A Paladin's Training Ch. 18

'No!' Aran screamed in his own mind as he fought the dark lust rising inside him once again. This had happened before, when he'd seen this woman in his last vision. Whatever powers she had, they were dangerous.

As Aran struggled to conquer the desire threatening to overtake his mind, the woman stood up, leaving the dark elf's impressive cock waving slickly in the air as she turned to watch the other couple.

Maloth had turned the dark elf woman over and inserted himself into her ass, and now he was reaming her roughly, perhaps unnecessarily roughly, except that it looked like she was enjoying it.

Aran watched as the impossibly beautiful woman straddled the dark elf and sat down on her back while Maloth continued his furious pumping. The rose-skinned woman lifted a massive breast in each hand and offered them to Maloth, which he eagerly began to devour.

They looked so similar in face and form, these two creatures, that Aran no longer doubted that they were twin siblings, which marked them as the half-demon offspring of Darius Sunblade and Morgeth the Corruptor.

It also marked them as Aran's blood kin.

Unable to tear his eyes away, he watched the demon woman lie down on top of the dark elf's back and open her legs for Maloth, who quickly pulled free of the elf's ass and slid himself deep into the waiting pussy of his twin.

*

Aran awoke frustrated, and not just because these visions were giving him no clue as to the whereabouts of these demons. The other thing that bothered him was the way he'd nearly been overwhelmed by the demon woman; the dark lust had been so tempting, so inviting, so sweet.

Is that the power these creatures wielded? Some dark perversion of the Gift of Aros? If Aran, a trained Paladin had struggled to resist, then what chance could an ordinary person have? Maloth and his sister must be gathering power quickly indeed, for there would be few -- perhaps none -- who could withstand such a seductive energy.

Aran got to his feet without disturbing Liddea, who had been cuddled up beside him by the dying fire. The others were all sleeping, clustered together under their cloaks nearby. Aran didn't know how long he'd slept, but the pre-dawn had not yet touched the eastern sky. He was tempted to wake everyone and move on immediately, but decided to let them sleep another hour.

No longer in the mood for sleep, Aran scooped up his sword and moved off a short way to practice until it was time to break camp. His mind was working as well as his body as he flowed smoothly through his forms in the way Smythe had taught him.

His thoughts moved through his consciousness like water down a river, appearing and then vanishing in the moment, never lingering too long. The Heralds, the demons, the Servants, Elaina, all drifting past as he worked. His thoughts also turned to the last time he'd killed men, when Sara and Sylvia had been in danger. Anger bubbled hotly in his gut as he remembered the men who had intended to violate a defenceless Sylvia.

Lost in the moment, Aran was unaware that his blade had begun to hum softly as it sliced the air, a pulsing rhythm that danced in time with his simmering fury. He worked his body harder, doubling his speed, somewhat amazed in the back of his mind how precise he remained, even at this pace. The weapon felt as if it were coming alive, almost as if it wanted to pull itself into each swing, each thrust.

It was the glow that stopped him in mid-swing, and he stood frozen, studying the way his blade had changed from silvery steel to orange-red, for all the world as if it had been stuck back in a forge-fire. Indeed, a fierce heat emanated from the blade, which hissed faintly in the night air, but strangely the hilt remained cool.

All Gift-forged weapons revealed their powers eventually, but what had triggered this? Moments ago he had felt angry, furious even, toward those that would do harm to his friends, and the blade had begun to awaken.

A memory flashed, of Aran standing over the watchman that had intended to rape Sylvia, his blade against the man's throat. He remembered seeing the truth in the fellow's eyes, about how many women he'd preyed upon. Then Aran had taken his head.

The blade hissed fiercely as if in response to the memory, shining like a beacon in the night, the colour lightening from orange-red to yellow-white, radiating incredible heat.

"What is that?"

Aran turned to see Sara standing a short way off, shielding her eyes with a hand. "It would seem my blade has awakened."

"It's incredible!" She breathed, stepping closer and gingerly holding a hand towards the glowing sword. "So hot! Is it burning your hand?"

Aran shook his head. "No, it's quite comfortable, really." Curious, he gingerly touched a finger to the hot steel, but to his skin it felt cool.

