A Paladin's Training Ch. 14

She stepped back hastily -- those jaws would snap her leg like a twig -- as a second volley of arrows rained down, each one finding it's target, leaving the wolf lying on the forest floor, it's breath coming in laboured pants.

Howls once again echoed through the forest from behind her; the other druids were not done yet, it seemed.

"Run!" A male elf yelled from above. "We can't fight them all!"

Leaving the wolf where it was, Elaina took off, following the elves as they dashed through the canopy.

***

Braith lay on the soft mulch of the forest floor, his breath coming in short gasps. The wolf wanted to panic, to struggle, but Braith knew better; at least one of his lungs was punctured, and any movement would likely make it worse.

He'd been stupid, letting his rage over his brother's death rule him, and now, here he was. He doubted he would survive, but if he did, he would see these elves dead, their homes burned to the ground.

Had he taken the wounds in human form, it would simply be a matter of changing to the wolf and his wounds would be restored, but unfortunately, it didn't work both ways. Changing back now would surely kill him, as his human form would be unable to survive the injuries.

Leif came thundering up, the knuckles of his huge fists drumming the ground, the others following close behind, all with several arrows sticking out of them. Leif seemed to have gotten off the best, with only two shafts adorning his body; one in his chest and the other in his shoulder, while Fergin sported more than ten, his thick brown fur heavy with blood. Both Fionn and Lyrra had been hit less than Fergin, but more than Leif.

Leif's leathery face grimaced as he pulled the arrows from himself before changing to human and then back again. His wounds now gone, he swaggered over to Fergin, who growled warningly at the big ape before allowing him to start plucking the shafts free.

Once Fergin was healed, the women were next, and soon they stood in human form, looking down gravely at Braith.

Braith knew what was coming; they would either leave him to die, or kill him now and choose a new leader from among the four of them. Such was the way of the wild.

Lyrra spoke first. "We should at least try. If he survives, he deserves to stay leader."

The others nodded firmly.

Braith didn't understand. Why were they not killing him? His clan knelt around him and began ripping arrows free. He remained silent despite the searing pain that lanced through him as each arrowhead was dragged out, further tearing his flesh. Leif had to change back to the ape briefly for the strength to turn him over so they could get to the arrows on his other side, most of which had snapped where Braith had fallen on them.

Once clear of arrows, Braith changed back, bellowing hoarsely as his weaker human form felt the full brunt of his wounds. His vision darkened as he struggled just to breath, staring at the canopy overhead.

"Change back, fool!" Fionn shouted, her dark face angry as she knelt over him.

"You don't get to die, yet," Fergin growled.

Cold began to creep over Braith as he lay there, succumbing to the darkness. He had not the strength to change again, it was too late.

Then Lyrra said something that penetrated his fogging mind. "Braith, I have a child inside me."

Hope surged in him, a brief flicker of life that he seized onto like a drowning man to a branch. Gritting his teeth, he began to shift back to the wolf, throwing the last of his life force into the change.

Miraculously, it worked; he was the wolf again, and he was now restored. Immediately shifting back again, he sat up, grasping Lyrra's face in his hands. What she'd said was something none of them had dared hope to hear; for the last few decades, no matter how often they'd tried, Fionn and Lyrra -- the only females in their clan -- had not gotten with child.

"How long have you known?"

"Not long," she said quietly. "I've felt different inside, these last few weeks. At first I wasn't sure, but now I am."

"You're a fool!" Braith growled at her, his face nearly touching hers. "You could have taken an arrow to the belly today!"

"Braith," Fionn said gently, laying a hand on his arm. "She wanted blood over Aiden as much as you did, perhaps more."

"I think the child may be Aiden's," Lyrra whispered. "We were off hunting together several weeks back, and one morning I woke up sick. After that, I knew something was happening inside me."

Braith looked into her golden eyes for a long moment before releasing her. He stood, turning to regard his small, but powerful clan. "Our brother Aiden dies, and leaves us a hope that we might yet survive."

The others rose to stand around him, listening to his words.

"We are the last of our kind. We survived because we were the strongest, the smartest, the fastest. That is the way of our people. We live by the laws of nature, and we die by the same laws. Our plan has just changed; moments ago, I would have ordered us to hunt down the Paladin whore, and kill as many fucking elves as we could in the process."

The others growled eagerly at that.

"But now," Braith continued, "we have a hope, and we must protect that hope with all our fury. Yes, the Paladins and the elves will suffer, but first, we protect the clan. We protect Lyrra."

Following Braith's lead, the clan returned to their animal forms, and with one last howl of defiance for the elves, they disappeared into the approaching twilight, bound for their home, Shadowglen.

