Men and women who fled in despair were cut down, stabbed in the back and beheaded on the spot. This was not the end of Shael and its people, but the Forsaken clearly intended it to be the end of Voechenka, once and for all. It was the completion of the task her people and the Vorga had begun during the war.

Gritting her teeth Zannah forced herself to move faster and then faster still. Wielding a short sword in either hand she cut a swathe through the Forsaken, splitting skulls, severing limbs and kicking them off the wall.

When one tried to attack she stepped aside, ripped open its abdomen, spun around and stabbed it in the back through the heart. Another came at her with an axe, which she blocked with one of her swords while taking off the woman's arm at the shoulder with the other. As the scream started, Zannah cut her throat and moved on. She was constantly moving forward, forcing each opponent to stand and fight someone who was not afraid. Someone who was just as strong and ruthless as they were.

They tried to match her speed and failed. As fast as they could be, as hard as they could force their host bodies to move, they were still partially human and she was not. When they tried to match her skill they failed, as she had been stripped of everything except this. She was a warrior. She had nothing else. No family, no people, no country.

She hoped that her assault on the creatures might inspire the people of Shael to stand and fight. The odds were against them but it was not over while they were still alive.

A whisper of sound behind Zannah made her spin about with her swords ready to strike. But instead of one of the Forsaken, she came face to face with Alyssa, who just smiled at her.

Taking a deep breath Zannah lowered her weapons and relaxed, until she saw the sword sticking out of Alyssa's stomach. Time seemed to stop. The world became just the two of them and everything else faded into insignificance.

Zannah recalled the first time they met.

Mercifully it had been shortly after the war, when she'd saved a group of locals from one of her own people. The rogue Morrin soldier had killed two local people for their food and was determined to kill the others. The only thing stopping him had been Alyssa, unarmed and unafraid, facing him down with nothing more than her will and her faith for protection. Her fearlessness made him pause, as he was baffled by her willingness to sacrifice her life to protect the others. Two seconds later Zannah ran him through from behind and their friendship had begun.

Now it was over, and a terrible pain swelled inside Zannah. It filled her whole being until she felt as if she were dying and not her only friend in the world.

A Forsaken reared up from behind Alyssa and with a savage twist ripped his blade clear of her body. With a howl of fury Zannah took off his head with both swords but she knew it was already too late.

Alyssa dropped to her knees and slid off the wall into the courtyard where several people caught her before she hit the ground. Zannah raced down the stairs, shoving bodies aside until she knelt beside her friend. Someone went to fetch one of the priests, but Zannah knew they couldn't help. Blood bubbled from Alyssa's mouth and her face was racked with agony, turning her beautiful features into a mask of pain.

Reaching out with one hand Alyssa pulled Zannah close until her ear was almost pressed to her lips.

"Promise me something," she whispered.

"Anything," said Zannah.

"Live. Live for me."

A priest shoved Zannah aside but she barely noticed. Her eyes were locked on Alyssa, who stared back while the priest tried to staunch the bleeding. Zannah was still gazing into Alyssa's eyes when she died a few moments later.

Zannah was wrong. The city had forged her into a weapon, but it had also given her something to lose. Something she cherished more than her own life, and the Forsaken had taken it from her.

Many of those on the wall were looking down at Alyssa's body. She had died for Zannah and would have done the same for any of them.

A terrible hunger began to swell in her chest until her whole body was quivering with rage. Snarling like an angry dog she ran back up the stairs and attacked the Forsaken with reckless abandon. She didn't care if they hurt her. Her own life didn't matter any more. She had nothing left to lose.

When a sword flashed towards her face she smiled, welcoming the pain, but the blade was deflected by another. Turning around, Zannah saw Monella beside her, struggling to keep the sword at bay.

"Don't just stand there, help me!" she hissed. Zannah stabbed the creature before throwing him off the wall into the street.

Below her the courtyard was emptying, every person able to wield a weapon flooding onto the wall. No one wanted to run any more. What they lacked in skill the people of Voechenka made up for in heart. Fighting in pairs and groups they pushed the enemy back, one step at a time, and whenever one of them fell two more rushed forward to take their place.