Smythe had taught him that once his weapon awoke, he could give it a name, but for the life of him he couldn't think of anything as good as 'Lightbringer,' which was the name of Smythe's enormous blade.

The glowing weapon hissed, and Aran listened, hoping some clue would come to him. What had been feeling just now? Anger, fury, rage even, but none of those sounded right.

"Oroth," came a second voice, a lilting, pleasant melody. Lynelle stepped closer, smiling as she beheld Aran and Sara.

"Oroth?" Sara asked.

"We elves were once revered as master smiths," Lynelle said quietly. "Similar to the dwarves, but our crafts were elegant and graceful, where theirs were sturdy, strong and stark. Our steel was fine, and did not rust or turn dull with time or use. We had an affinity something like your Gift-forging, Aran, which gave us the power to give some form of life, or character to what we were making." Lynelle's gaze was fixed on the sword, and she was close enough now that her beautiful face was illuminated by the glow. "This blade sings a song, Aran, of fire and rage, of fierce love and hope, a warning to those who would stand against what you represent, and a promise of swift retribution if they do."

A single word burned itself into Aran's mind. "Oroth," he whispered. It was word he'd never heard before, yet it sounded familiar, like he'd always known it.

Lynelle smiled at him. "Yes, Oroth suits. It's Old Elvish, and in the common tongue it means 'righteous, mighty fury,' or thereabouts. Translations are sometimes difficult."

"Oroth," Aran said again, louder this time, and the blade seemed to sigh in contentment as the glow slowly receded until it was back to normal, cold steel.

"I feel like something very important just happened," Sara said slowly, looking between Aran and Lynelle.

Aran agreed, though he couldn't say exactly what had changed. A glance at the sky showed him that dawn was approaching. It was time to move. "Let's wake the others and get moving," he said as he sheathed Oroth at his hip. He was half-concerned about the leather scabbard catching fire, but for all appearances, the blade appeared back to normal.

Sara and Lynelle quickly woke Sorla, Liddea, Sylvia and Erik, and soon the party was on the move once again, climbing into the foothills of the Karvani Mountains where Amina awaited.

***

Maloth sat alone in his tent, staring at his hands. Large, crimson and strong they were, much like the rest of him. He flexed his fingers, feeling the new power that flowed through every muscle, every joint and bone. Binding Adelain had increased his harem to five women, each one bringing him more power.

Was there a limit to his abilities? Or would he continue to grow stronger without end? The increase in power had also made him aware that his pets must be kept safe at all costs; if any of them died, he would lose part of the power he had worked so hard to gain. If they all died...

He cast the thought from his mind and turned to more constructive things. He had sent the two Morgai and a handful of Wardens to scout out Amindaer Fortress to the south. If it was as impenetrable as Morin seemed to think, then he wanted to know as much about it as he could. They should be back anytime, now; it had been two days.

Thunder rumbled outside, booming across the plains and heralding yet another storm. They had been frequent, in the last several days, bringing howling winds and torrential rain, but oddly the camp had remained undamaged. Maloth rather enjoyed the wild tempests, they sang to him, as if their fury were a symbol of his rising power.

An unpleasant flash of warmth suddenly flared inside him, causing his skin to prickle and sweat to break out from his pores. His vision was roughly dragged to another place, where he was looking down on several people riding through hills. Maloth recognised the young man leading the group from the last time this strange vision had occurred, with the sword on his hip and his long hair tied back with a leather cord.

There was one other man in the group, and five attractive women. One of the women looked to be Elvish, and another Dwarven, and another human, while the two others looked to be half-breeds of some kind, perhaps of Orc and Elvish stock.

Maloth watched as the only human woman -- a beautiful, brown haired creature -- rode up beside the leader to speak with him. Somehow, Maloth was able to hear them.

"Aran," the woman said. "We were thinking of stopping for a quick meal."

Aran... There must be something important about this fellow, or Maloth was having these visions for no reason, which would make no sense.

Aran looked over at the woman and smiled. "Good idea, I'm famished!"

The woman laughed at that. "You're always famished!"

As the vision faded and his sight refocused back to the inside of his tent, Maloth tried to place their location, but there were no landmarks around to offer a clue. Chances were, they were in Ekistair, the major continent across the sea which Maloth hoped to venture for once he'd conquered what this land -- Palistair -- had to offer.

