A Paladin's Training Ch. 18

So, it looked like the Morgai needed sustenance. Maloth wondered if it had to come from him, or if anyone could provide it. He decided to test the theory.

Not bothering to dress, he pushed the tentflap aside and walked out, pointing his finger at the first man that passed, which happened to be a weedy Warden with a nose too big for his face.

"You!" He snapped, pointing at the scrawny fellow, who immediately dropped the books he was carrying when he saw who had called him.

"Y-yes, m-my Lord?" The Warden stammered.

"In here, now!" Maloth said, jerking his head to the tent behind him. The Warden obeyed immediately, hurrying inside. Maloth followed behind him.

The Warden stopped dead when he saw the Morgai woman in the tent, staring at her body with hungry eyes. "M-my Lord," he breathed. "How did you create such a creature? We've all been talking, and we've never seen anything her, or the male one."

Maloth stared down at the fellow, who still hadn't taken his eyes off the Morgai. "That is not your concern, Warden," he said harshly.

The Warden looked at him then, and swallowed when he saw the expression on Maloth's face.

"I require you to fuck her, Warden. Can you do that?"

The man couldn't believe his luck. There was already a small protrusion in the front of his black robe when he furiously nodded his head.

The Morgai woman immediately got down on all fours and presented herself to him, slowly moving her ass from side to side.

With a shout of glee, the Warden ripped his robe off, tearing the fabric in the process, and rushed over to her with his tiny cock in his hand.

Maloth watched as he grasped the Morgai's hips and buried himself inside her, moaning at the sensations her pussy would be giving him.

The Morgai certainly didn't seem to mind that the man had a cock smaller than Maloth's little finger, and she pushed back at him, urging him to fuck her harder, to give her more.

After about half a minute, the man's face scrunched up, and he tensed as he came inside her. Once finished, he collapsed onto her back and reached beneath her to grab two handfuls of her hanging breasts.

There was the briefest flash from the glyphs on her skin this time, as if she'd received a much smaller portion of energy from the Warden than she had with Maloth.

Not a completely surprising outcome, then. "Get out," he said to the Warden, who immediately did as he was told, stuttering a thank you to both of them before he scurried out clutching his robe in front of him.

If Maloth had a sense of humour, he would've laughed. "I'm assuming you received much less energy from him than from me?" He asked the Morgai.

She nodded, remaining on all fours and arching her back. Maloth felt himself hardening again. "Much less, my Lord. It was there and gone in a second."

"From now on," Maloth began, "you will monitor your energy reserves, and so will your brother Morgai. When they drop too low for you to effectively fight, or function, you have my permission to fuck your way back to your maximum. Do you understand?"

She giggled. "Mmm, yes, Master, lots of fucking!"

He added, "I suggest you seek out Shenla's pets when you can, and with her permission; they have the stamina you will need."

"Gladly, Master," she purred as she got to her feet and sashayed to stand before him. "And what about Maelor, may I fuck him, too?"

"Maelor? Who is that?"

"My former husband, Master, but he is now my fellow Morgai."

Maloth fixed her with a hard stare. "You remember who you were before you were killed?"

"There are some memories, Master, though they are fleeting. I remember Maelor, though. He had a different name when we lived, but I still remember him."

Maloth had not expected this. He had thought the Risen were empty, obedient shells, or perhaps they were, and his magic had unlocked something when creating the Morgai. "Very well. Do what you must to sustain yourselves. Tell me, have you given yourself a name, woman?"

"Yes, my Lord. I am called Shaelor, in the vein of my brother, though you may change it if you wish, of course."

Maloth waved his hand dismissively; he had no care for what things were called, only for what their uses were. "Go and fetch Kreya. I need to speak with her."

Shaelor saluted and strutted from the tent. Moments later, Shenla entered, once again garbed in nothing but thin scraps of silk. She was accompanied by King Berenor of the Dark Elves, and Queen Morin of Angavar.

Shenla sauntered over to give him a kiss and a tug on his cock before stepping back, while the royals greeted him cordially.

It was time to put carefully made plans into motion.

*

The day was growing late, casting long shadows across the rocky slopes as Smythe pulled Thunder up the weathered stone steps. Horses were not meant for climbing mountains, and Smythe would have had to release the big black stallion if they hadn't found the steps when they did.

