A Paladin's War Ch. 05

The warrior handed the spear to the Banra. The tall woman took the spear, a grim look on her white-painted face, and then, shockingly, she knelt before Kyra and offered the spear up, holding it across her hands above her head. As one, all the Aroyin knelt, too, leaving Kyra standing there flummoxed.

Oh, Gods! They want me to lead them! Clearing her throat, she opened her mouth to say she could not accept the spear - the responsibility! - but the words would not come. This is my way out of here, she realised. This is how I get to the mainland. Hoping she was not making a terrible mistake, she took the spear. A collective breath escaped every mouth around her, as if the Aroyin had feared her not accepting the spear. It made her wonder what would have happened had she not.

When she looked down at the Banra again, the big woman was looking up at her, beaming widely, large eyes sparkling in the moonlight. "Aldar'ra!" She cried triumphantly. All around Kyra, the Aroyin echoed her in chorus.

"Aldar'ra!" "Aldar'ra!" "Aldar'ra!"

Standing there with spear in hand, she didn't know what to do but remain where she was until the chanting died down. Elated faces shone, large, dark eyes gazing at her as she herself would if Aros walked down the beach at this moment. Just what have I gotten myself into?

*

The next morning, Kyra sat in the middle of the huge bed that had been the Banra's until last night. Lissi, Tessa and Berten were all with her, lounging on the thick furs that made for very comfortable sleeping. The bed was big enough that even Tessa had plenty of space to stretch out. The nine-foot tall half-Giant lay on her side with her head propped on one arm, her large, pale body making a pleasant headrest for Lissi and Berten, who lay side-by-side against Tessa. They watched Kyra patiently as she sat facing them, her knees pulled up to her chest and her chin on her arms. She was deep in thought.

The chief of the Aroyin's house was the largest in the village - enough rooms to house her and her small army of male concubines quite comfortably - and made from the same materials as all the other buildings on the island, though it was considerably better crafted. The house overlooked the village from the top of a small hill at the southern end. Kyra had protested when the Banra had ushered her into the house, but the woman had ignored her, evacuating her belongings and her men from the house before leaving her and the others here.

Kyra had not wanted to stay here, but her mind had been changed when her three friends dragged her insistently to the bed. Some of the best lovemaking she'd ever experienced was just after the heat of a battle, and this had been no different. Berten appeared suitably tired, his eyes heavy in his grey face; the women had made good use of him last night. He still had not slept, and the way Lissi was idly caressing his half-hard cock as they lay together suggested that he might not get sleep for some time yet.

"I do not see what other choices you have," Berten said for the third time. "We know little of these people, yet you have somehow fallen into a most providential position. I say lead them, though admittedly, I would not do so myself. You've just been given a bloody army, however, and that can't be ignored." Berten had a sharp mind; he was an astute businessman and a crafty negotiator, used to assessing many facets of complex situations and usually coming out on top.

"They have boats," Tessa said in her low, feminine voice. Her massive, creamy breasts looked even bigger than usual the way she was lying on her side. Kyra wondered how the woman carried those things around all day, but then, she was half-Giant, and they were proportional to her size.

Lissi sat up, the narrow strips of dark scales on her pale skin glinting dully in the light from the braziers standing about the room. Slender and beautiful, she crawled across to Kyra and kissed her forehead. "We will follow you no matter what you decide, my love," she said softly. Her eyes - startlingly green and vaguely serpentine - seemed to gather the low light. "We always will."

Kyra met the woman's eyes and for the thousandth time marvelled at how stunning she was. "I know," she replied with a smile. "It is rather a lot to digest, is all." Lissi sat next to her and put an arm around her comfortingly.

"What's to digest?" Berten began with a chuckle as he sat up and then repositioned himself behind Tessa. The much taller woman readily lifted her upper knee toward her chest as she eyed the Gorn'elda with a grin. He straddled her lower thigh and slid his long cock inside her, making them both moan happily. Kyra felt the rush of pleasure flow into her from Berten, though she suppressed it somewhat; she didn't want to be carried away on it right now. "You're the leader of the Aroyin now! Well, this tribe, anyway, but who knows? Maybe the others will follow you too."

