Hungry Necromancer

Huffing and puffing against the relentless assault of the claymore wielding enigma before me, I find myself at a lost.

This person isn't a Cultist. So why haven't any of my strikes gone through it? Why haven't any of my precise jabs maimed them yet?

Their cloak is torn and in pieces by now, and the leg I swiped at not too long ago still works despite having no feet. It is annoying.

I suppose that's how it feels when someone fights me. Except, my regeneration is based on the amount of mana I have left in store and if I'm maimed, I am physically impaired for a moment.

But this guy…nothing.

It just keeps moving on somehow.

Jumping back and away from the persistent assault, I take a moment to look past my opponent and over at the overturned carriage. Asher is there.

Looking to the left I find the bow-wielder still has its weapon trained on him. Cursing, I figure he's in the most vulnerable position since the cave.

But he could still use Circle of Death, right? Would that work? It has to.

I can't lose my only window to life now.

Taking advantage of my distraction my opponent pounces on me, giant sword landing centre of my spear as I raise it to block.

"Nngh!" I grunt under the pressure.

Now under the full weight of my opponent, I find I'm in a position to peek under the hood of its cloak. But instead of a sweaty face of a man all I'm greeted by is the low blue hum of light.

"What the fuck are you!" With a great push, I use the last of my strength to kick the fiend off of me.

It twirls in the air with a deftly flip and lands gracefully…and then stands there, doing nothing.

I prepare myself for a blast of magic or more likely, another onslaught of attacks…it never comes.

It stands there for a full minute even as I circle it. Then I take the blatant opening.

With fury I stab my spear through it several times in succession, making sure to leave it as full of holes as I can manage.

It doesn't move.

A gasp escapes me as I realize. Asher!

As I start to bolt off to meet him, to save him if possible.

The enigma suddenly moves, meeting me in the air and slams its sword straight through me.

Slamming into the ground with a hacking cough I call out, "Run, Asher, Run!"

Nearly cut in half but quickly healing, the enigma begins its pounce once more.

I barely get the chance to roll out of the way before the tip of its sword slams into the ground. It continues, unfazed. Slamming, and slamming at me as I roll away.

But I'm losing momentum, slowed down by friction and before I know it, the enigma is upon me.

However, just before the tip of its blade falls into my skull, the blue light enigma suddenly bursts up in flames.

"Kiaaaaakk!" it shrieks in pain, falling to the floor and rolling madly. Its giant sword begins to dissipate into thin air before my eyes as it does so.

"Are you alright?" I hear a gruff voice call out to me.

There's a man beside me, dressed in black and white, he tightens the grip of his white gloves before summoning points of fire at the tips of his fingers.

With little recoil he launches them at the rolling…creature.

I get to my feet and he takes measure of me. "Nice armour. You're a brave one to take on a wisp with armour and a spear."

"A brave one indeed." A smaller voice says this time. Below my line of sight is a short, black haired boy who looks like he's far too tired.

Shaking my head, I get back on track, "My friend…he's facing one of those things!" I yell, pointing in Asher's direction.

The man nods, "That must be where Young Master Nelvar is then." He tightens his glove and sprints off to the overturned carriage.

I let myself the luxury of a relieved sigh and look at the little person I'm left in the company of.

"Hello." I greet.

"Hello." He mutters back.

"Thank you for the save."

"It wasn't intentional."

Right…

"I'm Anselm."

"I'm Lord Mevir." He says, a little proud of himself as he speaks.

"A Lord you say? I used to serve a Lord once, well, not directly."

For the first time he raises his head to look at me, "Really? Who?"

"Ah, well, I am the Squire of Sir Archibald of Riveden, my Knight served the King himself and was the Lord of his own Castles and lands."

At this the boy's mouth drops and his eyes glitter, "Did you say…Riveden?"