A Paladin's Training Ch. 19

"Also," Beshok added. "There are two conditions which you must fulfill; the first is that Barrog must face punishment for deserting his people. Under normal circumstances, this would mean death, but in the light of our new alliance, I will offer him the chance to redeem himself in the Pit."

Barrog shifted his weight at that. Shenla glanced behind her at the Pit, where one Orc stood with his fists held high, his boot on the chest of his opponent, who was lying on the ground. Two smaller Orcs rushed into the centre to drag the body away. Shenla couldn't tell if he still lived or not.

Shenla addressed the chief. "Who will be his opponent, Chief Beshok?"

Beshok grinned malevolently. "I think Garrun would be a suitable match. Do you agree, Morana?"

Morana matched her mate's grin and nodded. She was watching Garrun, in particular his cock, which was still somewhat hard from Shenla's earlier efforts. Shenla doubted she would be able to entirely wrap her hands around that mighty weapon, though she couldn't wait to try.

Garrun barked a laugh. "Thank you, Chief! It would be my honour to crush Barrog's skull into the dirt!"

Shenla couldn't alow that; if Barrog died, she would be reduced in power until she could find a replacement, and while she'd never experienced losing a pet, she had the feeling it would also involve large amounts of pain. She tugged on the threads she'd earlier placed on Garrun, and the huge Orc turned his head to regard her, his cock flexing eagerly. She gave the brute the slightest, almost imperceptible shake of her head, and while he didn't give any outward sign, she felt that he'd received the message: do not kill Barrog.

At that moment, Morana's servant began to buck his hips, and long ropes of Orc juice began to spurt from the end of his cock and onto the chieftess's face and tits. She never took her eyes off Garrun the entire time, quite content to let the brawny young Orc spill his seed on her skin. When he was done, she released his member, and without looking at him, simply said; "clean me off."

The young Orc obeyed immediately, vanishing and returning seconds later with a cloth which he used to wipe his chieftess down.

"And what is your second condition, Chief Beshok?" Shenla asked politely, though she layered her tone thick with sweet promise.

"My second condition, Lady Shenla," Beshok began, scornfully pronouncing the word 'lady.' "Is that you will prove your loyalty to the Gor'dur by sharing my bed tonight."

Shenla could have laughed out loud, though she schooled her features. This was his condition? It was almost too easy! She bowed her head gracefully, trying to pretend that she didn't want to feel his enormous cock inside her. "As you wish, Chief Beshok. I will accept these conditions in the interests of our alliance."

*

A short time later, Shenla, Peldin and Torvin were sitting in the roughly hewn stone seats surrounding the Pit, watching Barrog and Garrun preparing for their fight. Barrog had stripped down to his loincloth and was casually swinging his heavy double-bladed axe back and forth. Barrog was almost nine feet tall and thickly muscled, but Garrun had almost a foot on him, and the monstrous Orc's body rippled as he flexed and stretched, partly to limber up, but mostly - Shenla suspected - for show, especially with the way he twirled that enormous spiked hammer around like it was a twig.

The word had got out that Barrog had returned and was to face Garrun as punishment, and Orcs had flocked to the arena by the score, packing the rows of crude seats until there was no room left. Guttural voices filled the huge cavern as Orcs excitedly waited for the show to begin.

"Silence!" Chief Beshok's voice boomed from where he stood on the dais, and every Orc in the arena immediately hushed. "Today is a monumental day for the Gor'dur! Today we have forged an alliance which will allow us to take Amindaer City!"

Cheers erupted from the crowd; Amindaer had long been coveted by the races of Palistair, but divided as they were, neither Orc, nor Elf, nor Warden had the strength to conquer it alone. Now - thanks to Maloth - they would be united as one, and would have the means to take the previously impenetrable Amindaer City. Maloth would be most pleased with Shenla when she brought him the good news.

Beshok waved the crowd to silence. "Also, today the traitor Barrog has returned to us!"

Hate-filled roars and cries followed the chief's words, all directed at Barrog, who continued to warm up, ignoring his brethren.

"Barrog will be punished under trial by combat!" Beshok continued. "And if, by some miracle, he defeats Garrun, or survives the fight, then his crime will be forgiven!"

Raucous laughter thundered around the arena at that one; obviously not many Orcs thought Barrog stood a chance. What they didn't know was that Barrog's soul was Bound to Shenla, which made him somewhat faster and stronger than he would be otherwise.

Beshok raised a hand, and the crowd quieted once again. "Begin!"

