His attention snapped to Gaelen as he roared and blood ran in heavy rivulets from the dagger embedded in his shoulder. The Graver lay several paces away, ready to rise, and strike again. A groan slipped between Gaelen’s gritted teeth as he wrenched the blade free, but before he could turn, the Graver leapt.
Vesper shot a gust of wind to knock the Graver off path, but he was too far away. Its boned claws caught Gaelen’s arm and seized the dagger. Gaelen cried out as it tore through skin and muscle, but Vesper sprinted toward them.
He ate the distance, and swung his curved sword. The creature moved lightning fast, and parried Vesper’ sword with its dagger.
It shrugged the robe off to reveal its bony body covered in sinewy skin. The stench of death radiated off it, reminiscent of rotting fruit, and putrescent meat.
The Graver’s unmatched strength deflected Vesper’s heavy swings. Each clang sent a pang of pain through his arm, and though he tried to use his wind, and searched for a single second to exploit, the Graver moved too fast.
Fuck it.
There was no room for civil combat here. Not with what the Gravers had done to these helpless people and Dimitri bleeding out only paces away. He would play dirty and would fucking enjoy it.
He caught the Graver by surprise, when his foot collided with the center of its abdomen. It doubled in on itself as its rib cage crunched. He cut his sword in an upward arc and knocked the creature's head back. His blade sliced through the lower jaw.He shot a gust of his wind and sent the Graver tumbling to the ground. The dagger flew from its hand.
About bloody time.
The creature scrambled backward through the acidic soil, but it had nowhere to run. Vesper stomped on the Graver’s chest and pinned it to the ground. Its shriek, like a feral possum, rang in Vesper’s ears as he bore all his weight down and plunged his sword through its chest. He roared back to drown out the blood and battle around him. His yell embodied pure rage as he dragged the blade up and sliced through its skull. Black blood reeking of putrid rot spurted from the body cleaved in two and splattered his face.
He proved his father’s sword wrong. He wasnota coward.
In the corner of Vesper’s vision, two Gravers closed in on Thorrin.
And somehow, dozens of Gravers had appeared from some depth of the cavern. They now sprinted toward them at an unearthly speed. No one else seemed to notice but him, and it left Vesper no other choice.
This shit had to end. Now.
Vesper surged his magic and sought any and all death in the cavern, but some spell barricaded him from feeling the corpses.
So he sighed and scrubbed a hand down his face, before he ripped off his glove and dragged the dagger Kyrith had made him along his palm. His blood flowed and as he arched his back, Kaida’s reptilian hide slithered free from his chest—all gleaming shadowy scales and bright crimson eyes.
Ready for a fight and blood, Kaida’s roar shook the cavern. She reared back and black flame spewed from her mouth.
But what he feared would happen unfolded in front of his eyes.
Too many lingered in the crossfire of her flame.
Vesper yelled Thorrin’s name. The rider’s head snapped up and his eyes widened before he dashed to the side to launchhimself out of the flame’s path. The heels of his boots singed, but he was otherwise unharmed.
Kyrith cried out from behind Vesper as her sword lodged in a graver's jawbone. She attempted to yank it free but only hauled the creature towards her. With a feral yell, she wrenched it out and Vesper blasted a gust of wind to knock the Graver off balance. Kyrith shot him a wicked grin before she lopped the Graver’s head from its body. It toppled to the ground with a thud, and the Graver’s eyeless sockets stared unendingly at the cavern ceiling.
Too busy smiling like a fool at Kyrith across the way, Vesper didn’t hear someone approach from behind. Something blunt struck the back of his head. Stars burst across his vision and he fell to his knees. He gritted his teeth against the pain and spun—
Another blow landed.
This time the Graver’s claw sliced up his side, tearing through his tunic, his abdomen, bone meeting bone, plucking his ribs like harp strings.
He screamed. Or at least it sounded like him, but he left his body, his soul stretched from his flesh, as his world swirled in darkness and the corners of his vision blurred.
He couldn’t breathe. His chest convulsed.
Even with his hand braced over his ribs, hot blood seeped between his fingers. Needle-sharp teeth sank into his neck, bit down, and his blood spilled into its mouth.
His lips parted, but no sound came. He squeezed his eyes shut and blindly reached for a dagger, a knife—fuck, anything.
Anything.
His body weakened as the Graver slurped his blood, reduced him to a fucking sippy cup, as its teeth and cold, wet tongue scraped against his skin.