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[b][u]Cuttersbury: Trail towards Drych Lake[/u][/b]

"[i]Spes chaote, spes propter chaotem - res creata magna, mihi faenerare fortem; potestatem inclamo[/i]--"

[b]WHUMP![/b] Big Bro Varren landed on the ground, shaking the trees. Quentin, in the middle of his incantation, almost felt a rattle through his teeth from the impact. He clicked his tongue in frustration. You could not rush genius, or preparing enough firepower to knock something that big on its butt. Though he knew that it was a waste of time to look down, Quentin did anyway. Tobi shot the Varren in the mouth. Quentin felt his mouth go dry as the Varren counterattacked, swatting Tobi into Moira like they were two marbles. Those guns were nothing more than pea shooting noise makers to something practically made of hardened earth. Quentin pressed his cheek against the rough bark and redoubled his concentration; they were clearly running out of time.

"[i]Potestatem inclamo[/i]..." he restarted before the varren released an ear-splitting roar. The water mage groaned, getting irritated. The least they could do down there is be the distraction they said they would be. He closed his eyes. He returned to basic principles. Water was not shaken by such meaningless things. Water flowed. It could be diverted but it continued to flow, always choosing its own course. Where it went, it became the unstoppable force...

The tree swayed as the varren stamped its foot. Quentin screwed his eyes more tightly closed.

...the unstoppable force that drowned even the immovable object! "[i]Potestatem inclamo favorique te oro![/i]"

Something out of the corner of his eye made Marcus turn. He saw tiny rivulets of water flowing in gentle arcs, babbling playfully, from out of the yellowing leaves of the tree. They swirled around in a complex pattern of intertwined snakes before amassing in a growing sphere of water balanced in the air between Quentin's hands. The sphere started out as no larger than a small orange. It then grew to the size of a grapefruit, and then to the size of a football, and then it was large enough to be enough ammo for a twenty-four hour water balloon carpet bombing. Marcus could also see Quentin struggling under the effort to keep the mass in check. Behind his spectacles, the wind mage's eyes met the water mage's eyes behind his sunglasses.

Dead leaves were fluttering out of the tree. Branches were becoming knotted and gnarled. The trunk was withering and thinning. Quentin hoisted the water sphere above his head and nodded to Marcus.