Chapter 14 #2
Stinging pain shot through his head so harsh that he let go of the Whisperer’s leg in one hand, dropped his knife in the other, and staggered back in agony with his palms pressed to his temples.
“Are you all right?” Adara’s voice cut through the Whisperer’s like a tether of light cast into the shadows of his mind.
He gripped it tightly, and it drew him back to her.
Risking a glance in her direction, he saw her tentatively push herself to her feet, head swiveling side to side as if searching for him, forgetting she was blindfolded.
Her lips parted to speak, but she quickly closed them.
He guessed she had almost said his name to get his attention.
He opened his mouth to answer, but only a pained groan escaped as the Whisperer grasped for his mind again.
The pressure was so immense that he felt like his brain would implode.
Stumbling back, Dominic slammed into the wall, the icy stone seeping into his skin.
The wounds on his abdomen screamed at the impact.
Adara lifted her hand to the cloth covering her eyes, fingers grasping at the knot at the back of her head.
“Don’t!” Dominic yelled, voice strained as the Whisperer continued probing his mind.
Her hand snapped back to the hilt of her sword, heeding his warning.
Using his singular word of advice to find him, Adara stealthily made her way toward him, the Whisperer’s back turned to her.
It crept closer to him, a predator stalking its prey.
He watched the movements of its arm, legs, torso, neck, anything but its head where its eyes bore into him, ready to claim his life.
It stalked closer and closer. Its breath, reeking of death, permeated the air.
Dominic gagged on the stench. He gritted his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut as the Whisperer ran a claw softly over his forehead, moving a strand of sweat-drenched hair away from his eye.
Extremely sharp, even the barest touch left a thin line of red trickling across his forehead.
Just one glimpse and I can tell you your fate.
Dominic shook his head as if the simple motion could shake away the fear slithering through him.
“I can make my own fate,” he growled, his jaw clenched tight.
He didn’t care whether or not the Whisperer acknowledged his words.
He only needed for Adara to hear them. Needed to speak to guide her closer to the Whisperer so she could attack, because he’d been stupid enough to drop his dagger the moment the creature started prodding at his mind.
Pinned between its withered body and the wall behind him, Dominic could do nothing.
All it would take was one swipe of those claws to gut him, spilling his innards all over the ground to join the rotting flesh of its previous victims. There were no corpses, only flesh and bones and blood.
He shuddered at the thought of being reduced to nothing more than carrion, of being completely erased from existence after his death.
Although he hated leaving her blind and on the verge of defenselessness, Dominic was glad Adara couldn’t see him struggling to keep his composure as the Whisperer traced its talons along his skin, whispering threats in his ear to get him to open his eyes.
It grabbed his jaw, the tips of its claws stinging and cold against his skin. Just one look and I’ll tell you if you get what you desire.
“I don’t need to see my future,” he snarled. “I’ll find a way to get what I want.”
Adara, having found the direction of his voice again, stalked closer. Eyes cracked open a sliver, Dominic watched her feet move. Step after step, she crept up behind the Whisperer.
Finally, mere inches away, he whispered to her, “Cut low.”
The Whisperer released its hold on his jaw.
Dominic’s eyes shot open just in time to see Adara’s sword cutting through the air, aimed at the Whisperer’s spindly legs.
He leaped out of the way as steel sliced through its leathery skin.
The Whisperer cried out, staggering back into the wall.
It swiped blindly at Dominic, clawing the air.
He dove out of its path and rolled across the blood-crusted ground, picking up his dagger.
Adara dodged its strikes like she sensed its intention before it even moved.
Rushing toward them, Dominic joined the fight.
With the two of them, it was easy to land a blow on the Whisperer, but every inch of skin they cut, every bone they broke, was futile.
The creature never faltered. It only shrieked so loud that their ears rang and they staggered back.
Then, it charged at them again, stronger and faster than before.
“I’m beginning to think we’re only angering it,” Adara shouted over one of its shrill cries as she slashed along its ribs, creating a gash deep enough to see bone. She leaped back in time to narrowly miss its claws.
“You think?” Dominic yelled back as he lifted his dagger to block another powerful swipe of its talons. The metal sang as his blade met those claw-tipped hands.
Adara went for a low attack, only to be swept off her feet. The Whisperer then turned and slashed at his ribs, to which Dominic jumped back. At his retreat, the Whisperer whirled to face Adara on the ground. It lunged for her.
Dominic shouted, “Roll right!”
Without hesitation, Adara obeyed his orders. The deafening sound of the Whisperer’s claws scraping against stone filled his ears, sparks flying in its wake.
Leaping to her feet, Adara suggested, “Why don’t you make it fall in love with you? That seems to get everyone killed!”
The Whisperer lunged for her again. Adara thrust her sword at its abdomen, but it jumped to the side.
Both of them converged on the hideous creature.
Before they could get close, it hissed and ran to the side of the cave.
Its claws extended farther, digging into the cracked stone.
Then it hauled itself up and scaled the wall.
“I would if I could! But that thing can’t exactly see my charming good looks, which usually does the trick,” Dominic shot back as the Whisperer scrambled all over the roof and walls of the cavern.
The light began to dim, darkness settling in as, one by one, it blew out all the torches.
