A Paladin's Training Ch. 14

"Alright, so you know I'm a Paladin," she said calmly, looking them each in the eye. "But I still don't know anything about your brother."

"You may not," the yellow-eyed man breathed as he leaned in closer, his face nearly touching hers. "But your Paladin friend does. My brother's corpse is tainted with his scent."

"I hate to disappoint you," Elaina sneered. "But I don't know where he is."

"You don't need to," the dark woman interjected, looking down at Elaina imperiously. "We harm you bad enough, he will come. We know how to hurt your kind."

Elaina chose not to correct the woman's mistake; she and Aran were not Bonded, so he would not feel anything they did to her, which meant they could hurt her all they liked, and he would never come.

Elaina briefly wished that she Bonded with Aran, so he would come to her aid, but she was also glad she hadn't; he was too important to risk his life trying to save her.

She remained silent, hoping they would think they had her at a disadvantage.

Yellow-eyes barked a laugh. "I have to say, I'm going to enjoy this, whore. We're going to start by letting Leif and Fergin here have a little fun with you." He looked up at his two comrades. "What do you think, boys? Can you ignore the stench of Paladin long enough to enjoy this cunt?"

The two other men stepped forward in response, their cocks still sticking out obscenely before them. Both were long and thick, but the bear-like man's was big enough to use as a club.

Closing her eyes, Elaina prepared her body for what was to come, allowing herself to relax despite her grim situation. Rough hands grabbed her ankles, spreading them wide, while someone loosed her bonds, freeing her hands from the tree so she could be dragged onto her back.

They hooted and hollered as one of the men knelt between her thighs. Opening her eyes a touch, she saw it was the shorter man, Leif, fisting his cock while hungrily eyeing her pussy.

Faster than thought, two things happened; the dark woman suddenly bellowed, "ELVES!" A split second later, Leif roared in pain, clutching the shaft of a feathered arrow that had sprouted between his ribs.

More arrows streaked down from the trees as Elaina's captors began to change, shifting from human to a grotesque mix of human and animal, before becoming the huge beasts she had witnessed at the farmhouse, with the addition of Leif, who had become an enormous black ape, probably the one who had knocked her unconscious.

The massive creatures vanished into the forest to escape the hail of arrows, all of them with at least one shaft decorating their hide.

Two elf women dashed to Elaina as she scrambled to her feet, grabbing her by the arms and dragging her into the trees.

***

The ever-growing army moved slowly south in two long columns -- each five-hundred strong -- under the clouded night sky, bound for Amindaer, the coastal fortress on Palistair's southernmost peninsula.

Kreya rode her black mare, Pale, between the two columns, where Lord Maloth had instructed her to remain until further notice. Alongside her was Glinda, who had been given the same instruction. Kreya chatted idly with the busty dwarf from time to time, though her attention was mostly on her master, where it should be.

Lord Maloth was her entire world now, and rightfully so; any man so great as he surely deserved devoted women around him, ready to serve his every need. Just thinking about serving his needs sent a shiver of pleasure through her body; she had lain with men before Maloth, but had never known such ecstasy as when she was with him. She constantly ached for his touch.

In fact, her body seemed consistently aroused lately, whether or not she was in proximity to Maloth. She didn't mind, as it meant she would always be ready to please him, which in turn made her feel wonderful.

A glance at Glinda, who was gazing adoringly at Maloth riding some distance away at the head of the columns, suggested that the pretty, raven-haired dwarf was thinking the same as she. Kreya did not feel jealous; only happy that Maloth considered her worthy to be a part of his life.

While she had only eyes for her master, he didn't seem to mind if his women enjoyed themselves with others from time to time, which was something that Kreya would never have considered before, but now -- thanks to Maloth -- she found herself quite sexually liberated, and had recently enjoyed the attentions of Torvin, Glinda, and even that big orc, Barrog, which had been quite the experience.

Torvin was up there somewhere, probably glued to Lady Shenla as usual, as was Barrog. Kreya wasn't partial to women, or at least hadn't been until she'd met Maloth, but Lady Shenla certainly had a way about her that drew the eye of men and women alike.

The army of risen dead had doubled since Waterfell, their numbers increasing with every village and town they sacked, the force now numbering just over a thousand, and still growing. It was a perfect asset for Lord Maloth, an army of undead that required no food, or sleep, or protection from the cold.

