A Paladin's Journey Ch. 05

Elaina's Vala hummed intensely; she was aroused and wet, and wanted her aching pussy tended. Standing up, she stepped over Liaren's head and began to squat, slowly lowering herself down onto the Elf's face while facing Induin. She gasped as Liaren's tongue began exploring her moist folds. "Ah! That's good!" Wanting to give back the pleasure she was feeling, Elaina pushed her Vala at the Elvish twins, making them come immediately. The copse was filled with their passionate moans as their bodies rocked in climax.

Suddenly Induin was moving, nimbly flipping up into a handstand, her hands on either side of her sister's hips, and spinning so her front was facing Elaina. The Paladin watched hungrily as Induin held herself perfectly erect, her feet together, toes pointed at the sky. Slowly, her slender legs came apart, lowering until they were horizontal, leaving her smooth, hairless pussy wide open, just inches from Elaina's face. Displaying her amazing physical prowess, Induin lowered herself down to her elbows so her face was back in Liaren's crotch, and at the same time, brought her legs around until they rested on Elaina's shoulders, putting her sex at the perfect position for Elaina to give it a good tongue-lashing.

They stayed like that for long minutes, each woman coming often and powerfully -- Elaina made sure of that, putting her Vala to good use -- until eventually they collapsed in a heap of sweaty, naked flesh. "Well," Elaina said after catching her breath. "As much fun as that was, Aronduri, it is my turn to take watch."

As Elaina began to extricate herself from the slender Elvish limbs, Liaren grabbed her hand. "You just called us Servants of Aros," she said softly, studying Elaina seriously.

Induin sat up, her face a picture of curiosity. "She's right; you did, Aros'iel. You called us 'Aronduri.'"

Elaina had stopped halfway between crouching and standing, so she settled back on her heels. "I suppose I did, at that," she mused. It had not been intentional, but she already thought of Liaren and Induin as Servants in her own mind, even if they hadn't performed the ceremony. "I think you would make excellent Servants," she told them honestly. "If that's something you want, then we would be honoured to have you in the Order."

Elaina wasn't sure how they'd react; she was thinking they'd be excited, or perhaps nervous, but what they actually did surprised her, especially coming from the normally playful and mischievous Elves. As one, they stood and faced Elaina side by side for a moment, their expressions unreadable. Then, they crossed their arms over their chests and bowed formally, saying in unison, "we accept your offer, Aros'iel. We humbly commit ourselves to the Order of Aros, to our dying breath and beyond."

Elaina's mouth was hanging open, and she quickly closed it. "That's one of the ancient forms. How did you know to speak those words?"

"We've been speaking to the Servants at the Temple," Induin said. "Lynelle in particular was most helpful. She remembers the old ways, being Tar'elda."

"Lynelle says that her mother taught her the words, as she had learned them from her mother," Liaren added.

Elaina nodded slowly. It made sense. Lynelle was indeed a High Elf, though she had not been home to the Elvish lands in the East for many years, for reasons she had yet to disclose. Maybe Aran knew. "I must say, I'm delighted that you accepted so readily. You both will make wonderful Aronduri." Elaina beamed up at the naked twins, who smiled back. The aura of lust began to rise again, but Elaina suppressed it, not allowing her Vala to feed it. "Now," she began firmly. "The two of you need to rest; we've been pushing hard the last couple of days, and if your people don't send a boat, we'll need to push harder. I will assume the watch for the rest of tonight."

Obediently, Induin and Liaren curled up together in their cloaks, lying with their bows unstrung but handy. Elaina had seen Liaren string a bow in less than a heartbeat, so she had no doubt that if trouble came, they would be ready.

Pulling on her breeches, shirt and boots and belting Shatter onto her waist, Elaina shimmied up the tree Liaren had occupied earlier and settled in to watch the night.

***

***ARAN -- The Sorral Plain, Ekistair***

The third day since leaving the Temple saw Strider's hooves thundering as Aran galloped him across the plain, using his Vala to guide the stallion around deadly dips in the ground. The sun rode high above, casting a compressed shadow of man and steed onto the tall grass below. Shouts rose from behind, telling him that the Heralds of Dawn were still in pursuit. They had not been difficult to rile; all he'd needed to do was hit their leader in the helmet with a well-aimed stone.

