Frank Fuhrur's: Necromancer 2 Chapter 01

A soft cool breeze swept over my bedroom. The hairs on my arms, legs, and neck stood up. It eases me out of deep sleep. I groaned and s.h.i.+fted in my bed. I lazily opened my eyes to decipher what the clock was showing, but it was no use.

*BEEP, BEEP, BEEP*

The alarm started screaming at me to get up out of my bed. I raised my hand, swatting the alarm clock hard and shutting it up.

I don't want to get up.

Another Monday was here; a day that I loathed more than any other. Rolling over onto my back, I wiped my forehead. I didn't want to get up, but, sadly, I was wide awake. I sat up and snapped my fingers.

A bloodstained skeleton morphed and formed out of black smoke and fire. Still rubbing my eyes with one hand, I flicked my other off at the closet. It knew what I needed and began its search digging for clothes for me to wear.

I love being a necromancer. In the safety of my room, I could live, breathe, and be me; however, outside of this room, I had to be cautious and careful not to be seen as a necro.

The skeleton completed its task by laying out my socks, pants, s.h.i.+rt, and boots. I snapped my fingers again, and the ent.i.ty dissolved into ash and smoke.

I have hidden my powers of necromancy since I was seven. Suppressing my abilities isn't natural, and it isn't safe. I shouldn't have to hide my skills, to begin with, yet in my case, I must. I am the only pure-blooded necromancer left.

When young magi show signs that they can wield magic, they're given a teacher and are brought up in a specific field of magic.

Unfortunately, I didn't have a teacher. My father, who was the Grand Master of Necromancy, died when I just seven. Thankfully, for necros, all the knowledge is pa.s.sed to their first-born sons.

In this day and age, being a necromancer is a high offense punishable by life in prison or death.

I had to learn how to harness electricity; what a pain that was. You could be bi-magical. It's not unheard of; rare but out there.

It puts a lot of strain on the body. That's why many magic wielders stick with just one practice.

When hiding my abilities, it's like putting on a valve. I can open the pa.s.sageway just enough to let magic out. I can control what's coming out and what's staying in but at a cost.

I can't overload the valve. If I did that, the results could be deadly to me, others, or both.

I decided that it's time to get out of this bed and head to work. I sluggishly stood and looked over myself in the mirror. I wasn't muscular like a jock but tones, black hair cut into a Mohawk, and brilliant green eye full of tiredness.

I stuffed my legs into the pants, pulled the s.h.i.+rt over my head, and tied up my boots. I grabbed my phone and wallet and was out the door.

This Monday was a particular Monday. It so happened to be my best friend's birthday. Emma was turning twenty-one, a year younger than me, and I knew what I was going to get her for her birthday.

My heart jumped as my excitement rose at the thought of her smiling when she got her gift. She had been keeping an eye on a set of daggers that held anti-magical properties. Plus, they could be imbued with a magical shard to make them even more lethal.

Expensive little b.u.g.g.e.rs without the shards, but Emma could get those at a later date. There came a buzz on my phone; I took it out of my pocket to find a text from my Sargent:

"Don't be late for your cla.s.s, corporal."

I tapped a quick response:

"I'm not going to be late."

There wasn't another response afterward, so I put my phone back into my pocket and continued to enjoy the brisk morning walk. Then, there came a realization. My alarm clock woke me up at 8:15, and it took me a while to get moving and dressed.

I drop my shoulders and slap my head. The bus had already come and gone.

"Dammit."

I had no other choice. I turned my head in either direction.

I'm in the clear.

I opened my "valve" all the way and snapped my fingers. In an instant, back wings engulfed me, and I vanished.

Another instant, I appeared on the outskirts of the academy where I worked. I felt an odd sense that someone had seen me but, then again, I'm always a little paranoid when I used my powers outside my room.

The cla.s.s that I was going to be teaching was on using s.h.i.+elds and barriers. I am an a.n.a.lyst on dark magic and creatures, but since dark forces were slow these days, I was told to teach brats.

I couldn't complain. I did try using electric magic, but that didn't go far. I was a flunky that knew only the basics, like s.h.i.+elds and barrios.

I hustled to the academy for my cla.s.s. I had most of my upbringing in this academy, from basic training to schooling, but I always got myself turned around and lost.

So, for the next hour, it seemed, I looked for my cla.s.s that was in the gym, and at 10:15, I made into my cla.s.s. The gym was full of eleven-year-old trainees. Nostalgia swept over me. Nine years ago, I was in their shoes.

"Sorry, I'm late cla.s.s. I couldn't find the gym," I spoke, making to the center of the gym, motioning the trainees to come closer.

There was the right mix of boys and girls.

There was a hand raised. I pointed at the trainee.

"Corporal, what exactly are we doing here?"

"That's a good question. This is your eleventh year and your last days of boot camp. Once you graduate, you will go on to further advanced training; however, today for those who can wield magic will be making use for protecting others that don't have that ability," I announced.

Everyone look on another, some feeling anxious; others whispering that this was "so cool."

"Okay, so I need this group to split into two groups," I hold up a hand showing the number two, "one being magic and the other non-magic."

The groups of kids rapidly began to form two cells. I count each cell to get a total of twenty-three trainees. I hated it when I got odd numbers.

