A Paladin's Training Ch. 13

A pretty woman passed him, giving him a wink and a coy smile before she moved on, after which another woman did the same, this one slowing down to give him a good once-over.

Looking around, Aran noticed most of the women in the street had their eyes on him, and several of them had stopped in their tracks to stare openly.

Aran realised suddenly that he was brimming with the Gift, never having let it go after the vision dissipated, and so any nearby woman who was inclined toward men was suddenly feeling drawn to Aran like a moth to flame.

Right on the doorstep of what appeared to be a house under Herald control.

Shutting his Gift down, Aran quickly moved off before a husband or lover could figure out what his woman was staring at. Dearly, he hoped the Heralds at the door had not noticed what had just happened.

***

***SORLA***

Sorla sat on the cold stone floor with her knees under her chin and one arm around a shivering Sara, who huddled against her for warmth. Sorla suppressed her own shiver; it was cold down here, and neither of them had a stitch on.

One man stood guard outside, a mean-faced fellow with a narrow chin who turned every now and then to eye the women through the latticed iron bars. This man didn't seem to have the same level of conviction as the man who had brought them here; his gaze wandered slowly over their bodies while Sorla and Sara did their utmost to show him as little as possible.

The girl certainly had spirit, no doubt about that; Sara had raged at the guard for the first hour, screaming and shouting insults at the top of her lungs, receiving no response from the man apart from the odd ogling, before eventually collapsing into tears, not knowing what else to do. Soon after, she had cuddled up to Sorla for comfort, eventually crying herself to sleep.

Sorla could feel Aran nearby, her heart aching at feeling him so close yet being unable to see him, to touch him. This Bond was a truly amazing thing, bringing two people closer than normal intimacy ever could. Right now, she could feel him up there, moving back and forth as he searched for her, his focus and strength flowing strongly.

"Why do you do that?" The guard asked suddenly, his voice hard. "Staring up at the ceiling all the time. Why are you doing that?"

Sorla realised she was indeed looking up, in the direction of Aran. She lowered her gaze to meet the guard's, trying her best to sound casual. "Not much else to do, down here," she replied.

The guard grunted, then smiled. "Maybe you could stand up, and show me that body. Might make the time go faster."

Sorla felt the urge to shudder, but gave no outward sign that his words affected her, apart from shifting her knees up tighter against her breasts, holding them in place with her free arm and keeping her other arm around Sara.

Getting no response, the guard turned his back to them once again, yawning loudly.

Sorla wished she knew where they were; this grey stone did not match that of anything she was familiar with, and she'd lived her entire life in Maralon.

Sara shifted against Sorla's side, the girl yawning as her eyes opened. "How long was I asleep?"

"An hour, maybe a little more," Sorla whispered, not wanting the guard to turn again. She was beginning to loathe the man's lecherous stares.

Sara nodded, resting her head against Sorla's arm. "I had a strange dream," the girl said quietly. "I was floating in a dark void, an endless nothingness, then suddenly there was this light. It filled me up with warmth, and hope, and love. Even now, I can still feel it, and I'm not scared any more, even though we're in trouble."

Sorla studied Sara's face as she spoke, noticing that the girl looked a little different than she had earlier. Her face looked a little less gaunt, and had some colour in it, now. Her blue eyes were clearer, brighter, and if Sorla wasn't mistaken, her lips looked a touch fuller. All in all, the girl looked as if she'd somehow grown more healthy and attractive, if only slightly.

"Well, look who's woken up!" The guard said, once again leering at them through the bars. This time, though, he was turned fully to face them, his fingers gripping the ironwork next to his head.

Sorla opened her mouth to say something, but Sara silenced her with a look before slowly standing, making no attempt to cover her nudity.

There was something else different about the girl, Sorla realised; something far beyond any physical change. There was an aura of power about her, now; a strength she had not had before.

Was her Gift awakening?

Sorla watched as Sara slowly crossed the cell to where the guard was leaning against the bars, openly leering at her body with greedy eyes.