The people of Voechenka had been transformed. Not by starvation or what they had endured, but by the sacrifice of one woman who had given her life to save them. Not for fame or riches, not because she hoped to gain anything from it, but simply because it was the right thing to do.

Monella, the former priest, cursed the enemy with her vicious tongue as she fought, cutting down the creatures with an axe as though she were chopping wood. Beside her, the mercenary Graff protected her back, throwing himself into the fight. Rheena, the girl Tammy had rescued from Fennetaris, screamed as she stabbed one of the creatures in the chest, unleashing her rage.

Pella Rae, the first refugee to bend her knee and swear a blood oath to serve Alyssa, fought back to back with another woman. It was Alyssa who had taken her and so many other people in. She had offered them shelter and a safe place away from the shadow that crept across the city. Now Pella and the others fought to honour all that they had been given. They fought to survive and keep alive the spark of hope that Alyssa had given them.

If this was the end of Voechenka then its people were determined it would be a battle that was not forgotten by history. They intended to fight until the last of them drew their final breath.

The Forsaken could not stand against such an implacable tide of humanity. They screamed and shrieked while their adversaries faced them with an icy calm. Even when the first creature turned and ran, the people of Voechenka did not cheer. They kept on fighting until there was no one left to kill.

And when the sun came up the Forsaken were gone and the people of Voechenka were free.

CHAPTER 44.

Tammy stared down at the long lines of bodies laid out in the courtyard. All of them had been covered with blankets to conceal their wounds. But the brightly coloured wool could not hide the cost of their victory. Almost half of those who had fought on the wall were dead, with many more severely wounded.

Among the dead were several mercenaries, including Graff, who had died protecting two injured locals. Graff had killed the Forsaken, and three more, before he was run through. Even then he fought as if berserk until finally his strength ran out. In his final act, he'd hugged one of the Forsaken to his chest and thrown them both from the wall. Like everyone else, he had witnessed Alyssa's bravery and had done his best to make her proud.

At first when Tammy saw what remained of his body she'd thought it was Kovac. When he appeared a few minutes later from inside she was torn between the urge to kill or kiss him. She settled on the latter, much to his surprise.

The wounded had been carried inside where they were being tended, while almost everyone else was either eating or asleep from exhaustion. Tammy's limbs felt leaden but she couldn't rest, not yet.

They had driven the Forsaken away, and killed many of them in the process, but she didn't think that they were completely gone. Fenne had disappeared at some point as well, which told her it wasn't over.

Earlier, Balfruss had moved the cart laden with stone so that they could open the gate, but once again the effort had proven a great struggle. He had almost passed out and even now, more than an hour later, was sat in the same spot. As Tammy approached she thought he was asleep or in a daze but she saw his eyes were open. They were staring at something far away and he seemed completely oblivious to his surroundings. His left hand was slightly raised and the fingers were twitching ever so slightly, as if he were pulling on very delicate strings. She noticed he was facing out towards the city, looking through the open gates. Tammy peered out, expecting to see something amiss, but the street was empty.

"Did you need my help?" he asked, startling her.

"How are you feeling?" asked Tammy.

"Exactly the same," said Balfruss, and to her surprise he smiled, as if that were a good thing.

"I'm going to organise some tracking parties to hunt down the remaining Forsaken. They may have fled back to the tunnels, but they could be elsewhere since we know where they've been hiding. Are you well enough to come with us?"

Balfruss considered it for a moment and then offered her that secret smile again. "Yes, but there's something I have to do first."

Balfruss walked into what could only be described as a laboratory. On one side of the large room, shelves lined the wall from floor to ceiling. Floating in a series of jars were various animals, plants, internal organs and some things he couldn't identify. In those nearest the door he saw several lumps of purple tissue, which he assumed were human organs until he saw the black tendrils. As he drew closer he noticed that while everything else in jars appeared to be dead and in a state of decay, these specimens were fresh and still alive. A few black tendrils twitched and jerked, feebly clawing at the glass.

In the centre of the room was a massive table that ran the entire length. A vast array of books, glass tubing, vials of liquid, paper, animal skulls and all sorts of seemingly random items were scattered across the surface. Given the size of the table and the amount of space in the room it must have taken its owner years to accumulate the collection. Some of the objects were stacked so high in places they almost reached the ceiling. The whole place smelled musty and yet there were layers of other scents beneath the dust. Rotting meat and vegetables, spicy herbs and abrasive smells he'd associate with an apothecary. They were all jumbled together like the contents of the room.

