Twas the whispering...
Sounds had been drifting in... out of hearing... a cry in the dark
... the constant slamming of distant, heavy, oaken portals .... the unending tramping of feet
......passing by but never coming to aid. Sterling remained still, where he lay and had not moved since he could recall.
Yet this whispering was insistent, all too near, provoking another to battle. And, all too real even to his haze filled brain. He struggled to open encrusted sights but only managed to cry as a pain-filled, blinding white light enveloped him.