The tent flap was shoved aside and the Morgai entered, tall and imposing, yet extremely attractive. They had been provided with clothing, but seemed to prefer displaying their rune-covered, perfectly sculpted bodies.

Maloth's cock twitched in his lap as he regarded the female, in particular her massive breasts, thick thighs and round hips, not to mention her smooth, hairless sex. In place of eyes, the Morgai possessed glowing red spheres, and hers seemed to burn with lust and promise as she watched his cock slowly rising. Maloth had not fucked this Morgai woman yet, but he supposed he would soon, to satisfy his curiosity.

"My Lord Maloth!" The Morgai said in unison, saluting him with a hand to chest.

"What news?" Maloth demanded as he rose smoothly from the floor.

The male spoke first. "Amindaer is impressive, my Lord. A true fortress city built into the very rock of the land. It would take many men to overtake it."

"How many live there?"

The woman answered this time. She'd moved her saluting hand from the middle of her chest to her mountainous breast, and was squeezing idly as she spoke. "Perhaps as many as ten thousand, my Lord. And it seems relatively well guarded."

Ten thousand? Perhaps he should seek an audience with their king, and have Shenla seduce him, rather than throw his own smaller army at them. He needed a better idea of what this fortress looked like. Without thinking, he approached the Morgai woman and placed a hand on her chest.

She sighed at the touch and reached for his now fully engorged cock. "Now, this is what I've been waiting for," she said with a moan as she began to stroke him expertly.

Ignoring her hand, Maloth placed his other hand against her forehead and listened. He didn't know what he was doing, only that it felt like it would work, and sure enough, flashes of the Morgai's recent memories filled his mind, as if he were seeing them through her eyes.

Filtering out what was useless -- most of it was her staring at men, in particular himself or her fellow Morgai -- Maloth quickly found what he needed. Amindaer was a fortress-city indeed, a sprawling mass of sand-coloured stone built into a mountain range which divided land and sea. High stone walls surrounded the entire city bar the seaward side, and in the centre was the palace, an enormous, grand structure of the same stone with domes and spires reaching high into the air.

Yes, this place could hold ten thousand people, and more besides. "Soldiers?"

"We saw patrols," the male replied in his bass voice. "We estimate roughly two-thousand, though they appear poorly organised. It's unknown how many are inside the walls."

Two thousand soldiers would be no match for his army on open ground, but if they were in a fortified city it greatly reduced his chances at success. He would need an audience with their king -- a self-appointed bandit who had managed to scrape together enough support to take control of the city and keep it -- as quickly as could be arranged. He would need a show of force, but to impress, not intimidate.

"Send for Shenla, Berenor and Morin at once," he commanded the Morgai male while the female continued to pull on his shaft. With a king and queen at his side, surely the bandit lord would meet with him.

Thoughts of war were temporarily driven from his mind when the male Morgai left the tent to carry out his instructions, leaving Maloth and the female alone.

Her glowing eyes regarded him, and there was a sultry curl to her full lips. "What does my master wish of me?" She purred, bringing her other hand down to cup his heavy sack.

Maloth's eyes roved over his creation as she pleasured him with soft, skilled hands. She truly was a work of art, perfect in physical form as well as intelligent and self-aware. He cupped her breast in his hand, finding that even his large hands could not fully capture the soft orb.

"Mmmm," she moaned, arching her back and stroking his length more insistently. After a moment, she stepped back and removed her hands from him before slowly swaying across the tent to the long war table, exaggerating the sway of her ample hips for his enjoyment. Her large, firm ass jiggled just a little as she walked, and Maloth watched with interest.

Turning her back to the table, she planted her buttocks on the surface and leaned back on her hands, thrusting her huge breasts outward and opening her plush thighs in invitation. Her outer lips were thick and puffy, and her slit was glistening with her wetness. A small angular rune decorated the skin just above her cunt, looking almost like an arrow giving direction. She crooked a finger and smiled lasciviously. "Come and take me, my Lord. I am ready."