***

***SARA***

Sara felt different since waking from that strange dream; instead of frightened and worried, she felt calm, relaxed, and in control. A warm light pulsed in her belly, radiating through her whole body, giving her strength. She could feel everything around her; Sorla behind her, hugging her knees and watching, the stone corridor outside, the street full of people up above them. There was also a strange beacon moving around in the near distance, a glowing presence that shone in her mind.

It was Aran, she realised after a moment. She must be sensing his Gift!

For the first time in a long time, she felt nourished and whole. Alive.

So, this was the Gift Aran was talking about. It was truly amazing! She felt foolish for ever doubting him, making a mental note to give him a kiss when she saw him next.

The guard licked his lips as she approached, stopping just out of his arm's reach. Looking down at her own body, Sara was surprised; she remembered herself being too thin, with bones sticking out here and there, and no breasts to speak of, but now, she appeared to have filled out a little, including two pronounced bumps on her chest where before there had been nothing other than her nipples to signify she had breasts at all.

The guard watched hungrily as she ran her hands over her body, finding that she liked the way that felt. An overpowering sense of confidence flooded through her, as well as something she'd never felt before; sensuality.

"Like what you see?" She asked softly, meeting the guard's eyes. Her voice sounded different, too; sultry, smoky.

The man nodded eagerly, his knuckles white on the bars of the cell.

Her new power guiding her, Sara placed her hands on cocked hips, eyeing the fellow up and down. "Maybe you should come in, and we can have some fun?"

The guard pursed his lips as he thought for a moment, considering the offer. "I'd like to, girl, I really would, but Eames said we weren't to touch you."

Eames? Chances were that was the name of the fellow that put them in here. She would remember that name.

Sara stepped closer, to within reach of the man. "Well, what Eames doesn't know," she whispered seductively, "won't hurt him."

She felt into the man with her power, felt his arousal, his desire for her. It was strong, but she also felt some resistance, some semblance of self-control, which crumpled like paper when she reached out a hand and curled her fingers over his.

He inhaled sharply as desire washed through him, his body flooding with arousal. Clumsily, he fumbled inside his robe, eventually producing a key which he immediately fit to the lock, opening the iron door with a metallic creak.

No sooner had the door opened than Sara seized him by his robe and pulled him in for a kiss, allowing him to wrap his arms around her, moaning into her mouth. His arousal was apparent, his hardness poking her in the belly as he ravaged her mouth with his.

Sensing Sorla rising to her feet, Sara pulled the lust-crazed fellow backward, encouraging him to pin her against the wall, where he began to lick and suck her neck while greedily groping her bottom with both hands.

She was surprised at the fact that she didn't feel altogether disgusted by this; rather, a part of her was enjoying it, even though she would rather be with anyone but this man.

Suddenly she felt an impact, along with a crunching sound, and narrow-chin was sliding to the floor, his face dragging down her body as he crumpled.

Sorla stood there, her fist still raised, looking down at the man with a satisfied look on her pretty face. The poor fellow's eyes were glass, his head twisted at the wrong angle; half-orcs were strong, and she'd hit him bloody hard. Hard enough to kill him.

Inadvertently, Sara found her eyes wandering over Sorla's body, discovering that she quite liked the way the woman was put together; muscular yet also softly feminine in the right places, and those epic breasts sitting proudly on her chest. She had never been attracted to women before, but this new power was bringing all kinds of new feelings into her awareness; it was possible she'd always been somewhat attracted to women, but just hadn't met the right one.

Before she knew she was moving, Sara had flung herself at the taller woman, wrapping herself around her strong frame and planting her lips firmly on Sorla's, thanking her between kisses.

At first, Sorla had stiffened, unsure, but after a moment, relaxed and begun to return the kiss, strong hands grasping Sara's buttocks, easily supporting her weight.

Sara's body was alight with desire for the other woman; her skin tingled and her nipples ached as she ground her hips, trying to rub her wet pussy on Sorla's flat stomach.

"Sara!" Sorla said breathlessly, pulling her lips away slightly.

"What is it?" Sara moaned, trying to capture Sorla's bottom lip between her teeth.

"As much as I'm enjoying this, we need to get out of here."

She was right. Nodding, Sara hopped down, hoping they could finish what they started once they got to safety.

They worked together, searching the dead guard but finding nothing of importance. Sorla poked her head out of the cell, looking left and right before waving to Sara, giving the all clear.

