Chapter 87 - A Touch Of Hysteria

++Sometimes my organic body could get…away from me, a bit. At fifteen, I was not yet fully used to it.++

- From the writings of Isabel Vornholt, ‘The Great Lich’. 1,891 A.E.

I was losing in an instant. Battles this small are inherently quick and unforgiving affairs, one moment’s lapse can mean defeat. It had been a lot more than one moment since the other necromancers started interfering, and their power, though unimpressive on its own, was tipping the scales against me.

Enough maggots could contribute to a fight, apparently. Another example of why the Gods had been so careful to stamp me out before I could accumulate more power.

My shield amulet’s barrier had broken early in the fighting, but bought me enough time to replace it with a properly-made shield spell using my own body’s mana while the device recharged. Even my own protective spell was not lasting much longer, though the efficiency of drawing on my own strength kept it sustained that precious moment more.

This was only a delaying tactic, however. My enemies continued to pummel me with magic and I could block only a bare few spells. The girl, in particular, was getting creative.

Where her mana touched the ground, I saw snakes emerge and crawl towards me, biting at the shield and wrapping around it before igniting into near-solar light for precious milliseconds. The stone around then actually boiled away into burning gas, and my mana reserves were mangled with each one I blocked. Stone rained from the heavens, blazing meteorites that left craters where they missed me or set my shield rocking where they hit. More than once I was buffeted from my feet and forced to scramble up before I could be stuck with a killing blow while prone.

And always, I watched out for that shield-killer she had shown before.

There was no margin of error anymore, and no doubt that I would lose unless something changed. So I got to thinking of how it could change.

I could flee, but that would have uncertain odds of actually leading to an escape and, even if it did, would guarantee Agrian was removed from my plans. I would lose half of the reason for coming to Estalia in the first place. Victory was required here, and Lord Dread did not lose that which she required.

But I could see only one real way of actually coming out on top. If I freed Agrian from the chains binding his body and the sigil apparently binding his power, I would have a powerful ally in this fight. As powerful as all the minor necromancers combined? I doubted it, but certainly able to tie up one or two of the four now attacking me.

The only question was; would he do that? Agrian may simply flee, and if I took the opportunity to free him only for him to abandon me in turn it would be a wasted move, leaving me open for further magic from my enemies. It would be a guarantee of defeat.

But then, I was looking at a guarantee of defeat anyway, just slower and more tedious. I did not see that I had a chance, and so I threw my magic missile and quickly turned my attention back to the necromancers as it tore through his chains.

For long moments I could do nothing, think of nothing, but the contest of magic before me. Then Agrian’s first spell came and caught a necromancer square in his back; the magician-killer taught by Doctor Brown. It actually exited through his chest.

Agrian was in the fight without ceremony or announcement, but the difference he made was felt as surely as an unexpected sledgehammer blow. In an instant I was off the backfoot.

My retaliatory blow was aimed at the first of the necromancers to aid their leader, my own magician-killer that did just as its name would have claimed and drilled a hole clean through the man’s head. The girl’s arms moved like whips. As did mine. We exchanged spells so fast that I doubted an ordinary human mind could have followed, whatever their magical abilities.

And that more or less cemented what my enemy was, in my mind.

Human or not, she was still losing to me now with only one necromancer on her side. I sent jets of necromantic power to animate her fallen enemies, dropped chunks of ceiling on her, sent magic missiles arcing around to strike her from behind—the variety of my attacks was as endless as their effects.

She weathered them all, but I could tell it was growing harder for her with each one. All that remained was time.

Time, and the ability on my end to continue this singular focus. Provided Agrian kept my other enemies occupied, I would eventually beat this one. Then the day would be ours.

Provided Agrian kept them occupied.

***

Isabel looked scared, which Agrian couldn’t begin to explain. They were winning, right? Now that he was free they’d guaranteed the advantage for themselves in sheer killing power.

Unless she knew something he didn’t. That was a scary thought, because Agrian was certain his sister knew a lot of somethings he didn’t.

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from NovelFire. Please report it.

But he couldn’t guess at what those things were, just didn’t have time for it now. What he could do was reduce the amount of enemies he and Isabel had in their immediate vicinity. He’d already put that number down by one, and he was shooting for two.

Unfortunately, these were fully matured magicians with probably ten years or more on him. It didn’t make them stronger than he was, not anymore, but Agrian was outnumbered and his whole body still ached from being bound.

He reckoned locking them down in combat with him was a pretty good accounting, all things considered.

From the corner of his eye, Agrian saw magic flit out and strike some of the corpses, then watched in horror as they lumbered to their feet and…towards the active necromancers. He saw men turn their attention to fighting the reanimates off and…no, Isabel couldn’t have done that, could she? He risked a glance and saw his sister was entirely unsurprised by them. That, and she had an upsettingly wide, twitchy grin on her face. And was her left eye…pulsating?