The tent blurred as Maloth moved with a speed he did not know he possessed until that moment. One second he was standing on the other side of the tent, and the next he was standing in between her smooth thighs with the angry head of cock pressed firmly up against the slick warmth of her sex. He was ready to fuck her, yes, but the thing that concerned him was that she was setting the tone. He would need to teach her who was in charge.

She moaned seductively and wiggled her hips, trying to push herself onto him, but he withdrew his hips slightly and seized her throat with a black-nailed hand. "Do not overstep yourself, Morgai," he growled. "I will fuck you as I see fit, and you will be grateful for the experience."

She shuddered from head to toe, her breasts wobbling on her chest as her breath hitched. Maloth almost smiled in satisfaction. The bitch had just climaxed from that very statement alone, and he had not yet used his magic on her. A truly marvelous creation, indeed.

Still clutching her throat, he shoved his hips forward and buried himself to the hilt in one thrust. The feeling was indescribable; her velvet channel was hotter than any other creature he'd fucked, and it seemed to mold itself around him to provide the maximum pleasure, squeezing him in multiple places at once. The only pussy that could beat this was Shenla's.

Maloth began to fuck the Morgai with long, powerful strokes, and the solid wooden war table rocked each time his hips smacked into her thighs. He shoved her roughly onto her back and took up two handfuls of those mountainous breasts, digging his nails into the soft flesh as he rammed his cock home again and again.

The Morgai was screaming continually with the pleasure, or perhaps it was pain -- Maloth cared not -- and her pussy gushed hot fluid onto him several times as they rutted on the table.

Maloth had to give her credit; she was taking everything he could give her and was still pushing back against him as if she wanted more.

If more was what she wanted, then he would give her more, until she begged for mercy. He stepped back a little, withdrawing his slick length from her hungry cunt despite her cry of disappointment. Gripping the outside of her luscious thighs, he flipped her over onto her stomach, so her wide rump was presented to him.

She giggled with glee and wiggled her ass back at him, the runes on the skin of her back, buttocks and thighs glowing hotly like coals in a breeze. "Ah, this is better, my Lord!" She purred. "Fuck me like a dog in heat!"

Maloth's hand came down hard on the right cheek, leaving an imprint on the grey skin and bringing a squeal from his minion. Her pussy looked ready for more fucking, still shining with juices and gaping from his last assault, but this time his target lay a little higher. Taking a hold of her waist just above her ample hips, he lined himself up with her puckered asshole and shoved.

The Morgai's head snapped up and she howled like a wild animal, though Maloth had a feeling it was a howl of pleasure; these Morgai were created with both demon and Warden magic.

Sure enough, she was pushing back against him insistently, and soon his heavy balls were resting against her hot pussy. Maloth settled into a furious rhythm, plundering her hot rear passage with quick but deep strokes, his sack smacking into her cunt with each thrust.

He wanted to explode in her, but was unsure of the effect his demon seed would have on her. Would it harm him? This aspect had not yet been tested. Pulling out of her tight hole, he stepped back and fisted himself while his balls churned and began to rise. Dark, hot come began to fire from his cock, painting the runed buttocks of the Morgai rope by rope.

Her body began to quake as his seed took effect and gave her intense pleasure, like it did for all females. Wanting to know what would happen if she took it into her body rather than on the skin, Maloth gripped a handful of her silky white hair and ripped her head back. With the other hand, he scooped up some of his juice on a finger and fed it into her mouth, which she sucked down with a moan.

After a moment, every rune on her body flashed brightly, not the intermittent pulsing from before, but this time a steady light.

"Ah! That's so much better!" She exclaimed, pushing herself up off the table as Maloth released her. "Thank you, my Lord!"

Maloth looked her up and down for a few seconds. The light had already begun to dim slightly, but was doing so gradually. "How do you feel?" He asked her.

She stretched languorously, lacing her hands together over her head. "I feel wonderful!" She reached behind her and with two fingers, scooped up some more of his juice off her ass and popped them in her mouth.

Again, her runes flashed, and she smiled widely. "I think I like your come, master! It energises me!"

"Tell me," Maloth demanded. "Have you weakened since you were made?"

She thought for a moment, her head cocked to one side, her brow crinkled. "I think so, my Lord. I did not feel as strong today as I did yesterday, though now I feel much stronger!" She wiped a hand through more of the come on her rump and began to lick it off with abandon.