A Paladin's Journey Ch. 13

"What are you trying to show me?" he whispered absently as he cast his gaze down at the world below.

"Are you speaking with anyone in particular?" A familiar voice said from behind him. Soft, honeyed, and deliciously feminine, it sent pleasant tingles along his skin and caused a tightening tension in his loins. Grinning to himself, he concentrated briefly.

Aran heard Amina gasp in pleased surprise as she felt a firm squeeze on her lush buttock courtesy of Aran's manipulation of the Plane's intangible nature. He shifted so he was facing her, and his heart thumped a little harder in his chest -- not that he had a chest, here, in this place -- as he laid eyes on possibly the most beautiful woman to ever walk the earth.

"That was a nice trick," Amina remarked as Aran felt her answering touch; suddenly it felt as if fingers were trailing up the inside of his thigh, though the Priestess never moved from where she stood a few paces away, gloriously naked.

Feeling playful, Aran created an exact replica of himself behind Amina. He watched as the other Aran snaked arms around her waist and pulled her against him. It was the most surreal thing Aran had ever experienced; he could feel her skin against his despite the fact it wasn't really him. Or was it? Perhaps there were aspects to the Plane of Aros that he hadn't considered...

Before he could follow that line of thought, three identical Aminas appeared before him, smiling salaciously as they ran their hands over their bodies in seductive fashion. Aran laughed and banished his copied self before shifting to Amina and enveloping her in a tight embrace. "Now there is a game we should explore some time. I wonder what it would be like to have sex with more than one of you."

Amina chuckled and nuzzled into his neck. "I would like that," she said into his throat before planting her lips against his skin. "But the pleasure would probably drive you insane."

"I would take that risk," he countered as he ran his hands over the smooth skin of her back. He wanted nothing more than to ravage her right then, but there were other, more important matters to discuss. Reluctantly, he stepped back a little, ending the embrace.

"How is the Temple?" he asked tentatively as he altered their setting to something more comfortable than a snowy mountaintop. A second later they were standing in a place that closely resembled Amina's room in the Temple, with thick furs carpeting the floor and a huge fireplace at one end. Comfortable chairs were scattered around and sunstones blazed on the walls.

Aran hadn't really thought about what he was changing the setting to, but he supposed he was missing the Temple, which is why he'd chosen this particular place.

Before Amina could answer, Smythe appeared, winking into existence. Amina immediately vanished and reappeared in his arms, her limbs firmly wrapped around him as she kissed him fiercely. Aran smiled and took a seat in a comfortable chair, giving them time to say hello to one another. It had been a while.

Putting Amina down and clearing his throat, Smythe nodded at Aran in greeting. Aran returned the nod, then shifted to Smythe, offering his forearm. The bigger man took it readily, a grin splitting his face.

"Good timing," Aran said as they released their grip. "We only just got started."

Smythe's eyebrow's lifted. "I didn't miss any fun, did I?" He turned to Amina, who shook her head coyly.

"Not yet," she replied, reaching out to run fingers down Smythe's stomach. "I am hopeful there will be time later, however. The Temple is currently devoid of men, I'm sad to say. Except for Tavish, who is unsuitable to sate my needs."

"Where's Erik?" Aran asked.

"I sent him on a task, as well as Sylvia," Amina replied. "We found a place that may house your farmers and villagers from the Sorral Plain. Erik and Sylvia had ridden out to meet them and direct them there."

"Where are they going?" Smythe enquired. A seat appeared behind him and he sat without looking, putting himself opposite Aran. Amina immediately draped herself across Smythe's lap, hooking a slim arm behind his neck as she answered.

"Suravale," Amina explained. "It's an ancient city deep in the mountains, not far from the Temple. It's sheltered from the elements, so our hope is that there are enough buildings in good repair to hold as many people as necessary."

Aran nodded thoughtfully. It sounded a fine plan, to him, except... "What if there are Heralds among the refugees? Spies? The ones I sent, I looked into their hearts first, but if they have gathered more along the way..."

"That is a risk Erik will have to assess when the time comes," Amina said. "He is capable, and I believe he has the makings of a general, oddly enough."

Smythe puffed his cheeks out. "A general, you say? That would be most useful."

