A Paladin's Journey Ch. 07

As she got closer, her breath hitched at the physical nature of their presence. Andil was tall, sitting straight-backed in his ornate chair. Long, midnight hair fell in straight lines around his wide shoulders and over his deep chest, the silky tresses long enough to touch the elbows that rested on the chair's arms. He was wearing the most elaborate form of lasselath Elaina had yet seen, it's shades those of red and gold as well as the greens and browns of her own. A crown woven from the lasselath rested on his brow, the supporting vines running back behind the pointed ears that protruded through his raven hair.

Andil's piercing blue eyes looked her over with a casual, yet penetrating appraisal. His face was strong, with features that looked chiseled from the finest marble and carefully sanded back to appear both smooth yet unbreakable. Despite herself, Elaina let her eyes wander from his face and down over his hard torso to where his muscular thighs were slightly parted. At first, she mistook what she saw for a trick of her eyes, or the light, but she quickly realised that this was what a two-thousand years old Elf's cock must be. Long and thick, the enormous appendage rested on muscular thighs like a serpent taking its ease in the sun.

She found herself imagining what it would look like at full mast, and came up with a picture of something about the size of Aran's forearm. Two balls the size of good plums in a smooth, hairless sack lay beneath the impressive organ. When Elaina finally tore her eyes away from Andil's loins, they fell on Lady Elessir, perhaps the most beautiful creature Elaina had ever seen, rivalling Amina herself.

Long hair like spun gold adorned her head, surrounding a heart-breaking face with high cheekbones, a fine nose and full lips. Eyes of the clearest green sparkled in the afternoon sun. Elessir's lasselath left her mostly bare, her creamy skin shining as if freshly oiled, though Elaina knew no oil was needed. Majestic breasts that surpassed Elaina's in size perched proudly on her chest above a waist that flared out into wide, womanly hips. Full, smooth thighs shifted slightly on the chair as she leaned forward to study Elaina, the intensity of her gaze matching that of her husband's.

By Aros, before these two I feel like a pigeon-footed, buck-toothed little girl. Elaina bowed deeply, and felt the twins do the same. When she straightened, she saw the Lord and Lady still staring, their expressions unreadable. Their eyes occasionally flicked to Induin and Liaren, but mostly they focused on Elaina.

As one, they stood. Andil crossed his thick arms across his chest, while Elessir folded hers at her waist, a picture of stateliness. Their scant attire diminished them not one jot. In fact, their supreme dignity and confidence only seemed to make it an advantage.

"So," Andil finally said in a bass, resounding voice. "The Arohim have finally returned to Ildernass." His expression hid whether or not he considered this a good thing. "Escorted by two of our own, no less."

The twins didn't move, but Elaina got the sense of two young girls shifting their feet nervously. She sought the comfort of her vala, finding strength in its warm glow. She kept it to herself, though, not allowing it to expand.

"It has been long years," Elessir added in crystal, mellifluous tones. "You are as I remember the Arohim, Elaina Fairborne, at first glance, though I think you are yet young. I would feel your vala, if I may."

Elaina almost fell over. Nearly forty years she had possessed her power, taught to hide it from the world at all costs for her own protection, yet Elessir wanted her to use it? "Of course, Lady Elessir," she found herself saying. Opening herself to Aros' gift, she allowed it to flow out and touch Elessir.

Her breath caught as they aligned. A million impressions and sensations settled upon her, none of which she could name clearly. Countless winters and summers, joy, grief, passion, love, anger, regret, hope, trust. It was like this, sometimes, with a particularly strong alignment. She was unconsciously reading parts of Elessir's life, her memories and experiences. Her heart was solid, though. Strong and loving, tough yet nurturing.

"As would I," Andil rumbled, watching his wife carefully.

Elaina's stomach fluttered at the thought of aligning with a man like Andil, but she did as he asked.

"Ah," the Lord of Ildernass sighed as the vala touched him. A similar sense of long memory came from him, too, and something else. Desire surged within him, an inexorable force that he kept well restrained. Elaina felt a flush of both excitement and trepidation. What would it be like if he unleashed that torrent of lust on her? Her eyes dropped briefly to his hanging cock, the end reaching more than halfway down his thigh.

Finally, Andil smiled, flashing straight white teeth behind firm lips. "You are true of heart, Elaina Fairborne Arohim," he said warmly.