They'd come across this patrol while angling back toward the Maralon Road -- they'd been cutting back and forth across the road, leaving a trail of dead Heralds behind them -- a hard-packed avenue that connected Ironshire to Maralon, bending around the eastern side of the Karvanis. The Heralds had been riding towards a farm, but Aran had intervened.

With his Vala temporarily expanded, he could sense Smythe and Kedron laying in a small hollow nearby, a depression in the ground that was impossible to see unless you walked into it. The knee-high grass on the Sorral Plain made some excellent spots for ambushing. "Almost there," he muttered to himself as he spurred Strider on, ignoring the arrow that flashed past his left shoulder; he had sensed it coming and known it was a bad shot.

Just before the hollow he banked left, then leaped from the saddle, flipping backwards and landing on his feet facing his pursuers, a small party of six Heralds. Strider would not run far; he was well trained. Oroth came free of the sheath on his hip, the white heat of the blade sizzling in the cool morning air. One look at those red and yellow cloaks and tabards was more than ample to make him angry enough to wield Oroth's power, even without the earlier atrocity at that farm. He flowed forward, toward half a dozen men on charging horses. They came in a line that began to curve around him, and showed no signs of slowing, intending to trample him. The two in the centre of the arc had lances lowered and aimed at his chest.

They were almost upon him. Sixty feet, fifty feet, forty feet... At the last second, he twisted, sliding between the two lances and striking out with Oroth, deftly nicking the saddle girths of the lance-bearer's horses. He spun to see the two Heralds tumbling from their loosened saddles, and the other four drawing rein and turning.

One of the fallen Heralds picked himself up, fury painting his face. The other one had not risen yet, probably due to a broken neck. Aran could not sense a life-force from the man.

Riderless, their horses had kept running. "Attack!" the unhorsed Herald screamed before picking up his lance and running at Aran.

With a snarl, Aran knocked the lance aside with the flat of his blade and kicked at the knee of his attacker, who stumbled past Aran awkwardly as his leg folded. He fell to one knee, and Aran turned back to the mounted Heralds as they charged in again. No lances this time, just swords, and Aran danced among them, Oroth's Vala-forged blade searing through their steel and leaving only glowing orange stumps.

The Heralds pulled back in surprise and fear when they saw what Oroth did to their weapons. Two of them were maybe in their middle years, more experienced, while two were younger, closer to Aran's age. The younger ones certainly had wider eyes. Aran twirled Oroth lazily, the hot blade blackening the tips of the grass as it passed. He made himself smile arrogantly. "You wanted a Paladin? Well, come and get me!"

"Arohim!" Came a scream from behind Aran. He didn't need to turn around to know that the lancer had recovered and was about to run him through from behind. He could feel everything through the Vala as if it were a part of himself. In a split second, Aran felt into the approaching Herald's heart. Madness, pain and hate assaulted his senses, as he had expected. Whatever humanity had been inside this man was long since gone. With a sense of regret, Aran spun, Oroth humming as it flashed twice, shearing the shaft of the lance in two before cleanly taking the head of the Herald.

"If you value your lives," Aran said as he turned to back to the remaining Heralds. "You will flee now, and you will renounce your loyalty as Heralds of Dawn."

"Do not listen to him speak!" One of the older men ordered. He had cold dark eyes and a hard face. "The words of the Arohim are poison!" The others nodded uncertainly. "I fear you not, Paladin!" The man spat as he dismounted smoothly. "Your filthy tricks will not work on me!" He stalked forward, dropping his stump of a sword and pulling a dagger from behind his belt. His men followed suit.

Aran sensed the same darkness in all of them that he had with the other. The approaching Herald attacked, leaping forward and slashing while the others circled around behind Aran. Smythe had taught him what do to when surrounded; find a weak point in the circle and assault it without warning.

Sliding 'round the dagger, Aran pivoted and swept Oroth left to right, taking the hand of the man that had been directly behind him, and then his head. He flowed around the collapsing body to come back at the dagger-wielder, who's eyes widened in surprise when Oroth pierced his heart. The remaining Herald dropped his sheared-off weapon and bolted, but Smythe and Kedron rose from the grass like leopards. Two blades found their marks, and the Herald dropped in a flurry of yellow.

Aran slammed Oroth back into its sheath. "Let's go and warn that farm. We'll rest the horses there, and then be on our way."