There was only one major obstacle; there were only so many risen that a Warden of the Grave could command at a time. Most Wardens could handle up to twenty minions at best, depending on their strength, while particularly gifted Wardens like Kreya's mother, Queen Morin, could probably control as many as forty, if she desired. Kreya felt she herself could easily handle that many, though she had never tested her abilities to the limit.

A Warden's strength and skill also determined how well the risen would function; the best Wardens could create minions that could operate nearly as well as the living, able to talk, and even think independently, to some extent.

In Waterfell, Kreya had been allowed second choice of the fresh corpses, after her mother, and had chosen a handsome man and a pretty woman who had worn matching wedding bands. Something had compelled her to choose them over all the others; the thought of them being together in death as they were in life was appealing to her for some reason, and their attractiveness would make them aesthetically pleasing servants, once she organised suitable garments for them.

The married couple were the first risen she'd acquired since her others were destroyed shortly before Maloth had appeared in her life, and she was eager to gain more, provided they were of suitable stock.

There was a raiding party due back soon, which would hopefully bring fresh corpses for her to choose from. Something large and intimidating would be useful, like an orc, or even an ogre. Too much to hope for a giant; they hadn't been seen in this land in decades. The only Warden fortunate enough to own a giant -- or giantess in this case -- was lecherous old Levin, who by some miracle had found her in a lone grave. A wide search had been carried out for the rest of the giantess's tribe in the hope of finding more dead, but nothing had been found.

Kreya's thoughts vanished as Torvin came trotting up on a grey gelding, tailed by a buxom village girl he'd risen in Waterfell. In life she'd had golden hair, but now it was silver-white, falling down around a pretty, ghostly face.

"My Lady," Torvin addressed her, bowing deeply from the saddle. "I have been tasked by Lord Maloth to return to his home and escort two of his women back."

"Very good, Torvin," Kreya said immediately; what Lord Maloth wanted, she would see done.

"I have been instructed to take Barrog with me, and two of our Wardens for security," Torvin added. "Lord Maloth said I should ask you which men to take."

Kreya thought for a moment. Levin came to mind, but it was difficult to move in secret when you were riding on the shoulders of a fifteen-foot tall giantess -- as Levin liked to do -- and Maloth would want this done quietly. Hard enough with one of Maloth's women being a giantess herself. "Take Garvin and Andrick," she told Torvin. "They each have more than five risen, which should be plenty."

Torvin nodded, bowing again. "Excellent, Lady Kreya. I will head out immediately."

Once dismissed, the muscular Warden sped off, his round-hipped minion hurrying after him. He'd been much more respectful of Kreya since the Wardens had allied with Maloth, given that not only was she royalty in her own right as a Warden, she was also one of Lord Maloth's personal concubines, which had lifted her status considerably.

All in all, Kreya felt like the pieces were moving in her favour.

***

The network of tunnels beneath Maralon was complex, twisting and turning and often branching off into forks, though none of this appeared to bother Sylvia, who confidently led Aran, Sara and Sorla through the grey stone passages as if she'd been born in them.

After he'd asked the half-elf how she managed not to get lost, she started to point out small symbols scratched into the stone, so tiny that one would miss them unless they knew what to look for. According to Sylvia, Maralon had once held a grand Temple of Aros, and these tunnels were leading them to the lower levels of what was left of it.

Eventually they arrived at a dead end, a flat stone wall preventing them from going further. Splaying her fingers out wide, Sylvia pressed them onto the stone at specific points, and the wall depressed before sliding to the side with a deep rumble.

Inside was a large, square chamber, maybe fifty feet across and surprisingly well furnished, complete with padded armchairs, a long dining table, bookshelves, stand lamps and carpets, giving the whole room a comfortable, lived-in feel.

Three people rose from their chairs as Aran, Sorla and Sara followed Sylvia inside; the first a kind-faced man perhaps just past his middle years, but still fit, with salt-and-pepper hair. The second a stunning elf woman, tall and graceful and borderline voluptuous, with her hair tied back and big brown eyes. The third was a dwarf woman, curved enough to make the elf look thin, with auburn hair tumbling about her pretty face.