Kyra wanted to groan. She hadn't even thought of that. There were a few hundred people in this village, which was already more than she was interested in taking responsibility for. The mention of even more - and who knew how many more there were? - had her wanting to bolt right now. But she couldn't; the world was changing. Perhaps it was time for her to change, too.

It was Lissi that decided it for her when she leaned in and whispered in Kyra's ear. "I think you would make a wonderful leader, and I think these people need you, as do we here, in this room." It was only a whisper, but Tessa and Berten heard it. Berten even paused his lazy thrusting to look at her and nod seriously, somehow managing to maintain the gravity of the moment despite being buried in Tessa.

"My mother was a true leader," Kyra said softly, looking at no one in particular. Nobody spoke into the silence that followed. Could she be as great as her mother? Leading people in battle? Making the right choices? Choices that had lives riding on the outcome? At this junction, Kyra didn't really see what other option she had. Running was out; she was no coward, no matter how much she preferred keeping to herself. Finally, she focused on her friends and smiled. "Very well. I will do this thing. Thank you, all of you."

Smiles broke out all around, and they all made noises about how excited they were for her. Berten and Tessa resumed their coupling, but Kyra hardly noticed as her arms were suddenly full of Lissi, who was kissing her thoroughly. She forgot herself in her passions for a while, but couldn't completely silence the small corner of her heart that wondered if she was making the right choice.

*

That evening, Kyra stood on the small platform that the Banra had previously occupied. She was bare-chested, though a grass skirt had been found for her in the style of the ones worn by the Aroyin. Enji had painted her again, though Kyra doubted the efficacy of the white paint on her fair skin; it hardly showed at all. She was holding the spear that had been given to her last night, the butt grounded on the boards at her feet.

Several hundred dark faces looked up at her from where they knelt in the circle of hard-packed dirt - the Engir'dem - waiting for her to speak. To one side of her knelt the man who had translated yesterday. To her other side was the Banra, who knelt as the rest did. Kyra's eyes ran over all those expectant faces. What was she to say? She was not one for grand speeches. She could sense Lissi, Tessa and Berten a pace behind her on the platform, and she took solace in their presence. The sudden thought occurred to her that she hadn't melded Lissi yet. A problem she would be rectifying very soon.

Motion to her left brought her head around to the Banra. An Aroyin woman was pushing a small bundle into her hands. Kyra frowned as her vala flickered in recognition. With a smile, the Banra stood and presented Kyra with the leaf-wrapped bundle. The tall woman said something in her native tongue, and the man on Kyra's right spoke.

"These were found on the reef by our divers," he said once the Banra's chatter stopped. "They are very fine, and are a fitting gift for the Aldar'ra." Kyra didn't need to unwrap the bundle to know what was inside. A broad smile split her face. "The Banra thinks these weapons belong with you and no other."

"Thank you," she said, inclining her head to the Banra. The woman seemed pleased. Now without the white paint on her face, Kyra could see she was a rather handsome woman, though with that sturdy face, she would not be seen as beautiful by many.

Wanting to see her knives again, she whipped the covering away. Leaning the spear against her shoulder, she held the ten-inch long blades with a sense of relief. She thought she'd lost them, and while she would have found a way to get by without them, she'd been carrying them for over seven-hundred years, and they'd never failed her.

Awed murmurs rippled through the crowd at the sight of the knives. Anar'e'isil were fine pieces - likely much finer than the Aroyin had seen before. Smoothly, she tucked them into the waistband of the grass skirt at the small of her back. Now that she had her weapons back, she felt more... complete.

Taking a deep breath, she raised the spear high and began to speak.

***

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5.3: Home Again

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Aran's journey continued much as it had begun, yet he pressed on doggedly. As with the others, Sorla's test had been difficult, pushing him to yet another extreme, yet he'd found a way through the hundred Heralds surrounding her in the Maralon city square, fighting them off with his bare hands - at least until he'd taken a sword off one of them - until he was the only one left standing, a mass of gashes where their blades had gotten through. He was a good swordsman - Smythe said he was perhaps one of the best that had ever lived - but even he was not good enough to fight a hundred foes and take no wound.