Elessir's face lit up also, her smile shining brighter than the sunlight. Suddenly she was in the Lady's embrace, those tremendous breasts pushed against her own as Elessir planted a kiss on each of her cheeks, and one on her forehead. "You are welcome in the realms of the Eryn'elda, eruchen."

Elessir stepped back so Andil could place large hands on Elaina's shoulders. His touch sent a ripple through her, which only heightened as he bent down and kissed her in the way Elessir had.

Induin and Liaren were included as well, receiving the same warm greeting. Elaina felt the corners of her mouth quirking up in amusement as the twins received their kisses, looking both embarrassed and aroused at the same time. At least Elaina wasn't the only one acting like a fool. She really wished these butterflies would get out of her belly.

"You have been spending time with the Arohim, young ones?" Elessir asked the twins.

"We have, Lady Elessir," they answered in unison, as they sometimes did.

Elessir beamed at them. "I wish to hear all about it, vendissa."

"I invite you to dine with us," Andil offered. "All three of you."

Induin and Liaren shared an excited look while Elaina and Andil exchanged one of their own. Perhaps that desire was not so tightly restrained, after all.

Pleasure and passion were all well and good, but Elaina had not forgotten why she came here. She could feel Aran, somewhere off to the northeast. He was focused, determined, yet a growing sense of fatigue had been creeping up on him the last few days. She hoped he wasn't pushing himself too hard. He'd hardly stopped at all since leaving the Chapel. It was a lot for a young man to bear, but if anyone could do it, it was him.

"Forgive me, Lord and Lady," Elaina began. "But there is a matter which brought me to you. A matter of urgency, if I may speak with you in private?"

Andil inclined his head and offered Elaina his muscular arm, while Elessir took Induin's and Liaren's hands, and together they made for the archway back into the palace. Elaina was dimly aware of the feeling of Andil's warmth beneath her fingers, and the way his soft skin lay thinly over hard muscle.

But mostly, she was thinking of Aran. I'm coming Aran. Even if I have to drag the Elves all the way, I'll bring them.

***

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

"We need them to think they've escaped," Aran said quietly to Smythe as they rode side by side at the head of the column of villagers. The day was growing late, the sun casting long shadows that stretched away to their left. Wagons trundled along the sides of the column, to protect the villagers against a surprise attack from Heralds or Darkspawn. Aran or Smythe would have sensed anything coming close - especially Darkspawn - but it paid to be cautious.

They had left Rostin earlier that day, and had put more than a few miles between the village and themselves, but with the wagons and so many people - many of them on foot - it was not going to be a quick journey to the Emerin. At the rear of the train, cattle lowed and sheep bleated as they were herded by farmers, while on wagonbeds geese honked and chickens fussed. It was quite a procession, but Aran saw the necessity; these people couldn't leave their livestock to starve or be eaten on an unattended farm.

Not everyone had agreed to take the journey. There were still a good dozen people back in Rostin, those that refused to leave. Aran made himself stop thinking about them; there was nothing more he could do, there.

"What about a villager?" Smythe suggested. "Someone we trust well enough could cut them free under the pretense of being a sympathiser."

They were discussing what to do with the three Heralds they'd captured back at the Loyal Hound. The idea was to find a way to let them free, but in such a way that they would believe they'd escaped.

Smythe's suggestion was sound. Aran nodded. "Clever, Smythe." The burly Paladin looked pleased at the compliment! Aran could remember a short time ago when Smythe was the master and Aran the apprentice, but now the dynamic between the two men was much different. Almost, Aran missed being the student, when he didn't have mountains of responsibility on his shoulders and didn't know the peril the world faced. Ignorance could be a wonderful thing, at least until it killed you.

"You decide whom," Aran told him. "Have them do it when we make camp inside the forest. If we ever bloody reach it." The last came as a disgruntled mutter, not intended for anyone else's ears, but Smythe heard well enough and shot him a sympathetic look before gathering Thunder's reins.

"As you say, brother," Smythe said. "For now, I'll scout south for a good place to stop for the night." At that, he booted Thunder forward, the black stallion reaching a gallop in three strides, clods of earth flying in his wake. Strider whickered with the urge to run with the other horse, but Aran patted his neck patiently. "Easy, boy," he murmured. Strider shook his head in irritation, but settled under Aran's hand.

