A Paladin's War Ch. 13

With a wordless cry, Aran threw down the wolf he'd just healed and flashed across to the bear. Bigger even than Cullough, it seemed to sneer at him as it swiped a massive paw at his head. "Be gone," Aran said, his voice hard as he stepped inside the swing of the paw and seized the bear's head in both hands. He had to reach up to do it; the thing was taller than him even on all fours. When the bear hit the ground, he turned, his breathing a little laboured. Most of the fighting was done; all the invaders were down except for the black wolf, who snarled at Serefi's clan as they surrounded him, his glowing red eyes full of rage and hate. Something about those eyes seemed familiar to Aran.

Serefi changed to her human form and entered the circle. She stared up at the big wolf, no fear showing on her face. "You are beaten, Braith," she said in a smug voice. "Will you submit, or do we kill you?"

He stared back at her, and for a moment, Aran thought he was going to attack. He readied himself, raising Oroth, but the wolf began to shift. A few moments later, he was a tall, broad-shouldered man with shaggy black hair. He immediately looked past Serefi to Aran. "YOU!" he bellowed, starting forward. He tried to push past Serefi, but she blocked him, and her clan growled ominously, tightening the ring.

"Let him through," Aran told them, planting his sword in the ground. Those eyes. They weren't red now, merely brown like any other man's. Something in his face spoke of great age, though he looked no older than his middle years. A memory floated to the surface in Aran's mind. A black wolf, advancing on Jeira at her farm. Aran had killed it to save her, only later finding out it had been a Druid.

The ring parted just enough to let the Druid through. He stalked up to Aran, his face twisted with rage. "My brother's blood is on your hands, Paladin!" The other Druids shifted uneasily at the name, except for Serefi. Had they not realised yet that was what Aran was?

"He was trying to kill an innocent woman," Aran said levelly. "I was not going to stand idle."

Braith sneered down at Aran. He was tall, nearly a head taller. "I have long waited for this day, Paladin. Today is the day you die."

This close, Aran could feel Maharad strongly, like a miasma of cold blackness emanating from him. It was a cause of concern; he'd never felt anybody this badly infected. Was there anything left in him to heal?

Braith lunged for him, sudden and violent, hands reaching for Aran's throat, eyes wild. Aran caught his wrists and held him. It took some effort; the man was strong. "No," he told Braith. "Today is not that day." His vala surged into the other man, flooding his body. Braith screamed, the sound half-man, half-animal.

"NO!" he bellowed, trying to force his hands closer to Aran's neck. Aran's feet skidded back a few inches, his heels mounding up the soil. He held strong, though, arms cording with the effort. Light attacked darkness inside Braith, warring. To Aran's dismay, the black tendrils refused to recede. Sinister laughter echoed in his ears.

This one is mine! The laughter seemed to say.

Braith's struggles grew wilder. He flung himself around in Aran's grasp, his teeth gnashing, spittle on his lips. "NO!" he bellowed, sounding more animal than man. "NO!"

Aran was giving it all he had, and getting nowhere. There was one thing missing in this Druid that the others had had: a desire to be free. Braith wanted to be controlled. In his deepest heart, he was already dead. "I'm sorry," Aran said softly as he released Braith's wrists and danced backward. The Druid lunged forward, but Oroth was already in Aran's hands. He made it quick, ducking under Braith's outstretched arms and pivoting to strike, taking the man's head from his shoulders. He would feel no pain. He had felt enough.

The clearing was silent but for the thud of the body hitting the ground. Aran turned to the Druids watching. "I could not save him. He did not want it."

They offered no response for long moments. Aran wondered if he had erred somehow. Finally, Serefi knelt gracefully, bowing her head. Her clan followed, shifting into their human forms first. Except for the four from Braith's clan who still lay unconscious, they all knelt. "We will fight, Sunblade," she said. "At your direction."

Aran nodded. "Thank you, Serefi." He pointed his sword at the sleeping ones. "What about them? Will they fight too?"

Serefi eyed them. "I think they will." In the distance, thunder rumbled.

Aran sensed the presence in the storm. So, you're not finished, he thought grimly. Well, neither am I. He looked at Jali's body lying there, the leopard's head twisted at the wrong angle. "I will help you bury her," he said, but Serefi swung her head.

"No. The jungle will take her. It is our way."

Aran nodded sadly. Taking a deep breath, he addressed the Druids all together. "Gather your children. I will show you where they can be kept safe. Then we hunt." Thunder came again, closer now, but this time it was met with the howls and roars of a clan of free Druids.

For three days, Aran ran with the clan, leading them through the jungled lands. He hunted with them, ate with them, slept with them, and began to understand their way of life. Moment to moment, instinct driving every choice, every action, following primal urges without the burden of forethought, or remorse for erring. They were no animals, though, no matter how they acted as such. There was an honour to them, if unrefined. They did not harm one another outside of direct challenges, nor did they compete for food. All in the clan ate equally, once Serefi had taken first bite. The ones from Braith's clan were still under watch, though they appeared reticent enough, and Aran knew Maharad had been banished from them. Fionn, Lyrra, Leif and Fergin were their names. Fergin was the one who had killed Jali, and whilst there was some tension over the fact, no trouble broke out as a result.

