Chapter 13: Chapter 13: Struggle

Chapter 13: Struggle

Nathaniel: 

Throughout my life, my necromantic mana has always been a hindrance. I couldn't become a mage because I wouldn't have been able to hold back, or pull my punches. What with how acidic the necromantic mana is within me. 

Yet now, there is finally a purpose behind my true nature. It is hard, wrestling control of wraiths, which were made by someone else. Yet, one by one, I make them my servants. 

Givontair doesn't seem to care much about that. He is a whirlwind with his dagger, and the occasional burst of flame. Yet, no matter how hard we try, we are still surrounded on all sides. 

The dragon's suggestion that he turns into a dragon and cleanse the entire graveyard with his flame sound more and more appealing with every time, that a wraith comes close to hurting us. 

I dodge a wraith's grasping hands, only to feel teeth in my right leg. I kick at the wraith, and then skewer it with my sword, which I have been coating with necromantic mana since the start of the fight. 

The wraith gives out a shriek. Yet, it latches on my leg again. I look at Givontair, who has many puddles of black goo around him. It is not an easy thing to admit, but if we keep on fighting this way, then we will end up as wraiths. 

"Givontair," I call out to him. He doesn't turn around. He can't. A wraith has its claws dug into his shoulder. "Turn into a dragon! You were right, that this is the only way." 

"Run to the gates," Givontair tells me. I, with the wraith still latched at my leg, limp away as fast as possible. Just as I reached the gates, I hear a roar. 

This is the first time I see Givontair in his dragon form. He is a muscular dragon. Pure white, apart from the golden scales around his neck. 

Even as far away as I am now, I can hear the sound of the fire leaving his maw. I can feel the heat, that wafts from him. The shadows do their best to attack him. That only prompts him to rise in the sky, and keep on burning, as he circles over the graveyard. 

 He is not Ajax. He is doing this to protect people. 

These words repeat in my mind like a mantra. Yet, the picture before me reminds me of the one from all those years ago. Ajax is a great black beast. I clutch at this difference, like a drowning man to a straw. 

Ajax is grotesque. Both from the inside and the outside. Givontair is a work of art. Ajax would have never bothered helping Tara. Givontair was easy enough to convince. 

The fire spreads in the forest. Soon, the sounds of the fleeing forest creatures fill the air. I gather my mana, and deck the clouds above us with storm clouds. When the first drop of rain falls on my nose, I grin.

What began like a slight drizzle, developed into a summer storm. I blink, when the white dragon fades away. As I wait for Givontair to come, I pull up my hood. It won't do much to protect me from the rain, but I still do it anyway. 

Givontair's white hair is drenched, when I see him next. 

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"You can do weather manipulation?" He asks. His eyes narrowed.

"That is one of the basic tools for any necromancer. Granted, usually it rains acid down on the attacking party, and not water," I clarify. He nods then, and turns around to stare at the fire that has spread into the forest. 

"A pity this had to happen," he says. I shake my head. 

"The forest will recover. Come on, we have to go back. Wait, did you get all the wraiths?" I ask him. He grins at me. A grin so predatory, that makes his face light up.

"I even dug out the graves, and burned the corpses," he tells me. I look at the graveyard with more than a little regret. These people didn't deserve to be disturbed. 

"Let me see your leg," Givontair says. I look down at the bite. There are tears in the fabric of the pants, and blood is dripping down. I guess, with how excited I was, the pain simply didn't register to me. 

As I sit on the grass, Givontair rolls up my pants, so he can see the wound. Before he actually does something, he takes out a pair of gloves, and puts them on.   

"This will need stitches," he says, as he turns my leg this way or that. "Or I can heal it with mana. What do you prefer?"

"Mana, please," I tell him. It hurts too much for me to lean on this leg. With mana, everything will be done in a couple of minutes. 

"Are you certain? You will still feel the phantom pain," I didn't know that this was possible. Givontair healed me from tuberculosis with mana, yet, I don't feel any pain.

"How come there aren't any lingering effects in my lungs?" I ask him, curious. There are so many things that people don't know about healers. And Givontair is not just any healer. He is a dragon healer. 

"I used 100,000 mana points to get your lungs to be as healthy as those of a newborn," Givontair then takes in a deep breath. "But now, I don't have all that many mana points. While I was back in Portius, I cleansed the air from the bacteria. Do you remember how the air smelled as if it rained, when we left Portius?" 

I nod. Back then, I thought it's weird. 

"You have a good heart," I feel guilty about wanting to hunt him, back before we met. Even though I knew of his reputation, I still placed him in the same list as Ajax.

"I wonder if you will still think so, when I begin to stitch you up," it seems, that the dragon's mind is made. Soon, there is a blanket under me, and Givontair's nimble finger thread my skin back together.   

 

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