Being largely confined to the castle, Sorin had never encountered a necromancer. He had seen them at a distance upon rare occasion, but all his knowledge was based on what he had learned from others. It was well known that necromancers absorbed dead souls to feed their dark abilities, not so different from demons who fed upon the living. Sorin found it hard to believe that such dark creatures communed with the Goddess and heard Her Voice.
He winced when something twisted sharp and hot in his chest—another reprimand.
"What do you mean by sadness?" he pressed when he realized the necromancer was going to say nothing further.
The necromancer glared at him and tersely replied, "Something tragic happened there, something that is carved now into the land itself, especially that oak tree. It will never die, not while that sadness remains. Such is the power of death and the way in which people die."
Sorin frowned and reluctantly confessed, "I'm not certain I understand any of what you just said."
"I did not think you would," the necromancer said. "Shall we to your castle? The sooner I am done with my duty, the sooner I can leave."
"Your duty?" Sorin repeated, wondering when he would stop feeling like a fish flopping mindlessly about.
The necromancer shrugged irritably and looked away, hand restlessly clenching and unclenching around the staff. "I was returning east last night, to my home there, but I woke to Her suddenly urging me to journey west instead. As I drew closer to the Royal Castle, I came to accept that it is my destination. I can only assume some ghost there requires banishment." He rubbed briefly at his forehead, as though it ached.
Sorin's confusion only grew. "Her? The Goddess? That is the second time you've mentioned Her, but how can that be when you—" He barely drew his sword in time to block the staff that came flying at his head. Eyes blazed at him, sharp with violet light, and Sorin drew a harsh breath, badly shaken. Only those empowered by the Goddess had such eyes. How could a necromancer …
"If you dare to tell me I practice black magic, High Paladin, I will slit your throat for the ignorant fool you are," the necromancer hissed. "You grabbed me and forced us down this hill, yet not once has it seemed as though your notorious sense for demons and foul magic flared. Do I look or feel like I practice black magic?"
Sorin knocked the necromancer's staff away and sent him stumbling back, putting plenty of space between them. "You do not like me, necromancer, I comprehend that, but like or dislike, I am the High Paladin appointed by the Goddess—the very same Goddess who apparently has bestowed powers upon you, although I have never known Her to dabble in darkness. You will show me the respect I am due, or the only portion of the royal castle you will see is its jail. Do you understand me?"
"Perfectly, My Lord High Paladin," the man replied, smile a baring of teeth.
He could not have possibly managed to sound more mocking and condescending. Sorin gritted his teeth until he had control of his temper. "So you do not use black magic, though all I have ever heard is that necromancers are master of that art. What business have you at the castle, and why in Her name should I let you anywhere near it?"
"Perhaps you should learn not to trust all that you hear, My Lord High Paladin," he replied. "I am a necromancer. My business is death. If She is pointing me to the royal castle, I can only surmise that a ghost is there which must be banished, as I already told you. Should the angry spirit remain, its presence will poison the castle and all the inhabitants—including you, My Lord High Paladin."
Sorin vowed he had known demons less irritating. "Possess you any manners, necromancer? Or are you this rude and difficult with all whom you encounter?"
"I have manners aplenty," the necromancer retorted. "But I only bother to employ them when I feel the recipient worthy."
Sorin turned away and whistled again for his horse, which had wandered away to find something more interesting. "Shall we to the castle, then?" And what a fine time he was going to have, explaining that a necromancer had been summoned—and by the Goddess, or so he claimed. After seeing that flash of violet in his eyes, Sorin could not doubt the man, however much he wished.
"I am not riding that infernal beast," the necromancer said, scowling at Sorin's horse. "I will walk and reach the castle in due course. I hardly need your escort."
Sorin whipped around to face him and snapped, "Must you be so difficult about everything, necromancer? I apologize again for the hill; it was not my intent to send us tumbling down it. I mean you no harm. I saw a stranger in a place where none but I ever come."
"None but you?" the man repeated with a laugh. "These paths are tread by necromancers frequently, My Lord High Paladin. The Black Forest is favored by those of us who have nothing to fear from the dark."
"A demon would feed upon and kill you as gladly as it would anyone else," Sorin said quietly.
"True," the necromancer replied, "but the rest of you kill us just as readily. Death is something I face every day, one way or another. If I feared death, My Lord High Paladin, I would not be a necromancer. Do go away and leave me in peace; I will see you again all too soon at the castle."
He turned away, but Sorin was on him in an instant. He grabbed the necromancer up and threw him over his horse before mounting behind him and urging his horse forward. The necromancer thrashed, bellowing, "Get me off this Goddess forsaken beast—" He cried out in panic when he nearly fell, causing Sorin to halt his horse and drag him upright, wrestling him into a seated position before wrapping one arm firmly about the necromancer's waist.
"Hold still!"
"Unhand me!" The necromancer's eyes blazed with fury and behind the hand Sorin clapped over his mouth, muffled curses spewed.
"I swear I have meant you no harm this night, necromancer. I promise that I will see you are well-treated when we reach the castle, but they will not let you in without my approval and all will go more smoothly if you arrive with me." Slowly he let his hand fall away, absently wondering why the man's skin was so cold. As much moving about as they had been doing, the man should not be so cold. "Speak, but do not further vex me."
"What would you have me say, My Lord High Paladin?"
Sorin wanted very badly to shake him. Instead, he urged his horse into motion, tightening the arm he'd slipped around the necromancer's waist when he felt the man tense. "You may attempt to reassure me that I am not making a grave mistake in taking you home. Thus far, necromancer, you've given me little reason to trust you."
"That goes both ways," the necromancer replied. "What more can I say, when I have already told you twice now that She has guided me here. Why, she has not said. I only realized today that I was bound for the royal castle. Never have I been sent there. It is not a place we typically go, simply because we would not be well-received and problems are usually greater elsewhere. If I have been pointed to the royal castle, it can only be for a truly dire matter. Tell me, My Lord High Paladin, has anyone of extreme importance died of late?"
Sorin stiffened, and he swore loudly and colorfully as he realized what he should have realized much, much sooner. "Alfrey. You're here to help me solve the riddle of Alfrey's death. The High Priest said someone would come, someone who made him think of darkness. I did not think that meant someone who practiced blac—Stop that!" he said when an elbow was driven into his gut again.
"I do not practice black magic," the necromancer hissed. "Say or imply it again and I swear, High Paladin, the Goddess herself will not keep me from doing you serious injury."
"What you give, you will receive, I vow it, necromancer."
The necromancer did not reply.
Sorin subsided into silence, not certain what else there was to say. He signaled his horse to begin moving again, tightening his arm in reassurance when he felt the necromancer stiffen. "I won't let you fall, necromancer."
"I have a name, you know," the necromancer snapped. "Not that you would care, I'm sure."
Restraining an urge to throttle him, Sorin instead only said, "I did not think you would give it, if I asked. You've been nothing but rude and hostile since encountering me, necromancer."
They both fell silent then, tense and displeased, and likely the necromancer was as tired and hungry as he. It did not help that throughout it all the Goddess had only given an impression of extreme amusement, as though She watched children play.
"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…