Despite the cloth covering her eyes, Adara’s head turned in every direction, searching for the creature.
“Right, we both know it’s not because of your delightful personality,” she retorted.
Beneath the blindfold, she must have seen the darkness around her grow thicker because whatever other sarcastic remark she was about to make died on her lips.
She heaved a heavy breath and murmured, “What’s happening? ”
How she knew exactly where to look to meet his eyes was beyond him. Dominic knew, beneath the blindfold, her fretful eyes were trained on him.
“It blew out the torches,” Dominic said, his voice loud against the silence that enveloped them.
The cavern was no longer filled with the Whisperer’s shrieks or the scrape of its claws.
He couldn’t even detect its breath—if it even breathed.
He didn’t even know if the ancient creature was technically alive.
Adara muttered a curse to herself in a language he couldn’t detect. “I can’t feel my magic,” she said, voice rising in anger and panic.
Dominic flexed his fingers. There was a dull, empty, void instead of the usual hum of magic in his blood. “I can’t either,” he muttered.
A whisper sounded somewhere above him, indecipherable. Once again, the voices hissed in unison, pounding in his ears. Look at me.
Dominic closed his eyes, sensing that it would materialize in front of him at any moment.
Turning in a slow circle, he listened for anything that would give away its position—a scrape of claws, a breath, a tap of movement—but he couldn’t escape those damn whispers . . . until they suddenly stopped.
Pain shot through his side before he knew what was happening.
Claws sank deep into him, targeting the same lacerations it had given him earlier.
His wounds that had been slowly healing when the Whisperer was distant enough for his magic to settle back in were torn open once more, wringing an agonized cry from his throat as the Whisperer threw him to the ground.
Raising his dagger, Dominic plunged the knife deep into what he assumed was its shoulder.
The thing screamed, writhing in pain. It scrambled away from him as he ripped the knife out of its skin with a wet squelching noise.
The Whisperer retreated far enough for Dominic to sense his magic again. A spark lit up in his hand, then shot to one of the sconces on the wall, illuminating the cavern. Still lying on his back, he released a breath, grateful for the light.
Adara’s screams pierced the silence. Dominic jolted up, head turning to see the Whisperer’s jagged teeth clenched around her right forearm.
Her sword clattered to the ground, blood following it.
She pounded her elbow against its face over and over again.
Strong, deadly blows that bashed in its frail bones but did nothing to harm the ancient creature.
It only clamped those sharp teeth harder around her arm and kicked her weapon across the cavern.
She groaned through gritted teeth. The muscles in her arm flexed, veins bulging as she wrapped a hand around its neck and squeezed as hard as she could, but it was to no avail.
She scratched its face, fingernails tearing its thin skin that mended with every wound she made.
Adara went for its eyes, trying to gouge them out with her left hand.
Her pained cry echoed through the cave as it wrenched its head away from Adara’s prying nails.
Blood gushed from her arm, its jaw still firmly anchored around her limb.
“Look at it!” Adara shouted. Crimson poured down her arm, dripping onto her boots.
She couldn’t pull away, not without those fangs tearing through more muscle.
But even in her danger, Dominic couldn’t fathom why she would tell him to do such a thing. Did she think he was that stupid—to look at it and get himself killed? “Are you crazy?” he yelled. Placing a hand on the wound at his side, he pressed firmly, stanching the blood as he stood on shaky legs.
“Look it in the eyes!” Her voice rose, gathering a sense of urgency. Panic no longer filled her words, but certainty. “I trusted you to lead me in here blind. Now, you have to trust me,” Adara urged when he didn’t reply.
Dominic stood there for a moment, hunched over with a hand to his side, all too aware of the warm blood slipping through his fingers.
He didn’t want the rest of his blood to paint the walls like the Whisperer’s past victims. Adara wouldn’t lead him to his death, would she?
She had no chance of forging the Realm Fracturer without him.
No chance of gaining more power without his key.
They’d promised to protect each other—at least, until someone won their war of hearts. It sounded ridiculous to think that a war was the only thing keeping them from killing one another. Yet, it was the only thing that he could trust: their dire need for power.
“Fine,” Dominic finally replied. “But if I die—”
“Yeah, yeah, you’ll drag me down to Helfarrow with you. I’d probably be on my way shortly after,” Adara intervened.
He didn’t know how she sounded so calm saying that with the Whisperer’s fangs buried in her arm.
With her good hand, Adara grabbed the Whisperer’s jaw, angling herself so its face was toward Dominic, and jerked its head to the side. Teeth tearing from her flesh, she forced the creature to meet his gaze.
The Whisperer stared at him with one depthless, milky white eye.
When his eyes met its one, Dominic realized their plan was doomed.
Or rather, Adara’s was now. The Realm Fracturer could only be used once to tear through the fabric of the universe.
Whether Adara knew this or not, he had no clue.
He’d planned on taking both eyes, taking two of each relic so they could forge two Realm Fracturers—one for Adara and one for himself.
With there only being one eye of the Whisperer, only one of them could use the Fracturing Sword.
Those thoughts tumbled into an abyss as that murky eye stared into his soul. White filled his vision, blinding and painful, until Dominic was staring at visions of his past, waiting for the moment the Whisperer would find his name and use it to kill him.