Dying a Little

Albie sat with his back to the counter. His breathing was labored. The room was dark, and the pail young man felt cold. He couldn't move his limbs and he it felt to him like he was bleeding out. He knew he wasn't. It was accompanied by the dull throb of old wounds. The young mage concluded. This was not injury. This was hunger. Two much magic and life force spent. His stomach unable to hold food. He had lost his concentration. The disturbance had shaken the magic he was using to dull his pain and walk properly. He felt to broken to put the magic back in place.

His Pail boney fingers used all the strength in his arm to grab the moon charm on his neck. Its touch comforted something deep inside him. His body still felt horrible. The young man worrying the arm would just fall off at the shoulder.

He needed food but he knew anything he put in his stomach would become undead in his stomach.

Moon poison the Queen and all her retainers for doing this to him.

The only thing he could eat would be the life force off another thing. An unnatural way to feed. Not completely outside natures cycle but something that was pushing its limits. The pistol in his cloak was an option for a moment before deciding it was beyond him to load the pistol.

Killing himself was out of the question. He hadn't shot the Queen yet. Dying wasn't an option at the moment.

Something about the idea of shooting her majesty brought a sense of happiness to him. The muscles in his face strained into a smile.

He He He

Chuckled the young man. His lungs burning at the strain his little wheezing chuckle had caused him.

The ivory face of the pail lurker dropped down in front of him. He had seen it slip onto the counter from his eyeball in the jar. The creature looked at him with the milky eyes of a corps. For a moment the young mage believed it had come to strangle him. Some ghostly aura surrounding the creature's eyes told him so. Its hatred for life unseen but felt, like a cold wind. The way it tilted its head to the side made it seem almost curious.

"Want to help me shoot the Queen?" asked Albie in labored gasps.

The twisted corps tilted it head to the other direction.

"what," asked Albie. "scared she won't die after getting shot."

The dead man stared at the dying man.

"I've survived my share of gunshots," wheezed Albie. "It would be sad if one measly piece of metal ended her in a second but it's a good place to start. I've found it hard to do other things when your busy bleeding out. He HE He. Cough! Cough!"

From the jar on the table Albie watched the creatures slowly do a flip off the table without moving its bony face. He tried to reach into the creature's blood stone to try and gain some control over it like he had done with bags and the flesh mound. The stone did not respond to him.

"Could you do me a favor and drag something living in here," asked Albie fearing for his bees. "like a cat."

The undead looked at him for another moment before slipping out of the room. The young man hoped the lurker would do as asked but knew that the lurker was not fully under his control. He Shouldn't have used the blood from another mage in its creation but didn't realize the connection having his own blood in his creations granted. He closed his still human eye and saw the world through the blood stone imbedded in his other socket. Bags had reached the bank compound from last night.

The solders were in uniform wearing their orange coats and watching the streets carefully. They were not making marry in their little fort. They wore looking out for any nightmare that would creep out of the night but didn't notice the rat. As bags snuck past the men her animal instincts sensed fear in the men. At the front of the bank was the man who had run from Albie last night. He had been hanged a sign with the word coward written on it was placed over is shoulders.

The man dangling in the street amused Albie as they had killed the man for him. The men further inside looked at the body nervously and whispered to each other. Albie borrowed the rats hearing to see if he could pick up on what the men were saying.

Man eating monster.

Vengeful spirit.

Hand shaped shadows.

The whispers of the scared men all around the camp brought Albie to the conclusion they thought he was a ghost. An unkillable and angry monster, able to posses the shadows and the dead to harm the living. The rat snuck into one of the buildings were a group of five men stood around talking. He recognized the old solder who had been guarding the vault door last night. One of the men had on long riding boots a saber and a large billed hat. He had a petite frame and a pointed nose. The third was a tall man with wide shoulders he had a scar running from his forehead down his nose and into a braided black beard. He had a metal breastplate and a two-handed sword with a wavy blade. A fourth man was dressed as a craftsman. He had spectacles on his ash stained face. The last man was a tall bronze skinned man with orange hair that spiked up like a campfire. The man was clearly a sun blessed mage as he wore no shirt and had fifteen sunstones worn as bracelets and amulets strewn all over his body.

The men were discussing who should be given the swords know that their previous owners were dead. Albie gave instructions to bags to find a good place to hear and watch the conversation. The rat crawled around the building and into a rathole that came out near the ceiling. Bags could see and hear everything in the room from here. Bags wondered Were Albie was and were his voice was coming from but watched and listened to the humans below.