No time to think about that, he had a fight on his hands and every moment of distraction would bring him closer to losing it.

He pounded the nearest necromancer’s shield with magic missiles, then started building a magician-killer. While he charged it, from the corner of his eye, Agrian saw the other necromancer he was fighting prepare to strike while his focus was on attacking. Perfect; when the magician-killer went for him instead of his ally, the man was taken entirely off-guard, and didn’t seem to know what to do at all when a chunk was torn out of his upper thigh to drop him down onto his backside screaming.

That left one, still, and that one got a nasty free shot off while Agrian focused on his friend.

Agrian felt a kinship with the man as both of them took periodic breaks from their conflict to glance over at the young girls fighting alongside them, utterly eclipsing their battle. Isabel was taking out half a wall with every missed attack, and her opponent didn’t seem so very far behind her.

And familiar, too. Her opponent seemed familiar. Agrian would’ve liked to chew on that more, but his hands were about as full now as they’d ever been, and this last necromancer wasn’t so weak that he could take the man lightly.

Not until he’d already won, at least.

“NOW!” the other girl roared, and one final wave of undead erupted from those few floor panels that hadn’t yet been displaced. Agrian froze for one moment, sure he was doomed.

Then the girl cut and ran. He realised what was happening slowly, even as Isabel’s face twisted and she began hurling out magic missiles like a whole casting squad compressed into one body.

This wasn’t a counter-attack, it was a diversion while their enemy’s leader escaped. But it was too large of one to ignore. Agrian saw the necromancer he’d been fighting cut and run too, letting the man go as he turned to the undead.

It was refreshing to fight things that were so much weaker than him for a change. Agrian couldn’t imagine where the necromancers had gotten so many corpses, but they clearly hadn’t had the chance to do anything too fancy with them because each of them boasted no more physical ability than a low-level warrior.

And unlike those low-level warriors, they weren’t using their inhuman speed to dodge.

One, two, five, ten, more than he could count; Agrian sent magic missiles exploding through supernaturally toughened flesh like it was wet paper. The worst part, really, was the smell, each undead he exploded was another wave of reeking gut-gas and rot-stink thrown out into the air around them. It made his eyes water, and Agrian actually found his attacks slowing as he was forced to start blinking back tears in-between them.

Isabel was largely just ignoring the undead, which wasn’t such a surprise. At her level of power they were more of an annoyance than anything, but Agrian’s sister had never done well with annoyances.

“Back!” she shrieked. “Back you bastard rat-dogs!”

What? Was she swearing? Was she…what was she even saying? This didn’t sound like Isabel at all.

Agrian didn’t have time to dwell on his sister’s new oddities, though, because the undead kept coming, and with Isabel doing little more than fling them out of her path with the occasionally flicked wrist, it was apparently all on him to put them down for good.

Their enemy was making the most of this. The young girl had gotten to the far exit now, and wasted no time slipping out.

Isabel’s blasting spell was a moment late, striking the stonework just occupied by her enemy’s feet and producing an explosion that rattled Agrian’s teeth from across the room. Undead were perforated by flying debris and his own shield began screeching dangerously as his mana levels plummeted from absorbing the strikes.

“NO!” Isabel roared. “Get back here, you demon! I must study you for science!”

But of course, their enemy did not obey. More undead were filling the room from hidden alcoves and the building itself had started to groan as yet more of its structure was destroyed. Agrian decided that taking his leave would be the most tactically sound decision, given the circumstances.

“Isabel!” he called out. “We need to get out of here!”

Did his sister hear him? She seemed to be swinging across the room by great aether hooks digging into its ceiling, ignoring the undead that pounced for her dangling feet with eyes wide and features tight. “ISABEL!” Agrian repeated.

Only then did she look over at him, see the ruination around them, and make the smart choice. Even then, he could see abject misery on her face, like it pained her to do so.

Isabel tore holes in the undead horde with several, carefully-aimed spells. Agrian took his chance to throw up an external barrier between their separated ranks, then scurry through while they wasted a few seconds caving it in. He was just about free of the building as Isabel was, and she wasted no time in bringing the whole thing down with a final spell.

“Damn it!” she snarled, eye twitching like a madwoman. Agrian found himself taking a step away from her, suddenly less sure about his sister.

Suddenly less sure about a lot of things regarding his sister, in fact. And now that the killing was done Agrian’s mind settled on the others.

“That was necromancy you used in there,” he growled, confusion and disgust bubbling right back up now the imminent danger was gone. “Isabel, what the fuck!?”