altar and drawing closer to them. "Necromancers deal in death. You banish ghosts, though I know not the purpose that serves."
Koray's lips curled. "Even the high priest himself is ignorant of us and the work we do to keep Vindeia safe. Pathetic."
"We will hardly cease to be ignorant if you are not willing to unbend and explain to us what we need to know," Sorin replied. "If people do not speak to you, it's because you are rude and condescending every time you open your mouth. Were you one of my knights, I would give you a thrashing sound enough you'd be too sore to sit down for a week."
"Do try," Koray taunted, smirking. "I am no one to trifle with, My Lord High Paladin."
Sorin started to give a cutting response—but his words were prevented when Angelos suddenly burst out laughing. "Enough, you two," Angelos said. "I will call for a late supper and you can eat it while you explain everything to me. Come." So saying, he turned and strode off, leaving them little choice but to follow.
Stifling an aggravated sigh, Sorin stalked after him, pointedly ignoring Koray as he came up on Sorin's left. He'd just put one foot in the High Priest's office when the bells began to ring with a fury, a cacophony of noise that had a single purpose: to rouse every inhabitant of the castle.
Turning sharply, Sorin ran full tilt through the cathedral, outside, and down the steps, across to the stable where his horse was already being prepared. He ordered two men to fetch his equipment, and by the time his horse was ready, they were back with his full armor and additional weapons and helping him put it on.
A familiar form caught his eyes, and he looked over and up at his already mounted second-in-command, Emel. "Where? What?"
"The village of Greymore."
"Ride out, Emel. Take what you need. We'll catch up. Watch yourself."
Nodding, Emel turned his horse about and began to issue orders. Seconds later, the ward emptied of a significant portion of the men who had been filling it.
When the last pieces of his armor were strapped and buckled into place, Sorin secured his weapons and tools to his saddle, then climbed into it and looked out over all of those assembled—and paused when he saw Koray standing off to the side. He started to say something, then realized he didn't know what to say. Leaving the matter alone, he bellowed, "Move out!" and signaled for his herald to sound the horn. Its haunting call echoed throughout the castle and the surrounding city as the knights rode out of the and headed northeast toward the village of Greymore.
By the time they arrived, everything was chaos: fire, blood, screaming, the clash of steel against claw, the sharp stench of demon magic mingling with the bittersweet traces of Goddess magic, the tang of blood.
Sorin drew his sword and flung himself into the battle with a resounding cry that echoed through the rest of his men as they fought to drive back the demons. Their skin was dark, not quite black, not precisely brown. Their eyes glowed a deep maroon color when they used their magic, mouths bared to display teeth that seemed more animal than human, like the claws which tipped their fingers.
Many said demons could only be made when humans succumbed to black magic. Still others said demons could breed and that was why their numbers had grown so great. All Sorin knew for certain was that the demons fed upon the children of the Goddess, stole their souls and power away to sustain themselves. Cursed by the Goddess, or simply reviled, demons did not naturally possess magic. All they had, they stole from the people they slew.
A deep, vicious laugh drew Sorin's attention as he cut down one demon and threw aside another one already badly injured. Movement caught his eye and he whipped around, cutting down another demon as it swung wildly at him. He started to head for another cluster of them when the laugh came again and he saw a demon lord on the far side of the field.
Swearing, he spurred his horse into
Koray's lips curled. "Even the high priest himself is ignorant of us and the work we do to keep Vindeia safe. Pathetic."
"We will hardly cease to be ignorant if you are not willing to unbend and explain to us what we need to know," Sorin replied. "If people do not speak to you, it's because you are rude and condescending every time you open your mouth. Were you one of my knights, I would give you a thrashing sound enough you'd be too sore to sit down for a week."
"Do try," Koray taunted, smirking. "I am no one to trifle with, My Lord High Paladin."
Sorin started to give a cutting response—but his words were prevented when Angelos suddenly burst out laughing. "Enough, you two," Angelos said. "I will call for a late supper and you can eat it while you explain everything to me. Come." So saying, he turned and strode off, leaving them little choice but to follow.
Stifling an aggravated sigh, Sorin stalked after him, pointedly ignoring Koray as he came up on Sorin's left. He'd just put one foot in the High Priest's office when the bells began to ring with a fury, a cacophony of noise that had a single purpose: to rouse every inhabitant of the castle.
Turning sharply, Sorin ran full tilt through the cathedral, outside, and down the steps, across to the stable where his horse was already being prepared. He ordered two men to fetch his equipment, and by the time his horse was ready, they were back with his full armor and additional weapons and helping him put it on.
A familiar form caught his eyes, and he looked over and up at his already mounted second-in-command, Emel. "Where? What?"
"The village of Greymore."
"Ride out, Emel. Take what you need. We'll catch up. Watch yourself."
Nodding, Emel turned his horse about and began to issue orders. Seconds later, the ward emptied of a significant portion of the men who had been filling it.
When the last pieces of his armor were strapped and buckled into place, Sorin secured his weapons and tools to his saddle, then climbed into it and looked out over all of those assembled—and paused when he saw Koray standing off to the side. He started to say something, then realized he didn't know what to say. Leaving the matter alone, he bellowed, "Move out!" and signaled for his herald to sound the horn. Its haunting call echoed throughout the castle and the surrounding city as the knights rode out of the and headed northeast toward the village of Greymore.
By the time they arrived, everything was chaos: fire, blood, screaming, the clash of steel against claw, the sharp stench of demon magic mingling with the bittersweet traces of Goddess magic, the tang of blood.
Sorin drew his sword and flung himself into the battle with a resounding cry that echoed through the rest of his men as they fought to drive back the demons. Their skin was dark, not quite black, not precisely brown. Their eyes glowed a deep maroon color when they used their magic, mouths bared to display teeth that seemed more animal than human, like the claws which tipped their fingers.
Many said demons could only be made when humans succumbed to black magic. Still others said demons could breed and that was why their numbers had grown so great. All Sorin knew for certain was that the demons fed upon the children of the Goddess, stole their souls and power away to sustain themselves. Cursed by the Goddess, or simply reviled, demons did not naturally possess magic. All they had, they stole from the people they slew.
A deep, vicious laugh drew Sorin's attention as he cut down one demon and threw aside another one already badly injured. Movement caught his eye and he whipped around, cutting down another demon as it swung wildly at him. He started to head for another cluster of them when the laugh came again and he saw a demon lord on the far side of the field.
Swearing, he spurred his horse into
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