"He is well-read, and clever," Amina went on. "I watched him guess your movements across the Sorral Plain using a map. He was very close to the truth, Aran, even with the limited information he had to work with."

Aran was impressed. He liked Erik a lot; the man had taught him much during their time in Maralon. "It sounds as if the refugees are in safe hands, then. I just hope he and Sylvia don't run into any Herald trouble on the Plain."

Smythe shook his head. "They shouldn't." When Aran frowned curiously, the big Paladin explained. "Word is that all the Heralds are pulling back to Ironshire or Maralon."

"How do you know that?" Amina asked Smythe, eyeing him inquisitively.

Smythe grinned. "Imella. Clever girl overheard Stallen talking with one of his men while she was captive. Apparently, an order came down from Maralon that all Heralds were to report to either Ironshire or the capital. Berrigan ignored the order of course, but all the other Heralds will be flocking to one place or the other.

"Also," Smythe added. "You'll be pleased to know, Aran, that your experiment before the battle at the Chapel worked. Yesterday about a hundred men and women appeared, ready to fight for us. They felt your vala, man. They abandoned the Herald army that night."

Aran thought back to that afternoon. He'd tried to do too much, that day, and it had nearly killed him. Luckily, he was still here. "There was an arohim with them," he said suddenly, remembering that one flame among the army, like a candle in an otherwise dark sea. Without that, it was unlikely that Aran's efforts would have made a difference at all.

Smythe nodded. "I got him. I'll start training him right away. Kedron can help; the lad has learned a lot and he is nearly fully mended."

"What experiment?" Amina demanded suddenly, her face impassive. "You did not put yourself in danger, Aran Sunblade?" In a fraction of a heartbeat she was out of Smythe's lap and looming over him, her arms crossed beneath her plump breasts.

Aran shared a quick glance with Smythe before answering. "That is another conversation entirely, Priestess," he began politely. "One which I think will interest you greatly. Either way, I learned a valuable lesson, and I am still here to serve."

Amina grunted, sounding unconvinced. "Paladins," she muttered. What that meant, Aran had no clue. "Then it was no coincidence when I felt your vala all the way from the Temple," she continued. "And your meldin all collapsed at the same time."

Aran winced. He knew they were fine, now, but he still hated thinking of them in pain, especially when it was he who caused it. "For that, I owe them a sincere apology," he admitted. "Had I known the effects beforehand, I never would have tried what I did."

"And then I would be dead," Smythe added. "And so would Elaina and Kedron, and likely all the Rostiners and Eryn'elda that came to help us."

Amina whirled to face Smythe, and Aran couldn't help but get an eyeful of her bottom. The way the smooth, ample cheeks curved was nothing short of art. She shifted again, this time off to one side so she could eye both Paladins in turn. "You do not know that, Henley," she said sternly. "We have many abilities, but clairvoyance is not among them. I am not saying that the outcome was not in our favour; it clearly was, but let us not assume that the most dangerous path is always the right one."

Aran could see the sense in that, and he saw Smythe nodding, too. Pleasant sensations washed through him as Amina appeared in his lap, sitting across him as she had with Smythe. His arms came around her automatically and he breathed in her flowery scent.

"I was worried for you," she whispered, putting her face close to his. Her sapphire eyes were liquid pools that filled his entire vision. "Not just because our hope lies with you, but because I love you."

Aran's heart swelled as he felt the truth in her words. He kissed her tenderly. "I'm sorry," he told her.

She shook her head slightly, shifting her silky hair against his chest. "You shouldn't be," she said gently. "You did what you thought was best, and it worked out." She smiled, then. "Maybe I worry more than I should."

Touching her cheek, Aran rested his forehead against hers. "Your love makes me stronger, Priestess. Thank you." He kissed her again, then felt something pulling at him, yanking him away from the Plane.

"Something is-" was all he got out before his vision whirled and the Plane vanished. Suddenly, he was back in his blankets, rolling and jouncing along the forest floor as the earth shook beneath him. Elaina appeared beside him and pulled him to his feet.

Using his vala, Aran found his balance and stood watching in amazement as the surrounding trees whipped back and forth with the erratic movement of the earth.