Smythe's place was quickly assumed by Kedron, who's mood appeared to have darkened somewhat since morning, when Aran had last seen him. Aran raised an eyebrow at the slightly younger man, who met his stare briefly before quickly looking down at his saddlebow. Kedron had a strong face, with a bold chin and a stout nose, and thick black eyebrows that perched atop his dark eyes. Those eyes looked shadowed, as if from weariness, and Aran couldn't blame him.

"You are supposed to be watching the column," Aran told him firmly. "I trust you have a good reason for abandoning the task you were set?"

Kedron looked equal parts irritated and ashamed. Aran let the irritation pass; Kedron was dealing with something terribly difficult. His meldin was in the hands of the Heralds, and they had been periodically hurting her through the day. That pain was transferring directly to Kedron through the melda. To make matters worse, it was Kedron's own father that was doing it.

"I apologise, Anarion," Kedron said earnestly.

Aran barely suppressed a grimace. Anarion was Elvish for 'Son of the Sun,' a bloody grandiose and pretentious title if ever he'd heard one. How had Kedron learned it? "There is no need to call me that, Kedron. You know that." He hoped he'd kept the annoyance out of his voice; Kedron was going through enough.

"Sorry, Master," the par'vala replied. "It's just that I was wondering if we'll camp soon? Some of the village folk are tiring."

Aran looked back over his shoulder, noticing that some members of the caravan did indeed appear in want of a rest. He felt like sighing, but held it in. Aros knew he was tired, but he was leading, and that was that. Rest could happen when the time came.

The young Arohim's presence next to him caused a problem. On one hand, Kedron had disobeyed orders, but on the other, he was just trying to do the right thing and look after the villagers.

To discipline him, or not? Aran shook his head slightly. No, to let him off would only encourage slackness in the future, no matter what the reason. Would Smythe or Elaina have let Aran off for shirking during his training? Not bloody likely.

"While it is admirable that you care for the people," Aran began sternly. "You still abandoned your duty."

Kedron kept his eyes down, but his mouth was set stubbornly, as if he wanted to argue.

"What would happen if we were assailed by enemies right now?" Aran asked him quietly. "You might be the only thing between a mad Herald and an innocent man or woman or child."

Kedron's expression softened a little at that. "I didn't think-"

"No, you didn't," Aran cut in. Not harshly, but firmly. "You must trust that Smythe and I have the best interests of the people in mind. We also must cross as much ground as we can until we reach the forest, for we are ever exposed out here, on the plain. We are pushing hard, but for good reasons."

Kedron hung his head. "I see now that I was wrong, Master. I ask for penance."

Aran shook his head. "There will be none. You are suffering enough. But remember the lesson: there are usually more facets to a problem than are apparent, at first glance."

"As you say, Master," Kedron said, his vigor somewhat restored at hearing there would be no punishment. Aran had the feeling hard times were ahead for the apprentice, and didn't have the heart to pile more on him, as long as he continued to apply himself.

Once Kedron had ridden off to resume his position, Aran rode alone for a time, watching the sun sinking lower and lower, until the base of the golden ball seemed to touch the earth. As if on cue, Smythe appeared in Aran's awareness, his vala clear and content; there was no danger ahead.

Five minutes later, the rumble of Thunder's hooves reached Aran's ears before Smythe materialized in the distance, waving them slightly east of their current course. Raising a hand, Aran angled Strider toward the spot, and the caravan turned to follow.

As the shadows crept over the last of the sunlight, and the sky changed from orange to darkening violet, Aran rode into a wide, ridged hollow large enough to hold everyone comfortably. Once all had filed in, Aran addressed them in the failing light. "We walked hard today, friends," he began, expanding his vala to align with the group. Thankfully, all were receptive. "And we've earned a rest."

Grateful murmurs rippled through the crowd, and a few people were already removing their shoes or boots and wiggling sore toes. "If we push this hard again tomorrow," Aran continued. "We may reach the Emerin, and safety, by the day after tomorrow."

There was a mix of relief at the idea of being safe, and some disdain at two more days of walking. "Rest well, tonight," Aran bade them. "For we leave again at first light. Make a ring with the wagons and carts and sleep inside the ring. Keep your fires small. Anyone who wishes to hunt should do so quickly, and stray not too greatly from camp. I will be nearby if I am needed. Just call for me and I will come."

