A Paladin's Journey Ch. 18

Elaina ignored the display. She folded her hands at her waist and stayed focused on his eyes, trying to decipher what lay behind them. Something was different about him, alright. The Burin from yesterday had been stubborn, angry and frustrated, but he had not been rude, nor had he looked at her with borderline animosity.

"How do you think he fares?" Burin asked derisively as his servants pleasured him. "The Sunblade." He invested Aran's name with scorn.

Anger flared in Elaina, but she contained it. "He is through the gates safely. He is a capable man."

"As you say," he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. He held up his mug for another refill. "Though I hesitate to believe you. He is probably dead, by now."

Elaina wanted to hit Burin. Her idea to approach him from a position of vulnerability vanished, replaced by anger. "I know for a fact he is not," she told him, trying not to speak through clenched teeth. "Though the gatekeepers were in fact corrupted by Maharad, or near enough to it. Aran has lifted the shadow from their eyes, at least for now."

Burin's chest began to heave up and down, and a wheezing laugh echoed around the chamber. "He believes he is the saviour, but he truly cannot see. If he is not dead yet, then he soon will be." The wheezing cut off suddenly, and his face was all stony planes once again. Elaina wondered if the man had finally gone completely mad. Despite her promise, she drew on her vala just a fraction, as an assurance against any nasty surprises. Burin grunted, then, as his arousal peaked, and he bucked slightly as he emptied himself into one of his servants' mouths. Satisfied, he rudely pushed them off and stood, facing Elaina across the water.

"It sounds almost like you expected him to die," Elaina suggested flatly. She deliberately left any honorifics out of her speech. Burin would get no more respect from her until he offered some back. "Or is that what you hoped?"

The king sneered. Despite the fire behind him, a shadow seemed to darken his end of the room. It was not Elaina's imagination; something was very wrong here. The concubines seemed to sense it, too, and they clambered out of the bath and hurried from the chamber, not even bothering to take towels.

"I am everywhere," Burin growled, and suddenly, Elaina knew she was not speaking to Burin anymore, but Maharad. A worm of fear wriggled in her belly. How was she going to fight a God? She didn't have Aran's power! Aros protect me and guide me through this darkness. "The Sunblade can have the Giants," he said as he began to circle the edge of the bath toward her. "I need them not. I have found something far more valuable." A light shone in his dark eyes as he looked her over, leaving no question as to what he meant; her.

Elaina set her feet and pulled on her full power. Something pushed against it, dark and cold. Burin was before her in a heartbeat, his foreboding stare boring into her. The skin beneath his eyes had darkened. It reminded her of the Herald that had attacked her today.

"Don't give in!" She urged Burin, speaking to the man she knew was still in there. "Fight it!" The darkness surged against her, stronger, and she pushed back with all her strength. She could hold him, like this, but for how long?

Suddenly the guards from outside burst in, swords out. They must have seen the girls rushing out. "My King!" One of them cried. Elaina chanced a look to see confused expressions on their faces. To them, it would simply appear that Burin and Elaina were standing close together and staring at one another intensely.

"Get away!" Elaina shouted as she flung out a hand to halt them right before Burin struck her across the face with the back of his hand. The force of the blow pushed her face to the side, but she weathered it otherwise. She glared at him hotly as she felt warm blood trickle from the corner of her mouth.

"Ignore her!" Burin bellowed. "She is bewitching us as I knew she would!" Frowning, the guards made to move towards Elaina, their faces set and their fingers flexing on the hilts of their weapons.

Desperate, Elaina quickly enveloped them in her vala and touched her heart to theirs, showing them her true intent. They halted as one and looked uncertainly between her and their king. Elaina needed to do something, and quickly. If Maharad already had Burin so far in his grasp, then this could all end very badly. Why hadn't Aran sensed Maharad in Burin before?

With a whip-quick motion, Burin's arm shot up and his hand closed around her throat. He pressed his face closer until she could smell the ale on his breath. "You and I are going to have much fun, arohim. Let me in, and I will show you pleasure beyond anything you've ever known." He squeezed, and Elaina's throat tightened. She gripped Burin's wrist, but made herself relax, slowing her heart and delaying the need to breathe. Discreetly, her other hand went to the small of her back.

