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Farrendel extended his magic higher into the sky until he could sense it incinerating the bullets flying well over his head.

More of the repeater guns chattered, and he could feel some of the bullets getting through. He was not using enough magic to stop all of them.

He was still holding back, using as little magic as possible. Wielding it like he feared it.

He drew on more, letting it pour from him in a crackling tower extending far into the sky, even as he still kept it under tight control.

The bullets from the repeater guns were incinerated in bursts of hot metal. The air was choked with the scent of over-heated iron and the sulfur stench of gunpowder.

One of the large cannons near the end of the line boomed. The shot peppered Farrendel’s magic. Grapeshot, if Farrendel were to guess. While the smaller, exploding shot was probably effective against massed troops, it was actually easier for Farrendel to incinerate.

The next cannon down the line boomed, rocking back under the force of the explosion. This one was a solid iron ball, and with that much iron, he could not incinerate it instantly, even if it started melting around the edges. Instead, he was able to use his magic to repel the iron ball to redirect it to fall to the ground well away from himself.

The last gun in line roared, recoiling. This one was one of the experimental ones and the munition it spat was a larger, bullet-shaped shell than the round balls of the other ones.

Farrendel could sense that the shell was covered with human magic. Something to help it be more lethal or pound through stone better. He could not get too good a sense of it before his magic burned the human magic away as if it were nothing.

Still, the shell flew through Farrendel’s magic quickly, too quickly for the layers of his magic to halt it. The shell landed far behind him, exploding with such force that it shook the ground beneath his feet.

Several more shells burst through his magic, exploding far behind him. He could melt them or redirect them, but he could not entirely stop them.

Not with the little bit of magic he had let free of his tight control.

Some great elf warrior he was. He was holding back the repeater guns, but anything bigger was shredding through his magic.

Averett had said this was not a test. Yet, somehow, it still felt like one, and he was failing.

Through the heart bond, Farrendel could feel exasperation coming from Essie. Across the distance, he could see her shaking her head and laughing under her breath, as if she was telling him,I know you can do better than this. Stop holding back.

How could he stop holding back? What would happen if he unleashed his magic here?

More exasperation from Essie. More explosions as shells got past him.

Yes, this demonstration was a way for the Escarlish army to pit their weapons against the might of the elves and see what they would need to do to counter his magic.

But it was also a chance for him to test his magic against their weapons. Hopefully, he would never have to fight Escarland, but another human kingdom could end up with similar weapons, and Farrendel might have to fight them.

If that happened, it would be both the Tarenhieli and Escarlish armies at his back. His brother. Essie’s brothers. Those shells would be killing them if this was a real battle. He had to release more of his magic.

Not just more. All of it.

Essie was protecting the observers and the army base with a crackling layer of magic. The land was empty for miles around. If ever he was going to attempt to use his magic at full strength without holding back, now was the time.

Besides, he had the heart bond, and he had Essie. If things got out of hand, she could stop him as she had in Kostaria. He would not be alone in wrestling his magic back into submission, if it came to that.

Farrendel braced himself, took a deep breath, and let go.

There was an explosion. In his head. All around him.

Time slowed down. His senses crackled. He could feel every bolt of his power shivering through the air.

Magic gushed from him until the very air he breathed was choked with energy. He could feel his hair standing on end, blue lines wrapping around him, racing down his arms, twining around his hands.

One of the guns boomed, and Farrendel could sense the shell gliding through the air. While his magic was not substantial enough to physically grip the shell, he wrapped the shell with his magic, the iron in it repelling from his magic as if it was a strong electricity.

The momentum was too much to stop, but Farrendel turned its trajectory and whipped the shell toward the ground. It exploded off to his side, throwing up a fountain of dirt and debris as the ground beneath his feet vibrated.

Still more magic burst from him until it felt like his chest was tearing apart under the force.