Warrior Priest by Darius Hinks

Author:Darius Hinks
Format: epub, mobi

Close up, the scale of the army became utterly bewildering. As they entered the encampment a crush of figures barged blindly past them: soldiers, swineherds, blacksmiths, ostlers, merchants and messengers, all dashing through streets of gaudy canvas as the army prepared to decamp. Ratboy had never seen such a gathering of humanity and without Wolff to lead him, he would have cowered beneath the first available cart. The mouth-watering aroma of frying sausage meat mingled with the tang of unwashed bodies and the sweet stink of infected wounds. His master strode purposefully onwards through the pandemonium. He picked out a black banner, emblazoned with a golden griffon and headed straight towards it.

Helwyg strained his neck to look at the distant banner and grinned. “Priest has priestly friends?” he asked, hobbling after Wolff and clutching at his burnished armour.

Wolff gave a brusque nod. “It’s unusual to see Knights Griffon so far from Altdorf,” he said.

“Knights Griffon?” asked Ratboy.

Wolff gave a sigh of annoyance at being asked so many questions. “Yes, Knights Griffon. They’re closely linked to my own order,” he snapped. “As you should well know.” At the sight of Ratboy’s blushes, he softened his voice a little and gestured to the crowds of soldiers that surrounded them. “A familiar face might be useful if we want to find out what’s happening here.”

As they neared the banner, Ratboy saw flashes of polished steel glinting between the tents; then, as they turned a final corner, he saw the Knights Griffon revealed in all their glory. Seemingly blind to the chaos that surrounded them, the knights were lined up in calm, orderly ranks as their captain rode slowly between them, carefully inspecting their gleaming armour and their impressive array of weaponry. Ratboy had never seen such an obvious display of wealth and power. Everything about the knights, from their polished, plumed helmets, to the scalloped barding on their destriers, was intricately worked and lovingly polished. Even the dour Ostland rain only added to the effect, as it washed over the oiled steel of their visors.

The captain was a grizzled old veteran, whose short, silver beard seemed as hard and glinting as his fluted helmet. At the sight of Wolff, his leathery face split into a broad smile and he threw his arms open in greeting. “Brother Jakob Wolff, as I live and breathe,” he said, with a voice like the rumble of thunder. “What an unexpected blessing.”

The captain dismounted and the two towering figures embraced with a clatter of armour. Then they stood back and peered into each other’s faces.

“I seem to remember a little black amongst the grey,” said Wolff, nodding to the knight’s fringe of silver hair.

“Well, yes, some of us were young once, Jakob. Unlike your good self of course—I’m reliably informed that you left the womb with a shaven head and the Holy Scriptures in your fist.”

A strange growling noise came from Wolff’s throat and after a few seconds Ratboy realised it was laughter. It was a sound he’d never heard before and he turned to Anna with a bemused look on his face.

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