The only part of the room that showed any sign of order was the far wall. It was lined with shelves full of identical red books, all with handwritten labels on the spines. A door at the rear led to what he guessed were living quarters and light came from a series of small windows set high on two walls that looked out onto the street above.

A young woman with unkempt blonde hair shuffled into the laboratory from the back. She was hunched over and muttering to herself as she held a book in one hand and a yellow bone in the other hand. Balfruss guessed she was originally from Yerskania, but her skin was so pale he suspected her lack of colour came from rarely leaving this room. It would also explain her dishevelled clothing and bare feet which were covered with grime. Her hands were impeccably clean, though, which seemed a peculiar contrast to the rest.

Moving to the long workbench she cleared a space, set down the book and tilted the bone towards the light, peering at it closely. After a few seconds she realised he was standing there, but rather than registering surprise at his presence she seemed disappointed.

"Ah, you're here," she said, before carefully setting the bone down and peering at him. She squinted and then fished around on the desk before retrieving a pair of battered glasses, which she perched on the end of her nose. "I rather hoped you'd be on your way by now, Balfruss."

Studying her face he expected to see something familiar, but there was nothing he recognised. He'd never seen her before in his life.

"On my way where?"

"Oh, I don't know," she said, flapping a hand towards the windows and the world beyond. "Somewhere, anywhere that's not here."

Despite her being a stranger to him, there was something familiar in her mannerisms and the way she talked, though he couldn't put his finger on it.

"It took me a while, but eventually I realised why I had such a strong compulsion to leave Voechenka. The feeling wasn't there to begin with," said Balfruss, moving slowly down the room towards her. "It only started after I fought Kaine. I thought I'd been infected by the bleakness of this city, but that wasn't it."

"It could have been," she suggested. "This place is a stinking tomb, full of despair and sorrow. It's reasonable to assume that whatever leaked into the bones of this city might have seeped into you."

"It was you all along," said Balfruss, and all at once the pieces in his head slid into place. The way she spoke with an air of wisdom and authority more usual in someone much older. The way she peered at him through her glasses resting on the end of her nose, as if he were a student in her classroom. The way she seemed disappointed and yet not surprised by his presence. The years peeled back and he was a boy again at the Red Tower, dreaming of being old enough to shave.

"There is no Kaine, only you. Polganna Naral, formerly of the Grey Council."

The woman tilted her head to one side and a sly smile crept across her face. "You were always a gifted student."

Many years ago Balfruss had been among the last pupils to be taught by members of the Grey Council. This was before they'd abandoned their posts and gone in search of a prophesised saviour who would change the nature of magic. At the time all of the Council had been in their mid-fifties and he had assumed that by now they'd be dead. And yet, the young woman standing in front of him was Polganna.

"How?" he asked, gesturing at her face.

"Think, then tell me the answer," she chided him, turning back to her book while he thought it through.

"You used the Source to regenerate your flesh."

"Not just my flesh," she said without looking up. "Young skin wouldn't do me much good if my organs rotted and my joints were stiff and old. It took years, and many experiments," she said, gesturing vaguely at the jars. "But eventually I unlocked the secret. It started with the Morrin, of course."

Their special connection to the Source gave all Morrin unusual longevity. A rare few could manipulate it like Zannah, who could survive normally fatal wounds.

Somehow Polganna had found a way to tap into that ability and use it to heal her body and then go beyond that and reverse the ageing process. Staring at the organs floating in the jars, Balfruss wondered how many had belonged to Morrin.

"The Flesh Mages. Were they planned or a by-product?"

"That was unexpected," conceded Polganna. "But it was such an exciting and remarkable discovery. I found an old reference to the Talent. They called it skinwalking."

"If I ask you how it was done, will you tell me?" said Balfruss. A trickle of sweat started to run down the side of his face, which he quickly wiped away before she noticed.

Polganna finally lifted her eyes from the page and raised an eyebrow. "You want to learn how to skinwalk?"