No sooner had he reconciled with Sorla and limped away, his vala renewed itself and closed all except the worst cuts before he had gone too far. The other hurts - the older ones - still pained him, though, as if they would never heal properly. If they heal, they heal, he told himself firmly. If they don't, they don't. It doesn't make any difference. What matters is I get them all back.

If the order continued on as it had, Elaina would be waiting for him next, then Evoni. The thought of having Elaina in his arms again gave him new energy, and he found his pace quickening as the cobbled streets of Maralon blurred and became a deep mountain passage sided by sheer rock reaching up and up until the top was lost in shadow. He set his jaw and kept on. Whatever this challenge presented, it would not keep him from Elaina.

A shape appeared up ahead, blurred and vague, though he thought it was a woman walking ahead. "Elaina?" he called, but the figure didn't slow. He picked up his pace, yet couldn't seem to gain any ground. He got another glimpse, now sure it was a woman, as bare as he was, with pale skin and dark hair. Elaina doesn't have dark hair. Is it Evoni? If it was Evoni, what had happened to Elaina? Shoving the dark thought aside, he began to run, loping through the deep chasm, pushing off the rocks with his hands when it took a sudden turn. Deal with the problem in front of you.

"Evoni?" he called after her. She was running now, too, staying on the edge of sight, vanishing around corners like a ghost. "Evoni!"

"No!" the figure called back. "Stay away!" Aran ran harder, frustrated that he didn't seem to be gaining on her even an inch. A low, dull roar began from somewhere behind him, but he hardly heard it, so focused was he on Evoni. It had to be her.

The roar grew louder, and louder still, until he could ignore it no more. He chanced a glance behind him to see a thirty-foot high torrent of water rushing down the chasm, churning and crashing in a white-frothed fury.

"Evoni!" he called again, desperate. He didn't know if he could survive getting caught up in that maelstrom, vala or no. Evoni certainly wouldn't, not without his help.

"Leave me!" She cried as she ran flat out. "It's better this way!"

That was what all the others had said, or near enough to it. Aran hadn't accepted it before, and he would not now. Had he made some ground on her? She was less dim, now. He could make out the shape of her long legs as they flashed beneath her, and her arms, pumping furiously at her sides.

Drawing deeply on his vala, he raced the torrent that grew closer every second. Unbidden, visions entered his mind of Evoni being picked up by the water and tossed against the rocks as it swept her along. He banished the awful thoughts and focused on her back, his brow drawing down as he ran. How was she so fast? Aran doubted even Strider could run as fast at full gallop.

Her pale form disappeared around a bend, and when he rounded it after her, he found her staring at a dead end, looking up a sheer rock face as if considering climbing it. With no time to think, Aran darted to her and wrapped an arm around her waist before jumping straight up in the air. The wall of water crashed against the rock where she'd been standing with enough force to crush a man. White spray filled the air, saturating them both instantly.

At the peak of the jump, Aran grabbed at the side of the chasm with his free hand and began to climb, even as Evoni struggled against him and demanded he let her go. It was the same with her as the others; he ignored her protests, even when she resorted to hitting him with fists and elbows. It didn't matter if she hurt him; he'd been hurt more than he would have believed possible already, and he knew that if he left her, the pain would be far worse.

He didn't argue or object as he had with the others. With Evoni, he simply remained silent and climbed until her punches and kicks lessened and finally stopped, and her struggling turned to a welcome, clinging embrace. He didn't know how long he scaled the rock, but eventually he reached a small ledge with enough room for him to stand with her.

Their exchange there was brief, but deep, and he saw the acceptance in her eyes before he turned to the only opening in the rock wall he'd seen since entering the chasm; a shadowy void just tall enough and wide enough for him to enter alone. Elaina would be in there, somewhere. She had to be.

*

It didn't take long for the pitch-dark tunnel to lead into forest, and then a village under a leaden sky. The simple thatch-roofed houses alongside hard-packed dirt streets looked identical to any number of villages scattered across the Sorral Plain, but this one was special. This was Korrin, where Aran had grown up. The streets were deserted as Aran walked them, staring around fondly as memories of his boyhood floated to the surface.