***

Elaina turned to look back at the Emerin Forest as distant howls floated across the river, borne on the cool evening breeze. Once she and the elves had reached the riverbank, they'd all boarded the long rowboat the elves had left there, and one of them had graciously provided her with a cloak, which she kept tight against the wind.

The river -- which marked the border of the forest -- was wide, maybe two hundred yards or more, and crossing it took some time. Two elves on each side steadily pulled the oars while the others kept a sharp watch in every direction, arrows knocked.

Elaina sat opposite the two pretty young elf women who had pulled her away from the druids, and they were eyeing her curiously. They looked identical -- twins, probably -- but one had silver hair and emerald eyes, while the other had hair of deep brown and eyes of clear blue.

"Thank you for getting me out of there," Elaina said, feeling no small amount of gratitude.

The twins exchanged a glance, the silver-haired one asking her sister, "do you think it could be her?"

The other one shrugged, looking at Elaina again before answering. "How many others could there be?"

"She fits the description," said silver-hair.

"She certainly does," brown-hair replied, giving Elaina a sly wink and a grin.

"I can see why he likes her," silver-hair added.

"Who wouldn't?" From brown-hair.

They continued in their back-and-forth for some time, interrupting Elaina every time she opened her mouth to interject.

Eventually, Elaina's frustration got the better of her. "If you don't mind!" She burst out, "I'd like to know what in the world you're talking about!"

The twins stared at her in stunned silence, before they erupted in laughter, slapping their thighs and leaning against one another.

"We're sorry," silver-hair said, wiping a tear from her eye. "We couldn't help it. I admit, our sense of humour is strange to some people."

Elaina felt that that was an understatement.

"I am Liaren," the brown-haired twin said with a friendly smile. "And this is my sister, Induin."

Mollified, Elaina put her hand out. "Elaina Fairblade. Thanks again for helping me before."

"We were lucky to find you, eruchen," said Induin. "We were out patrolling our borders when we picked up signs of the Druids. It's been a long time since we've seen Druids, and we've never seen that many together."

Eruchen. Wasn't that elvish for 'godchild' or something like it? That could only mean one thing. "You know I'm a Paladin? How?"

"The eruchen have been gone for a long time," Liaren explained. "But our people remember much."

Elaina supposed that were true; elves did not die of old age. "That makes sense," she said slowly. Suddenly something clicked into place; something Aran had said when they were together on the Plane months ago. "You are both Bonded to Aran, aren't you?"

The pretty twins nodded as one.

"And somehow, you are Bonded you to each other also?"

Again they nodded.

Curiosity bubbled up in Elaina; she had many questions about this strange secondary Bond, but at that moment, the boat slid onto the sand of the opposite riverbank, meaning their ride was at an end.

The other elves on board nimbly disembarked.

"Come, eruchen," Liaren said warmly as she stood. "Let us treat you to the hospitality of the elves!"

Eager to get out of the cold, Elaina let them lead her into the dense island forest these wood-elves called home.

***

Maloth trotted Shadow through the camp, caring little for anyone stupid enough to step into the stallion's way; he was a trained war horse, and his teeth and hooves were weapons as surely as Maloth's sword, something a few unlucky Wardens had experienced while on the march.

The camp was fairly large, with Maloth's big, lavish tent in the centre alongside Morin's, which was only slightly smaller. The two centre tents were ringed by the Warden's, their risen dead either standing attention at the front, or occupying the inside with their master.

No few of those tents shook with a telling rhythm; these Wardens were like perverted rabbits, never missing a chance to copulate with their minions, the women just as bad as the men.

Maloth cared not, as long as they were ready to fight when he needed them. They were ordered to rest in rotating shifts, anyway; the last thing he needed was the camp being overrun due to horny Wardens not keeping watch.

It was a strange power they had, these Wardens, being able to raise the dead. When he'd first heard about it, Maloth had had visions of grotesque, rotting corpses shambling about, barely able to move, let alone fight, but most of these risen were physically whole and capable, making rather useful servants and soldiers.

It was his curiosity about the extent of this power that had Maloth headed back to his tent, where he'd ordered Kreya to wait for him. Her two new minions were standing guard outside the tent, ghostly white eyes regarding him as he approached.

Kreya had apparently found some suitable garb for them, at least by Warden standards; the man now wore only a black loincloth, while the woman bore a few thin strips of black fabric that only partially covered her modest breasts and her sex.

The two undead guards saluted as he approached. "Lord Maloth!"

So, they could speak, then. From what Maloth knew, only the more skilled Wardens could produce risen that had the power of speech. Interesting.

