried out in agony, tearing at his clothes, trying and failing to rake the ice away before it could damage him beyond repair.

He quickly exhausted himself. The scent of his destroyed flesh became overwhelming as he dropped to his knees and then crumpled the rest of the way to the ground.

I dropped as well, bracing a hand against the ground and trying to find balance. I needed to keep moving, but I couldn’t take my gaze from him right away.

His skin was a horrible shade of reddish purple, his face swollen in a way that made his eyes look like they might bulge out of his head. His lips—also swollen, and covered in a trickle of blood—were moving. He didn’t manage to push out any sound beyond a choking gasp, but I could read the word forming on those lips easily enough.

Traitor.

I got to my feet and stumbled back, whistling faintly for Zell.

I couldn’t linger.

I couldn’t think.

I had to finish what I’d set out to do.

We destroyed five more of the devices—what looked to be the majority of them—before two more soldiers tried to attack us. I kept Zell calmer this time, and I managed to stay upright and guide him out of harm’s way.

The air was already beginning to clear, so the job was close enough to finished, I decided; we veered from the destroyed devices and raced away from the soldiers and everything else, not stopping until we were on the hill I’d originally stood on with Mairu.

Back at a relatively safe vantage point, I twisted Zell around and took in the scene unfolding before me with wide eyes.

My gaze was drawn first to fire, to the sight of Dravyn wrapped in ribbons of smoke and flame and moving across the field directly below me. The God of Storms was directly behind him, summoning violent gusts of wind that whipped away what remained of the toxic fog. Dravyn’s magic burned brighter and bolder as the air continued to clear, and it was soon flanked on either side by more magic as the other Marr converged toward him.

It was a terrifying, awe-inspiring sight to see them all come together, all the different shades of their powers attacking at once, as planned.

Zell, sensing this gathering power, turned and bolted for safer ground. I didn’t try to stop him. We ran hard, without ceasing, and I didn’t look behind me for several minutes. My heart hurt, thinking of the destruction at my back—of what had already happened, what was happening now. Of another line drawn between myself and my old life, and the word on that elven soldier’s lips...

Traitor.

I briefly considered just letting Zell keep running all the way back to Dravyn’s palace.

But eventually, I pulled him to a stop and did an about-face.

The center of the battle was likely half a mile away by this point. I couldn’t make out any real details, yet I was still overcome by a deep sense of awe and horror as the sky flashed, pulsing with different colors and energies, and the ground rattled even where I stood.

When it all finally began to settle, and I galloped back to the battlefield, I saw at least three dozen dead elves strewn across the ground. The ones who could still move were retreating, heading in the direction of the torn spot of the veil we’d first arrived at.

The God of Storms summoned another violent vortex of wind—one that crackled with sparks of electricity, this time—and pointed it in the direction of the retreating group.

I averted my eyes, bracing myself for the sight of more bodies littering the ground—but the God of Healing stepped in before Halar could launch his attack.

“Let them flee,” he said. “It’s over.”

Dravyn agreed, stepping into Halar’s path as well. “We should follow at a distance and make sure they’re heading for the veil. They likely won’t survive the journey back in their current state, and the ones who do won’t be in any condition to inspire anyone to try and follow up their foolish attack, hopefully…let them crawl back as a warning to others.”

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