Behind him, Jeira, Rayna and Bella laboured up the stairs, their fatigue from the long days of walking taking its toll. Kedron seemed tired, but not so much as the women; the lad's Gift would be supporting him a little, lending him some strength.

The stairs continued to wind into the mountains, seeming to go on forever and making Smythe wonder if they would ever reach the end. Just as he was about to call for a rest break -- he didn't need one, but the others certainly did -- the stairs rounded one last turn that revealed a massive stone archway leading into the mountain.

As wide as the stairs, the archway was big enough for seven or eight people abreast and more than tall enough for a Giant to step through without ducking. Standing in the centre of the archway was a figure that set Smythe's heart racing.

High Priestess Amina stood awaiting their arrival, her beauty shining like the sun. Adorned in a traditional diaphanous Paladin robe, her perfect body was visible, from her full, firm breasts to her flat belly, slim waist, curved hips, bare sex and long, smooth legs.

Smythe's body reacted, not just to her body but to her immense power, and his breeches became very uncomfortable in front.

"Henley!" Amina greeted him warmly as they approached. She glided out to meet them, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing herself to him before planting a toe-curling kiss on his mouth.

"It's nice to finally meet in person, Priestess," Smythe said when he could breathe again.

Amina winked and chuckled. "Just you wait, Master Smythe. It gets better. So, tell me," she asked, turning toward the women and Kedron. "Who are your beautiful friends?"

In the presence of a woman like Amina, the girls had been standing there with their mouths open, their eyes roaming all over the golden-haired goddess in a mixture of awe, lust and envy. When they heard Amina call them beautiful, they blushed as one, and thanked her.

Kedron's eyes snapped to the ground as Amina's gaze met his, and he looked as if he might faint.

Smythe was about to introduce them, but Amina first approached Jeira and gently captured the girl's chin in her fingers, tilting her face up slightly and looking into her eyes. She then did the same to Rayna and Bella, smiling warmly each time. Something told Smythe to keep quiet, so he did.

"I must say," Amina murmured as she stepped back. "That young Aran certainly has excellent taste in women. I can't wait to see what the three of you look like in a decent robe!"

The three women blushed again, and this time there were giggles. Amina had that effect on people. The women made their introductions, and Amina hugged each of them in turn, as well as planting a tender kiss on their foreheads and lips.

The way she kissed them was a traditional greeting of a Priestess to a guest of honour. "Priestess, how did you know they were Bonded to Aran?" Smythe found himself asking. He couldn't help but use her formal title, even though he and Amina had made love several times on the Plane of Aros. There was just something about meeting her in person that made it different.

"It's a skill I learned long ago," Amina replied. "I can teach you, if you wish. I could sense a Bond in them, a male Bond, but not yours, which really only left one other candidate."

Smythe had never thought to try sensing a Bond in someone. He wondered how many facets of the Gift had been lost over the centuries.

Kedron was next, and she glided over to the lad, who kept his gaze firmly on the stone at his feet. As she'd done with the girls, Amina's fingers gently lifted his chin. "Relax, child," she whispered. "You are safe here."

That was all she said, but it was enough to bring tears to Kedron's eyes when he finally met her gaze. He, too, received kisses to his lips and forehead, as well as a hug. At first, he held himself stiff as a board, but after a moment, his hands awkwardly came to rest on Amina's slim back.

So engrossed was he with Amina that Smythe failed to pick up another approaching Gift, a decidedly feminine energy.

As if reading his mind, Amina looked over from where she was hugging Kedron, her sapphire eyes twinkling in the twilight. "Elaina approaches, Henley. She ascends the stairs as we speak."

Smythe couldn't suppress a smile. Elaina was a wonderful woman; fierce, loyal and kind -- not to mention beautiful -- and he hadn't seen her in person for years. He'd met with her on the Plane a couple of times in recent months, but visits on the Plane could not compare to the real thing.

Elaina's Gift grew closer and closer, and eventually, she rounded the final bend. She was dressed for travel, in tight breeches that hugged her round hips and generous thighs, and a white blouse and short brown coat that she'd left open to display some of her expansive pale cleavage.