"He will feel everything I do to you," Burin growled. "Your fates are tied, and when I snap your thread, his will unravel." He was talking about Aran.

"My King?" One of the guards asked uncertainly. "Are you... well?"

Burin's head whipped around and he fixed the Dwarf with a stare that could chip diamonds. "OUT!" He roared. The guards swallowed, and they went pale to a man. Their feet shifted, but they seemed reluctant to leave Elaina.

Burin's - Maharad's - energy pushed harder against Elaina's vala, and she felt her strength giving. How was he so strong! What would happen to her if she crumbled under his assault? What would happen to Aran? Using all her considerable strength, she tried to pull Burin's wrist away from her throat, but it moved no more than an iron bar would.

"You... can't... have... me," she rasped as her fingers dug beneath the wide sash of her dress. "Or Aran." With a tug, she pulled free the Maharagi blade and plunged it into Burin's side. His eyes widened as he felt the knife go in, and he gasped at the shock. Elaina held hilt firmly. She'd carefully wrapped it in cloth before securing it behind her sash, ensuring no part of the weapon would touch her skin.

Burin released her throat and stumbled back. Elaina stepped forward with him and seized a handful of his hair at the nape of his neck, keeping him upright. His expression was still one of surprised shock, but as she watched, he smiled. "Thank you," he whispered. The shadow around him evaporated, then, rising like dark steam from his body and vanishing in the air. He sagged limply in her grip as his legs gave.

Lowering him gently to the ground, Elaina shouted at the guards to get help. One of them scrambled away, bellowing for a healer. The others remained standing inside the archway, dumbstruck; they no doubt had seen the shadow leaving their king. Carefully, she pulled the knife free and placed it on the ground beside her. The blade had only entered muscle and flesh; she had deliberately missed any vital organs. The bone-hilted dagger began to disintegrate, then, until it was no more than a pile of grey ash on the stone.

"I fought him... for so long," Burin said softly as he looked up at her. A tear leaked from the corner of his eye. He winced then, as Elaina placed a hand over the wound in his side. "By the Stonelord, that hurts."

Elaina smiled ruefully. "I'm sorry, but I didn't see another way to free you."

Burin shook his head. "Do not apologise, fagr arohim. You did what must be done. I am free of him, now." His brow furrowed in pain. "I owe you and Sunblade a great debt. If I survive, I will see it paid."

"We will talk of debts later, if ever," Elaina replied. "And rest easy; I did not strike you with a killing blow. You will be fine."

Burin nodded gratefully at that, but his eyes turned sad. "I almost wish you hadn't," he told her. "I sent him to his death, Elaina. If he is truly the Anarion, then I would have doomed the world."

"Perhaps," Elaina said. "But we arohim are difficult to kill. Aran much more so than the rest of us." Elaina was surprised when Burin reached up to brush her cheek with his finger.

"He used my body, my words, to order your death," he breathed in almost a whisper. "I couldn't stop him." He meant Maharad had taken control, and Burin had had no choice but to witness it like a passenger in his own body. That explained how the Herald had gotten into the city.

"It was not you," Elaina assured him. "I know your heart, my King. He used your grief for your sister against you, and for that you cannot be blamed." Burin said nothing in response, but Elaina saw in his eyes that he'd heard her.

"How did you survive?" He asked, stifling a groan. "He was so sure... that you wouldn't see him coming."

"Like I said," Elaina answered. "We are hard to kill." She decided not to tell him about Noah. Why, she couldn't say, but something stayed her tongue.

"Is she really... Could she really be alive?" Burin asked. "Glinda? I dared not allow the light of hope into my heart, for the pain was already too great." He made as if to sit up, but Elaina gently pushed him back down. One of the guards moved further into the room and fetched a dry towel from near the fireplace. He brought it back to Elaina so she could tuck it beneath Burins' head.

"We believe so," she confirmed. "I have seen her with my own eyes, in a fashion. She is a remarkably beautiful woman."

Burin coughed a rough laugh. "Ha! Half my time was spent chasing off suitors who could not do her justice. The other half was convincing her to marry someone who could, but she wanted none of them." A fond smile broke his pained expression. "She was never meant for a royal life, my sister. I never should have driven her away."

