The Necromancer

Chapter Fourteen

"Hey, how are you feeling?" Amara leaned over his bed.

Nathan blinked a few times, his eyes adjusting to the harsh white lights of the infirmary. "Where am I?"

"The infirmary. You've been here for two days now and finally woken up."

"What happened? We were cleaning the equipment and then..." Nathan trailed off. His memories started to get hazy at that point.

"Tharin started to argue with me, again. Seriously, that boy just loves getting under people's skin. It's like he gets off on trying to pick a fight with everyone he meets. I swear on Merlin's sock that—"

"Amara."

"Oh, right sorry. Well then you somehow siphoned a ton of energy, almost got yourself killed, but Coach Murphy and Professor Frost were able to save you with a quartz crystal. It was so cool! You should've seen it."

Nathan gave her a sour look before looking around.

"If you're looking for Tharin, he's not here. The two of us are not allowed to be near you at the same time. Frost called it a 'hazard to the safety of all students of Drazora'. But I'm sure he'll be by later once I leave."

A silence passed over them. "Why do you and Tharin hate each other?"

Amara huffed, looking anywhere but Nathan. "Can we not talk about that?"

"I've gotten in trouble twice now because of your arguments. I want to know why."

"It's just stupid family drama. I wouldn't even care about what the Kronins did, it was so long ago, but he sees family history as a guide to live by. Life goes on, but him and the rest of them are all stuck in the past."

Seeing as this was all he was going to get out of her for now, Nathan dropped the subject.

"Can I get you anything? Water? Something to eat?" Amara offered, breaking the silence.

"Water."

After handing him a glass, she sat down again in the chair beside his bed. Nathan was content to simply listen to her as she rambled on about the latest gossip at Drazora. Eventually, the nurse came and shooed her out.

Tharin never did end up visiting.

-  -  -

When Nathan first arrived at Drazora he hadn't seen many ghosts, only a few glimpses of them as they turned the corner. After visiting the cemetery though, they followed him everywhere like they'd received an invitation to enter not only the castle but the Necromancy Tower as well.

Waking up the next morning back in his own bed, he was greeted with a ghost who was missing an arm and had blood dripping down his chest.

A few more ghosts, missing various limbs, meandered about through his room. Occasionally one would try to pick something up only to have the material object fall through its fingers. Some ghosts were stronger than others; instead of looking like the classic pale white or translucent in color, they were more solidified and opaque. This meant that every gory detail was heightened with color to the point that it looked as if they were extras that had stepped out of zombie movie.

After screaming bloody murder at the horrific specters, Nathan gathered up the courage to confront the ghost who had awoken him. "Who the hell are you? What are you doing in here?"

"I've been dead for about... three hundred years now," the ghost replied. He went to scratch his head but smiled sheepishly as he realized his arm was still missing. "I heard that a necromancer had moved to Drazora, so I came to check it out for myself."

"Who are you?" Nathan repeated.

"Hank Summerhill."

"What are you doing here?"

"Life is so boring trapped in between life and death. No one can see you and if they can all they can to do is scream. Necromancers see ghosts all of the time, so it doesn't faze them."

Nathan ran his hands through his hair. "Get out, now, all of you!" The ghosts, however, made no move to leave the Necromancy Tower. "Go on, get out! Leave me alone!"

Again, his words had no effect on the specters. Seeing his frustration, Hank Summerhill whistled, gathering the ghosts' attention. "Scatter now, all of you! Master Norwood needs his space." One by one the ghosts disappeared as they floated through the walls, moaning and groaning about how short tempered the living are.

Sighing in relief, Nathan turned to the one ghost who remained. "Thanks, I guess, for getting them all to leave."

Hank chuckled. "No worries my boy. We tend to forget what it's like to want personal space."

Hank sighed as he looked around the room. There was a far off look in his eyes. "It's been so long, yet nothing has really changed."

"Did you know Simon?" Nathan asked suddenly.

"Simon? Hmm, I been half-dead so long my memory's gone a bit foggy."

"Simon was the last necromancer to attend Drazora before me. This was his room. You've been here before, right? So, did you know Simon?"

Hank paused. "Yes, but that's a story best told after breakfast. Come on, don't want to be late now, do we?"

Hank floated behind Nathan as he walked down to the Great Hall for breakfast.