He passed a house with a sharp-angled roof, the eaves almost reaching the ground, and a picture of a young, lanky boy with unruly dark hair floated into his mind. His best friend, Jered. What was he doing now? Had he taken after his father and found some land to farm? Had he married and started a family? Aran felt guilty; he'd barely thought of any of his friends since meeting Elaina. Not really. What did they think of him, disappearing the way he had?

They would all still remember him, surely. It had only been two years since he'd left. Feels like twenty, though. He was hoping to catch a glimpse of someone he knew, anyone. With the village deserted like this, it didn't feel enough like home. It was all an illusion, he knew, but still, seeing Master Doonan, the blacksmith, or Master Arnon, the mayor, or even Tessa Mellan, a married woman who had cornered him in her husband's barn one day, entranced by his emerging vala before he'd learned to control it.

That memory always used to make him flush upon recollection, but now he barely felt anything. I've changed so much, he thought sadly as he stepped onto a wider street that would take him to the village square, the very centre of Korrin. They might remember my face, but surely they won't believe me the same man.

Would his own mother recognise him? He banished the thought at once. Of course she would! He'd like to see her face again, if possible. He missed her very much.

Entering the square, he stopped and looked around. It appeared as abandoned as the rest of the village, and his vala was telling him the same as his eyes. The big inn that sided one whole side of the square had its doors closed and its shutters drawn, as did all the other houses. The big circular pit in the middle that was reserved for bonfires on feast days was cold. Where was Elaina? She should be here, along with another challenge for him to face.

A sudden feeling of foreboding crept over him. Something felt very wrong. A light rain began to fall, cold on his bare skin as he trotted around the square, calling for Elaina. It hadn't been this way with the others. He remembered fire, pain, fighting, bleeding, but not this... Emptiness.

"Elaina!" He yelled again.

"I am here."

Spinning, he turned to see her standing there, as beautiful as ever. She wore nothing but a thin black collar around her slim neck, stark against her fair skin. He almost smiled at the sight of her, but the smile died when he saw Maloth standing just behind her, a large, sharp-nailed hand resting on her shoulder in a familiar manner. Bare-chested, he wore tight black trousers made of some sort of reptilian leather and high-topped black boots. His dark eyes regarded Aran confidently, his lips curled in a smug grin.

Aran's heart lurched, and he felt a spike of fear before anger surged, obliterating it.

"So," Maloth began casually as he looked around, disdain twisting his mouth. "This is where you began your miserable life, Anarion." He invested the title with scorn. "Hardly befitting a man of such greatness as you have attained." He tapped a finger on Elaina's shoulder and she knelt obediently, staring up at him with worship in her eyes.

Aran realised he was grasping at his waist with his right hand, where Oroth's hilt would have been. Maloth's own sword, an almost identical shape to Oroth, hung at his waist, though his hand did not move for that black hilt. "Whatever you have done to her," he told Maloth in a hard voice. "You will undo. Now."

Maloth's head swung slowly. "That is impossible," he replied, his smile deepening. "And if it were not, I would refuse. Her power is as delicious as her other charms. She has been most... Entertaining."

"Then you will die," Aran said simply. Illusion or not, this was unacceptable. He began to walk forward, but Maloth flung out a hand.

"I would think carefully, were I you, Paladin," the crimson man said. "What happens to one of your kind if their soul-bound is harmed or killed?" Aran paused. "Yes," Maloth sneered. "What happens to your precious bitch if you kill me? See the way she looks at me?" He gestured to Elaina kneeling in the mud, gazing up at him adoringly. "She is mine more deeply than she ever was yours. To kill me would put her through madness and then death."

"Elaina?" He found himself saying her name quietly. "Are you still in there?" She turned to look at him, but there was a slightly blank quality to her eyes, as if she weren't really there, or a part of her missing. He searched within himself for the sensations that were his connection to her, but found nothing. That means nothing! He told himself determinedly. Things work differently in this place, wherever 'this' is. He strongly suspected this was all happening inside his own mind, but even so, he needed to be careful. The boundaries between the real world and other realities could often blur.