Several times in the past three days, Aran, Smythe and Kedron had offered caution to farmers, hunters and the like, warning them of the Heralds and their methods. Using their Vala, it had not been difficult for the Arohim to persuade many of them to temporarily evacuate their homes and make for the Karvanis, where Aran had arranged for a few Servants to collect any refugees and welcome them into the Temple. Aran was beginning to think things were progressing well; they'd saved a few dozen people from burnings or hangings, and killed maybe two dozen Heralds. As many more Heralds had been allowed to flee. Aran was finding that not all Heralds were truly wicked, and so he had shown mercy on those who had not shed innocent blood. The patrols were thickening, which meant Berrigan Stallen had increased Herald numbers in the area. Aran had deliberately left a trail of dead Heralds that pointed to his intended target: the northern Emerin Forest.

Aran led his small party east of the road and back to the farm. It was a good-sized place, with expansive fields of corn and barley and wheat, all swaying in the gentle breeze that rippled across the plain. Aran was surprised but glad that the crops hadn't been levelled by the recent storm activity. Several men straightened from their hoeing to hail the visitors; they'd seen the Paladins leading the Heralds away earlier. The Arohim waved back.

The house itself was three stories high, enough to house two or even three large generations. As they approached, the front door opened and three women hurried out, all with their hair in neat buns and dressed in stout woolens adorned with crisp white aprons.

"Welcome, good masters!" the eldest one gushed. She offered an awkward curtsy, obviously not used to such formality. She was a handsome woman in her middle years, with a touch of grey at her temples, while the other two were somewhat younger and prettier, shooting shy glances at the men on horseback.

"Your thanks, mistress," Aran said warmly as he dismounted. Smythe and Kedron followed suit. "We've come to caution you and yours against unrest in the region."

"Is that what those nasty Heralds of Dawn were about?" One of the younger women asked. She really was quite lovely, with big, brown eyes and raven hair and what looked like a pleasantly plump body beneath that modest dress. She looked a little flustered, and kept shooting glances at Kedron, who was blushing and trying to look anywhere but at her. There was a slight glow around the young Arohim; his Vala had flickered to life. Aran tried to catch Kedron's eye in an attempt to get him to realise what he was doing -- he had little control over his gifts, yet -- but Kedron didn't notice.

"Yes, unfortunately," Aran confirmed. "I hesitate to deliver sad news, but we found a farm burned to the ground not three days gone, and we fear that others might share the same fate." As he spoke, a man appeared from the barn beside the farmhouse and made his way over. He was a stout fellow, with a round, kindly face, of an age with the woman who had first greeted them.

"Welcome, sirs," the farmer said, offering a hand to each of them in turn. "My thanks for taking them Heralds away from here. They've come past a few times, now, and each time it's harder to get them to clear off. I'm Harl, and this is my wife, Lissa, and my daughters, Bessy and Luci." Bessy was the dark-haired one, while Luci's hair was a little lighter, more a chestnut brown. Luci shared Bessy's curvy frame, which they obviously inherited from their mother. Aran schooled himself not to notice; flirting with the man's daughters was not likely to help their cause.

Aran introduced himself with a slight bow, careful not to seem pretentious. "I am Aran, and this is Henley and Kedron." The girls giggled as Kedron dismounted and offered his own jerky bow, making the lad flush in the face. Lissa shot a frown at her daughters, who immediately stifled their giggles. Harl didn't seem to notice the exchange.

"The Heralds will be back," Aran said. He reached out with his Vala -- ever so gently -- and aligned with Harl. No need to include the women; the leader of the family would do. Besides, he didn't want to create sexual tension unnecessarily. "It's important that you gather your people and leave until the danger passes. Farms are being burned, and good men and women are suffering needlessly."

"Aye," Smythe added. "What Aran says is true, Master Harl. We can offer a sanctuary, of sorts, in the Karvanis."

Harl frowned. "The Karvanis? There's nothing up there but rocks!"

Smythe grinned. "That's what most folk think, but we can assure you, safety lies in that direction."

"I'm inclined to believe you, Henley," Harl said slowly. "Are farms really being burned?"

"Aye," Smythe said sadly. "The Heralds judge on a whim, and innocent folk are being sentenced to horrible deaths."

Lissa put a protective arm around each of her daughters and muttered a prayer. "I think we should listen to them, Harl," she pleaded, her face a mask of worry.

