A Paladin's War Ch. 03

Enji hesitated. She seemed torn between wanting to help Kyra and staying loyal to her customs. "I... could approach the Elders, though I will likely be whipped for asking." She didn't appear afraid of the whipping, but nor did she seem eager for it.

Kyra didn't like that idea. Enji should not be punished for something she had so little control over. "No, do not do that for me. I am sorry to say this, Enji, but my need is greater than even the customs of your people. If I cannot be released, I will have to sneak away. I will do my utmost not to hurt anyone, but I must take my friends with me. Him," she jerked her head back to Berten. "And the two women."

Enji's plump lips twisted in a grimace. "My punishment will be great for allowing your escape, but I will do this for you, Kyra. Something tells me you are speaking the truth."

Kyra reached up to touch her face. "Your contribution will not be forgotten, Enji. Would it help if I tied you up, made it look as if we overpowered you?"

Enji gave her a considering look, then declined. "No, the shame would be more than I could bear if my sisters thought I was beaten by only two weakened opponents." After a moment, she added, "There is another way, however." When Kyra asked what it was, Enji elaborated. "You could enter the Circle. If you survive, you will be granted passage off the Isles, to the mainland."

Kyra heard Berten grunt behind her at the mention of this 'Circle.' "What does this involve?" She asked, curious.

"Just that," the dark beauty replied seriously. "Survive. If you wish it, I can arrange a trial at dawn tomorrow."

"A trial of what?"

"Your skills as a warrior, of course," Enji answered. "Survivors are not only granted safe passage, but they are welcomed into our tribes as one of our own."

Kyra thought this sounded too good to be true. All she had to do was pass a test of combat? Even if these Aroyin were the greatest warriors in the world, they could not match a fully trained Paladin unless they overwhelmed her with sheer numbers. Kyra asked about details of the trial, but Enji could not answer. "It is different each time," she explained. "I have only seen three trials in my life, and no two were the same."

"And how many of those three survived?" Kyra asked, but she felt Enji's answer before hearing it.

"None," the Aroyin answered. "The trials have never been beaten. There is a legend that once, a man did succeed, but it is merely a story told to our children, a fable."

Kyra thought about it for a moment, then nodded. "Very well. Arrange this trial, Enji, and tell me what I must do."

Enji looked concerned. "Are you sure? I feel we could become close, Kyra, as much as it still feels strange to know you this way in so short a time. If you die in the Circle, that chance will not be realised."

Kyra smiled and dropped the spear so she could place both hands on Enji's waist. "I very much look forward to becoming closer to you also, Enji. Have faith. I am difficult to kill."

Enji grinned, showing straight white teeth. "That," she said fondly. "I do not doubt." She surprised Kyra when she dipped her head forward and captured her lips in a kiss. "Whatever you are," she breathed afterwards, "I think you are very special. I hope my people will see it too."

An ostentatious throat clearing from Berten brought Kyra's attention away from Enji. "Don't get too excited," she told him, throwing him a glance over her shoulder. He was sitting there watching, the grin on his face looking not forced at all, this time. "Now is not the time."

Enji looked at Berten, too. "He is your property?" She asked slowly.

Kyra frowned, not understanding. "He is a friend." Enji's eyes widened. "Friends? With a man?" She made it sound as if the very idea was abhorrent.

"Yes," Kyra replied patiently. "That seems strange to you?"

"Your customs must be odd indeed, Kyra," Enji said after a moment. "Among the Aroyin, men are kept in their proper place, as our servants and givers of children. All else is in the hands of women, as it should be."

Kyra was stunned. "All men are servants? Slaves?"

Enji nodded. "Yes. From the moment they are old enough to walk, boys are taught the ways of servitude. They keep our homes in order, work the fields, whatever is required. They are treated well, and given comforts, unless they disobey."

Kyra eyed Berten again. "Pay attention, Longhand. If you don't behave, I may just leave you here."

He grunted sourly in reply, but Enji added, "You would do well here, man, if you tempered your bad attitude. You are too short, but you have other... qualities that I and my sisters would put to good use." Her direct look at his crotch left no question as to what she meant. Berten grunted again, but did not look entirely displeased at the compliment.

"If this trial is the best way for me to get where I need to go," Kyra told Enji. "Then please arrange it. I would rather not hurt your people could I avoid it."

