action even as he pulled his crossbow from its holster and fired. The bolt lodged in the Demon Lord's back. It did little more than anger him and caused him to turn to focus on Sorin—but that was exactly what Sorin wanted.
Bellowing his battle cry again, Sorin raced at the demon lord full tilt, magic flaring as he struck hard and fast. He swore as he was unseated and thrown to the ground. The demon lord turned on the horse briefly and Sorin hid a wince as his horse screamed in its death throes. Reaffirming his grip on the sword he'd managed to keep hold of, he climbed to his feet and threw himself back into the fight.
After that, he lost track of everything; the demon lord took all of his concentration, all of his energy. No one else there would be capable of single-handedly taking down such a powerful demon.
Why were the demons so close? They never ventured drew so near the royal castle. That they were growing so bold frightened him.
With a last, desperate cry, he managed to thrust his sword into the demon lord's gut. Not wasting any time, he drew a dagger from his belt and thrust it up into the bastard's throat. Grabbing up a sword left to fall when its owner was slain, he swung down hard, decapitating the demon lord.
Chest heaving with the need to draw proper breath, Sorin stumbled back away from the corpse. Blood and sweat dripped down his face, stinging his eyes, and he tried to wipe it away, but found that was impossible to do when the rest of him was smeared with more of the same, in addition to mud and Goddess alone knew what else.
He took one step, then immediately regretted it as the expenditure of power finally caught up with him—but before he could fall face first down upon the battlefield, an arm was around his waist, another hand dragging Sorin's arm over broad shoulders. Sorin smiled tiredly at Emel. "How?"
"As well as we could have dared hope," Emel said quietly. "Casualties are minimal, thanks to our swift arrival and the way you handled that demon lord. I do not know what we would have done without you here to take care of him. I'll have the final tallies for you shortly."
"Get started on the burning," Sorin said and groaned in relief as he was unceremoniously set upon a tree stump. He looked toward the battlefield, flinching at the bodies, the destruction—the way men had already been set to work finding survivors and killing those who would otherwise die a slow death.
Then something else caught his eye and he made to stand, but hissed in pain as his injuries chose that moment to fully present themselves.
Emel had seen the same, however, and bellowed out angrily, "You! What in the name of the Goddess do you think you are doing? Get away from there, you filthy necromancer!"
"Be quiet!" Koray shouted right back, and Sorin heard more than a few cries of disbelief as Koray's eyes flared with an unmistakable violet light before he turned away, resuming his walk onto the battlefield.
"His eyes are like yours," Emel said in disbelief.
Sorin jerked in surprise. "What do you mean? Anyone with the Goddess' blessing has eyes that turn violet."
"Not like that," Emel replied, eyes still wide and locked upon Koray. "They glow like yours and the High Priests'. The rest of us do not have anywhere near that power."
Unable to form a reply, Sorin instead forced himself back to his feet. Waving off Emel's fretting, he walked slowly through the carnage to where Koray stood in its center. "What is it you are doing? I only ask from curiosity."
"My duty," Koray said flatly. "Stay if you must, but keep out of my way." He turned sharply away, and pulled something from one of his various pouches.
Sorin immediately recognized the scent of incense, bitter and earthy, with the barest hint of sweet underlying it. A soft, whispered word set the resin to burning in a small metal dish which Koray then set on a small, clear bit of ground.
Rising again, he looked out over the battlefield, brow furrowed in … thought?
Bellowing his battle cry again, Sorin raced at the demon lord full tilt, magic flaring as he struck hard and fast. He swore as he was unseated and thrown to the ground. The demon lord turned on the horse briefly and Sorin hid a wince as his horse screamed in its death throes. Reaffirming his grip on the sword he'd managed to keep hold of, he climbed to his feet and threw himself back into the fight.
After that, he lost track of everything; the demon lord took all of his concentration, all of his energy. No one else there would be capable of single-handedly taking down such a powerful demon.
Why were the demons so close? They never ventured drew so near the royal castle. That they were growing so bold frightened him.
With a last, desperate cry, he managed to thrust his sword into the demon lord's gut. Not wasting any time, he drew a dagger from his belt and thrust it up into the bastard's throat. Grabbing up a sword left to fall when its owner was slain, he swung down hard, decapitating the demon lord.
Chest heaving with the need to draw proper breath, Sorin stumbled back away from the corpse. Blood and sweat dripped down his face, stinging his eyes, and he tried to wipe it away, but found that was impossible to do when the rest of him was smeared with more of the same, in addition to mud and Goddess alone knew what else.
He took one step, then immediately regretted it as the expenditure of power finally caught up with him—but before he could fall face first down upon the battlefield, an arm was around his waist, another hand dragging Sorin's arm over broad shoulders. Sorin smiled tiredly at Emel. "How?"
"As well as we could have dared hope," Emel said quietly. "Casualties are minimal, thanks to our swift arrival and the way you handled that demon lord. I do not know what we would have done without you here to take care of him. I'll have the final tallies for you shortly."
"Get started on the burning," Sorin said and groaned in relief as he was unceremoniously set upon a tree stump. He looked toward the battlefield, flinching at the bodies, the destruction—the way men had already been set to work finding survivors and killing those who would otherwise die a slow death.
Then something else caught his eye and he made to stand, but hissed in pain as his injuries chose that moment to fully present themselves.
Emel had seen the same, however, and bellowed out angrily, "You! What in the name of the Goddess do you think you are doing? Get away from there, you filthy necromancer!"
"Be quiet!" Koray shouted right back, and Sorin heard more than a few cries of disbelief as Koray's eyes flared with an unmistakable violet light before he turned away, resuming his walk onto the battlefield.
"His eyes are like yours," Emel said in disbelief.
Sorin jerked in surprise. "What do you mean? Anyone with the Goddess' blessing has eyes that turn violet."
"Not like that," Emel replied, eyes still wide and locked upon Koray. "They glow like yours and the High Priests'. The rest of us do not have anywhere near that power."
Unable to form a reply, Sorin instead forced himself back to his feet. Waving off Emel's fretting, he walked slowly through the carnage to where Koray stood in its center. "What is it you are doing? I only ask from curiosity."
"My duty," Koray said flatly. "Stay if you must, but keep out of my way." He turned sharply away, and pulled something from one of his various pouches.
Sorin immediately recognized the scent of incense, bitter and earthy, with the barest hint of sweet underlying it. A soft, whispered word set the resin to burning in a small metal dish which Koray then set on a small, clear bit of ground.
Rising again, he looked out over the battlefield, brow furrowed in … thought?
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