Thick branches fell haphazardly, crashing to the ground, the sound lost amid the groaning of a thousand avalanches. Liddea was no more than five paces away, looking around with frightened eyes at the chaos. With one hand on the trunk of a big oak, she was attempting to regain her feet, but it was a vain effort. Her eyes fell on Aran just as a branch as thick as Smythe's body came free above her and began to swing down like an axe aimed at a block of wood.

Aran moved without thought, dashing forward so quickly his vision blurred. Snatching up the Dwarf, he pulled her out of harm's way. She clung to him desperately and he held her tight, using his vala to keep them both balanced as the earth continued to roll and shudder.

After an eternity, the earthquake ebbed and died. Aran stared around in disbelief. Many of the trees he could see were fallen, especially those that were smaller, younger, with roots that did not run as deep. How much of the Emerin forest had just been levelled?

"What in the name of all that is godly?" Liddea breathed. Elaina looked at Aran over the Dwarf's head, concern painting her beautiful face.

Aran grimaced. "It's him," he said softly. "He's getting stronger, I can feel it. We need to move."

Elaina's expression changed to one of determination. She looked off into the forest and Aran felt her vala expand. "The horses are alright," she said with relief. "Which is a miracle on its own. I'll fetch them now."

As she moved off, leaping over the tangle of fallen trees, something caught Aran's attention. Letting go of Liddea, he walked away a few paces, trying to work out what he was sensing. Opening his vala, he let it fan out over the area for a few miles, not just above the earth, but beneath it. There was something moving down there, maybe a mile almost straight down. Whatever it was, it was monstrous, and moving very quickly toward the surface.

"Elaina!" He bellowed suddenly, whipping Oroth free of her scabbard. The steel glimmered in the moonlight, not yet glowing with her true power. "Be ready!" Turning to Liddea, he pointed southeast, the direction of Dun'Arghol. "You need to run," he urged her. "Go, now!"

As the last word left his mouth, Liddea bolted in that direction. Right as she passed out of sight, the ground erupted no more than twenty feet from where Aran stood. Dirt and rocks fountained forth and showered down around him. The creature had not appeared yet, but an old memory suddenly floated into Aran's consciousness, a fragment from another life.

Monsters unimagined had once walked this world. Many of them were now long dead, but some had buried themselves deep, slumbering until the time came for them to wake.

"Hello, old friend," he found himself saying as he walked toward the shadowy mass emerging from the ground. He twirled Oroth in a tight arc. "It's been a long time."

***

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Chapter 13.4: Flight

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The Slipfinger rocked gently as she crossed the so-called Wild Sea. Kyra stood at the bow of the massive galleon, enjoying the morning sun on her face as the fresh, salty wind whipped her hair and pulled at her cloak. When was the last time she'd seen the sun? It felt like forever since the sky over Amindaer had darkened, plunging the city into perpetual darkness.

It was the beginnings of a fine day. The skies were clear and the wind was in their favour. Beyond the odd shout from the crew clambering about in the rigging or hauling ropes this way and that, the only other sounds were the splashing of waves against the keel or the regular creaks and groans of the ship's timbers as she rolled along.

Lissi stood off to the right, facing east, her back to Kyra as she too enjoyed the warm rays of the sun. The stiff breeze across the bow had pulled the beautiful Andrakin's cowl back and her silver hair streamed out behind her like a horse's tail at full gallop.

Lissi hadn't said much this morning, but Kyra's vala told her that Lissi was simply content to enjoy being out of that cursed city. Kyra was tempted to align with the other woman, but restrained herself, choosing instead to let Lissi enjoy her newfound freedom without interruption.

A squeezing sensation on Kyra's bottom made her realise she'd been largely unaware of anything but Lissi for the past few moments. Also, she was keeping her vala well suppressed, which meant she was using her regular senses for the most part.

A glance to her left showed Berten grinning up at her and slipping his hand back inside his thick fur-lined cloak.

Kyra looked back out toward the ocean, unable to prevent a small smile from curling her lips. "I am difficult to sneak up on, Berten," she told the shorter - but very handsome - man. "You should commend yourself."

Berten chuckled and stroked his neat, square beard. "It is surprising what can be done with the proper motivation, my dear."

Kyra shook her head wryly. Berten walked a very fine line between rakish charm and outright lechery. He was a master at it, in fact. "I am still surprised you are here at all," she told the Gorn'elda. "You left behind a very lucrative operation in Amindaer."

