A Paladin's Journey Ch. 19

"Very well," the king said after a moment. "I see no reason to deny you, especially since you are now tied to Elaina, for better or worse." He eyed Elaina for a moment. "I know little of such things, Elaina, but is Noah here your... What is the word? Medeen? I apologise if I err; my Ancient is a little rusty."

Elaina's hair swung around her ears as she shook her head, and she noticed Noah's confused look at the strange word. "No, he is not my meldin. At least, not yet." It wasn't until Burin had brought it up that she realised she was even considering it. Did she even want another meldin now that she had Aran? Not really, but he was very capable, and reliable. There was also the way Aran talked about tipping the balance, spreading the ripple of Aros. She would think on it some more. Would he get rid of that beard if she asked him to? He was probably very handsome under all that wild hair.

Burin nodded sagely as if he understood, then lightly slapped the table. "Another round!" He barked suddenly, sending a guard springing into action. More drinks were promptly delivered, and this time the serving girl from earlier was allowed through the tight arc of guards around the table. Burin eyed her appreciatively as she nervously placed the three fresh mugs down, and she gave a jump and blushed bright red as he pushed a gold coin into the canyon between her breasts. The look she gave him after that was anything but nervous.

"Being king has its perks," Burin chuckled as the girl disappeared again. "Now, where were we?"

"Noah and I will be leaving with your men," Elaina reminded him.

"Right," Burin replied. "I must confer with my generals, but I believe we might make camp near Vesovar to restock our supplies once we're clear of the forest. We have good relations with the Vesovarians, and the Heralds are either none the wiser, or they don't care."

Elaina saw no problem with that. If you went almost due north from Dun'Arghol, you would run into Vesovar if you followed the line of the mountains. From there it was a turn northwest across the Plain to reach Ironshire. "That would make sense," she agreed. "If I may, I would ask for a battalion to stop in at my Chapel in the forest, just in case they need some reinforcements. One of my brethren there has been having trouble with darkspawn."

Burin inclined his head. "Of course. I have a hundred thousand fighting men and women at my disposal. How many shall we send? Would ten be enough?" Elaina almost dropped her mug. A hundred thousand?

"Ten thousand would be plenty," she replied as steadily as she could, burying her face in her mug to give herself time to regain her composure. A hundred thousand Dwarves was ten times the number she was expecting, and five times what she'd hoped for. The Eryn'elda had not had near so many soldiers. Aran and Henley would be ecstatic! She'd felt the countless Dwarvish souls in the region when Aran had let her share in his power, but she never imagined so many would be fighters. Did Aran know?

As her mind spun with new possibilities, Burin continued offering suggestions, pending talks with his generals, of course. Elaina listened intently, and Noah sat quietly, largely forgotten by Burin. By the time the rangy hunter and Elaina left the Royal more than an hour later, the sun was lying low on the distant horizon.

This section of the third ring was west-facing, and warm afternoon sunlight bathed the street as Elaina stepped outside, blinking at the sudden brightness. Her head was buzzing slightly from the ales, though not as much as Noah's would be; the man had gone drink-for-drink with her and Burin, and his legs had visibly wobbled when he'd pushed himself out of his seat. The way he stumbled into her back when she stopped in the street was testament to his inebriation.

"Sorry," he mumbled as he righted himself. He squinted against the sunlight, trying to focus his eyes on Elaina's face. She chuckled and tucked herself under one of his arms and held him up around the waist.

"Come on," she said as they moved away from the tavern. "Let's go sit somewhere for a while."

"Don't know what's in that stuff," Noah slurred. "But I know why they call it ox ale."

"Oh?" Elaina said as they made their way across a wide, flagstone avenue sided by square stone shops displaying dresses, or knives, or books, or casks of ale and brandy. She was heading for a place behind the shops on the other side where there was a park with grass and trees and benches to sit on. This high up, you could see all the way to the horizon from the balustrade that ran around the park. At this time of day, the view would be amazing. "And why's that?"

"Because any ox dumb enough to drink it would surely be killed," Noah finished with a burp. Elaina laughed at that. Noah's sense of humour reminded her of Henley.

