Black Magic by Megan Derr Read Free Book Online Page A

rag pile.
    It reminded him that autumn was turning rapidly to winter, and if he hoped to survive it he would have to make for his mountain cabin soon. Hopefully his time in the castle would be brief. He ignored the ache in his chest that had no business rising up at the thought of leaving. He had barely been in the castle and his welcome had hardly been warm. Why should he feel anything, except eager to leave again?
    Shrugging into his robe, he wandered over to the sole window and pulled back the heavy tapestry covering it. He stared down into the inner ward, shuddering at what he saw. The entire castle was crawling with ghosts. How did the inhabitants live with such a weight upon the place. Didn't they feel it? Surely it had struck someone's notice that it was always chillier than it should be, that illness was unusually bad, and fights broke out with uncommon frequency. Nightmares, sadness, confusion … the presence of the life-leeching ghosts added a fog of misery to the castle.
    But given the number of ghosts, the inhabitants were probably so used to the misery that hung over them that they were unaware of it.
    Letting the tapestry fall again, he quietly slipped from the room to explore the halls. He resisted the urge to pull up his hood, as it would only make him look more suspicious. It was probably not a wise move, because it would provide an easy excuse to lock him up, or beat him, or throw him out of the castle, but he was used to being awake at night. He was unaccustomed to both sleeping in a bed and with someone else in it. His home in the mountains had a hard-packed dirt floor, a fireplace, a work table, and a small chest to keep food from the animals. The table and the chest had been hard enough to obtain; a bed was a foolish waste of time and money.
    Nearly every hall and room he explored featured at least two ghosts. Never in his life had he encountered a place so overrun with them. He could feel them picking away at his life force, stealing away the precious shreds of warmth he had taken from Sorin. Being open to ghosts, his ability to see and banish them made him a favored target, the same way any knight would be targeted first in a fight. Get rid of the big threat, then move on to the smaller ones.
    Koray shivered, grateful he was in the lesser populated areas of the castle. He did not want to go down into the ward by himself, where he could not count the number of ghosts crammed into it.
    The urge to banish them was strong, a burning need crawling across his skin, but purifying the battlefield had taxed him. He should not have done it, should have left it for the other necromancers he knew would be drawn to the area … but he had wanted the soldiers to see. He had wanted Sorin to see what a necromancer was meant to do.
    He ignored the voice that whispered he had wanted Sorin to see him . Nothing lay down that road but pain. His duty was to speak with the ghost of Alfrey, learn the identity of his killer, and then put Alfrey to rest. Purifying the castle would take months of work, possibly even years for some of the ghosts were so old that it would take more than a basic purification. And the energy required to banish so many …
    If he had help, it was possible to do it in weeks, at worst a few months. But he could not imagine anyone allowing him not just to stay, but to summon more necromancers.
    Koray warded off an angry-looking ghost of a soldier as it approached him and continued his explorations. He paused as he came to a door that pulsed with Sorin's energies. Beyond it, he could feel death. The constant tugging sensation, the sorrow he had felt for days, finally eased. He rested his hands on the door, then his head, letting his eyes fall shut. Be at peace, Alfrey. I cannot restore your life, but I can grant you final peace.
    Leaving the sealed door, Koray continued on down the hall—and froze in surprise when five men abruptly turned the corner. They stopped dead in their tracks and scowled as they