Black Magic (21 page)

"I am stubborn because I cannot afford to be wrong. It is not that I don't want it to be true, but if I am wrong and open up to the demons, it will be everyone else who suffers for it, necromancer. I will not risk the lives of everyone who relies upon me for a fanciful notion that our enemies are not our enemies."

"You took a chance on me. You defended me when your men attacked me."

Sorin pushed his plate away. "You're still human. Whatever we have believed about necromancers over the centuries, there was no mistaking you for anything, but human. Your eyes glow violet. The Goddess sent you to me. There was plenty of reason to take a chance on you, Koray. If the Goddess bids me hear a demon out, then I will, of course, do so. I don't like it, I would prefer just to kill them, but there is the sword as you said. But as I said, I remember all that demons have done to us. Suddenly trusting creatures that torture and slaughter is completely different than trusting strange men who see ghosts and sleep in graveyards."

Koray did not reply, sorry he had ever brought the matter up. What was he going to do if he was correct in his theory? More importantly, how in the name of the Goddess was he going to break the news to Sorin that his second-in-command was having an affair with a demon?

But maybe he was wrong. In the middle of a fight it was hard to judge anything and far too easy to misinterpret. Emel's expression as he had watched the demon fly off could have meant anything. What did Koray know about looking at anyone with longing, anyway?

"I'm going to bed," he said tersely and pushed away from the table, gathering the heavy folds of his robes as he stood. "Goodnight, My Lord High Paladin."

Sorin heaved a sigh and stood, catching up to Koray by the door. "I did not mean to upset you so much. Why are you arguing for demons? Last I checked, you liked them even less than I."

"I know well what it's like to be hated for what I am, to be hated for something I cannot help," Koray said. "I saw a demon today who helped us. That sword holds genuine pain. I am inclined to have faith that maybe not all demons are evil, or at the very least that there may be a way they can be brought out of evilness."

"Even if you're right, how do you forgive the things they've done?"

"How do you forgive the things you've done?" Koray snapped. "Killing is killing, whatever the motive, no matter how necessary it seems. You may have killed someone who in your eyes deserved killing, but somewhere, you have left someone pained by that loss."

Sorin's brows shot up. "They're demons. When pushed hard enough, apparently they will feed on each other. I doubt they care when one of them is slain. It means more food for the rest of them."

"You are the most frustratingly stupid man I've ever met in my life," Koray snapped and reached out to grab the door handle—and snarled, swinging out to strike, when Sorin grabbed him and turned him around to push him up against the door. "Unhand me."

"No."

"Paladin, I will render you incapable of having children if you do not unhand me at once," Koray hissed.

Sorin's mouth twitched. "You can't move enough to manage that, necromancer. Now, I am not letting you storm off to be angry with me the rest of the night. I am sorry I am not telling you whatever it is you want to hear. If there comes a day when I must concede that not all demons are evil, I will do my best to make that concession. I am only saying that so far, an old sword and a strange occurrence are not enough to tip my hand. Any animal, any person for that matter, will deviate from its nature in times of duress—but revert right back to that nature when all is normal again. That is my point, necromancer. May demons join with us to face these worse demons? Perhaps. But the moment they are safe again they will turn on us."

Koray sighed, giving up for the moment. "Whatever, paladin. Unhand me."

Instead, Sorin kissed him, and Koray hated how much better he immediately felt. His anger and tension slowly fell away, replaced by that pooling heat low in his gut, the undeniable urge to bury his fingers in Sorin's tunic and pull him closer so that Koray was trapped between the door and the vastly more appealing hardness of Sorin's body. Even the damned armor could not completely ruin it.

The knock at the door, however, could.

Sorin swore colorfully and tugged Koray away from the door so that he could open it. A knight bowed hastily and said, "High Paladin, High Necromancer, the High Priest requests your presence in the cathedral."

"We are on our way," Sorin said and sighed after the knight had departed. He shot Koray a heated look and said, "We'll resume this upon our return." Koray rolled his eyes and pushed past Sorin to lead the way to the cathedral.