"Well it's a good thing we stopped when we did, then," she said in a mock-cautionary tone. In short order they were into the park and she had Noah secured on a long stone bench beneath the sprawling branches of an oak tree. "I wanted to talk to you more about what Burin said," she told him as she sat beside him. "But I think I'll wait till your head clears."

Noah shook his head violently. "No," he said firmly, fixing her with a stare. "Now. I want to talk now."

Elaina raised a questioning eyebrow. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. I saved your life. This is what I want in return."

"You want me to talk to you about meldin in return for saving my life?" The man must be drunker than he appeared.

Again, Noah shook his shaggy head. "Not talk. Do the thing. Make me your... Whatever it is." He seemed to regain some of his sobriety as he went on. "I'm not good with people, but I know them better than they think. I know you, Elaina. I will travel with you, and I will be your companion." Elaina was stunned. She hadn't yet made up her own mind about the matter and yet here Noah was just offering himself willingly. "Will it change me in any way?"

"Yes," Elaina replied automatically, still a little taken aback. "You will be a little stronger, faster, more resilient. Your stamina and endurance will increase, and you will most likely experience a surge in your more... intimate desires. You also might find yourself more attractive to women. Or men, if that is your thing."

Noah grunted, then grinned as if at a private joke. "It's women," he said simply. "Redheads, where possible." He paused for a moment. "What you say all sounds good enough, but will I still be me?"

Elaina nodded. "You will. Perhaps more so than before."

Noah reached out and took her hand. "Then do it. Please. I have been waiting a long time for something like this, Elaina, though I did not know it was you I was waiting for. Perhaps it is not you, but what you will lead me to, but for now, I am yours."

Taking a deep breath, Elaina met Noah's earnest gaze and made up her mind.

***

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19.3: Aroyin

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Night was falling as Sara slowed to a stop near a small stream splitting a hollow a few miles east of the eastern edge of the Sorral Plain. The waist-high grasses had ended for the most part, giving way to harder, stonier ground which would eventually become the foothills of the Amarions a little further south. She'd been running for two days, now, but Aran only seemed to be getting further away. She'd pushed herself hard, opening her vala further than she should have to give her body the strength and speed to match her urgency, but she felt as if the distance between her and Aran hadn't changed a whit. That hook in her gut still pulled at her, urging her east, ever east.

"Damn you, Aran Sunblade," she muttered as she walked down into the hollow and crouched at the stream. An early moon was rising, the fat crescent partially obscured by silver-ringed clouds. "What in the hells are you doing out there?" Cupping her hands into the cool water, she drank eagerly, but while the water was refreshing, what she really wanted was a full stomach. A loud growl from her belly told her that she'd gone long enough without food; the heavy use of her vala was taking a toll on her body, and she would not be able to sustain her pace of travel without sustenance. Fortunately, she had addressed that particular problem at the last farm she'd passed.

Standing, she unslung the heavy leather scrip from her shoulder and pulled the cord open. Inside was a small feast in cheese and fruit and a loaf of crusty bread, courtesy of Evin Tamwell, a farmer who had been more than happy to part with this much food and more just for the pleasure of her company. Sara smiled as she thought of him; the wizened farmer hadn't had a visitor in months, and claimed she was the most beautiful creature he'd ever laid eyes upon. She sat down to eat right there by the stream, not bothering with a fire. She didn't know much about making fires, and it would only slow her down; once she'd eaten it would be time to start running again. Juice trickled down her chin as she bit into a ripe red apple and she wiped it away hurriedly, almost looking over her shoulder to check for a disapproving stare from Amina before she remembered she wasn't in the Temple anymore. "I'll cross that bridge when I come to it," she said to herself as she took another bite. What would happen to her when she returned to the Temple? Would Amina cast her out?

She finished three apples and a thick wedge of cheese before stopping herself; it was not nearly enough to fill her up, but she needed to save some for the rest of the journey. "Alright, Sara," she sighed as she slung the scrip back over her shoulder and settled the strap between her breasts. It was funny; she'd spent most of her life with little in the way of breasts, and now that they'd grown to something more, she barely ever thought about them. Faster than thought, she opened her vala and began to run east, shooting up the other side of the hollow and out into the night at a pace she doubted even a horse could match.