Elaina wasn't sure what he meant by that, but she hushed him to silence and bade him to save his strength. "We will find her and bring her back. Rest, now." The healer arrived soon after in the form of a stout Dwarf woman called Hildevi, all in flowing white robes and wearing a leather satchel that was slung slantways over her shoulder to rest on her hip. The strap created a canyon between the largest breasts Elaina had ever seen on any creature. Elaina half expected her to fall forward at any moment, pulled off her feet by their sheer weight. Plump even for a Dwarf, she waddled in self-importantly, and as soon as she saw Burin on the floor, she ordered two guards off to retrieve a stretcher. They obeyed at once, hurrying away.

Kneeling on the other side of the king, Hildevi looked him over. "Your Highness," she began with a polite bow of her head. She spoke in a clipped, brisk tone that made her sound like someone accustomed to being obeyed. "It would seem you have a spot of trouble." Without taking her eyes off Burin, she pressed two fingers to Elaina's wrist, gently moving her hand away. Fresh blood seeped out of the two-inch gash at once, running down his side and pooling on the stone floor.

Hildevi grunted and dug into the fat satchel. She pulled out a wad of clean white cloth and pressed it to the wound. "How did this happen, sire?" She shot an accusing look at Elaina, but Burin answered quickly.

"Drank too much bloody ale," he muttered, sounding embarrassed. "Tripped and fell on my own bloody knife, I did. Elaina arohim arrived just in time. I cried out in pain, and that's what brought the guards in." He lifted his head and fixed the remaining guard with a level stare. A silent moment passed between them, and the guard gave the slightest of nods. He would keep secret what happened here. Elaina only hoped the others could be made to do the same.

Hildevi made a sound that could have meant anything, and she eyed Elaina again before setting to work. Despite her aloof attitude, Hildevi was efficient and capable, and in no time at all had assessed the king's wound and begun to stitch it closed. Elaina moved out of her way, giving her space to work.

When she poured alcohol from a small crystal flask on the broken skin to clean it, Burin emitted a stifled grunt, but no more than that. A stretcher arrived almost as soon as the final stitch was done, and Burin was promptly carried off by two burly Dwarves. The healer went with them, chivvying them along and keeping a watchful eye on her charge.

Elaina followed them out, but when they turned right after the stairs, making for Burin's bed chamber, she went left. She would find Burin later, when he'd had time to recover. For now, she felt like another bath. Being so close to Maharad was... unpleasant to say the least, and it had made her feel dirty all over.

Perhaps Liddea would join her; some cheerful company would be welcome.

***

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CHAPTER 18.3: A New Leader

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When Aran returned to his body, Evoni was kneeling beside the bed, leaning forward on her elbows as if she'd been watching him sleep. "I was unsure whether to wake you," she said quietly. "I spoke to Verevendi. He is outside."

After giving Evoni a quick but thorough kiss, Aran threw back the covers and got out of bed. Not bothering with clothing - why should he? - he stepped outside to see Verevendi sitting nearby, more than twice as tall as Aran even so. The obsidian-skinned Giant was taking his ease near the big bonfire, and his head turned as Aran emerged from Evoni's house.

"Aran," he boomed. A smile split his broad face. "Evoni says you wish to speak."

"Yes," Aran said as he came to stand next to Verevendi. It was a cool night, and the warmth of the twenty-foot tall fire was plentiful. "If you have a moment or two."

"Of course, my young friend. Sit." He gestured to the ground beside him. Aran sat, folding his legs beneath him. "What is on your mind?"

"Do your people know what is coming?"

Verevendi nodded slowly. "We have seen the signs. While your arrival was unexpected, it seems timely. You have incited much discussion. More than even the return of the Elders would warrant."

"Is the village prepared for what comes?"

Verevendi looked down at him. "We have been so secluded from the world that it has passed us by for long centuries, leaving us untouched. I am, however, under no illusions that this will continue much longer. I believe the Elders will call a meeting soon, in the Square, where they will address the village."

"What do you think they will decide?"

Looking back to the fire, the Giant fingered his silvery beard. "I do not know," he replied. "They have been gone many years. I am unsure. The meeting will enlighten us all on the matter. Until then, we must await them."

"Are you concerned?" Aran asked him carefully.

"For my people? Yes, always. That is constant, especially with us so fragile still. We once numbered thousands, but now..." He sighed. "You want us to fight, don't you?" It wasn't a question.