All three of them, Aran was delighted to see -- especially on the women -- wore the traditional, effectively transparent robes of the Order, which meant that the elf's and dwarf's bodies were more or less completely visible.

That same sense of kinship arose again, a sense of belonging, as if he were reuniting with family he hadn't seen for a long time.

The three Servants had concerned looks on their faces at first, which Sylvia addressed immediately. "So, I went up to see what those alarms were all about," she began excitedly.

"They're Gifted," the elf whispered before Sylvia could continue.

The half-elf clicked her tongue in exasperation. "Thanks, Mother! I was getting to that part!"

"I thought I sensed them earlier, but I dared not hope." This from the dwarf, who's round face was split by a beaming smile.

The man bowed, hands crossed over his chest, and the women followed suit. "We welcome you warmly, Paladins," he said in a deep, strong voice.

Aran bowed back, receiving their welcome in the same fashion and using the traditional words. "It is an honour, Servants."

Sorla responded not as Aran had, but with that same complex hand gesture she'd exchanged with Sylvia, which the other three Servants returned.

Aran would have to ask her about that; neither Elaina, Smythe or Amina had taught him anything of this strange sign language.

Sara simply said; "I'm not a Paladin, but I'm supposed to start learning soon. I like your robes." Her eyes were very pointedly aimed at the older man's crotch.

The man laughed a deep, rich laugh. "Why thank you, young Gifted. These," he said, indicating his attire, "are the traditional robes of the Order of Aros. You must forgive me, I sensed your Gift and assumed you were trained."

"An easy mistake to make," Aran said kindly. "She has just awakened, and is already more powerful than she knows. With training, she will shine even brighter."

Sara flashed him a warm smile, her blue eyes sparkling. Aran couldn't believe how much she'd changed in just a few hours; almost by the minute, she was becoming healthier, more vibrant, both physically and energetically.

Formalities done, the elf came forward, her hips and considerable breasts swaying beneath her robe as she approached Aran. She was more full-figured than Induin and Liaren, so Aran supposed she was somewhat older, though how much he couldn't guess. Her hair was done in the same way as her daughter's, but was brown instead of golden. She pressed her body into his as she hugged him, kissing him on each cheek, then firmly on the lips before whispering into his ear; "I am Lynelle."

She smelled lightly of spring flowers, Aran noticed as his hands automatically came around to the small of her back to hold her close. "Aran," he said, smiling as he lost himself in her brown eyes.

No sooner had the elf gently vacated his embrace -- moving to greet Sara and Sorla -- than the dwarf stepped forward to take her place, the shorter woman encircling her arms around Aran's waist and pressing her cheek up against his chest. Their height difference meant that her very substantial dwarven bosom was firmly nestled against his crotch, which immediately began to respond.

She giggled as she felt him harden against her, looking up at him with pretty blue eyes. She had a soft, kindly face. "I'm Liddea."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Liddea," Aran responded quietly, smiling down at her. He couldn't place her age, but thought she was at least a couple of years older than he.

She giggled again, tightening her grip so her soft breasts were pushed harder against him. "I can tell!"

The man stepped forward next, clasping arms with Aran before giving him a firm hug. "I am Erik," he said simply.

Aran thought he quite liked this fellow; he had a confident, assured way about him, as if he was used to command, or at least leading people. "Aran. It's an honour, Erik."

As Erik moved to embrace Sorla, who had just disentangled herself from a very intimate embrace with Lynelle, Sylvia appeared before Aran.

"We haven't been introduced properly," she said with a coy smile.

Now that he had met Sylvia's mother, Aran could see the resemblance. Both women had beautiful features; their faces slender, with high cheekbones, full lips and petite noses. The only real difference was their eyes; Lynelle's brown against Sylvia's green.

In response, Aran held his arms out, and the half-elf girl happily bounced into his them, clutching him tightly.

"Ah, that's better!" She murmured into his chest. "I've been wanting to hug you since I first saw you. You just feel so... solid."

Aran let her enjoy the moment, holding her against him until she was ready to move. The others, having finished their introductions, chatted quietly until Aran and Sylvia were finished, after which Erik suggested that they make themselves at home.

*

In short order, Aran, Sorla and Sara were garbed in traditional robes and seated at a long wooden table big enough for everyone. Aran was at the head, with Sorla on his left and Sara next to her.