The tent was large, and Maloth stepped in without having to duck. Inside were Kreya and Glinda, both naked and pleasuring each other, the Warden lying on top of the dwarf, their heads between each other's thighs.

Kreya's head was pointed in Maloth's direction, and she looked up immediately, her face shining with Glinda's juices. "My Lord!" She exclaimed, scrambling to her feet and hurrying over to him.

Glinda followed, her mountainous breasts bouncing as she skipped over.

The two women embraced him from either side, running their hands over him adoringly.

"Undress me," he commanded, looking down at them.

They obeyed immediately, pulling off his shirt, then his boots, removing his breeches last. When he was naked, they patiently awaited further orders, standing before him with the flush of arousal plain on their faces. They had adopted submissive poses, with their hands clasped behind their bottoms, their chests thrust out proudly for his viewing pleasure, Glinda's chest by far the more impressive.

"Kreya, we have work to do," he told them. "You and I are going to test your powers to see what they are capable of when combined with mine."

Kreya nodded eagerly. "Of course, Master."

"Glinda," he continued. "You are going to please me while I work with Kreya."

Glinda beamed happily. "Yes, my Lord!"

Taking a seat on the plush rugs decorating the floor, Maloth motioned the women over, gesturing for Glinda to sit next to him, and Kreya to sit facing him.

It was time to find out if his suspicions about the Warden's powers -- and his own -- were true.

"Kreya," he began. "Summon your magic."

As Kreya raised her hands and began to trace shapes in the air, Maloth seized a handful of Glinda's hair and pulled her face into his lap, where she happily took his hardening cock into her mouth.

A purple light appeared, taking shape as a glyph, hanging in the air between Maloth and Kreya.

"What is that?" Maloth asked.

"It is a simple ward," Kreya explained. "Used for protection from wayward risen."

Maloth had never seen a risen disobey it's Warden. "Why do you need this ward? The risen seem obedient, to me."

"It's for when a Warden is first learning the Art, my Lord. Control comes with practice, and the first few risings are quite often dangerous to the Warden."

Nodding thoughtfully, Maloth studied the glowing glyph. There was a strange air about it, as if it were a familiar voice just beyond earshot.

With Glinda eagerly sucking him and caressing his heavy balls, his dark lust was rising quickly. Letting it grow, he reached out a hand and touched the glyph, which sparked violently in response, before turning a deep red, then back to purple, but this time with crimson veins branching through it.

Kreya gasped, her eyes wide. "My Lord! What did you do?"

Maloth didn't answer. It would seem his power was in some way compatible with Kreya's, but to what extent?

He ordered Kreya to summon one of her minions inside, which she did immediately, calling the scantily clad risen woman.

Maloth had once asked himself what might happen if he Bound a risen, but had not had the time to consider it properly until recently. If he was right...

The pretty undead entered the tent, standing to attention before them. Without looking down, Maloth pulled Glinda off him by the hair and stood.

"Kreya," he asked quietly, not taking his eyes off the risen woman. "What is the glyph you use when creating these creatures?"

"This one, my Lord," Kreya replied, immediately standing and moving to Maloth's side. A few seconds later, another purple glyph hung in the air, somewhat different to the last one.

Reaching into his power once again, he extended a hand and touched one finger to the glyph, which responded in the same fashion as earlier, but this time he placed his other hand on the risen woman's chest, using himself as a conduit between Warden and minion.

The result was instant. The woman screamed as she threw her head back, her back arching to the point that Maloth expected to hear a snap. Red-black tendrils snaked across her skin, radiating out from Maloth's hand until they were webbed across her entire body, glowing and pulsing, contrasting sharply with her pale grey complexion.

The risen continued to scream as she grew taller, to more than six feet, and her womanly features became more exaggerated; her breasts, hips, buttocks and thighs all expanding in proportion to her new height. Her hair remained the same wispy white, but when she finally stopped screaming and brought her head forward again, her eyes had changed.

Glowing red had replaced the ghostly white of the risen's eyes, which were fixed intently on Maloth as he took in his new creation. The statuesque being stood confidently, hands on cocked hips, radiating an intense sexual aura. The strips of fabric she'd been wearing had snapped during her transformation, unable to contain her breasts and hips as they grew.

The veins had formed a symmetrical pattern -- flowing curves accentuated by sharp points in places - across her face and body that resembled the glyph Kreya had produced moments ago.

Kreya just stared in amazement, her mouth open.

All in all, this appeared to be a very successful experiment.

The risen licked her lips as she ran her eyes over Maloth. "How may I be of service, my Lord?"

***

Author's note: Thanks for reading guys. I appreciate the positive and constructive feedback you've been leaving, which has been helping me develop the story. Cheers! - Anti.