Garrun and Barrog had been circling each other in the centre of the Pit, and at the word 'begin,' Garrun thundered forward with a roar, reaching Barrog in four long strides and bringing the head of his hammer down as if he wanted to drive the smaller Orc into the ground like a stake.

Barrog shifted his weight ever so slightly as he inched to one side, and the hammer whistled past his face, striking only empty air as it sailed by harmlessly and thunked into the sandy ground. In less time than it takes a heart to beat, Barrog's axe rose and fell, chopping through the haft of Garrun's hammer in one clean blow.

The entire arena fell silent, and more than a few Orc jaws had fallen open in shock. With a scream of rage, Garrun left his hammer in the dirt and thrust the severed haft toward Barrog in an underhand stab, but Barrog smoothly knocked the attack aside and brought the butt of his axe handle up into Garrun's chin before planting a bare foot in the huge Orc's belly, knocking the wind out of him.

Gasping for breath, Garrun dropped to one knee, and Shenla saw Barrog glance in her direction, asking an unspoken question. She nodded, and Barrog hefted his axe to deliver the killing blow, but to Shenla's surprise, he dropped the axe and bent to pick up Garrun's hammer. She felt a pang of regret as Barrog brought the hammer down upon Garrun's skull and a sickening crack echoed around the otherwise silent arena; she really would have liked to try that Orc cock.

Garrun collapsed in a heap on the ground, the back of his head a bloody mess where the hammer had fallen. With a triumphant bellow, Barrog placed a foot on his dead opponent and kicked him over onto his back before raising the shortened hammer above his head.

The arena exploded in thunderous applause, the Orc spectators whooping and cheering Barrog's name. Barrog turned slowly, drinking in the adulation.

The cheers died down when Beshok rose from his throne. "Barrog!" The Orc chief bellowed. "You have passed your trial by combat, and are hereby cleared of all charges of desertion!"

There were further cheers at that, but Beshok pressed on. "As well as this, you defeated your enemy without being struck, and if that weren't enough, you killed him with his own weapon. You have brought much honour upon yourself. The Gor'dur Clan would offer you a prize, Barrog. What would you ask of us?"

Barrog remained silent for a moment, before answering in his bass, guttural voice. "I would have you grant a request, Chieftain, but I would ask you in private."

*

Later, Shenla and her sycophants were lounging in the private quarters of Beshok and Morana. The chief and chieftess's chambers were expansive, and this particular room was comfortable, if a little primitive. Thick furs and square feather pillows covered the stone floor, surrounding a blazing firepit that filled the space with pleasant warmth.

In keeping with the Orc leaders' manner, Shenla had removed her cloak and leather straps, and was sitting nude before the fire, leaning back on her hands and allowing Beshok to rake his eyes over her body. For effect, she'd opened her thighs while keeping the soles of her feet together, forming a diamond shape with her legs. The heat from the fire felt good on her already inflamed cunt.

Beshok was certainly taking advantage of Shenla's display; sitting cross-legged to her left, his gaze was openly roaming over her body, and his cock - which was even more impressive up close - was standing up proudly in his lap. Perhaps it was not such a shame about Garrun, when there was meat like Beshok's so close to hand.

Barrog sat to Shenla's right, having been offered a place of honour sitting at the fire with the chief and chieftess, and Shenla, as an official ally of the Gor'dur, was offered the same.

Morana sat beside Beshok, sitting almost in imitation of Shenla, except the chieftess's legs were straight and slightly apart, giving Shenla a view of her hairless, puffy slit. Shenla found herself wondering what Orc pussy tasted like; she'd never had the pleasure.

A few feet behind Shenla were Peldin and Torvin, who also sat naked on the furs. Dark Elves and Wardens were not regarded fondly by the Gor'dur, and as such it was a wonder they were allowed in the room at all. Shenla had instructed them to sit back and remain silent, so as not to interfere with her plans. A glance over her shoulder showed her that the two men had found a way to amuse themselves; Torvin's buxom Risen had her head in his lap and was devotedly sucking his cock while Peldin knelt behind the former human and quietly fucked her ass. Shenla watched for a moment, liking the contrast of Peldin's midnight skin against the pale grey of the Risen.

Beshok's voice brought Shenla's head back around. "What would you ask of us, Barrog, now that we are in private?"

Barrog took his eyes off Shenla's tits before answering. "I would ask that you grant my mistress Shenla what she asks."

