Hungry Necromancer

Things aren't looking pretty.

And somehow, it's even worse than usual. This time, I don't have the option to fly away in Anselm's arms or raise a horde of undead to cover my escape.

There are no materials to work with and even if there were, I don't have the mana to execute any spells.

As a last-ditch effort, I whip out my dagger and slash it around in the air as threateningly as I can.

My adversaries are unmoved.

The clashing of blades echoes through the air, Anselm simply will not fall; he can't.

The immortal nature of being a soul manifested in mana persevered even through the heavy blows of his opponent.

Yet it did nothing to overcome his skill. As far as I can tell, the two are evenly matched.

Quite frankly, I'm surprised; I have never met a person, a foe, that could best Anselm in any martial art. His military skill and prowess shone even after his death so brightly I did not think it possible. Until today.

Our adversaries, these monsters of men. Their cloaks cover nothing as there isn't anything to cover. There is only emptiness in it, like the cloaks themselves had gained awareness and desired combat, or whatever it is they are after.

The three that surround me have yet to make a move. A split second I think my blade is doing wonders in protecting me whilst I regenerate my mana. As it turns out having over a thousand MP does not count as bottomless.

I should have been more cautious. In a heartbeat I'd say I had a bad feeling about stopping to help people but the truth is that I was simply impatient and tired.

Neither I nor Anselm could have foreseen a turn of events this dire.

But that one stable hand surely could.

Subtly, all three take a step towards me. I brandish my dagger in response.

Taking a cursory look around me, I nearly sob. Again? Am I to die, barely defensible in a place such as this?

Barren, quiet and far from anyone I care about?

The three take yet another step.

Am I to forsake all my plans, all my aspirations and desires for a future to start over?

Another.

I shake my head as Anselm yells something. I wonder? Would I get a third chance at life? This is my second, this is not even my body, my own body. If I get a third what will the world be like? Will I have power?

I think not.

I close my eyes as I feel all three surround me now. It is as though there are not even there. Not breathing, not moving, simply existing.

In a last bit of effort. Of strife. Of a desire to live. I stab the one directly in front of me.

It does nothing.

"Out of the way fool!" I hear a gruff voice call as an intense heat grows.

I blink myself out of my reverie and find the three hooded figures hovering around me, underneath the hoods are spectres, blue ghosts of a shapeless skull that sneers and hisses menacingly at me and the light and warmth I feel behind me.

Light? Warmth?

Before I can register any of this any further, I am flung to the ground in a tackle, a tackle by a really small person.

As my back strikes the unforgiving ground, several bolts of fire streak across where my head would have been and strike the hovering blue spectres.

They burn and scream and moan. All in many voices.

"Mister, are you okay?" a mouselike voice speaks to me.

It is impossible not to notice the child sitting on me.

The little boy has on a beret that now sat lopsided on his head after his tackle and he wears a white and black straight and clean combo of shirt and shorts that met his white socks and shiny black shoes.

He blinks at me and asks again, "Did they get you, Mister?"

Quickly, I shake my head and sputter a no, moving to ask instead who he is and why he is dressed up like a school boy at night.

"Come off the young man now will you, Young Master!"

It's the gruff voice from before. An old bald man in a clean black buttoned vest, a white shirt with long puffy sleeves and black trousers that seem to become a sock as they fall into the slick shoes he wears.

The old medieval butler-like man grabs the little boy under the armpit and heaves him off of me, muttering scolding's and apologies all the way.

"You should listen when your elders are speaking, Jonathan."

"Well, if I did that then this Mister wouldn't be all there."

All there? I wonder as I get to my feet, dusting myself off and surveying the scene.

I find Anselm quickly enough, beside him is a boy dressed in blue striped pyjamas, not much older than the one who tackled me.

"Hello," I say, my hand outstretched for a handshake, "Thank you for saving me, I thought I was dead for sure."

The man only snorts, completely ignoring my hand as he says, "You would be. What use is a dagger in the face of a malevolent wisp?"

I blink, "A wisp?"

He looks me up and down as he whips out a cloth, "Ah, uneducated then." He sighs, getting on a knee to dust off the mouselike child with the cloth, "Or perhaps just unruly."

"Excuse me?"

He springs up and spits, "If you can afford a carriage to travel then you can afford the knowledge of the road. Wisps are the manifestation of strong and fed emotions, be it good or evil. The one you've just had an encounter with would swallow your very being and leave you an empty husk of a man."

"Right." I nod, "Then they are weak to magic."

He snorts, "They are impervious to all forms of attack save for the simplest. Fire." He begins to nudge the boy along with him as he starts off, "Come Young Master, your father would have my head and others if he were to learn of your activities tonight."

"Uh, wait. You're a Mage aren't you?" I ask.

"How prompt of you to notice." His words seep with sarcasm.

"I'm looking for a Mage, Mages actually or anyone who can fight-"

He doesn't let me finish, immediately he starts walking off, "I will have no part in fighting." He speaks curtly.

It doesn't take many steps for us to reach Anselm and the older boy in pyjamas. The boy looks bored, I wonder what they were talking about, but I wonder more about getting this Mage, this…Pyromancer on my side.

"I can pay for your Pyromancy!" I yell out just as he begins to nudge the other boy along and away from Anselm. "I can pay a vast amount for you to fight alongside me."

Still the man ignores me, hurrying along with the boys down the road and off to…somewhere. Now I wonder where they came from.

"Please!" I plead, only giving Anselm a passing look as I skirt by him and after the butler. "My…acquaintance is in dire need of help, the Cultists-"

Now the he bursts out laughing. It is a dry, deep and unfunny laugh if one can be.

He turns, giving me an incredulous look, "The Cultists?" he shakes his head, "Why would anyone save for the Following fight the Cultists?"

"Because they have no other choice?" I bite back in a snap. "Because their home is about to be overrun? Because they aren't safe anymore."

"And you do this all for an acquaintance?" he still has a look of humour on, it only intensifies at the last word. "Well, I'd call you a fool for certain but you ought to be an even greater fool if you wish to fight the Cult of Phien with a measly D-rank Mage like myself."

I blink, "I didn't know you were a D-rank." I sputter. D-rank is the second lowest rank of Magic users. "Your spell, it's so powerful."

The butler now looks solemn, "I even ought to be an E-rank, the only reason I can cast such spells is because of the jewels my Master has given me."

He waves his gloved hand at me, there is a shiny crystal embedded in the glove, "I don't have enough mana for strong spells." He speaks as though that explains everything.

"You should come with us." The older boy speaks for the first time, his voice held nothing but disinterest but his eyes sparkled at something or someone behind me.

Anselm.

The butler is stricken with shock and visibly shakes, "Are you sure, Young Master! your father-"

"Their carriage has crashed and they no doubt have no idea what they're doing. It might be good to follow through with what Nelvar started." The boy says, cutting his handy butler short.

The butler looks a mess with suspicion as he regards me.

After a few moments, he straightens up and sighs, "As you wish, Young Master. Come with us, foolish traveller, we will grant you save haven in the lodge and repair your carriage so that you may be on your way by sunrise."

How kind. I pick up myself up and drag Anselm along.

Aste may be a while away yet.