Chapter 7: Back to the Castle

"What is your—"

"My name is—"

They both stopped when they realized the other was speaking and lapsed into another silence.

Sorin finally sighed and tried again, asking quietly, "What is your name, necromancer?"

"Koray. You are High Paladin Sorin, correct?"

"Correct."

"Who is Alfrey? How far are we from the castle?"

"About a mark's ride. He was a priest, and my best friend and cousin. He was brutally murdered sometime in the night."

Silence greeted his words, and Sorin wondered why he had expected anything different from a rude, prickly necromancer. Then rough, calloused fingers touched his hand, ice cold against his warm skin, making him shiver. "I'm sorry," Koray said quietly. "Brutally murdered. Can you tell me how, precisely? Or should I ask another?"

Sorin was surprised by the kindness that one question displayed, especially in light of Koray's loathing. "No one save the king and the high priest know. I found the body so I am the best to recount it. He was torn to pieces," Sorin said raggedly, and for the third time that day, recounted the tale of finding Alfrey's body.

"That is definitely why the Goddess has led me here," Koray said when he had finished. "Too many things about the situation are wrong. But for what it is worth, such a cruel slaying will have left his ghost. Whatever happened to him, the ghost will be able to tell me."

Bemused—completely and utterly lost, really, for he had never dealt with necromancers and scarcely understood the things that Koray said—Sorin simply nodded and urged his horse to a faster pace, eager to be home.

He wanted nothing more than to crawl into his bed when he finally reached the royal castle, but he sensed sleep was still some marks away. At least all seemed well at the castle.

It was a masterpiece of craftsmanship, the castle. Home to thousands and built to protect the cathedral in addition to the royal family. The castle was defended by double curtains, fifteen feet high and regularly interspersed with massive towers that also served as barracks.

To breach the outer curtain, attackers must first overcome the moat, which was as wide as the curtains were tall and so deep Sorin could barely reach the bottom in a single breath. The moat was fed by the ocean, which was only a mark's ride away. An enormous drawbridge was the only way in, and once it was raised for the night it did not lower again until sunrise without the permission of the high paladin or the king. Past the drawbridge was the first of two gates, and the immense gatehouses were the third largest structures in the castle, surpassed only by the cathedral and the keep itself.

Assuming anyone could breach the first gate, there was still a dark tunnel rife with traps and murder holes to get through before ever reaching the outer ward, and there were still that and the inner gate to conquer before finally breaching the inner ward, which in turn must be crossed before reaching the keep and the cathedral behind it.

Sorin glanced around the outer curtain, noting that all the guards were in place, the torches lit, and that everything was as it should be. All was well, it seemed. Good. He was in no mood for knocking heads together because they thought his absence meant duties could be neglected. Not that Emel would ever let such a thing happen, but it never stopped guards from trying.

Riding across the drawbridge, he called out to the guards to let him in.

"Ho, High Paladin," one of the knights called down from a gatehouse tower. "We were beginning to think you'd be sleeping outside tonight."

"It would hardly be the first time," Sorin replied with a laugh. "Let me in."

The guard, however, merely asked, "Have you a guest, my lord? No one mentioned you went to fetch someone."

"I did not know I would be," Sorin replied. "I met him in the forest, and the Goddess decreed he be my guest until She no longer requires his presence here."

"As you say, High Paladin," the guard said and vanished into the tower. Sorin heard the cry, and then the portcullis was raised. He rode through to the inner gate, where it was a much simpler matter to have the men raise it, and then he was finally standing in the inner ward.

Several knights came up to greet him, entirely too awake given the time, but the young ones were good for duty in the deadest parts of the night. "Hail, High Paladin. Did you have a good journey? Who's your friend?"

"My guest is named Koray," Sorin said—and only then realized that at some point Koray had fallen asleep. That surprised him; Koray seemed the suspicious type at best and downright hostile most of the time. Yet he'd fallen asleep.

"Help me with him," he ordered the men and carefully dismounted as they lifted down Koray.

Who immediately woke, brandishing the staff he had not released even in sleep. "Unhand me."

The men immediately backed away, drawing their swords. "Enough!" Sorin barked. "Koray, you are my guest here—act like it. Put your swords away, all of you."

"But-but he's a bloody necromancer!" one soldier said. "What's one of his sort doing inside the keep?"

Before Sorin could reply, Koray said, "That is not your concern, piddling knight."

"Piddling—!"

Sorin pinched the bridge of his nose and wished fervently for a cup of good beer. "Enough!" he said again. "You're dismissed. Koray, come with me." Turning sharply on one heel, he strode across the ward to the Cathedral, swiftly climbing the long, deep steps and entering the immense double doors into the Cathedral.

He was halfway across the sanctuary when he realized there was no one behind him. Turning around, he saw that Koray hovered in the entrance, looking…

Awed. Sad. Softened in demeanor. More beautiful than ever.