Chapter 17: Escape?

Nine pairs of eyes stared at me, uncomprehending. I was surrounded. Slowly I reached out a reboneified hand toward the unspilt glass of holy water. Lifting it gentilly from the side table, with my other hand I took the coaster it had been resting on and held it on top. That was as far as I got before all hell broke loose.

David Wainwright was the first to react, as before. Brandishing his ash covered table leg he charged in. With recently sharpened skills I was barely able to dodge the blow. The sudden action provoked the rest into motion. Those who would scream and flee before finally did so now. Those left were; David, three of his men, Dr Winwick and a dazed Mr. Cain, who nonetheless seemed to be looking forward to some reconciliatory violence.

“How long?” Dr Winwick of all people asked. While the other two seemed to be out for bone marrow he seemed to have kept his head although he did withdraw an oddly large hammer from his bag. “How long have you been undead?”

“That is a difficult question to answer.” I answered as I side stepped a charging Mr. Cain, putting the over extended Mr. Wainwright at my back.

“Really?” The doctor followed up, keeping a careful distance from the fight and waiting.

“I’m not the person you think I am.” I stated as a blow struck me from my blind spot, one of the soldiers had got a lucky hit in with his truncheon.

I have to say it is an odd thing to see your body flying away from you and yet feel perfectly still. My head bounced off the back of the fireplace giving me an orange tinged view of the body I still controlled. Jerking myself aside of Davids follow up attack, a good gulp of the poorly sealed holy water splashed onto my bones. Now it truly felt as if I were burning. The resulting steam cloud would have been good if it didn’t obscure me from my sight as well.

“Then who are you?” Dr Winwick asked, his voice seeming colder but just as measured. I tried to answer but all that came out was a cry of pain. The men that were flailing about in the mist for me turned at the sound. One of the men, Jenkins I think, had the initiative to stand in front of the fireplace so I couldn’t see as the fog dissipated. When the Steam cleared and the burning stopped I felt my body being piled on. I lost track of the holy water in the scuffle. When my body was restrained and I was allowed to see it again, miraculously, the glass of holy water was two thirds full and off to the side of the brawl.

The officers had used their coats to tie up my old bones and try as I might I couldn’t break the bindings.

“I say again,” Dr Winwick said, “Who are you?” as he spoke he lowered his guard and walked up to the fire. The other men, save for Jenkins, were still out of breath.

“I am Osseus, Archmagus” I replied, coughing out soot.

“What’s an Archmagus?” David asked, stumbling over red faced. He only received a shrug from the doctor.

“Well, Osseus, where is Mr. Pools? Is he dead?” Dr Winwick questioned.

“Not yet.” I mumbled, trying to think my way out of this predicament. David seemed to relax some at that but the good doctor did not.

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“Where is he?” Doctor Winwick inquired, in an accusatory tone.

Then it came to me, “I can take you to him, but now that the Illusion is broken he won’t have long.”

David showed his shock, still too close to fighting to properly control his expressions. The doctor on the other hand seemed to mull over my words. Finally he seemed to come to a decision.

“I don’t like this, but I think you’re telling the truth.” he finally spoke aloud.

“Why?” David asked, the pain in his voice evident. “Why would he do any of this, what does he gain from solving a murder. Is this some kind of undead dispute between,” He stopped a second to scan me, “Lich’s and Vampires… What's a Lich.”

“I think they’re like necromancers, What have you done to Mr Pools?!” Winwick accused.

“First of all I’m not a necromancer, though I do know the theory behind it and I may or may not have conducted some experiments.” I added under my flaming breath.

“What?” David asked, appalled.

“Nothing, I… found him suffering from a head wound. I needed some supplies from the town so cast an illusion that also linked his life to my lack there of and before I knew it I was… sort of roped into working.” I explained, the words seeming ridiculous to my own ear holes.

They asked some more questions but my answers were half hatred as my analytical half, now freed of Mr. Pool's clutches, was busy questioning how exactly my bones were still connected. In the past when a part was severed from me, say a finger, I would lose all connection to it. Why then does it feel as though my body and head are still firmly attached. Did other major bones behave the same? Could I be split perfectly in half and still feel both sides? And what exactly connected my bones together? The system had described the connection as magical but I couldn’t feel any magic binding me. What else could it be though? By the time I had risen from my deep reverie I had been fished from the fire via poker and mounted atop a cane they had found somewhere. My body was hoisted on the shoulders of two rather bruised men that seemed to be eyeing one another warily. When everyone had calmed down and turned their attention to saving their beloved old man I used the Wind Breath spell to lift the holy water up between my legs to hide amongst my coat bindings. The holy water seemed to have the side effect of clearing up the after effects of my mana sickness, casting no longer hurt!

Before I knew it I was heading a procession leaving the sleepy town. The two guards on watch were surprised at the turn of events, relayed to them by David, one of them chose to follow his officers while the other went to martial the militia. While David seemed to be driven by the idea of saving his friend the Doctor kept shooting me sceptical looks. He seemed to be waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“You were wrong, earlier.” He whispered when the others were out of earshot. Drawn out of my calculations of how much mana per second would be required to maintain a constant kinetic link between two hundred and six small objects, assuming each is connected to two minus the number of points on the human skeleton, I replied, “Hmmmm, what now? … How so?”

“There were more than two veterans in that room. I served on the undead plains. I know undead. You’re wrong.” He almost hissed.

“You know, I’ve been called a lot of things, but never wrong.” I shot back, narrowing my eyes.

“You’re a skeleton. They’re supposed to be only one step above mindless undead. If we’re unlucky they might know how to fight in formation. The few higher level whites that I saw captured could only go on and on about how they would kill everything in sight. David says your level is about the same as his, twenty, that's not enough to overcome your hatred for the living. Before I came over it was as if you'd forgotten about us. I’ve only heard about that level of control in undead generals. There’s something wrong with you. This is part of a bigger plan isn’t it. You’re hiding something.” He spewed on angrily, I had turned out most of it as the maths was still going around in my head. “Is this a diversion, answer me?” the doctor asked this time actually hissing. I only laughed as I finally figured out the equation, the magical connection was being powered by the ambient mana. It was such a subtle working that it had felt as if it was part of the natural mana flows. The amount of mana required for the connections was exactly equal to the rate of mana flux through air meaning it was basically invisible.

Dr Winwick seemed about to hit me, for some reason, when David stepped in asking for directions. I pointed him toward the abandoned cabin.