"As you wish, Kyra," Enji replied, stepping back. "If the Elders accept, you will be collected at dawn tomorrow. I suggest you rest, and eat. The trial will not be easy, even for one such as you." At that, the tall warrior tucked a bare foot under the haft of her spear and kicked it up smoothly into her hand. "Your watch was assigned to me only, so there should be no one else checking on you. You should be safe to move around freely within the hut, as long as you do not draw unwanted attention to yourselves."

Kyra nodded. "Understood. We'll stay here."

"Until I see you next, then." Enji said as she turned and left, her grass skirt swishing around her thighs as she exited the hut.

Kyra stood looking at the grass screen across the doorway as it settled back into place. So many years she had avoided making connections with her vala, and now she was aligning with new people left and right, or at least it felt that way. It was... confronting, to feel so exposed, though on the other hand, it was nice to have friends again.

"She never said," Berten began gruffly. "What would happen if the Elders didn't accept the challenge." Kyra spun to regard the muscular fellow. On his grey skin, his bruises were shades of blue and purple that stood out quite brilliantly.

"What am I going to do with you?" She mused aloud as she studied him. He looked in bad shape, hardly capable of fighting, let alone walking around unaided.

He eyed her with his one good eye. "I don't suppose any of those magical powers of yours include healing?" When she shook her head, he sighed. "Didn't think so."

"There is something I could do," Kyra suggested slowly. Part of her couldn't believe she was even considering it, while another part said it made complete sense. "But you may not want it."

"Out with it!" the Gorn'elda growled. "If it gets me off this island, and away from these mad wenches and their slavery, I'll do it!"

"You should hear me out, first," Kyra said as she sat down in front of him, folding her legs beneath her. "For what I am offering you is no small thing." She began to explain her idea, and Berten listened carefully, his thick eyebrows rising slowly until they were lost in the dishevelled dark hair hanging over his forehead. When she finally finished, he said nothing for a long time. She waited for him to speak, letting him digest what she'd just told him. The only sounds in the small hut were those of waves crashing on a distant beach and the crying of gulls.

"I do not relish the thought of being chained to someone," Berten admitted slowly, his tongue forming a lump in his cheek as he mused. "Even someone like you. Especially by a power I do not understand." His eye found hers, and he smiled. "Though I do like the sound of the benefits. Faster, stronger and perhaps even a little smarter, you say?" When Kyra nodded, he chuckled. "I suppose I'll have to stick by you, too? Go wherever you go?"

"Not at all," she replied honestly. "I enjoy your company - as strange as that is for me to admit, it is the truth - but I would not require it of you. You could go whichever way you see fit as soon as we are on the mainland." Picking up the waterskin nearby, she pulled the stopper and offered it to him. He took it with a grateful nod. "The benefits remain whether I am close or not," she added as he drank. "You could be on the other side of the world and that would not change."

"Can this bond be undone?" He asked as he handed back the skin for Kyra to take a drink.

She took a long swig, then shrugged. "I do not know. My mother taught me, and undoing the melda was not in her teachings. If she knew how, she did not impart that knowledge to me."

Berten grunted. "Very well, Kyra Lightwing. Do it." Kyra nodded solemnly. Her heart fluttered a little in anticipation, making her realise that she was actually looking forward to taking another meldin. "What do I need to do?"

"Nothing at all," she told him warmly as she leaned in and kissed him. Opening her vala, she embraced him with it, enveloped him in its light until she found the spark in his heart that was the essence of who he was, his truest self. Some called it a soul, or a spirit. Kyra's mother had always called it the light. There was no effort involved, all she had to do was get out of the way and let her light merge with his until they were one.

She broke the kiss and pulled back, smiling broadly when she saw the wonder on his face as the new sensations bloomed in his mind. "Fire and fury!" He gasped. "I can feel you in my head!"

Kyra laughed softly at his amazement and reached up to touch his face. "Well, well, well," she said as she sifted through the bundle of emotions inside her that was him. "Turns out Berten Longhand is not such a bad man after all."

He squirmed a little where he sat, unused to having someone be able to see into him. "Just don't let that get around," he muttered gruffly. "It's bad for business." He flexed his broad hands in his lap. "Is this what I'll feel like all the time?"