***

Page Break

"Well, this is just bloody perfect," Kyra muttered angrily as she tested her bonds again. Her wrists, bound tightly around a stout wooden post behind her back, flexed barely a fraction of an inch. She sighed. Without her vala, she was stuck here until her captors saw fit to untie her. Her ankles were bound in the same way, though they weren't tied to anything but each other, meaning she could stand if she had the desire and the flexibility to do so. At the moment, she possessed neither; she was exhausted, hungry, and desperate. Light came from a single torch jutting from a nearby wall, illuminating her fellow captive.

"At least the view is pleasant," Berten chuckled from a few feet away. Tied in an identical way to another post, he sat a few feet opposite her, his cheeky grin given a menacing cast by the swollen bruises on his grey face. One of his eyes was completely shut, and half his bottom lip was fat and puffy. His good eye fell to her exposed breasts, and she almost laughed, whether in humour or exasperation, she didn't know.

Berten had put up a fight, at least. Kyra was ashamed at how quickly she'd gone down. Overwhelmed easily, she and the Gorn'elda had been promptly stripped naked and brought to this small hut made all of wood and dried fronds from those strange branchless trees outside. The storm raged on outside, though little water came through the thick layers of leaves that lay across the roof. "Enjoy it while it lasts," she told him testily as she tried moving her wrists again. "Depending on what they decide, you might not get another chance to look."

"Too true," he replied, wincing in pain as he tried his own bonds. He appeared to be having about as much success as she. "Though there is some good news. I think I saw Lissi and Tessa in another hut before they stuffed us in here." A flutter of hope flickered in Kyra's heart.

"Truly? Are you certain?"

Berten nodded. "I think so. Can't mistake that per'Norothi; she's hard to miss. So's the Andrakin. Would've paid them both a small fortune to work for me."

"Lissi!" Kyra called as loudly as she could. Her voice rasped, and her throat hurt, but still she called. "Tessa!" If Lissi and Tessa were alive, then perhaps all was not lost.

"I wouldn't do that," Berten advised as he looked over Kyra's shoulder, to where the doorway was. Kyra ignored him and kept calling. She saw him grimace just before a figure came into view. Suddenly a spearpoint was against her throat, cutting her off abruptly. Her eyes travelled from the long, stone tip of the spear, up the shaft to the woman that held it steady. The tallest woman Kyra had ever seen stood there, dark-skinned and fit, her skin shining in the torchlight as if oiled. She was wearing only a short skirt made of grasses that left the vast majority of her long legs bare; the rest of her was naked. Proud breasts graced her chest, large and round, and she was well-muscled in the arms, thighs and bottom, though still distinctly feminine. Her hair was a short cap of black curls framing a decidedly beautiful face with plump lips and high cheekbones. Big, dark eyes bored into Kyra's, daring her to call out again.

This woman was one of the ones whom had overwhelmed Kyra and Berten earlier, disabling them as easily as if they were children. Some sort of primitive warrior tribe, at Kyra's guess. At any other time, Kyra would have admired the impressive physique of this woman, but at this juncture, she closed her mouth, though she did meet the woman's glare levelly, unwilling to drop her eyes. "You will be silent," the dark woman said firmly. "Or you will be silenced." Her accent was thick and had something of a drawl about it. The way she spoke made the words sound rounder, somehow.

"We're alright!" An answering cry floated from somewhere outside. It was Tessa's voice. A broad smile split Kyra's face, and she winced as the cracks in her lips were opened up afresh.

"You are fortunate to be alive," the woman said. "Do not expel what little luck you have garnered." At that, she withdrew the spearpoint and turned to look at Berten, who was brazenly eyeing her up and down. Silently, Kyra tried to catch the man's eye. Don't say anything stupid! It would be just like him to make some casual remark about how pleasing he found her body. If he did, Kyra was sure he would end up skewered on that spear.

Surprisingly, the woman's eyes dropped to Berten's lower half, to his exposed loins. "You would do well, here," she said in a considering tone. "If we accepted strangers to our islands."

Berten smiled up at her, though any charm was lost among the bruises. "Perhaps it is time you changed that rule. Would be a shame to let a good thing go to waste, would it not?" He opened his thighs to give her a full, unabashed view of his oversized nethers, which looked too large to suit his short body, but the woman merely grunted before turning on her heel and striding out.

