Page 118 of Soul Forge

Cynthia flicked her wrist, and the snap of the whip echoed through the cave, its slick length wrapping around Vel’s forearm. He planted his feet right before she could yank on it, heaving with all his strength and forcing her to stagger. She dodged the swing of his sword towards her head and lashed out with her own blade, slicing through the whip to free it from his grip and opening another shallow slash along his arm.

The shadows shivered, and the witch was taken off her feet by a club of darkness swinging for her torso. The impact was hard enough that Elda heard her ribs crunch, but no sound of pain escaped their attacker. She was back on her feet, still grinning, in a second.

The whip lashed out again, and at the last second, it turned to liquid, forcing Vel to cover up behind a wall of darkness. Cynthia sprinted past him, intent on reaching the princess. Elda barely managed to deflect the dagger with her bow, swinging at just in time to knock the strike aside.

A fist to her chin made blood well up in her mouth. Before meeting Sypher, it would have rocked her to her core, but she’d learned how to take a punch. She let Irileth’s cooling magic fill her, keeping her balance enough to duck under the secondpunch. The edge of her bow touched Cynthia’s abdomen, and the witch shot backwards, blasted away by the blizzard that struck her.

Vel followed her path through the air, attempting to stomp on her skull the second she landed, but she slashed at his calf, and the whip reformed in her hand, wrapping around his leg and tossing him at the wall.

Across the cavern, the wraiths were still fighting. Gira had a tear in his shoulder, but his shifted form had already begun working on healing it, and he was back to slashing at the nearest wing with his claws. Reiner had abandoned Atlas to perch on the back of the smaller wraith and was bringing her mace down on its skull over and over. Her face was a rictus of rage, braids flying around her shoulders with every strike.

Julian stepped into the shadows on the ground just as the ex-captain raised her weapon for another blow, appearing above her head and dropping downwards. Together, their weapons broke through the skull, and the smaller wraith finally fell.

The flutter of relief in Elda’s chest was quelled by Vel’s cry of pain. Cynthia’s blade was buried to the hilt in his shoulder, sickly green fire licking over the wound. Her whip was coiled around his throat, and she was pulling it tight, cutting off his air supply.

Elda raised her bow and took aim, her whole world narrowing down to the sight of Vel being throttled. He’d told her not to get involved, but her heart was racing too hard to stop. She pulled back the string, the arrow coalescing immediately. If the witch killed him, it was over. Nobody would train her to be a wielder, and nobody would stop whatever plan the Corrupted were trying to enact.

There would be no more sparring with Sypher. She’d never argue with Vel. Neither of them would ever make her question her sanity when they invaded her space. The thought wracked her with such pain that she moved without thought, releasingthat arrow right at Cynthia’s back. Before it had even struck, her fingertips pressed against the blue gemstone, and the dagger touched her palm.

The witch was blasted forwards, slamming into the cavern wall and landing in the ugly red stream with a pained grunt that brought a grim smile to Elda’s lips. Cynthia’s triumph was gone, her taunting grin replaced with white-hot fury.

Vel stood and yanked the dagger out of his shoulder, tossing it away from Cynthia’s reach. His own sword lay several feet away, so he pulled a dagger out of each boot, his thumbs on the hilts, ready to face her again. They circled one another, waiting for the other to give away their next move.

It was excruciating, waiting for them to commence trying to kill one another again. Elda’s eyes were glued to them, but on the far side of the cavern, she heard Julian yelp, and Nox’s distressed whinny followed. She wanted to turn, to make sure he was still alive, but Cynthia moved.

She moved away from Vel, turning and darting to the left instead of forwards. Right towards Elda. She threw more of that disgusting black magic behind her, splattering the ground. It latched onto Vel’s boots, trying to drag him into its murky centre.

Elda brandished the dagger, drawing on Irileth’s presence to calm the terror storming through her veins. The Spirit brushed against her thoughts, a constant companion reminding her that she was never alone.

But the voice of doubt was getting louder.You’re going to die,it whispered.She’s going to cut out your heart. Or perhaps she’ll take you to Malakai.She tried to ignore it, but it leached through her thoughts, making her hand tremble around the hilt of her weapon.You’re not strong enough. Not fast enough. You can’t win.

And then Cynthia was on her, firing punches and kicks and elbows anywhere she could reach. Even without her weapon, she was going for the kill.She’ll beat you to death.Elda threw her arm up to protect her head, slashing wildly with the dagger and missing. A knee crunched into her stomach, and all the breath left her. She staggered back, trying desperately to get air into her lungs.

“Pathetic,” Cynthia tutted. “I expected more of a fight.”

A glance behind Cynthia showed Vel still struggling with the tar climbing up his legs. The others were waylaid with the larger, tougher wraith. Nobody was coming to help her. She was alone, and she was going to die.

Be still,Irileth murmured in her mind.You are not alone, and you are strong. Let the cold fill you. Use it as your anchor.

Elda held on, keeping her arms up to block another punch, twisting to avoid a second knee to the gut, moving back to give herself room to breathe. Ice pooled in her veins, spreading through her from head to toe. It swept away the voice whispering poison through her thoughts, leaving only Irileth and her calm reassurance behind.

Cynthia’s calf muscle flexed, alerting her to the kick that would follow. She sidestepped, grabbed Cynthia’s ankle, and twisted, forcing the witch onto her stomach with a thud. Before she could recover, Elda dropped her full weight onto Cynthia’s back, knees first. The witch coughed, air wheezing out of her.

“That’s for the knee to the stomach,” the elf hissed.

“Finally, somefire,” the Corrupted cackled, turning onto her back and chopping at Elda’s legs. Her left knee buckled, and the witch was on her in a second, pinning her dagger above her head, the other hand at her throat.

The princess bucked, shunting her attacker forwards, and slammed her forehead into the witch’s nose. Black spots danced in front of her eyes, but the weight on her was gone. Sheshook her head and followed, placing her blade against Cynthia’s jugular.

“Stay down,” she warned through gritted teeth. “Or I will kill you.”

“Sweetheart, you don’t have it in you.”

“Don’t test me.”

“Oh, but Iwill.” Cynthia lurched upwards as though she intended to slice her own throat, and Elda’s hand jerked back, her whole being recoiling at the idea of killing someone, even someone as evil as the Corrupted. She was thrown backwards by a punch that clipped the base of her chin, her head rocking back so hard it rattled her brain in her skull. Fresh blood welled up in her mouth, and her body toppled backwards. The dagger clattered from her hand when the back of her head struck the floor.

Cynthia was on her again, squeezing her throat. Her hands were cold and rough, her green eyes glittering wildly. Elda could see her bared teeth through the haze forming over her vision, the blood still staining them, how her smile became a grimace when she applied more force to Elda’s windpipe. Her heart pounded loudly in her ears, and above it, the voice of doubt sang, ‘I told you so’.

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