Kyra nodded, then leaned in to whisper in his ear. "Just wait until we fuck." A heartbeat later, he was kissing her again, fiercely this time, and she straddled his lap, careful not to cause further damage to his wounded body. There was certainly one part of him unharmed, and it rose up between them like a flag staff. "Be prepared to have an experience," she told him breathily as she lifted herself up and then lowered back down, taking him smoothly inside herself. Both her own pleasure and Berten's flared hotly, feeding back to him through the melda and doubling back again.

Berten cried out involuntarily, unable to restrain it, and she gently covered his mouth with her hands as she began to ride him. It felt wonderful to have a meldin again. She clutched him tightly, one hand behind his head, pressing his cheek to her breast. His strong hands were grasping her bottom, kneading her possessively. They groaned softly together when his peak crashed over him, taking her over the edge too.

"That was-" He started to say, but stopped to catch his breath. "That was something else." Kyra smiled down at him, still holding him close. Inside her, he was still hard.

"Not bad for the first time," she said teasingly. "But I think we can do better."

He chuckled, lifting his face to her. "I think perhaps I am in more danger now than I was before, ey? Except this time it's much more fun."

He moaned when she began to move her hips again. It had been so long since she'd enjoyed this closeness, this intimacy with someone, and she was unwilling to let it end quickly. "We have until dawn, Enji said. Let's make the most of it." She planted her mouth on his and he responded in kind.

***

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Chapter 3.2: Cartuga

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Sara surveyed the surrounding darkness as she pulled on the oars of the small rowboat. There was no wind tonight, and the lapping of water against the hull sounded too loud to her ears as she crossed the hundred-mile-wide Heartlake under the cover of night. Having grown up in Maralon, she knew next to nothing about boats, but it hadn't taken long to figure out how oars worked. The vessel - a small wooden thing barely big enough for two people - she had quietly taken from the docks of Sarresh at dusk, the owner nowhere in sight.

She wondered how long she'd been rowing. A fat moon sat low in the west, the silvery orb largely covered by clouds silhouetted in a bright nimbus by its glow. Dawn would only be an hour or two away, which meant she'd been at it for roughly ten hours. The Heartlake had always looked big on the few maps she'd seen of it, but the drawings did not do it justice. For all Sara could tell, she was in the middle of the ocean, rowing to the edge of the world. So isolated was she that she could freely use her vala to lend her strength and speed, and the boat skittered quickly across the water like a big bug, though she was careful not to snap the oars; she didn't fancy paddling the rest of the way.

So far, she had not encountered any other craft on the water, but she kept a careful watch for anything entering the boundaries of her vala; maybe three hundred paces around. Except for fish and eels and a hundred other things living down under her boat, she sensed no other life around, which only exacerbated the lonely feeling, as if she were the only person in the world. The distant honking of geese drifting across the lake was something of a comfort; land must be close, now.

The sky was lightening behind her when she felt the docks of Cartuga approaching. Quickly suppressing her vala, she rowed the final few hundred paces - or whatever the nautical term was for that stretch of distance - as quietly as she could, frequently watching over her shoulder for anyone on the docks. The long wooden structures stretched out into the lake like fingers, many of them with vessels of all shapes and sizes moored along their length, from small boats like Sara's to wide, flat barges the size of houses. Warehouses ran the length of the docks, the shadowy stone buildings long and squat-looking in the predawn. Big lanterns hung on tall poles at the end of each dock, a signal for any craft approaching in the night. A few bodies moved about in the lantern light, carrying crates or barrels or coiling rope, as many tasks as there were workers. There were guards, too; two at the end of each dock, in plate mail and holding long spears across their chests.

Not wanting to risk being seen, she pulled around to the south and came in from that side, where a few shorter docks stuck out into the lake, unguarded. Her small boat was low enough to be hidden from sight by anyone standing on the docks as it bumped up against a stout pylon. She sat quietly for a moment, listening for footsteps on the thick planks up above before hauling herself up onto the thick planks and hurrying toward the town, using the shadows of the other moored vessels to stay out of sight. No one saw her as she ghosted through, or if they did, they did nothing about it.