Aran had been concerned about Sara's reaction to wearing a robe, but she had taken to it willingly, smiling to herself as she smoothed the silky fabric over her slim body.

Sylvia -- having vanished some time ago -- appeared again in her own robe, her lithe, slim form on display. She was a shorter, more compact form of her mother; her breasts and bottom smaller and pleasingly perky.

Lynelle sat at table with them next to Aran, and Sylvia sat next to Sara, while Erik and Liddea prepared food in a back room they had made into a makeshift kitchen. Aran had offered to help, but had been waved away vigorously.

"This is darkwood!" Aran said suddenly as he recognised the deep brown wood the table was carved from.

"Indeed it is," Lynelle said. "It had been in Erik's family for generations. He had it brought down here when we went into hiding, not wanting to lose it."

It was almost identical to the table from the Chapel. Nostalgia rolled over Aran as he thought fondly of his days training with Elaina. He looked forward to seeing her when she arrived in Maralon.

"Who is she?" Erik asked Aran as he reached over Sorla to place a plate of dark bread on the table.

Aran wasn't sure what the man meant. "Who do you mean?"

"Well," Erik said, "every time I've seen a man with a look like that on his face, he's usually been thinking about a woman."

Aran chuckled. Had he been that obvious? "My former mentor, Elaina," he explained. "She's on her way here to escort Sara back for training. I'm just looking forward to seeing her again."

While it was true he'd visited Elaina on the plane of Aros only last night, he wanted to see her in person, and hopefully Bond with her, if she was ready.

"His heart swells when he thinks of her," Sorla added, addressing Erik, but smiling warmly at Aran.

Lynelle's eyes flicked back and forth between Aran and Sorla. "So, the two of you are Bonded, then?"

"Since last night," Aran replied, grinning at Sorla, who placed a hand on his knee.

Lynelle sighed. "I've always wanted to be Bonded to someone, to know what it's like."

"You may just get your chance," Aran told her. "I have it on good authority that Gifted are starting to appear again, just like Sara, here. We just need to find them."

"Actually, I've been meaning to mention," Erik began, "that we think there may be one or two more Gifted in Maralon, aside from you and Sara, of course. We've felt them from time to time, though not in the past few days. Whenever we've surfaced to search for them, we've turned up empty-handed."

"Really?" Aran asked, getting a nod from both Erik and Lynelle. "Then we should make finding them our top priority."

"Agreed," Erick replied. "But if I may, I would suggest waiting until tomorrow, with the Heralds on high alert as they are."

Aran saw the wisdom in the man's words.

"If it helps," Lynelle offered, "you may use our network. We can get messages to Servants in Maralon, as well as other towns and cities fairly easily."

Aran couldn't believe his luck. "You mean you've stayed connected with other Servants all this time?"

Erik nodded, but it was Lynelle who answered. "Some of us did, but not all of us. It can be difficult to do without being discovered, especially with the Heralds of Dawn on the rise. I wish we had've known Sorla was right under our noses all this time."

"As do I," Sorla said kindly. "But if I were down here with you, I never would have met Aran."

"All things happen for a reason," Erik said wisely, squeezing Sorla on the shoulder before making his way back to the kitchen.

Soon enough, Liddea and Erik returned from the kitchen bearing several plates of meats and vegetables. Setting everything down, they took their places at the two remaining seats; Erik at the opposite head to Aran, and Liddea next to Sylvia.

As they ate, they formed possible plans for how to go about moving through the city unnoticed, and the best way to locate the elusive Gifted.

Quietly, Aran took a moment to appreciate what he was seeing; how long had it been since this many members of the Order had eaten a meal together? Two hundred years? More?

He dearly hoped to one day see the Order thrive again, but there was much work to do first.

*

The past week living beneath Maralon had been a busy one. Aran and Sylvia -- being the best suited to the job -- had been out regularly, gathering information and seeking the Gifted they'd been sensing from time to time.

He'd grown quite fond of the cute half-elf as they'd worked together; she was quick-witted, clever and capable, and possessed a healthy proclivity for mischief. Aran had had to reign her in once or twice up in the city before she could perform some practical joke or other at the expense of the Heralds.