Berten waved a hand dismissively, then cursed as his cloak got away from him before he could reclaim it. "It matters not," he said nobly. "I have plenty of money, and the means to make plenty more. I want to see Ekistair. There are no few men and women across the sea that owe me some rather large favours. It may just be time to call them in."

Kyra grinned. "You want to be as far away from Marcos as possible, I think."

Berten's expression soured. "That man is dangerous," he said quietly. "And I consider few men such."

Kyra had to agree. Marcos posed no threat to her -- not as long as she was arohim -- but for others, there was little protection to be had from the half-Giant barbarian king. Even Berten with all his connections and money had decided at the last minute to close his tavern-brothel and board the Slipfinger with all his girls and a dozen chests of gold in tow.

The crew had been overjoyed at the sheer number of attractive female passengers, but Berten had warned them that any fun in which they partook would be deducted from their wages. From what Kyra had already seen, most of the crew would be getting no pay at all by the time the Slipfinger reached harbour.

As for Marcos, his fury would be legendary once he found Kyra and Lissi gone, if he hadn't already, and it wouldn't take him long to notice that the Bare Wench was no longer operating.

Not really wanting to talk about Marcos, Kyra changed the subject. "You could have chosen a less conspicuous name for a smuggling vessel," she said dryly.

Berten shook his head. "Sometimes the best place to hide is in plain sight, my dear. Besides, nobody bothers you if you know where and when to sail and where and when to dock."

Kyra found herself thinking about what would happen when they did dock. She felt a small flutter of nerves in her belly when she imagined finding that man with the enormous vala. Surely, Aros would not lend His grace to one not deserving? Something about that power had been wild, untamed, far different from how Kyra felt when using her own vala.

Still, she felt compelled to move toward him, whomever he was. She had not sensed him again, yet the pull was still there, as if there were a hook inside her, tugging her forward insistently. There was no doubt in her mind that if she followed this feeling it would lead her right to him.

How many other arohim were there on this side of the Wild Sea? Hope reared in her heart before she squashed it, unwilling to let herself dream for the possibility she had some brothers and sisters still surviving in Ekistair. She'd scoured Palistair for two hundred years, yet her search had revealed nothing.

"You are troubled," Berten observed without looking at her.

Kyra had to give the man credit. She had lived long enough to learn to not show her emotions on her face -- at least when she wished -- but still Berten had perceived correctly. She found herself wondering if he would be open to being her meldin. It had been over a hundred years since Roddick died, and the pain of losing him was all but a faint memory.

"I am," she confirmed after a moment, glancing briefly at the Gorn'elda. "I am uncertain what awaits us in Ekistair."

Berten grinned wolfishly. "And isn't that when life is at its juiciest, my dear?"

Kyra wished she shared his optimism. "What is the latest news?" Berten dealt in knowledge and secrets as much as he did women and ale.

He grunted sourly. "Nothing good. Wild storms, earth tremors, ulunn being seen where there have been none for centuries. Heralds closing their fists tighter than ever. The Eryn'elda and Dwarves are keeping to themselves as always."

Kyra tensed slightly at the mention of Heralds, then immediately schooled herself back to a relaxed posture. Had Berten caught her slip? He didn't know she was arohim. She thought he might be trustworthy enough that she could tell him, but there was something about him -- perhaps his heritage -- that made him difficult to align with. He seemed to... resist... her vala, somehow.

Would Berten still aid her if he knew what price her head would fetch at the Northguard? He was not an evil man -- unscrupulous and cunning, yes, but not wicked -- but his motives were still something of a mystery. Perhaps Kyra could find out more from him on the pillows of his bed.

"How long will our journey take?" She asked him carefully. She wanted as much time to plan for unfavourable outcomes as possible.

"About a month, if the winds stay good," he replied. "Two if they don't. A lot longer if that storm decides to leave the island and chase us south."

Kyra didn't want to think about that. Last night's launch from Amindaer harbour had been treacherous to say the least. She'd been sure the ship was going to break in two between the winds and the towering waves, but somehow the captain and crew had guided her out safely.

"Let us hope it doesn't," Kyra said levelly. "I would rather not swim to Ekistair, if it can be helped."