"No," Aran replied truthfully. "I don't want anyone to fight. But if we don't..."

"I know," Verevendi said sadly. "I know."

Sensing that the conversation was over, Aran said no more. He sat at the fire for a time, though, losing himself in the flames. Eventually Verevendi rose, offering Aran a polite farewell before he left. Evoni joined him shortly after, and with the fire to themselves, they made love again under the stars.

*

Aran spent the next week in Atlos, impatiently waiting for Immelanle and Mandaralorn to come back down the mountain. Several times, he considered going up to their colossal house and asking to speak with them, but Evoni had reacted to the idea with something approaching anathema.

"We must not disturb them," she had implored Aran when he first suggested it. Her hands had grasped his shoulders and her pretty eyes beamed insistence. "They will emerge when the time is right."

Another wild storm and an earthquake rolled through Atlos during that week, though the village was so well constructed that neither event caused any fuss. Aran actually witnessed lightning hit one burly Noroth some distance up the steeply sloped village, and he simply shrugged it off and went about his business!

Not wanting to upset the Giants and their customs, Aran spent his hours wandering around the village and learning what he could about them. Evoni stayed with him, for the most part, and her company was most welcome. She showed him around and taught him about Oron'noroth ways, readily answering any questions he asked. Some she outright laughed at, while others she answered as if he should already know. Aran took it all in stride and tried not to sound too ignorant. He was annoyed that his vala was effectively useless when it came to old memories of the Oron'noroth.

They were a stoic yet friendly tribe, certainly not garrulous, but when they did speak it was in a respectful manner, to Aran as well as one another. They were an uninhibited lot, too; Giants apparently were comfortable making love out in the open where anyone could see, at any time of the day. Aran thought it was strange that he hadn't seen any infants or children, but when he asked Evoni, she told him that the younglings were housed in another area, deep inside the mountain where they could be sheltered until they were of age; a tradition that had been instated back when Noroth numbers were dangerously low.

Indeed, when Aran opened his vala, he did sense a small handful of souls moving about in the mountain behind the village. Two appeared to be adults, the other three children. Aran was amused that a Giant considered to be a child was almost as large as himself.

For the most part, he kept his vala to his immediate surroundings to save his strength. Some speculation was circling the village about who Aran was, and why he had come to Atlos, and riding on the shoulder of an Elder, no less. By the end of the week, Aran had met just about every Giant in the village.

It was on the morning of the eighth day that the Elders finally appeared, emerging from their abode and descending the winding path to stand in the village square, a clear area of polished stone a hundred yards on a side. The square was positioned so it could be viewed from just about anywhere in the village above. Sensing their arrival, both through his vala and the vibrations in the ground from their heavy steps, Aran made for the Square with Evoni.

Giants gathered quickly, hurrying from their homes, dropping tools or bundles or buckets and finding a place to stand. Some of the smaller residents were hoisted up onto their elders' shoulders so to see better. Mandaralorn began to speak, and his bass tones reverberated throughout the canyon. "We are overjoyed to be back with you," he said. "And it warms my heart to see so many of us, where before we were so few."

Immelanle spoke, too, with a bright smile. "Our tribe has grown, and our village is prospering! Pride fills me when I see what you have all done!" There were appreciative murmurs among the crowd. Many of them shared pleased smiles.

"And you have done all of this," Mandaralorn continued with a broad sweep of his hand, taking in the village. "Without us! In our absence have you flourished! And Verevendi has led you well!" There were louder sounds of approval, this time, aimed at Verevendi, who was standing near the border of the square. Those closest to him clapped him on the shoulder or the back. He received it all with grace, offering quiet nods of gratitude.

"Many of you are wondering," Immelanle said. "What will become of us in the future. We have seen the storms, and felt the tremors marking the end of these times. Also, you are wondering what it means that Aran, the Anarion, is here among us." An uncomfortable hush fell over the crowd. "We have been fortunate, in our small pocket of the world, for we have not yet been brushed by events that are ravaging those elsewhere, yet that time is now at an end."

"Immelanle and I have deliberated much over the past days," Mandaralorn told his people. "And we have come to a decision." You could have heard a pin drop over the silence that followed that statement. "It is time for the Oron'noroth to join the world once again and lend our aid to those in need."