On Death's Honor

Chapter 5: No Lost Love

After twenty years hunting and getting caught in things most hadn't even heard of, I wasn't a stranger to pain. It was like the occasional ache I'd sometimes get in my shoulder that comes and goes; I didn't like it, but very rarely did it ever prevent me from doing what I needed to do. If I had to rate it on a scale, however, I'd say the worst thing to come down from would be the aftereffects of enchantments. Stab wounds, burns, blisters, sicknesses . . . None of it bothered me nearly as much as the damage that came from using forbidden things.

The next few hours were an agonized blur, with me falling in and out of dazed, fever-filled dreams. My injured arm was hot with infection that was quick to take root, my hands trembling anytime I moved my fingers to tug at my hair.

Bogdan had helped me through the mines until we reached a hidden cave tucked securely behind a tight wedge of stone and wood. It was torture, the lot of it was. Bright, bioluminescent fungi coated the stalactites that hung from the cavern ceiling, sending light glittering off of sharp, clear crystals that were multiple different shades of color.

So while I was gradually regaining my sight, the particular spell I had used retaliated against the light. Angry, harsh whispers rose around me, and though I knew it was all in my head, it did nothing to stop the feeling that I was about to be dragged into the darkest pits of hell.

It didn't help that I had been there long ago, and the thought of going back didn't sit well with me.

"You called us to guide you," they accused. Repeating themselves like awful mockingbirds.

"Let us guide you!" As Bogdan all but dragged me to my usual spot.

Sometime between the madness and my moments of lucid clarity, I found myself hunched over a large, fur pelt, aggressively tightening the bandages around my arm and finding the pain there a lot more comforting than what was coursing through my mind. Blood continued to seep its way through the cloth. It was going to hurt more when I was clear-minded enough to clean it.

Bogdan stood motionless behind me, his shadowy eyes watching my shaking form. I didn't need to look at him to know he was disgusted, nor did I want to. A part of me knew that I'd chosen a horrible spell to deter the grayvers.

But maybe I deserved it, after what I did to Igna. That was something I did not feel like explaining to Bogdan. Let him think I was becoming addicted to the dark arts, that I was going to slip away into the very madness that generally took all those before me.

It just might, whether you want it or not.

"Shut up!" The words ripped their way through my throat, startlingly clear even to my own ears.

The voices faded. The fever wracking my body increased for a few intense seconds . . . And then it was gone. I could faintly hear the whispers, so soft and low that I could almost mistake them for wind if I wasn't currently deep inside a cavern.

Tired, I leaned my head forward on my knees, a broken, choking sob tightening around my chest.

The worst part was over.

"What are you doing?" Bogdan asked when I stood, walking over to a wooden chest I'd kept filled with a few changes of clothes. I stumbled as I walked, hair sticking to my face from the mixture of blood, sweat, and tears.

"Where's my sword?" I mumbled, all but falling to my knees when I bent to open the chest.

"You don't think there's more beasts waiting for you outside?"

I scowled at my selection of clothes, glancing over at my bandaged arm. I couldn't be dressed the way I was now - not where I was intending on going. I was fitted in clothes meant to sneak around shadowy areas; a short black tunic tucked in equally dark sheepskin pants, topped with a vest and belt that were both layered in folds and pockets of small glass vials that could easily make someone's life miserable. Two daggers were strapped to the sides of my ribs, hilt down, followed by one on my left leg and another on the right side of my belt. My cloak generally helped hide the weapons, but I wouldn't be able to wear it, either, unless I wanted to get robbed.