Smythe had sensed two more people with Elaina, and was surprised to see it was two slender Elvish girls, too young to have rounded out much yet. Both looked identical except one had silver hair and blue eyes, the other brown hair and green eyes.

Smythe grinned broadly as they reached the stone landing, and Elaina cannoned into him, wrapping her arms around his chest and squeezing hard. "Alright, lass!" He chuckled as he held her and stroked her short flaxen hair. "No need to break my ribs!"

"I've missed you, Henley," she murmured into his shirt. "Visits on the Plane just aren't the same."

"Tell me about it," Smythe said, enjoying the way she felt against him. He hadn't realised it, but he was still quite turgid from kissing Amina, and Elaina seemed intent on pushing her belly up against his erection as hard as she could.

Eventually, Elaina broke the embrace so she could greet Amina, which in itself was quite a display, and then she went to Jeira. The two women hugged for a long time, and some tears were shed as Jeira told Elaina about Hamlin.

Smythe introduced himself to the Elf girls, and found that they were not shy with their hugs and kisses. There were worse things in the world than being embraced by pretty Elvish twins. By happy coincidence, they happened to be the very same Elvish twins Aran had Bonded. "It is an honour to meet you, eruchen," they said in unison.

Eruchen? Smythe's Elvish wasn't exactly fluent, but didn't that mean 'Child of the Gods?' If so, it was a grandiose name, but then, Elves could be grandiose at times.

Amina appeared beside Smythe and eyed the Elf girls up and down. When they saw her, they immediately knelt, bowing their heads. "It is an honour to be in your presence, Avalai."

If Smythe wasn't mistaken, Avalai translated roughly to 'Goddess,' in Old Elvish. If anyone deserved that name, it was Amina.

"Stand, my children," Amina said gently. "The Elves are ever welcome in the Temples of Aros."

The twins grinned at that, and stood smoothly so Amina could embrace them in the same way as the others, with kisses to lips and forehead.

There was plenty of space on the wide stone landing, and as the sun disappeared over the horizon, the group intermingled. Elaina met Rayna and Bella and Kedron for the first time, and Induin and Liaren also introduced themselves to the Ironshire folk.

With all the beautiful women surrounding him, poor Kedron didn't know where to look.

The entire group was standing in a circle and chatting when one by one they began to fall silent. Amina felt it first, turning her head back toward the stairs, then Smythe felt it, too, followed by Elaina soon after. The women, too, watched the stairs expectantly.

As if guided by the same mind, the circle spread out and formed a line across the top of the landing.

"You feel that?" Smythe murmured to Elaina, who was standing next to him.

"How could I not?" She whispered back. "It's immense! And there's two of them!"

Smythe glanced over at Amina, who would also be able to feel the strength of the two Gifts approaching. The Priestess just stood there serenely, with a knowing look in her eye.

An air of suspense hung in the air, and each moment seemed to stretch on for hours, but eventually, Aran rounded the corner, leading his horse by the reins. A beautiful girl followed after him, followed by several others, all of them leading mounts.

Smythe took them in as they approached. There was Aran, who's Gift was almost too bright to behold -- how had the lad grown so much in the last two months? The stunning girl behind him had to be the Gifted girl from Maralon. She wasn't as strong as Aran, but once fully trained, there wouldn't be much in it.

A varied assortment of folk trailed behind. There was a beautiful, statuesque Half-Orc, a voluptuous, graceful Elf, a typically well-rounded Dwarf, a human man, and a slender slip of a golden-haired Half-Elf.

Aran stopped a few feet away from the landing and silently regarded each one of them in turn, a small smile on his face. The changes in the lad were remarkable; he stood taller, and he had picked up a thousand-yard stare from somewhere. Smythe had more than eighty years on the lad, but right now he felt like Aran was the senior.

Aran's gaze stopped on Kedron, and he tilted his head to the side slightly as he studied the boy. Kedron's feet shifted nervously, but after a moment Aran smiled warmly and nodded to the lad before moving to the next person.

Aran didn't speak for some time, and nobody else seemed to want to speak first. Finally, the young Paladin broke the silence, addressing the people on the landing and sweeping a hand behind him to gesture to his companions. "Everybody, there's some people I'd like you to meet."

