Resurrection (Book Three of the Soul Forge series)

Getting the wards down was much harder than getting them up. Syd laboured through each wing beat, sides heaving with the strain. Pulsing energy roared from the symbol suspended high above the city, working against them like a gale force wind.

"Easy girl, just a little further." Julian patted her neck, squinting against the magic beating down on them. "As soon as I vanish, fly down. Just make sure you catch me."

The tulpar demon whinnied her agreement, understanding him even if she couldn't speak with him directly. She struggled through the last few feet, heat rising from her skin and leathery wings as her muscles worked overtime. Julian readied himself, and leapt into darkness.

In the few seconds he was sailing through the spaces between the light, he thought of everything that could go wrong. He could misjudge the height and not reach the rune. He could come in too high and bounce off the top of the shield to his death. Worse, he could reappear at the same height as the shield and cut himself in half.

But he stepped out of the darkness all the same, reaching out with the wardstone clutched tightly in his fist. His heart was beating out of his chest, but the rune lit up and the shield retracted with a sound like shattering glass, disintegrating before his eyes.

His body started to drop, stomach lurching awfully, but when he turned in the air he saw Syd waiting. She neighed and flapped her wings, angling towards him. They'd completed the manoeuvre a thousand times, but never from such a height.

When his backside touched the saddle, Julian let out a hysterical laugh. Syd angled her wings and banked towards the city in a wide downward spiral. Julian spotted Elda hanging limply from the Soul Forge's hand and swooped in, intending to take his head, but then he saw Cynthia.

She was pale, thinner than he remembered, and stark black markings covered every inch of her skin. Her eyes were focussed on the Soul Forge, her attention completely fixated on him. Around them, more and more undead simply stopped and stared with vacant eyes.

Her hand moved, and so did the shadows. When she smiled, they shivered. When her fist clenched, her puppet's grip tightened on Elda's throat.

Syd changed course at his command, barreling towards the witch with renewed zeal. Her hoof smacked solidly into the side of Cynthia's head, knocking her onto her back. The grip around Elda's neck loosened. When she dropped, Julian was relieved to see her land on her feet.

He turned to make another pass, this time aiming for Abraxos. The Corrupted snarled at Gira, sending out an arc of lightning, so Julian swiped his axe across Abraxos' chest, grinning manically when he felt metal meet flesh.

Shadows shot out too fast to avoid, spearing Julian through the shoulder and knocking him from the saddle. The ground came up to meet him, shattering the same shoulder the shadows had pierced. He bit down on a yell, rolling to a stop at the feet of a corpse that still had the agency to shamble around.

Gnashing teeth broke through the haze of pain, too close to his face, when a familiar figure appeared behind it and yanked the undead backwards. A boot slammed down on its skull with a wet crunch, and Brady blew dark curls away from her bloodstained face.

"I swear, vamp. What would you do without me?" She flashed him a grin and offered a hand, helping him to his feet. But he could see how pale she was, how wide her eyes were, and he knew the grin was a front.

"Are you alright?" he asked, looking over her face and neck for scratches.

"It's a mess here, but I'm not hurt. Spirits, I've never seen anything like this." She ducked under his good arm, taking the weight off the ankle he'd rolled during his fall and helping him hobble aside. Syd's hooves sounded on the cobbles, trotting after him the moment she landed.

"Cynthia is who we need to kill," he told the bear shifter. "Elda was right. The horde and the Soul Forge are only standing because she is. She's barely in control."

"Got it." Brady turned to go, then paused and pointed at him. "Stay. There." And then she jogged away.

He shook his head, watching her half-shift and dive right back into the fighting. From his vantage point, he could see the soldiers and dragons had the horde controlled, but the Keepers were struggling against the Corrupted.

Arden's fire was a blue-tinged inferno, sweeping from his bo staff with every arc and spin, setting buildings alight and turning carts and shops to kindling. The fire had caught in several places and spread quickly, devouring homes until they began to cave in on themselves, showering the streets with debris. Ash and embers fell like snow, setting more fires on their wake.

Abraxos was badly wounded, but still fighting, his lightning tearing holes in the streets. Gira's arcs of wind did almost as much damage, shattering windows, blowing in doors and spreading flames until the city reflected the war zone it had become. The quarter near the main gate was decimated.

And that was without considering the havoc Cynthia wreaked. The magic of the Soul Forge was lethal, cutting down soldiers and undead with reckless abandon. It seethed and writhed, smothering some of the magic-fuelled fires completely with its ferocity. And in the middle of it all, a single point of light still fought.

Elda was smoke, a wisp on the wind, her whole body aglow. Ice crept over her gauntlets in frosted patterns, her breath misting as she used her dagger and short sword to fend off each and every blow Cynthia sent her way.

Julian wanted to help, but the searing pain in his shoulder kept him still. He'd be more of a hinderance than a help if he couldn't hold a weapon.

So he waited, heart pounding in his chest, watching Elda, Gira, Brady and the Spirits fighting from the sidelines. Syd nudged his unharmed shoulder anxiously.