The villagers shuffled about, organising the wagons and sleeping arrangements. Three men pulled bows and quivers from the back of a cart and trudged up the incline, off to search for game. Aran felt he should go with them, but he would be better needed here if something happened.

Dismounting, he hitched Strider to the side of a wagon and fetched a curry comb from his saddlebag. "You've been working hard," he murmured to the stallion as he worked. "We'll have a good rest soon, I promise."

The black whickered as if in response, and Aran grinned. He lost himself for a while in the work, removing saddle and bridle to give Strider a brief break from the tack before replacing them at the end.

"You care well for your horse."

Aran turned from cinching the saddle girth to see Lena standing there, watching him in the twilight. "Hello, Lena. Everything alright?"

She was very pretty, no doubt, in a simple blue cotton dress that showed the curves of her hips and breasts pleasantly, but Aran didn't have space to indulge his passions at present.

She came closer, close enough to lay a gentle hand on Strider's neck. She patted him softly, and with Aran so close, the stallion allowed it. "I came to see if you wanted to eat," she said, looking up at him with big, dark eyes. "Mistress Ellis is making a big stew. Should be enough to go around if you want some?"

Aran's stomach growled at the thought of hot stew. His mother used to make a wonderful stew. A pang of heartache struck him at the thought of her. How was she? What was happening in Korrin? "That would be excellent," he told Lena, smiling. "There are one or two things I must do first, but I'll come by the fire and get some soon. Thank you."

***

***ELAINA - Ildernass Palace***

A comfortable sitting room was appropriated for the small party, a wide, circular space with tall, open arches around the outside that let in the cool breeze. Thick boughs stretched across the high ceiling, which looked to be made entirely of flora, but Elaina would bet that not even the hardest rain got through the thick foliage.

Two servants - a male and a female - poured punch into crystalline goblets as everyone got comfortable on the floor, making use of the large cushions neatly placed in a circle in the centre of the room. A soft melody floated from one side of the room, where a stunning Elf woman sat. Halfway between slender and buxom, she held an ornate flute to her lips, her delicate fingers coaxing a relaxing, pleasant tune from the instrument. There was no lasselath decorating her pale body; rather a series of flimsy white silk strips that surely served no function other than aesthetic, for no part of her was really hidden.

Andil eyed the musician appreciatively as he sat cross-legged, his heavy phallus resting on the cushions beneath. Elaina averted her eyes as soon as she realised where she was looking.

"She is very good, Landaria," he said. "She often requests to play for us, and I've yet to refuse her."

Elaina sat down across from Andil, finding the lasselath bending easily with her body, offering no resistance. Shatter she placed on the floor behind her. Andil's sharp eyes flicked to the mace quickly, then rested on Elaina as the others took their places. Elessir on Andil's right, Liaren on his left and Induin between Elessir and Elaina.

"You mentioned there was something urgent, Arohim?" Andil inquired, taking a goblet from the cute serving girl.

"Yes, my Lord," Elaina answered. "We are having trouble with the Heralds of Dawn."

Andil and Elessir's mouths twisted slightly in distaste. "Awful people," Elessir chimed, while Andil merely grunted.

"Yes," Elaina continued. "And as you know, they have no love for anyone not Human, but that pales beside how they regard the Arohim. One of our own, a young par'vala, is the son of a Herald. The boy's father is now pursuing him across the Sorral Plain."

Andil leaned forward intently. "The vala manifested itself in the son of a Herald?" When he saw Elaina's nod, he laughed a deep, rich laugh. "Now that would shake them up, would it not, Elessir? Ever proud were they of their 'pure' bloodlines."

He turned to his wife, who laid a hand on his knee and smiled back at him. "It would, my love," she agreed before looking to Elaina. "I sense there is much more for you to say, Elaina. Please, we would hear it."

Elaina took a deep breath. "Aran - my meldin and our leader - and my old mentor are leading the Heralds to the northern border of the Emerin Forest, where they hope to stage an ambush, but they cannot do it alone. I have come to Ildernass to ask the Eryn'elda to lend some spears to our cause."

Andil's eyebrows were slightly upraised. "Not one Arohim walking the world again, but four?"