***

Ironshire roiled like a kicked anthill. The streets were in organised chaos as people were turned out of their homes and questioned while their houses were searched. Red-lined yellow robes aplenty billowed about in the wind as Heralds led the inquisition.

Berrigan Stallen strode down one such cobblestone avenue, overseeing his men and allowing himself to be seen for the first time as both Mayor and Herald. More than a few citizens shot him looks of disgust as he passed, and one or two of the braver ones actually spat at his feet before they were soundly beaten.

They would learn respect, or it would be beaten into them. That was the way with people, unfortunately; govern them, provide for them, give them whatever they wanted, and they would like you, but they would always be asking for more. A little less tax here, a little more coin there, a little less work here, the list went on and on. No more would Berrigan Stallen be required to pander to these people's needs; it was time for them to learn how proper governance was done.

It had not taken long to send the necessary pigeons and riders out from Ironshire to the outlying farms and villages and hamlets. No fewer than a hundred men and women had arrived over the last two days, either sons and daughters of Heralds or at least interested in recruitment. That number was easily enough to cow a thousand people if fear was on their side, which it most certainly was.

So far, none of the houses they'd searched had contained the Paladin, or his filthy harem of whores that he kept at home. Neither had Kedron -- Berrigan's son who'd been left in charge of the Paladin -- been found, which meant that the Paladin had either enticed Kedron away from his duties, or killed him and disposed of the body. Either way, his son had failed him, and would have much to answer for when he turned up.

The people of Ironshire knew and loved Henley Smythe, and many of them were in support of him leaving, though there were no small few who seemed to think something had been odd about the man. As a statement, Berrigan had ordered Smythe's house burned to the ground, and the ashes were still smoldering several streets away, leaving the acrid smell of smoke hanging thickly in the air.

Berrigan had hunted Paladins before, and knew how to hit them where it hurt. Usually it meant finding someone they claimed to love and applying pressure, but Smythe -- if he had indeed left Ironshire -- had taken his women with him, and there didn't seem to be anybody else in town that the man was particularly close to.

Patrols had been sent wide into the countryside and all the way into the foothills of the Karvanis, but at last report, there had been no sightings of Smythe, his concubines, or Kedron. They would be found, Berrigan would make sure of it. Sooner or later, they would slip up and be discovered. There was nowhere they could hide for long, and Berrigan knew for a fact that there may be as many as twenty or thirty Paladins left in the entire world, probably less.

Berrigan thought to the future as he continued to stalk through the streets, ignoring the cries of men and woman receiving thrashings for their insubordination. He had waited patiently these last fifteen years -- masquerading as the friendly Mayor of Ironshire -- for this day to come; the day when the Heralds would be called into service once again.

The word was fast spreading through the network, and soon the West would be firmly in Herald control once again. Rodric Eames had made large strides toward securing Maralon, and it was only a matter of time until the Council was ousted.

A woman crawled from the crowds lining the streets and grabbed his ankle. Her face was dirty and caked with dried blood from a cut on her forehead, and she was dressed in nothing more than her slip. "Please," she sobbed. "Mayor Stallen! Stop this!"

Two Heralds seized her by the ankles and dragged her back into line, not bothering to cover her up when her slip bunched up around her waist and exposed her to all eyes on the street.

So undignified, these small-town people, Berrigan thought to himself as he resumed walking. He couldn't wait to see a city again, like Maralon. Even Dun'Arghol would have been acceptable, if it weren't full of Dwarves.

"Lord Stallen!" Came a voice from behind.

Berrigan turned to see Rohim come running up, his youthful face alight with excitement. "Yes, Rohim?"

"We've found her, my Lord!" He said in between breaths. "The whore that corrupted your son!"

Berrigan felt his face grow hard. "You will not refer to him as my son, Rohim! He lost that right when he failed the Order."

Rohim paled and ducked his head. "Yes, Lord Stallen. Understood."

"Good. Now, bring the girl to my house and we will see what she knows."

Rohim saluted and dashed off down the street. He was a good lad, eager and motivated. He would become a great Herald, one day.

Berrigan would finish his pass of this street and then make his way home. He was glad he'd had Kedron followed from time to time, else he would never have known that the boy had dallied with a woman. Berrigan felt like spitting on the ground, though he would never behave in such a manner. How could his own flesh and blood be so weak?