"I know," he murmured. "But if I go out there like this I'll get someone killed." Brady had sequestered him behind the stump of a building, concealed by shattered stone, giving him a perfect view of the battle raging around and above. Explosions of rock and ice boomed, shaking the very stone beneath him.

Dragons soared overhead, swooping down to snatch up the undead and fling them away, spurting small bursts of flame at concentrated groups to split them apart. The soldiers advanced in methodical rows, led by Reiner, cutting through the corpses with practised ease.

And the Keepers worked with Brady and their Spirits to fend off the Corrupted, moving in unison. Julian's good hand fisted the fabric of his leather trousers, his knuckles cracking when Elda narrowly avoided decapitation and Gira picked up a sizeable burn on his left arm.

Brady was fully shifted, sharp teeth and rounded ears on show as she let out a roar. Abraxos sent lightning arcing from his mace, catching her with just enough power to stun her. She dropped, muscles disobeying her, and the male elf advanced with a wicked grin.

But Irileth was there, stopping that vicious mace from crushing Brady's head. Julian's strangled cry of relief was drowned out by the crackle of flames and the clash of weapons.

When his eyes fell on the corpse of his friend, standing listlessly on the sidelines while his magic was bastardised by Cynthia, that hollowness in his chest expanded again. He swallowed hard against the lump in his throat, pushing down the memories of such vibrant life.

Vel and Sypher had been everything. Yani was his husband, Clover his brother, but the bond Julia had developed with Sypher over the course of their lives went deeper than blood, deeper than love. Even Vel, the vicious demon soul, had proven himself to be someone worthy of trust and respect.

He wouldn't want to be used.

Julian stood slowly, hefting his axe in his left hand. It was unwieldy, but not impossible to manage. Syd nickered in alarm, but he shook his head, willing her to stay put and not give him away. She watched him for a moment, then lowered her head in agreement.

He started the slow hobble towards his friend, sticking close to the scarred buildings and avoiding the touch of those lashing shadows. Every step sent a throbbing pain up his leg that worked in tandem with the burning in his shattered shoulder, but he couldn't leave the Soul Forge like that.

He had to put an end to the enslavement. Even in death, Sypher and Vel had not been allowed peace. The thought drove Julian on, hot tears pricking the backs of his eyes. He blinked them away, putting one foot in front of the other until he was standing ten feet behind the white-haired corpse.

Being so close, he noticed the Soul Forge hadn't even started to rot. His skin held the pallor of death, bruised purple circles surrounding colourless eyes. His cheeks were slightly hollowed, but he showed no signs of decay. The scent that wafted from him was the same as ever - vetiver and leather. It hit Julian like a knife in the gut.

The others were still fighting, none of them aware of his presence. Cynthia was trembling with exertion, her red hair plastered to her scalp, but her grin was manic. The shadows snapped and strained, obeying less and less of her commands, but that didn't stop her fighting.

A whip of darkness shot out and wrapped around Irileth, squeezing tightly enough to crack her frozen skin before tossing her away. Another whip tangled with Aetheria's vines and yanked, slamming her face into the stone and throwing her in the same direction as Irileth.

Abraxos stuck his mace in Brady's left arm and let loose a flurry of lightning so strong it made her collapse, and the shadows swept her body aside. Gira swung his great-sword, standing back to back with Elda, but he missed the darkness winding around his ankle, grunting when it dragged him along the ground. Julian bit down on a gasp when the wolf shifter hit a wall and went through and didn't reappear.

Elda stood alone in that mass of writhing black, her mouth set in a grim line as she faced the Corrupted. Her light flared bright again, shining through the soot and blood coating her skin. The shadows shuddered and recoiled.

She ducked under the swing of Abraxos' mace, slashing her dagger across his ribs and widening the wound Julian's axe had left behind. She turned the movement into a roll and knocked Arden's legs from beneath him, slamming the hilt of her sword into his temple hard enough to bounce his head off the floor. His flames died out, eyes fluttering closed.

Abraxos tried again, but his movements were sloppy. Elda's boot smacked into that open wound and he staggered back, red splattering his lips when he coughed. The mace fell from his grasp and he landed on his backside, holding the slash closed with his hands.

Cynthia snarled, still unaware that Julian was inches away from being within striking range of the Soul Forge. His fingers tightened around the axe, preparing for one solid swing. It had to be perfect - a single blow would be the only way to stop her before she had time to retaliate.

Julian raised the weapon, heart beating in his throat, and then he saw the Soul Forge twitch. Cynthia took a chance, redirecting her attention completely to his body, forcing it to obey, and his magic became a rush of black sharpened to a deadly point, firing towards Elda like a cannon.

Julian stepped into darkness and out of it again in a split second, shoving her out of the way, vaguely aware of the sound of running footsteps. Pain radiated up his shattered shoulder as it took the brunt of the impact, but it was dwarfed by the agony slicing through his torso when the shadows hit him instead.

The last thing he heard was those running boots on the cobbles.