A poorly-maintained paved street led from the wharf into the town proper, though it was wide enough for ten wagon-and-teams abreast, probably due to the large amounts of freight brought to and from the docks every day - Sara had kept her ears open in Sarresh; no few conversations between merchants and their patrons had been about regular shipments from Cartuga. The avenue - it was more avenue than street - was lined with tall shops and and inns and taverns all in timber rather than stone or brick, many of them with three or even four stories, most with shingles hanging out over the front door or shop front window. People were moving about, though not many at this hour, and no few of them stumbling with the telltale gait of one who'd been at the drink a whole night. Shadowy mounds in corners or alleyways showed those who had not made it home at all, but rather decided to sleep off their grog right where they fell.

No sooner had she made it three paces onto the avenue than the tugging in her gut - the persistent nagging feeling that had been with her since leaving the Temple - disappeared completely. Stunned, she stopped dead. Why now? She thought with worry. Had something happened to Aran? Her stomach turned at the thought. If he died... No, I cannot entertain such thoughts. If the vala has stopped directing me, then it must mean there is something here I need to do. Taking solace in the thought - and pushing away the uneasy feeling of having no direction, she adjusted her cowl and moved on up the avenue, staying away from the light spilling out of the windows of those establishments that were still open.

Noise as well as light flowed into the street from those places, raucous laughter and bawdy music, and no few squeals and giggles from women or lewd remarks from men. Sara glanced in one window - the sign above read 'The Wayward Wench,' - to see a trio of nude girls - two Elves and a Dwarf - dancing on a small stage in time to the clapping of the patrons. A big Orc guarding the door gave her a sharp look and she hurried on. As she passed more inns and taverns - from what she glimpsed through windows and open doorways - the first one with the dancing women had been one of the more conservative places.

Sara was no prude - growing up on the streets of Maralon she'd seen people do all kinds of things when they thought nobody was looking - but Maralon was a Herald city, and so all forms of entertainment that smacked of sex were outlawed. In the East, the Heralds had no presence, held no sway, and it was something of a shock to see what such a town looked like.

The avenue was long and straight and slanted slightly uphill as she moved away from the docks. The taverns and inns and brothels tapered off as she climbed; they appeared to be more concentrated near the water, a prime location the sailors and merchant's guards would be sure to see as soon as they disembarked. Unsure exactly where she was going, Sara stayed on the avenue, sticking to the left side and keeping her head down. A prickling on the back of her neck made her turn around, but the street behind her was empty except for a drunk fellow leaning heavily against a wall several yards back, his back heaving as he emptied his stomach of the night's poisons. She grimaced at that and hurried on. Just your imagination, she told herself firmly. Nobody is following you.

After a few more minutes of walking, the avenue opened up into a wide square a hundred paces on a side, flanked by more shops and one huge building facing back toward the docks. The only building she'd seen yet made entirely of stone, the structure was fronted by an angle-roofed tower housing an enormous clock of all things. An arched set of iron-strapped doors stood at the top of a wide set of steps leading up from the square. Sara thought it might be a town hall, or some centre of commerce, perhaps. There was movement in some of the shops in the square as the owners got ready for the day, pulling up shutters or opening windows or sweeping dust away from their doors.

In the middle of the square was a statue of a much higher quality than the buildings around it. At least thirty feet tall and all in pale marble, a heroic-looking man, fit and broad-shouldered, stood proudly, gripping the lapels of his vest and lifting his narrow-bearded chin toward the lake. Two women sat at his feet, wearing flowing robes that had slipped off their shoulders to bare their breasts. They each clutched one of the man's legs and gazed up at him adoringly. Sara shook her head in disgust. What man had such an opinion of himself that he would allow such a thing to be made? Then again, Sara had met a few who would probably jump at the chance.

"Awful, isn't it?" A man's voice said from behind her. Sara spun quickly to see a figure standing a couple of paces back. Taller than her and in a heavy black cloak, his cowl was pointed at the statue. She shuffled back a few steps, keeping him in her vision. When she didn't reply, he spoke again. "The statue. Lord Eldred." He gestured to the subject with a dark-gloved hand. "He had that made near three decades ago, now." Though he spoke softly, his voice was deep and resonant. It would have sounded attractive to Sara had she not been so uneasy. His accent was foreign, too, though she couldn't place its origin. The instinct to feel into him with her vala was strong, but she ignored it.