"I thought you were going to bed," Sorin called out as they walked across the sanctuary toward the dais where Neikirk and Cerant stood waiting.

Cerant made a face. "That was the plan, yes. The Goddess had other plans, and I know better than to argue. Behold, behind the altar exactly as She said." Cerant gestured to the open bit of wall below the image of the Goddess Blossom at the very back of the altar dais. Picking up a lantern, Cerant vanished into the dark beyond.

Koray picked up another lantern and made to follow him, scowling when Sorin latched onto his arm and forced him to a halt. "I should be going first," Sorin said. "Cerant should have waited as well. There's no telling what is down there."

"You are an imbecile," Koray said. "We do not need the escort of the wonderful and mighty High Paladin." Pulling away, ignoring whatever Sorin said in reply, Koray stepped through the doorway and walked down the spiraling stairway revealed by his lantern.

It seemed to end, if he guessed correctly, right below the altar. He stood in a dark antechamber, just able to make out sconces where torches would have once been placed. The floor was rough in places, smooth in others, his lantern catching snatches of gleaming tile where time had not destroyed them. Lifting his lantern, he could just make out where words had once been carved into the space above the arched doorway. The only word he could sort of make out seemed to say Goddess, but he could not be sure. Perhaps it was a prayer; that would make the most sense.

He heard Sorin and Neikirk behind him and waited until they reached the bottom of the stairs before pushing on through the doorway, following the glow of Cerant's lantern. They wound up in a large, square room a little smaller than the king's solar. All around the sides were work tables, chairs, bookshelves, cupboards, cabinets … it seemed to be some sort of workroom for several individuals. There was little remaining in the way of items, only a few books and glass bottles, jars and the mostly-disintegrated remains of a robe thrown over one chair.

Koray wandered over to the table in the left-hand corner nearest the door, fingers running over the ancient robe. The table was caked in dust, as were the objects upon it: an old mirror framed in silver and set with amethysts and a small book bound in black leather that had not weathered well after being forgotten in the dark, musty room for what was likely centuries.

He turned away from the table to examine the floor, and the Holy Star that took up most of it, more closely. The floor itself was white—or, at least, it had once been white. But set into it was the star, made from some black stone that gleamed in the lantern light. Each point contained a small Goddess Blossom in silvery-white. The blossoms almost seemed to be designating something, but Koray could not say what.

"Curious," Neikirk said, setting his lantern on one of the work tables before stepping closer to the star. "It's an energy void. I think it may be meant to be used as a vessel. The flowers mark the points where energy is absorbed. How fascinating, and what a strange place to find an alchemical working. I did not know, Master, that alchemy was ever practiced in Vindeia."

"It is certainly the first I have ever heard of it," Cerant said. "But I am coming to realize there is a great deal about magic that we have forgotten over the centuries. So if it is a vessel, my dear, what manner of energy is it meant to hold?"

"I'm not sure," Neikirk said. "There are no markings to inform me as to its purpose, either, so I will not know what it's meant to hold until that energy is supplied." His Eye glowed, head cocked as he thought.

After a moment, he stepped into one of the points. Another moment and he moved on to another. They all jumped when he stepped into the topmost point and the entire star shimmered with white-silver light. "Curious," Neikirk said. "Master, try standing there." He pointed to the topmost point on his left. When nothing happened, he instead directed Cerant to the point opposite. The star shimmered with pale red light. Neikirk looked to Koray. "Necromancer—"

"Koray is fine," Koray interjected.

Neikirk nodded. "Koray, stand at that lower point so you are next to Cerant." When Koray stepped into the designated point, it shimmered with pale blue light. Smiling faintly, clearly pleased about something, Neikirk motioned for Sorin to take the point across from Cerant. Koray was not surprised when the star shimmered, this time with dark red light.

"We are missing Koray's match," Neikirk said thoughtfully. "Cerant is a … priest of life, let us say for now. That makes Sorin a warrior of life. Koray would be the priest of death … which means we lack the warrior of death."

Cerant shook his head. "My dear, I am not entirely certain I know what you mean."

