across the crevasse toward anyone who might be hiding behind the trees and rocks on the far side.
Men with large iron shields rushed forward to help protect the artillery men. It took several men to move the heavy wood and iron shields, which only provided a modicum of protection. But they would be better than nothing if the trolls guarding this stretch of the border were armed with the Escarlish weapons the traitors had provided them.
A few elves rushed forward as well and crouched behind the shield bulwarks.
The other side of the river remained still. Were the trolls there? Surely they had to be guarding their own border.
Essie gripped the stock of the rifle resting next to her. Her black trousers and tunic would keep her hidden in the shadows while her hair hung in a long braid down her back. Even behind the shield, dressed for war, she felt vulnerable. Her skin crawled, knowing each moment the bullets might start flying.
How did those soldiers march forward so bravely, crouching exposed on the edge of the crevasse?
A boom shattered the stillness, vibrating through the ground. One of the guns rolled back a few feet with the force of firing. A cloud of smoke drifted on the morning breeze, filling the pines with the scent of burnt gunpowder.
More guns fired, the roar turning into a solid, unending sound rolling across the river.
Essie pressed her hands to her ears, the ground trembling beneath her.
Under the cover of the artillery fire, the elves crouching in the forest in front of Essie pressed their hands to the ground. Ahead, Weylind’s dark hair bent as a green glow filled the forest around him, illuminating Averett crouched beside him.
Next to Essie, Jalissa pressed both palms to the ground. Magic flowed around her fingers and into the ground.
A crackling groan filled the air, like that of flexing tree branches in a storm, barely audible under the thunder of the cannons.
Roots burst from the side of the gorge, thicker than Essie’s waist. They launched themselves across the space.
Before the roots reached the far side, a sheet of ice poured from the far side and coated the wall of the gorge. The roots slammed into the ice and halted.
Was that an automatic defense magic? Was something like that even possible? Or were there trolls huddled behind those rocks controlling that magic?
More Escarlish soldiers hurried forward, carrying another large bulwark. Behind them, soldiers rolled forward one of the repeater guns. They pointed the gun at the wall of ice and worked the crank.
A repeated crack, higher pitched than the boom of the cannons, rang in Essie’s ears. Chips of ice flew into the air, obscuring the other side in a haze of mist and the smoke of gunfire.
In all the booms of the cannons and reverberating crack of the repeater gun, Essie wasn’t sure when the additional gunfire began until one of the Escarlish soldiers by the repeater gun fell, red blossoming at his shoulder.
A stiff, cold wind blasted across the gorge. A blizzard of snow filled the air, obscuring the far side from sight.
A wall of green light flared on the Tarenhieli side. The elves by the artillery were on their feet now. The light of magic pulsing around their hands varied in color from dark green to a green-blue to a lighter yellow-green. While none were as powerful as Farrendel, together, they formed a wall protecting the rest of the elves and the Escarlish soldiers. With a blast of elven magic, they pushed back the trolls’ blizzard.
As the snowflakes and smoke and magic cleared, Essie could just make out the far side of the gorge. The roots the elves had grown had snaked past the ice through gaps and holes the Escarlish soldiers had formed with the repeater gun.
Sweat beaded on Jalissa’s forehead as she poured more green magic into the ground. When Essie peeked around the shields, she spotted Weylind also lit with green as he expended magic.
The roots grew, solidifying into a broad branch. From the branch, more branches shot up along the sides, forming railings, until a living arched bridge spanned the chasm.
Although she couldn’t see farther than this one section of the gorge, more bridges like this should be sprouting all along the line.
Essie’s mouth thinned in a tight line. The railing on the bridge had been her contribution to this plan. She’d told Weylind to make sure the elves knew to grow railings on the bridges. While the elves wouldn’t balk at dashing