Finally, Harl nodded, and Aran felt his stomach unknot. For a moment, he'd been unsure of Harl's decision. "But," Harl added. "You're not going anywhere in that." He pointed over and behind Aran's head. Aran turned, finding that Harl was pointing at perhaps the worst possible thing that could happen right now; boiling black storm clouds sweeping down out of the north. "Don't know what they're all about," Harl continued as he studied the distant clouds. "But these northerly storms have been real nasty. We're gonna shut up tight, friends, till this one passes us over. After that, we'll start preparing to leave. I suggest you hole up in the barn. That things as sturdy as an old oak; she'll keep you safe. I'd offer you a room in the house, but we're all full up, I'm afraid, what with all the farmhands and their families here too."

Aran shared a look with Smythe before nodding to Harl. "Thanks, Harl. We appreciate the help." Far-off thunder rumbled threateningly as the Arohim led their horses to the barn while Harl chivvied the farmhands to get their tools gathered and get in the house. Not ten minutes later, the farmyard went dark as dusk as the sun vanished behind the angry thunderheads. Aran pulled the barn doors shut just as the first gust of wind shoved against the building, sending the timbers into a chorus of groans and creaks.

Smythe looked warily up at the thatched roof. "Let's hope there's no hail, this time."

With a grunt, Aran grabbed the tongue of a nearby cart and pulled it in front of the doors, effectively blocking them. He rarely thought about being able to do such things, like lift something that should've needed two or three men. His Vala was a part of him, now. "Hopefully that will stop the doors blowing in. Do you think Harl and his kin will be alright in the house?"

"One can only hope," Smythe muttered, stroking Thunder's nose when the stallion whickered. "If this storm is like the one that chased us inside the Temple the other day, then maybe not." The barn groaned again, louder this time as a stronger blast of wind buffeted the building. Light flashed outside, followed a few seconds later by a threatening rumble.

"Well," Aran said with a sigh. "I suppose we've nothing to do now but wait." His last words were drowned out by a booming clap of thunder.

*

The storm hit hard, and the Arohim crouched together near a thick wooden pillar, their horses secured in Harl's stables. While severe, the storm didn't seem as terrible as the last one, and no giant hailstones smashed through the thatch above. The wind howled like a thousand screams, louder than Aran ever remembered hearing, but the barn held strong, as Harl had said it would. A good bit of water got in, however, so when the first glimpses of sunlight began to filter through the cracks in the barns boarding, the three men were more than a little damp.

Aran dragged the cart out of the way and pulled the heavy doors open onto a scene of devastation. The farmhouse was standing, but the roof was mostly gone, and many of the windows were smashed in. As far as he could see, the crops were mostly flattened, beaten down by wind and torrents of rain.

Aran was running for the house before he knew his legs were moving, his boots splashing through the new mud. He sensed Smythe and Kedron close behind. Throwing open the front door, he dashed inside. "Harl? Lissa? Is everyone alright?" He opened his Vala, and sensed several people in the house, all on the lowest floor, thank Aros.

"We're safe!" Came Harl's voice. Aran wound his way through the warren of rooms and hallways until he found them, all huddled together in one room. With all the farmhands and family there, they numbered more than two dozen.

"I think it may be safer outside, now," Aran told them. "The roof has come off, and I'm not sure how damaged the rest of the house is."

Harl nodded and started to gather up his people. Soon enough, they were all outside. Several of the women began to weep when they saw the house from the outside, and more so for the flattened crops. Harl's face was a grim mask as he took in his ruined livelihood. Lissa had her face pressed into Harl's tunic as she sobbed. Harl took another look around at his family and workers, then turned to Aran. "You mentioned a place where we would be safe?"

Aran walked to Harl and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Go north, to the foothills of the Karvanis. Someone will meet you there and guide you to our sanctuary. You and yours can rest easy, there, until it's safe to come back here. Other families are on their way there, too."

Lissa released her husband and looked at Aran through red-rimmed eyes. "Who are you, Aran? Who are you really?"

Aran wasn't sure what to tell her, but Smythe came to his rescue, walking over awkwardly because a handsome, well-rounded woman had attached herself to him and seemed unwilling to let him go. When had that happened? And where was Kedron? "We are travelers and explorers, Mistress Lissa." Smythe said proudly. "And we don't like to see people downtrodden."