A Paladin's Journey Ch. 06

"Then kneel to your Chief!" Morana ordered. As one, the Gor'dur knelt, and Barrog stared down at them, a small smile curving his tusked mouth.

Maloth suppressed his own smile. This day was not done, yet. There was much more to do.

Right on cue, Adelain appeared on the rise, looking down at her fellow Dark Elves. She was dressed in formal Mor'elda fashion; a flowing white gown so sheer it hid nothing of her generously curved form, and a shimmering tiara fastened in her hair. She addressed her people in a crystalline voice. "Mor'elda of Eredor! My pain at my brother's death is twofold! Not only have I lost Berenor, but it was our cousins in Laefandell who murdered him!" The Elves made no sound, but they were listening intently. "The loyalty of the Mor'elda is not in question, nor has it ever been!" Adelain declared proudly. "We go to fight together! We shall level Laefandell and put Caeledrin's head on a pike!"

The stoic reserve of the Elvish ranks shattered, and cheers rose to match those of the Orcs'. Once they had settled somewhat, Adelain continued. "As Berenor's next of kin, I will be assuming the Crown of Eredor once the ceremony can be performed. As for the coming war, I have selected a worthy general from among you, and many of you will know him. Peldin! Come forward!" Peldin left Shenla's side from behind the crest and approached Adelain, saluting stiffly when he stopped before her. As one, the legion of Mor'elda saluted Peldin, showing their approval at his promotion.

Peldin stood confidently, running his black eyes over the army of midnight warriors. "Kneel to your Queen!" he barked suddenly, bringing the entire legion to one knee in an instant. Maloth's eyebrow twitched in surprise. Perhaps Peldin had been an even better choice than presumed.

Once Adelain had finished, she remained where she was, Peldin at her side. Next to them stood Barrog and Morana. There was one more piece to be played, and Kreya was ready to move. The diminutive Mor'tirith assumed her predetermined place on the rise, gazing down upon her fellow Wardens and the legion of Risen with regal arrogance. She had donned a similar dress to the one her mother favoured, a sheer black gown with a half-circle accessory fixed across her shoulders and arcing behind her head. Spokes radiated from the centre of the piece, and from those spokes hung small ornaments that clattered when she moved.

At first, Kreya said nothing to the waiting crowd, just watched them for long moments. A deathly silence fell over the ranks, Elves and Orcs included. Finally, she spoke. "Mor'tirith of Angavar! For too long have we hidden in the shadows, fearing the wrath of the world! I take up my mother's crown with a heavy heart, but a hope for our future!" There were a few appreciative murmurs from the Wardens, and they continued to listen. "You were loyal to Morin, as was I, and she wanted to see the Mor'tirith rise to greatness once again in her lifetime! Sadly, her wish was unfulfilled, but I am devoting my lifetime to see it done!"

This time there was open cheering. "I ride with Lord Maloth to take back what is rightfully ours!" Kreya continued. "New kingdoms will be forged, and the Mor'tirith will be there to usher in a new era! Corpses will be piled high in Laefandell, and the Mor'tirith will be there to collect! For Angavar!"

One-hundred and fifty Wardens of the Dead bellowed their support for Kreya, capering around as they cheered. Their adulations intensified when Kreya waved a hand behind her, and Torvin joined her on the rise, pumping his fists above his head triumphantly. Apparently, he was well regarded among the Mor'tirith, according to Shenla.

"Torvin will be our general!" Kreya announced once the crowd had settled. "He is smart, powerful and capable. Our armies will be in good hands!" She looked to Torvin, waiting for him to say something.

Again, the Warden raised his fists high. "For Angavar!" He cried, much to the excitement of the rest of the necromancers.

It was done. Three nations, three new rulers and three new generals, all under Maloth's and Shenla's control. All that was left was Laefandell, but the city of the Tar'elda would fall soon enough. Maloth stepped in front of the newly appointed monarchs and turned his back on them, facing the crowds. "Tonight is a momentous night!" He said grandly, raising his hands in the air, palms upward and fingers splayed. Lightning danced across the clouds as if he'd called it himself. "For the first time in long centuries, the powerful races of Palistair have come together! There is no force in the world that can stand against the strength of the Orcs!" Howls of approval from the Gor'dur at that. "Or the speed of the Mor'elda!" Salutes from the Elves. "Or the guile of the Mor'tirith!" Again, the Wardens hooted and hollered.

"The Tar'elda have signed their death warrant!" Maloth continued. "Let us march upon their golden city and raze it to the ground!" A deafening roar echoed across the plain as the three armies bellowed their approval. Maloth could feel the hate and fury coming off them in waves. He turned around. "Generals, ready the legions to march. We leave in one hour." Barrog, Torvin and Peldin saluted and made their way down the incline toward their respective people. "You three," he said, addressing Kreya, Morana and Adelain. "Will return to my quarters and your usual attire."

The women bowed respectfully and departed as one. Seeing Ellerion still kneeling nearby, Maloth considered what to do with her. His cock twitched as he eyed her curvaceous body. "Get back with the others," he ordered. "Later, I will discuss Laefandell with you in detail."

"Yes, my Lord," she breathed as she rose and hurried off.

"Are we done for the night?" Shenla purred as she approached him. "I need to get fucked, and my pets are busy carrying out your orders." She put a hand on his bare chest and began trailing a finger down his torso.

He looked down at her seriously. "You did well, Shenla. Your pets are better selected than I had thought. They are most capable."

Shenla chuckled hotly. "Praise from you, brother? Now I really need to get fucked. By you."

