obsession for them,” Lathaar said, a bit of joy leaving his eyes. “Especially one in particular. But that is for another time.” He slurped down the rest of his bowl. “For now, I need sleep.”
“Amen to that,” Jerico said. “I’m glad you arrived, though. Ashhur brought us here for a reason. I hadn’t seen Keziel since the Citadel fell, and when I return, you show up within days of my own arrival.”
“I’m not sure I want to imagine why,” Lathaar said, grinning. “I’ve seen what he’ll throw at just one of his paladins. What does he think the two of us can handle?”
Jerico laughed.
“I’ll pray for both of us. Good night, Lathaar.”
“You too, Jerico.”
Jerico left for the only spare room while Lathaar curled his blankets tighter and scooted closer to the fire. After the month of riding, he finally felt at home. Still, sleep proved elusive. His mind kept drifting back to Tessanna, black wings arching out her back as she howled in the rain. He had seen that face before. He had seen it on Mira. Come the morning, he planned on finding out just what Keziel knew.
P rayer dominated all the morning rituals of the Sanctuary, and the sound of worship to Ashhur was constant. Keziel, being the eldest, attended the youngest at the prayers, and counseled those who were troubled. Lathaar remained patient, letting him complete his rounds before he would take him aside to talk. To pass the time, the two paladins sparred.
The ground was rough and cold but relatively flat on the north side of the Sanctuary, so they scraped a rough circle into the dirt. Lathaar wielded his longsword and shortsword, while Jerico twirled his mace while his shield remained on his back.
“Been a long time since I sparred with a paladin,” Lathaar said, stretching his arms. “Brings back plenty of good memories.”
“You were Mornida’s pupil, weren’t you?” Jerico asked. “Thought so. I remember hearing all this nonsense about prodigy and whatnot, some whelp of a kid five years younger than me that Lolathan died healing.”
“He was not punished by Ashhur,” Lathaar said.
“Easy there. Didn’t say he was. But I remember the whispers.”
Lathaar grabbed his ankle and stretched.
“Going to ready your shield?”
Jerico shrugged. “I don’t tell you when to draw your swords, do I?”
“Very well.”
Neither wore their armor at Lathaar’s insistence. It was just a harmless sparring match, not a competition, and he trusted each other to be skilled enough with their weapons. With a nod, they began.
Lathaar slashed with his longsword, keeping his shorter blade back and ready. Jerico parried it aside, grinning as he did. When the shortsword thrust in, straight for his gut, he had already stepped to the side. As it passed his exposed skin, he slapped it away with his mace.
“So you survived all those fights how?” he asked. “Surely not battle prowess?”
“Amusing.”
Lathaar stepped closer, swinging both blades in a high arc. Jerico blocked the first with his mace, angling the hilt of his weapon to push the second hit down so that it passed harmlessly before his leg. When the shortsword cut back and thrust, Jerico finally pulled down his shield. The fine edge turned against the brightly glowing surface. If he had been of evil nature, Lathaar’s arms would have jolted in pain, but instead he felt just a mild push at the contact.
Jerico placed the shield before him, covering all but his feet and the top of his head. Lathaar could not see, but he knew the way the paladin’s eyes were glinting that he was smiling.
“I may not be the best fighter,” Jerico said from behind his shield. “I’m probably not even good at it. But I’m harder than the abyss to kill.”
“We’ll see about that.”
Lathaar feinted twice, and neither time budged the giant shield. He thrust both his swords from one side, hoping to curl around the right edge of the shield. Jerico shifted, smashing away the swords as if
“Amen to that,” Jerico said. “I’m glad you arrived, though. Ashhur brought us here for a reason. I hadn’t seen Keziel since the Citadel fell, and when I return, you show up within days of my own arrival.”
“I’m not sure I want to imagine why,” Lathaar said, grinning. “I’ve seen what he’ll throw at just one of his paladins. What does he think the two of us can handle?”
Jerico laughed.
“I’ll pray for both of us. Good night, Lathaar.”
“You too, Jerico.”
Jerico left for the only spare room while Lathaar curled his blankets tighter and scooted closer to the fire. After the month of riding, he finally felt at home. Still, sleep proved elusive. His mind kept drifting back to Tessanna, black wings arching out her back as she howled in the rain. He had seen that face before. He had seen it on Mira. Come the morning, he planned on finding out just what Keziel knew.
P rayer dominated all the morning rituals of the Sanctuary, and the sound of worship to Ashhur was constant. Keziel, being the eldest, attended the youngest at the prayers, and counseled those who were troubled. Lathaar remained patient, letting him complete his rounds before he would take him aside to talk. To pass the time, the two paladins sparred.
The ground was rough and cold but relatively flat on the north side of the Sanctuary, so they scraped a rough circle into the dirt. Lathaar wielded his longsword and shortsword, while Jerico twirled his mace while his shield remained on his back.
“Been a long time since I sparred with a paladin,” Lathaar said, stretching his arms. “Brings back plenty of good memories.”
“You were Mornida’s pupil, weren’t you?” Jerico asked. “Thought so. I remember hearing all this nonsense about prodigy and whatnot, some whelp of a kid five years younger than me that Lolathan died healing.”
“He was not punished by Ashhur,” Lathaar said.
“Easy there. Didn’t say he was. But I remember the whispers.”
Lathaar grabbed his ankle and stretched.
“Going to ready your shield?”
Jerico shrugged. “I don’t tell you when to draw your swords, do I?”
“Very well.”
Neither wore their armor at Lathaar’s insistence. It was just a harmless sparring match, not a competition, and he trusted each other to be skilled enough with their weapons. With a nod, they began.
Lathaar slashed with his longsword, keeping his shorter blade back and ready. Jerico parried it aside, grinning as he did. When the shortsword thrust in, straight for his gut, he had already stepped to the side. As it passed his exposed skin, he slapped it away with his mace.
“So you survived all those fights how?” he asked. “Surely not battle prowess?”
“Amusing.”
Lathaar stepped closer, swinging both blades in a high arc. Jerico blocked the first with his mace, angling the hilt of his weapon to push the second hit down so that it passed harmlessly before his leg. When the shortsword cut back and thrust, Jerico finally pulled down his shield. The fine edge turned against the brightly glowing surface. If he had been of evil nature, Lathaar’s arms would have jolted in pain, but instead he felt just a mild push at the contact.
Jerico placed the shield before him, covering all but his feet and the top of his head. Lathaar could not see, but he knew the way the paladin’s eyes were glinting that he was smiling.
“I may not be the best fighter,” Jerico said from behind his shield. “I’m probably not even good at it. But I’m harder than the abyss to kill.”
“We’ll see about that.”
Lathaar feinted twice, and neither time budged the giant shield. He thrust both his swords from one side, hoping to curl around the right edge of the shield. Jerico shifted, smashing away the swords as if
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