"Dang it, we have an odd number in the…" I pointed at the cell, and a trainee stepped forward in parade rest and shouts.

"This is the magic group, Corporal."

The gym echoed with her words.

"What's your name?" I asked.

"Trainee McKenzie," she barked.

"Yes, well trainee, I'm glad you know how to use your voice, but you're inside. Use your inside voice please," I requested, having my ears plugged with my fingers.

She turned a shade of pink.

"It's alright, trainee, I did the same thing when I was a trainee," I winked.

That seemed not to help; she turned pinker than before. I feel bad for embarra.s.sing her, but she was so loud.

I clasped my hands together, regaining the cla.s.s's attention on me.

"Today, we will be playing Elimination. You will be paired up with magic and non-magic. Magic will protect your non-magic counterpart," I said.

"However, there's an odd number of magic players, so I will be taking one of you to help referee the game."

Everyone looked at the other, not wanting to be the referee's a.s.sistant.

"It should be McKenzie, she can't do basic magic anyways," a blonde with red eyes blurted out.

"What's your name, trainee," I asked the blonde.

"Stacy Morgan."

Stacy didn't look at me, she didn't go to parade rest, but she did enjoy pointing out that McKenzie had flaws.

"Trainee Morgan, I asked you a question, and you forgot to address your superior or show any respect to me and especially your college," I brought to her attention.

I gave Stacy a hard stare, not blinking, eyes, focusing, and using a little bit of necromancy to scare her.

Yes, today I'm a little bit of a hypocrite.

Stacy gulped, hesitated, and looked at her other friends for help. When no one would come to aid; Trainee Stacy remembered to go to parade rest.

"I will let you know that I do have the capability to recycle you, meaning that you will start your boot camp from the very beginning. Trainee Morgan." I stood right in front of her, barring down on her fear.

"Would you like to be recycled so that you can work on your comradery?"

"No, C-Corporal," she stammered.

"Oh good, then you don't mind apologizing to your battle, buddy, huh," I snapped.

"I'm sorry, McKenzie." She almost began to cry.

Okay, time to turn that valve back on.

I sighed and took away the fear. Getting into the middle of the two cells and whipped my hand out and snapped my fingers. There came a clap of thunder and lightning shot next to me. Some of the trainees screamed and hid behind a friend.

Next to me, where the lightning struck two crates appeared. I opened them to reveal to my cla.s.s, nerf arrow and bows. Smiles went all the way around.

I didn't always like teaching, but it is worth it at times. I ordered for one cell, two by two, to come and pick up a bow and five arrows, then, the other to do the same.

Next, came the game of Elimination.

Darts started to fly everywhere, and there came hoots and hoorays. The magi were blocking arrows with ease. They raised their hands and a blaze of fire, wind, ice, etc., would appear protecting their counterpart.

Thus, began my refereeing and helping the magi performance with their abilities.

I notice something off. There were two teams and an even amount of kids.

"I believe that your missing trainee is in the hallways."

I jumped twelve feet in the air when Sargent Wallow, a two-foot, gold lynx with a turtle sh.e.l.l mounted on his back, and four-foot fluffy tail, was right there next to me.

"Why didn't you bring her back in?" I questioned.

"Not my trainee."

"Really?"

"There is something to be taught here Eugene, go," he quietly ordered me.

I popped open the gym doors and searched out into the hallway seeing Trainee McKenzie sitting in a ball sniffling.

I strolled up to her. She glanced up and was about to stand before I sat next to her.

"You were supposed to be helping me," I whispered.

"I'm sorry," she cried in her knees.

"For what?" I asked.

"For leaving the cla.s.s."

"Least I know where you are. Not knowing would have caused an even bigger deal," I chuckled, thinking of the Drill Sargent killing me.

"I can't perform my magic correctly. I will be a useless mage, a flunky," she tagged onto herself.

"What makes you say that? You just started to perform magic."

I reached into my pocket and pull out a badge and toss it into her lap. The weight pulled her from her knees. She took it in her hands, and her eyes widened.

"You know what that is?" I questioned.

I gaze up at the ceiling as McKenzie examined the badge in the light. The metal was small, with just the letters "S.M.G." The letters stood for "Special Magi Guild."

"This is for Special Operations Divisions," she gasped, looking over at me.

"Guess how I got that?"

"You're a freaking powerful electric mage!" she exclaimed in awe.

"No, I'm a flunky, never made it past my advanced cla.s.ses," I admitted, smiling.

"Wait…"

"Yep, not the greatest, that's not how I got into the S.M.G."

"Then, how?"

"I specialize in dark magic, dark creature, and all the other sort that come with it," I tooted, "there's no one else that knows as much as I do about that stuff, maybe my Sargent but that's iffy."

I turned to her and smiled, "I don't think that you're a flunky or will ever be a flunky, but if there's a point zero one percent chance there is. It's not a career-ending deal."

"You think that?" McKenzie whispered, with new tears emerging.

"Yes, I do, you're a good kid, and you will get an advance teacher that will take all the time in the world to help you and to make sure you get the best opportunity to reach your full potential."

I felt a buzz from my phone. I peeked at it. Wallow said that cla.s.s was ending.

"Come on we need to get back before your Drill Instructure comes to fetch you," I addressed, getting to my feet and offering a hand to the Trainee.