Beshok and Morana both frowned, their eyes moving from Barrog to Shenla and back again.

"Tell me, Barrog." Morana asked. "What is the nature of your bond with this woman?"

"Barrog is mine," Shenla said simply, answering the question in Barrog's place. She offered nothing further, unwilling to discuss anything with these Orcs that might reveal her weaknesses.

Barrog said nothing, just continued to gaze lustily at Shenla, as he should.

Beshok raised an eyebrow, and Morana grunted. "And who are you, Shenla," The chieftess inquired quietly. "That you can take ownership of a mighty Gor'dur warrior, as if he were your pet?"

"My abilities are my own," Shenla replied casually. "But be assured, I have no intention of Binding any more of your Gor'dur; I would rather remain on good terms with your people." This much was true, at least for now. She shifted slightly, intentionally causing her breasts to move on her chest, which caused Beshok's rigid pole to twitch.

Morana looked from Shenla to her mate's erection. "My chief is strong and virile," she said with a proud smile. "He greatly looks forward to rutting with you, Shenla. I hope you are prepared for him."

Beshok grinned at Morana and slid closer to her. The Orc chieftain draped an arm around his mate's shoulder and rested his broad hand over her breast, which proved itself to be much more than a handful.

Morana moaned softly as Beshok squeezed her tit possessively, and her hand drifted across his muscular thigh and wrapped itself around his relentlessly hard cock.

Shenla's cunt was leaking; she could feel it dripping down over her ass, and her nipples were aching to be pinched, squeezed, sucked... But she exercised control; there would be time for wild fucking soon enough. "Oh, I'm sure I can find a way to please the Chief of the Gor'dur," Shenla purred, locking eyes with Beshok as she ran a finger through the lips of her drooling pussy and brought it to her mouth.

Beshok grunted, and a drop of thick juice appeared at the tip of his cock before it was captured by a quick lick from Morana. "There is still something left for us to discuss, Shenla," the chieftain said levelly. "What is it you wish of the Gor'dur, in place of Barrog's boon?"

Shenla smiled. "Now that, Chieftain, is something I think you will appreciate." Behind her, the soft slapping and slurping continued, adding to the rising lust that was permeating the room. She idly wrapped several more threads of desire around Beshok, who was becoming more amenable to her powers as he grew more aroused. "What if I was to offer you stewardship over all of Palistair, including the dominions of Eredor and Angavar?"

Both Beshok's and Morana's eyebrows shot up at that. The chieftess's hand had frozen halfway up her mate's rod.

Beshok spoke first, his voice grim. His dark eyes flitted over Shenla's shoulder to where Peldin and Torvin were having their fun. "Ever did the Elves and Wardens refuse our offerings of peace, considering themselves above us and calling us animals, savages. We ceased offering peace a long time ago, and now we offer only spears. We know they have not the numbers to challenge us, and we would have destroyed them long ago, but their lands are beneath the surface, as are ours, and we would lose many Orcs fighting in their tunnels."

Shenla's smile broadened. "Chief Beshok," she whispered, moving to all fours and crawling slowly toward the Orcs. "All we ask is that once we have taken Amindaer, you and your Chieftess rule over Palistair as Maloth's steward."

Beshok gazed hungrily at Shenla, in particular her breasts which hung low beneath her. She shifted her shoulders, letting them sway back and forth while she wrapped further dark threads around Beshok's heart. She almost had him, but Morana was still an uncertainty.

"Is this true, Shenla?" Morana demanded as Shenla came to a stop, her face inches away from the bulbous head of Beshok's shaft. "Or is this some clever ploy?"

"No ploy," Shenla said truthfully. "Maloth has emptied the lands of Angavar and Eredor of their soldiers, and these lands are ripe for the taking. Once Amindaer is secured, we will be sailing south to Ekistair, and Maloth needs someone capable to rule Palistair in his stead."

"The prophecies, my heart," Beshok murmured thoughtfully. Shenla breathed on his cock, and another drop of white fluid appeared. This time, Morana swiped across it with her thumb and used it to lubricate her stroking. "The Seers said our time would come again soon. This must be what they meant. I thought the 'scarlet storm' was a reference to blood, or war, but could it mean Shenla and this Maloth?"

Morana nodded slowly. "Perhaps, my chief. I suggest we meet with this Lord Maloth before we agree to anything."

"Yes, we shall," Beshok said with a grunt as Morana began to stroke faster.