"No, I mean what you've done to me."

That sly smile came again, slower this time. Polganna was obviously particularly proud of how she'd hobbled him. "Ah, that. Are you to be my pupil again, young Balfruss?"

He didn't know if she was being serious or not, but he played along and shrugged his shoulders, forcing himself to relax. "We both know there's little I can do in my condition except listen. I can barely reach for the Source without feeling nauseous and wanting to run from this city."

"It would have faded," said Polganna, "but I had to make it a strong compulsion to ensure you had no urge to come back later. I detest interruptions."

"I'm curious, just like you," he conceded. "I was never satisfied with what I was taught. I knew there was so much more. So many secrets being held back from me."

Polganna gave him her full attention now, moving slightly towards him with a smile that was warm and almost maternal. "Yes, you were so driven and still are. My little birds have brought me many stories of your adventures over the years. Into the desert, during the war, and then across the Dead Sea. You must have seen some remarkable sights."

"A few, which I can share, if you will."

"Yes, your compulsion," said Polganna. "You said it started when you fought my final Splinter, the old man. It actually started the minute you entered the city and used magic. What's one of the first lessons you were taught at the Red Tower?"

"A Battlemage's strength will never change over time," he replied, even though they both knew it was a lie.

"And what else?"

"That everyone's connection to the Source is unique."

"That part is true at least," said Polganna. "Every time you meet someone else with the ability, you feel a pulse from them. It is the echo of like calling to like, but if you listen very closely, you'll notice it's always slightly different in pitch. All I did was listen carefully when you used your magic and eventually found yours. I simply added something to that connection."

"Can it be reversed?"

"Of course," said Polganna, seemingly appalled by his suggestion that anything she'd done could not be undone. "Such an unnatural reflex starts to decay over time, so it would have faded eventually."

Balfruss tried his best to hide his relief, but he suspected there was very little that Polganna didn't see.

"Here, let me show you," she said, and before he saw what she'd done, a wave of energy passed through him. Tentatively he pretended to reach for the Source for the first time, drawing a large amount of power and summoning a flame on the palm of his outstretched hand. The sickness and fear had gone, as had the compulsion to leave the city.

"Is it even worth asking why?" he said and Polganna just tutted.

"Think, then tell me the answer," she repeated, just as she'd done when he was a boy.

"Knowledge."

"Exactly," said Polganna, sweeping her arms wide to encompass the whole room. Balfruss noticed there were echoes of the Warlock in how she spoke in a dramatic fashion. He must have spent many years studying under her. Balfruss extinguished the flame but maintained a minute connection to the Source. The same one he'd been holding on to since before entering the room, only now it was much easier.

"A lifetime's work and it's still not done," Polganna was saying. "There's so much left to discover." With that she turned back to her books and Balfruss knew he had to keep her full attention on him.

"Did you actually find whoever the Opsum Prophecy referred to?"

Polganna looked up at him and laughed. It was a rich warm sound full of genuine mirth that normally he would have found endearing, but knowing who lurked under the young flesh mask made his skin crawl.

"We searched for years, travelling through every city, town and backwater village. Always we went in disguise, so as not to draw attention to ourselves. We separated to cover more ground and after a decade of searching the entire continent, do you know what we discovered?" Polganna was starting to look hysterical and her eyes were wide and manic. "Nothing!" she roared in a voice so loud it rattled the jars on her table. "They wanted to continue, even though I knew it was a fool's errand. So I came here and began my experiments."

"Did you bring them here? The parasites?" asked Balfruss, gesturing at the twitching things in the jars. "They're from beyond the Veil, aren't they?"

Polganna showed the first sign of regret, although it was so fleeting he wondered if he'd imagined it. "My experiments didn't always start out well, but I learned from my mistakes. What lives beyond the Veil is too unpredictable. The same test can produce different results three times in a row. So I moved on to focus on safer areas of study."

It was the closest thing Balfruss thought he was going to get to an admittance of regret. Polganna had brought the first of the Forsaken through to this world from beyond the Veil, destroying a city and all of its remaining population in the process.

There was a vague flicker of movement behind Polganna's head but he ignored it and focused on her face.

"Do you know how many have died in Voechenka because of your abandoned experiment?"