Sara followed the curvaceous half-orc down the stone corridor, finding her eyes often drifting to the woman's plump rear which was jiggling delightfully as she trotted along. They were heading away from the direction the Heralds had exited the corridor earlier; Sorla was obviously hoping they could exit the same way they were brought in.

The passage seemed to stretch on forever, turning at right-angles every now and then, with no crossings in sight, only cell after iron-barred cell every few feet, all of them empty. Sorla was cautiously checking every corner before rounding it, but so far they had seen nobody.

Sara wondered how long they had until the Heralds found the dead guard in their cell.

***

***ARAN***

Aran perched up on the corner of the roof, looking down at the two Heralds standing by a wooden cellar door. He had found a convenient alleyway a few doors up, which had allowed him access to the rooftop. Once on the roof, it had not taken long to find the two Heralds guarding a nondescript entrance several houses away from their apparent headquarters.

A few minutes ago, a beacon had shone, coming from the exact direction of Sorla's signal; someone with an incredibly strong Gift was down there somewhere, moving alongside Sorla.

It had to be Sara; there was no other explanation, unless some other Gifted had chosen now to surface. The signal didn't match that of Smythe, Amina, or Elaina, either.

Aran marveled at the girl's strength; already rivalling that of Smythe! Her Gift must have manifested now due to her being in danger, making it more important now than ever to get her to Elaina for training.

The two Heralds below were facing the street with the basement door behind them, but suddenly they turned as if they'd heard something.

Aran could sense Sorla and Sara right on the other side of that door. If they opened it with the two guards right there, they would be sprung.

As one of the guards bent to reach for the handle, Aran quickly assessed the situation. He was two stories up, so a fall wouldn't kill him, but it would disable him, unless he found something to break it.

The Herald's hand touched the rusty handle, and with a muffled curse, Aran dropped from the roof feet-first, landing squarely on the man who was watching his friend open the door. Miraculously, Aran was unhurt, which couldn't be said for the fellow he'd landed on, who was lying unconscious underneath him.

The other Herald turned with a curse, opening his mouth to yell something, but before he could, the cellar door burst open and a very naked Sorla grabbed the man and yanked him down into the opening in a flurry of red and yellow.

There was a muffled scream, then silence.

Looking into the passage, Aran saw Sara -- as naked as Sorla - pulling the man's robe off and draping it over herself, before looking up at him and giving him a wink.

Aran couldn't help but smile down at her. She had changed in the last few hours, and for the better, despite her circumstances. She looked healthier, more attractive, and her Gift had obviously come to life in a major way, blazing like the sun to Aran's eyes.

Seeing Sorla still nude, he dragged the other Herald to the hole and dropped him down the ladder so Sorla could use his robe to cover herself. "Dress quickly," he whispered to them. "I'm not sure how much time we have. Sara, can you shut your Gift down somewhat? Every man from here to Palistair will be noticing you as you are."

Sara looked up at him, confusion painting her features. "Um, I'm not sure, Aran. How do you do it?"

Aran hurriedly gave her basic instructions, telling her to imagine the light reducing down to a small point. She got the hang of it quickly, her Gift all but disappearing after a couple of tries.

"Good," he said, lowering a hand into the entrance. "Now come on, you two. Let's get out of here."

As Aran pulled them up, thunder boomed in the near-distance, and a look at the sky showed thick black clouds rolling slowly over Maralon. Where had this storm come from? The sky had been clear not long ago, or at least he thought it had been; he had been focused on finding the girls, and may have missed the darkening sky.

The wind began to pick up, sending dust and leaves spinning through the streets as Aran quickly shepherded Sara and Sorla away from the cellar door and into the street. Rain had not yet begun to fall, but it would not be long.

***

***MALOTH***

"So where to next, Lord Maloth?" Morin asked him as they sat in the nameless -- now dead -- lord's sitting room in Waterfell. The room was comfortable enough, with padded lounges and a fire blazing on the hearth.

Maloth and Morin were seated opposite each other, studying a map of Palistair -- the small island continent they currently occupied -- that covered most of the large table between them.