Shenla suppressed a grin. A meeting with Maloth would surely assuage Morana, who would be so entranced by him that she would do whatever he asked. "Very well," Shenla said neutrally. "I will arrange for you to meet with Maloth at the very next opportunity." Focusing on Beshok's thick cock, she licked her lips. "Now, what do you say we enjoy each other's company?"

Morana smiled briefly. "I know Beshok wants to fuck you, Shenla." Her dark eyes moved to Barrog, who was watching them with interest. "But I think I will lay with the champion of the day."

***

"There's some people I'd like you to meet," Aran said with a smile as he regarded the people lined up at the landing. It felt like years since he'd seen them, when really it had only been a few months. Smythe, Elaina and Amina he had visited with on the Plane, of course, but Rayna and Bella were a most welcome sight, beaming down at him, as were Induin and Liaren, the beautiful Elvish twins.

And there was Jeira, the first woman he'd ever Bonded, staring at him with a tear welling in her eye. She'd been through a lot lately; Aran had felt her anguish, and had had to force himself not to run off to protect her, which would have been a disaster for Sara and the Servants under Aran's care.

There was a young man Aran hadn't met before, standing up there with the others. He seemed unsure of himself, staring at his feet and shifting his weight backwards and forwards. Aran studied him for a moment, then smiled broadly. He was Gifted!

The Gifted fellow started when he saw Aran staring at him, then seemed to relax when he saw Aran smiling.

All in all, Aran's Bonded women looked well, and love cascaded through the multiple Bonds in a torrent, love which Aran returned in buckets.

Deciding to leave the introductions for the moment, Aran dropped Strider's reins - he'd named the white gelding after his ancestor, Darius Sunblade's horse - and climbed the last remaining stairs to stand before the first person on the left; Elaina.

Without saying a word, he leaned in and pressed his forehead up against hers, and for a moment just breathed her in. Visits on the Plane of Aros were one thing, but being able to touch her in the real world was so much better. He inhaled deeply, not realising he'd forgotten how much he liked her scent.

Next was Smythe, who, to Aran's surprise, bowed deeply with one fist to his chest. Aran suppressed his shock. Smythe was showing deference to him! Aran was unsure if he should go along with it, or tell his former Master to stop being silly!

"That's enough of that, Smythe," Aran said dryly. "If I remember correctly, my old Master was always telling me not to let things go to my head. If you keep that up, I won't be able to fit it into the Temple."

Smythe straightened from his bow and laughed out loud before seizing Aran in a bear hug. "Look at ye, lad! You're a true Paladin, if ever I saw one."

"I had good teachers," Aran said sincerely when his feet were back on the ground.

After Smythe was Amina, standing there like a goddess from a fairy tale, her golden hair shifting in the breeze, her perfect body shrouded only slightly behind her diaphanous robe. This time, it was Aran's turn to bow formally, and the Priestess accepted his courtesy with a gracious nod before taking his face in her hands and bringing him close, so their noses were almost touching.

She whispered to him so softly that the others would have likely missed it. "You are the sun, Aran. The world cannot darken when you walk upon it."

Aran smiled as he stared into her emerald eyes, which watched him intensely, making sure he understood what she was saying. Her full lips begged to be kissed, but there would be time for that later. "Thank you, Priestess," he whispered back. "May we all shine our light together, as it was meant to be."

Next to Amina was Jeira, who simply threw her arms around his neck and squeezed till he thought his head might pop off. He returned the hug fiercely, holding her tightly to him and planting kisses on her face, her neck, and in her raven-black hair. Eventually, she pushed herself off him. "We will finish this later," she said, wiping her eyes with the back of her sleeve.

Her emotions were a jumble through the Bond; there was happiness, love, and anger. Why would she be angry? Had he done something wrong? He would have to find out later.

"Nice to see you again," Rayna said with a cheeky grin that was mirrored by Bella.

Aran stepped closer to them and put a hand on each of their waists. "I understand Smythe has been looking after you two? I hope you've been nice to him." He eyed them each in turn with playful sternness.

"Oh, we have indeed!" Bella giggled. "Isn't that right, Henley?"

Aran glanced at Smythe, who shrugged his shoulders and held his palms out as if to say he had little choice in the matter. Aran chuckled at that; there weren't many men around who would be able to say no to a willing Bella and Rayna. Slightly more serious, he pulled them in close to him. "I'm sorry I haven't been around since we met. I think of you both often, and I wish I could make more time for you. I'm glad Smythe was there when I couldn't be."