"Very well," he agreed. "But we must be quick. The march begins soon."

***

***ARAN -- Rostin Village, Ekistair***

The next morning saw Aran, Smythe and a worse-for-wear Kedron -- it had been a long night of sleepless worry for the poor man -- standing on the front steps of the inn, facing a crowd of fifty or so villagers. Aran recognised a few faces; there were the three men who had been in the common room the night before, and Lena the serving girl, today wearing a dress that accentuated her pleasingly curved figure and left more cleavage exposed. She saw Aran looking and blushed shyly, though she made no effort to remove herself from his line of sight.

The villagers were talking amongst themselves in hushed voices while they waited for Ari to arrive. The innkeeper was also the mayor of Rostin, so Aran had discovered, and Ari had called this meeting in the diminutive village square so that Aran could address everyone at once.

Finally, Ari appeared from inside the inn, squeezing his bulk politely in between Aran and Smythe so he could face his people. "Alright!" He shouted, raising his hands in a no-nonsense way. "I'm sure many of you are wondering why I called you all here, and who these men are." He gestured to Smythe, Kedron and Aran. "First, I must confess that Rostin is most likely no longer safe."

There was a surge of concerned and angry mutters from the crowd. "Why not safe?" One burly farmer demanded.

"Is it because of these men?" A scrawny old fellow asked as he pointed at Aran. He was aged, but his eyes were still sharp.

Ari raised his hands again. "Silence! How can I speak if you won't let me? These are good men, and they are here to help us, I can assure you. How many of you have been harassed by the Heralds of Dawn recently?"

The villagers glanced at each other nervously, unsure what to make of Ari being so open about the Heralds, at least until the burly farmer spoke up again. "They tossed my house three nights back!" He said angrily. "Made a mess of my place and then left! Took Rosa hours to get it all right again!" There was a handsome middle-aged woman standing next to him who nodded vehemently.

Several others piped up with their experiences of the nosy and suspicious Heralds, and none were positive. Happy that he had the crowd riled enough, Ari turned to Aran. "I leave you to listen to Aran, here, who has some words to share with you." At that, the innkeeper and mayor bowed and backed down the stairs to join the villagers.

Aran stepped forward, expanding his Vala until he held everyone present inside its boundary. With what he was about to do, there was no need to keep his true nature a secret anymore. Immediately, the souls of three dozen people flooded his awareness, and he smiled. These were good people, simple and hard-working, and for the most part, honest and kind. One soul stood out, however, like a lone shadow in a sunlit meadow, one black piece of straw in an otherwise golden bale.

'I see you,' Aran thought at the woman who was quite clearly planted here by the Heralds. She was quite pretty, really, with long golden hair and a slender figure, and a face graced with big blue eyes and high cheekbones, but that was where the beauty ended. She had that same dark aura that he'd felt in the worst of Heralds. He let his gaze pass over her without lingering; she wasn't to know Aran knew she was not a villager.

"Good people of Rostin," he began. "I understand your plight, and it pains me to bring you dire tidings, but what the Heralds have done here is the least of their crimes."

The crowd listened in silence. He was aligned with them all bar the fair-haired woman, who no doubt knew exactly what he was. "My companions and I have spent the better part of the last week travelling the Sorral Plain, and we have seen atrocities committed by the Heralds. Innocent folk killed for no more than refusing strangers entry into their homes."

There were some shocked murmurs at that. One plump, raven-haired woman piped up. "Are you certain of this, Aran? It is asking a lot to believe the word of a stranger, especially one who matches the description the Heralds have been handing around."

Aran was not surprised at the question; he would have asked the same thing himself. Also, aligning with a person did not mean he controlled them. "I am certain," he told her simply. "I've seen the ashes of the burned homes myself, and we followed the tracks of the culprits to find a small band of Heralds camped nearby."

"What did you do to them?" A man yelled out. "Why are they after you?"

"Because I killed some of them," Aran said quietly, sitting down on the steps. He felt all his weariness and more, suddenly. "For what they've done to friends of mine, and for boarding an innocent family up in their own home and setting it alight. Including the children." His voice cracked at that last bit, but he met the eyes of the villagers, showing he had nothing to hide.

Some of the women present with children clutched them closely to their sides. "Why did you lead them here?" One mother asked, her swaddled babe in a sling round her chest.

"They were coming here anyway, sooner or later," Aran explained, getting back to his feet. "They have risen to power again, and they have taken Ironshire, and probably Maralon by now. I am offering you all sanctuary at a secret refuge in the Emerin Forest, at least until the danger clears."

"That's crazy!" A man piped up, maybe two or three years older than Aran. "Even if we wanted to leave our farms and homes, the Emerin is haunted!" He got disparaging looks from some of the crowd, and nods of agreement from others.

Aran laughed. "I can assure you friend, the forest is not haunted, at least not the parts that I've been to. I spent the last year of my life there. It's actually rather peaceful."

There were more objections, and Aran handled them as best he could. Gradually, the villagers began to see it his way. "The Heralds are coming," he told them seriously. "And they care not for what's in your heart, for they decide for themselves whether you are guilty or innocent. Stay if you choose, but I can assure you, it is a mistake. You will be safe and comfortable at the sanctuary, this I promise. Take some time to gather what you need, and meet back here in the square when you're ready to leave."

The crowd dispersed slowly. Aran watched them, hoping that they all chose to come with him.

***

END OF CHAPTER SIX

***

I hope you enjoyed this instalment! I know it was a little light on the sexy bits, but there's some big plot movements happening so that's where the focus is currently. Please vote and leave a comment if you would be so kind. - Anti.