Chapter 53 The Spoils Of Battle

• *Brook*
• The wind tastes like ash, carrying the smoke from the Ambrosian’s attack. They’re assembled behind the Oceanan soldiers, shooting their magic at us with wild abandon. I stand at the back of the Altinnian line, feet planted wide, arms raised, water already swirling at my fingertips. I never received the same training as River, was never taught to be as graceful or powerful as the Oceanan soldiers, but my magic listens to me, and that’s all I can ask of it for now.
• I pull from the well inside me, deeper than I’ve ever gone before, and send a blast of water arcing through the air. It catches two Oceanan soldiers before they reach the front line. One stumbles. The other skids across the mud, his blade slipping from frozen fingers.