Palistair was sizeable enough, roughly resembling an inverted triangle maybe a thousand miles between the northern and southernmost points, if the map was to scale. Interestingly, the whole northern coast looked to be frozen wastes, while the east and west coasts were lined by mountains, making entry to Palistair possible only from the south.

The village of Waterfell sat more or less right in the centre.

"As I understand it," Maloth said, his eyes staying on the map, "anything north of us is negligible, just more hovels and a few farms until you reach the snow, yes?"

"That's right," Morin confirmed. "Waterfell is the last village worth the name between here and the northern tundra."

"Then we should be mobilising south, as soon as your people have done what they need to do." The Wardens would hopefully be finished raising the many corpses of the previous occupants of Waterfell. Kreya was out there currently; as the queen's daughter, she was allowed second choice, after the queen, of course.

"May I join the discussion, my lord?" Shenla asked as she sashayed into the room. Unsurprisingly, she had misplaced her dress, her lush body now fully on display.

"You may," Maloth said, letting his eyes wander over his half-Demon sister, who planted her plump bottom down on the seat next to him, her hip pressed up against his.

Shenla studied the map carefully, her hand drifting onto Maloth's thigh seemingly of its own accord, lightly caressing him through his breeches.

Morin looked on with interest, her dark eyes glittering as she ogled Shenla's ripe body.

"We were just saying, sister," Maloth said, "that we will be moving south as soon as can be arranged, as there is nothing for us in the north."

Shenla nodded thoughtfully as her eyes roved over the map. "What's this place?" She asked, her finger landing on a spot in the west titled 'Gor'dur,' nestled against a mountain range.

"That's an Orc realm," Morin warned. "Most Orcs nowadays can be somewhat civilised, to a point, but the Gor'dur are savages, animals."

"Interesting," Maloth mused as Shenla's fingertips began to caress his hardening cock. "And here?" He asked Morin, fingering another place, this one close to the southern coast, labelled 'Amindaer.'

"That," Morin said, leaning forward, her modest breasts shifting under her transparent black robe, "is Amindaer, the fortress city that protects all of Palistair from invasion, or at least it did before the rest of the world forgot Palistair existed. That's why my people fled here after the War; a backwater land that the rest of the world had forgotten was perfect for us."

Maloth rubbed his chin. "Is this fortress city currently occupied?"

Morin nodded. "It is, by the roughest of men, Dwarves, and even Elves that have fled or been exiled from Ekistair. They are not organised in a military sense, but the fortress is so well constructed that all attempts to route them have failed, and the walls of Amindaer remain unbreached."

"So," Shenla queried, squeezing Maloth's now fully rigid member more firmly. "We rid the place of these ruffians, and we have our own fortress?"

Maloth stood to remove his breeches and shirt so Shenla could better perform her task. Morin watched with hungry eyes as his hands went to his belt. She would remember well the feel of his seed on her skin; as did all women he graced with his essence. "Or, we could convince them to join with us," he said, resuming his seat once fully naked. "They sound like the sort we could use."

Shenla's hand immediately returned to his lap, eagerly grasping his shaft in her black-nailed fingers and stroking him lazily. She sighed when he responded by putting an arm around her shoulders and palming a huge breast, pinching her hard, dark nipple every now and then.

Morin made no pretense that she wasn't enjoying watching them play, slipping a hand under her robe and squeezing her own breast as she responded to Maloth's idea. "It would certainly be much easier to ally with them than force them out, but the choice is yours, Lord Maloth. I trust your judgment."

As Maloth opened his mouth to say more, his vision clouded and an uncomfortable heat spread through him, causing his skin to prickle. Shenla's hand had stopped still on his cock, and she gasped as if she, too, were feeling the same sensations as he.

Suddenly, Maloth was watching a young human man, with sharp blue eyes and dark hair tied back, a slightly curved sword on his hip, crouching on a rooftop and looking down on two men standing in an alley in red and yellow robes.

To Maloth's surprise, the man on the roof smoothly dropped off the edge, breaking his fall on one robed man while the other was snatched into an opening by a naked woman who looked to be half Orc.

Moments later, the man, the half-orc, and another human -- this one a skinny girl -- were hurrying away, the women wearing the robes of the men they'd just accosted.