Black Magic by Megan Derr

their heads.
    Koray looked up from where he lay huddled on the dirty stones of the ward and stared up at Sorin, who looked fierce and furious and beautiful. It made something in Koray's chest twist, ache. He hated Sorin for that.
    He tensed as Sorin drew closer, held his breath—and let it out on a ragged sigh when Sorin began to administer a beating to his assailants that made what Koray had suffered look trifling. When the men had been broken and knelt in a battered row before him, Sorin turned to Koray and helped him to his feet. He drew off his cloak and wrapped Koray in it. "Are you all right, Koray?" he asked quietly.
    "I'm fine," Koray said.
    Sorin gently gripped his shoulders and, meeting Koray's eyes, said, "I said you would be safe and that vow has proven false. I am sorry."
    "Not—" Koray cleared his throat, licked his lips, and looked away as he said, "It's not your fault. It's not even entirely their fault. Their anger drew the ghosts in the ward and the leeching of their life energies made their anger worse. It's why ghosts are so dangerous—one of the reasons, anyway."
    "Ghosts?" Sorin said. "I never realized—"
    "Liar!" one of the men snarled. "We found him wandering the castle all sneak-like. He was going to do something—"
    "I said enough!" Sorin roared again, and released Koray to round on the men, to address everyone still gathered in the ward. "I said the necromancer is under my protection. He is here by the will of the Goddess and is not to be harmed. If you suspected him of foul conduct, you should have detained him and summoned me. You are lucky that your comrade did come to fetch me, because if I found my necromancer dead then you would have joined him in death." The men recoiled at those words, real fear filling their eyes. Sorin glared at them. "There is never good cause to mindlessly torment and beat a man. You, paladins, I am especially ashamed of. You wear the Goddess' colors and fight in her name, and your behavior tonight brings dishonor to your fellow paladins and to Her Grace." He held out one hand, his eyes glowing brilliant purple. "Your powers I bind, your ranks I strip, and you will be locked away until I think you have paid suitable penance."
    The men all glowed, crying out in pain once more, and then fell silent save for the occasional whimper. But the man who had first attacked Koray mustered a sneer. "Necromancers are little better than demons. Ghosts. There are no ghosts. He is lying and he is up to something."
    Koray drew himself up, discarded Sorin's cloak, and gathered up the dregs of his power. Pressing his hands together in prayer, he closed his eyes and began to chant, slowly drawing his hands apart as the spell was cast.
    As he finished and opened his eyes, casting his power out across the whole of the ward in a wave of pale, silver-violet light, every ghost the light touched shimmered into view. People screamed as they saw them, recoiling, drawing back, crashing into one another as they strove not to be touched by the ghosts.
    Koray swayed on his feet and the ghosts winked out of sight as he fell—
    But instead of hitting the ground, he was swept up against a wall of unbelievable warmth. "My Lord High Paladin," he said, eyes too heavy to open.
    Sorin gave a soft laugh that made Koray feel strange, his voice warm and gravelly against in Koray's ear. "I was starting to think your sharp tongue had dulled. But even on the verge of passing out, you can still be rude. Is there anything I can do to help you, necromancer? Besides take you to the priests for healing?"
    "Warm," Koray said, too weak to say anything else, barely aware he was speaking at all. "You're so warm."
    "You're like ice," Sorin replied as Koray slid into darkness.

Three
    The necromancer in his arms, pale and bruised, so fragile looking, so thin he scarcely weighed a feather, was nothing like the acerbic, rude man Sorin had met in the forest. That man had vexed him to madness—beyond madness. This man left