"You are the High Priest. We also have here the High Necromancer and the High Paladin. I must presume that I am the alchemical equivalent of those positions—a High Alchemist, let us say, for the purposes of consistency. But there are five points to the star, and whatever it is trying to do as regards our energies—which I can see it is certainly trying to absorb—it cannot do because that fifth point is empty."

"I follow that much," Cerant said.

Neikirk gestured to Cerant and Sorin. "The star flashes red for both you and Sorin. You are matched in that you both draw the same kind of energy, but you draw different aspects of it. One to heal, one to fight. You and Koray draw the same aspect of different kinds of energies. That is to say, you and Koray are both priests, but one of life and one of death. But there is no one to match Koray, no soldier who draws the same energy as him and shares the same aspect as Sorin. Who is that fifth person? What type of power or magic is missing? Alchemist, Paladin, Priest, Necromancer … and what?"

"What is your part in all this?" Koray asked. "We four intermingle, but you seem to connect to no one."

Cerant laughed and replied before Neikirk could. "He's a neutral. He can see and probably connect all the energies. He is the balance, but must have energies to balance. How clever. It's perfect. How was such knowledge lost?"

"The chaos of the civil war is plenty explanation," Sorin said. "Those were dark days and we still feel the effects in the way we have little to nothing to do with Navath. And then, of course, there is the Lost North. It comes as no surprise to me that the knowledge was lost. People probably died faster than they could pass the knowledge on."

"Yes," Cerant agreed sadly. "Perhaps now we can finally begin to set all to rights and find what was lost."

Koray said nothing, his mind flitting back to that moment when he had turned and saw Emel watching that strange demon with a look of longing, pain etched deeply into his face. He was tempted to tell the others what he had seen, to voice his thoughts, but the conversation with Sorin haunted him. What if he was wrong? What if any actions provoked by his words resulted in the deaths of the castle inhabitants? What if the demons were playing some elaborate game?

No. Best to hold his tongue and bide his time until he could slip away to test his theory himself. He had a feeling he knew exactly where he would find that demon. All he needed was a chance to be able to do it.

"Be careful," Sorin said, embracing Emel tightly. "Watch out for more of those demons. I don't want to lose anyone else. And if you do not come back, who will keep the castle running smoothly?"

Emel laughed and stepped back. "We'll be careful, High Paladin. All set there, alchemist? I'll take care of him, High Priest, so stop scowling at me."

Neikirk gave Cerant a kiss before mounting his horse. "I anticipate a lot of frustration upon our arrival, but we will do the best we can as quickly as we can, Master."

"You have the royal ring; do not be afraid to use it," Cerant said. "If they get to be too difficult, use your lightning incantation. They'll be so desperate to have it they'll give you whatever you want."

Neikirk's mouth quirked. "Yes, Master."

They rode off, and Sorin watched them go until he could no longer see them, ignoring the uneasy feeling in his gut. "I sense things will get worse before we begin to see improvement," he said with a sigh, "but I suppose that is an apt description of the past many decades. Always getting worse, ever hoping the tide will finally turn."

"Everything changes eventually," Koray said. "I have not been beaten in weeks and nobody has tried to throw me on a pyre though I stand in the very heart of the kingdom. I would say there has been improvement, even if you can't see it."

Sorin made a face. "That is not what I meant. Why are you meaner than ever, lately?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Koray said, but the words were distracted, his eyes looking at the sky beyond the battlements. Whatever Koray claimed, the truth was that he had been distracted and distant—and meaner—of late. Sorin longed to know why, but dreaded learning the answer. He feared he already knew it—Koray was tired of being in the castle.

It only made sense, of course. Though he had never explicitly said, what little he had said was enough to make it clear that Koray led a wanderer's life, holing up in one place only to ride out the worst of winter. It must be strange to remain in a place like the royal castle so long, especially given his miserable reception.

And Goddess knew that just because Sorin enjoyed every single kiss they exchanged … well, it was never more than kisses and he was always the one to initiate. He sometimes wondered how much of a choice Koray really thought he had on the matter.