"Well done," Kyra said sarcastically, keeping her voice low. "You're lucky she didn't cut them off!"

Berten chuckled roughly. "Relax. I know when a woman sees something she wants. She'll be back."

"With a bloody rusty knife, likely," Kyra added under her breath. "Where do you think we are, anyway? Who are these people?" In all her centuries, Kyra had never met anyone like them in Palistair.

"They have to be the Aroyin," Berten surmised. "We may have been blown off course enough to have hit the Alissars, and you just heard her say 'our islands.'"

"What do you know about them?" Kyra asked. "I know next to nothing, myself."

"Not much more than you," Berten said, shifting uncomfortably. "Only that ships who get too close to these islands are never seen again. I have spoken to the odd sailor who claimed to have seen beautiful, naked women on the beaches, but I always thought it was just the talk of men too long at sea without a woman." He paused for a moment, eyeing Kyra. "You're looking better."

"What do you mean?"

"You're body. It's healing." He nodded lower, indicating her legs. Looking down, she saw that some of her scrapes and cuts had closed, while others were closing, the redness of her skin fading back to pale. She was feeling a little better; her headache had receded to a dull throb in the back of her skull, and some of her muscles were less sore, though she wouldn't have full access to her vala for some time yet. "What are you?" He asked suddenly. "The way you leaped about on that ship, getting us all off before she sank. I've never seen anything like it."

The howling wind outside quieted a little, then, adding to the pregnant silence that had fallen over the hut. Well, she knew that showing off her abilities would lead to questions. Time to take the bull by the horns. "I'm an arohim," she said quietly. "My True name is Kyra Lightwing. I am eight-hundred and fourteen years old." Despite herself, and her inner cautions about revealing too much of her true self to anyone, she began to tell Berten everything.

Berten sat in stunned silence as Kyra told him more than she'd told anyone in over a hundred years.

***

Dev adjusted his helmet for the hundredth time that night; too large for his head, it kept tilting forward and covering his eyes. Briefly, he leaned his spear against the parapet to free up his hands. He'd been assigned to night watch by the captain, which was as boring a task as could be given in a town like this. Southeast of Ironshire and almost in the foothills of the Amarions, Vesovar about as far away from anything interesting as you could go and still be in the West. Even the Heartlake was about a hundred leagues northeast, and Dun'Arghol even further southeast.

Word had come down from Commander Eames in Maralon that a battalion of Heralds was to ride to Vesovar and bolster the guard here. Thankfully, Dev's best mate Remen had been enlisted in that battalion also. They'd even been stationed together on watch tonight. Dev glanced to his left to see Remen standing a short distance down the rampart, his yellow-cloaked figure shadowed by the cover of night. A rind of a moon hung over Vesovar, offering some light on the otherwise darkened town wall. Torches and lanterns were no good up here; they ruined your night vision. Remen reckoned he'd read somewhere that mirrors could be rigged up in such a way that firelight could be sent over long distances, but it all sounded too complex for Dev.

He was always reading, Remen, whenever he wasn't on duty or drinking in the taverns with Dev. Ever since that night back in Maralon when those Paladins had come. Dev flinched as he remembered the punishments that had been served to him and Remen after they'd been found in that cell. Weak, their captain had called them. Weak and stupid. He could still feel the lash striking his back, even a month on. Not wanting the pain to continue, he had confessed everything, which was the right thing to do anyway, wasn't it? The arohim were the enemy, weren't they? For some reason, Dev wasn't so sure anymore, and that bothered him greatly. He liked things neat, simple, easy to understand. Complex things he avoided, for that was best left to cleverer minds than his own. Still, whenever he recalled blubbering his best explanation of what had happened that night to his questioners, he felt uncomfortable inside, like a child that had stolen a pie of a neighbour's windowsill and hadn't owned up to it.

Remen, though, seemed intent on reading every book he could find to see if it held a scrap of the arohim or the Order of Aros. Dev knew it was hopeless; all those books had been destroyed during the Great Cleansing. Everyone knew that. Remen thought that a few may have survived, though. The Cleansing had been executed for a reason, and that reason was to rid the world of the arohim and all knowledge of them, so that humanity could move forward and forget their darkness. Dev knew all this as well as anyone, so why did he feel so mixed up about that night?