The clan's children - some barely old enough to walk, others verging on adolescence - rode as they could on the backs of the Druids, clinging to fur or clutching a neck. On the second day, Serefi said the younglings would take a journey once they came of age, to seek their true form. When Aran asked what that meant, she simply said that was a private matter, sacred to every Druid.

The clan moved as quickly as they could as Aran led them on the search for Ranada, the Mother of Beasts. Securing the Titan would be an enormous advantage if it could be done. The Titans were not ordinary beings, and Aran wished he could be more certain about their motivations. Sadani, at least, had a string tied to her now, one that Aran hoped would hold.

Seemingly endless jungle spanned hundreds of miles, flanked on the north by the Crown Coast, a sprawling shoreline in the form of sandy beaches, or sheer cliffs, or rocky spits depending on where you stood.

It was on one of those cliffs he stood at the end of the third day, staring out over the Wild Sea, which, for once, was living up to her name. Grey-green whitecaps rose beneath a thundery sky, bellowing as they slammed against the cliff below, sending mist almost up to the edge where he watched the waves. The heavy clouds above were natural - not Rava's doing, thank Aros - and a break at the horizon let through shafts of brilliant orange as the sun set.

A particularly large wave crashed against the cliff directly beneath him, sending spray as high as his head. Just for a moment, the spray condensed into the form of a woman, her belly swollen with child. As fast as it happened, the image collapsed and drifted away on the wind. Sadani was here, or at least letting him know she was watching him.

He sensed Serefi approaching from behind. "What troubles you, Paladin?" she asked as she moved up beside him. Her olive skin caught the sunlight, seeming to glimmer.

"Just about everything, these days," he told her with a wry smile. "But that is to be expected, I suppose."

Serefi stared out over the sea, not looking at him. "This world is perhaps not befitting of one such as you. We could abandon this hunt, and you could remain with us here. The clan respects you. There is a place for you among us."

Aran turned to her, eyebrows raised. "And leave the rest of the world to burn?"

Serefi shrugged. "This is the way of things, is it not? Sometimes, the summer fires come, and any who are too slow to flee burn, while the rest survive and begin again. Soon, the fires come to ravage all the land, but new growth will bloom as it always does."

"I wish I believed that," Aran said, "but if Maloth has his way, the land will be his, and you will be living under his whims."

"As you say," Serefi replied, though she sounded disbelieving.

"You doubt?" Aran asked. "Then why did you join me?"

"Because you saved us."

"And the rest of the world?"

"Will do as it always has. Flourish, wither, burn. The cycle always repeats. The Druids will have little effect. It is simply the way of things." She sounded resigned.

Aran took her gently by the shoulders, turning her to him. "You are wrong," he said firmly. "The world is changing. Things are different, this time. I will prove it to you, but I need you to continue to trust me."

She smiled and touched his cheek in a surprisingly tender gesture. "You, I trust, Paladin. And my clan. That is as far as my trust extends."

"Very well," Aran replied. "I suppose that will have to do, for now."

A bear's bellow sounded from back in the jungle. Serefi's head whipped in that direction. "Cullough," she said before dashing into the trees, her sleek body displacing the undergrowth. Aran started to call after her, to tell her not to worry, but she was already gone. He hurried after, finding her in the nook between two rocky hills where the clan had stopped for the night.

Aran smiled as he saw who was waiting there, though he was the only one smiling. Surrounded by a dozen growling Druids in animal form, Immelanle stood like a beautiful statue come to life, sixty-feet tall, towering higher than some of the trees. She was wearing a flowing white skirt and a short leather vest, open in the front to show the insides of her colossal bosom. The head of an enormous hammer stuck up over one shoulder, the strap dividing her breasts where it crossed her chest on an angle. Her beige skin glimmered faintly in the dull late afternoon light, and hair like fine strands of onyx shifted in the breeze. The skin around her silvery eyes crinkled as she smiled at Aran.

"I am pleased to see you, young Paladin," she said, giving him a deep nod.

Aran grinned up at her. "Immelanle! You found me!"

"You left a suitable trail, my friend," she replied. She glanced around at the trees. "This place used to have a darkness in it. I no longer sense it."

"It is gone," he said. "Hopefully for good, though I have work to do yet."

Serefi shot him an annoyed look. "Who is this intruder, Paladin? What is she doing here?"

"Forgive me," Aran began. He gestured to the Giantess. "This is Immelanle of the Atlos Oron'noroth. She is a friend."

Serefi stared up at the massive woman critically. "She is very large. She could do much damage if she wished."

"I am no threat to you or your people, Ranada'iel," Immelanle said smoothly, splaying massive hands in a placating gesture. Serefi frowned at the name, as if she didn't understand it. Aran did. Daughter of Ranada. Was it a figurative term? Or literal? Wouldn't Serefi have told him if she was one of Ranada's offspring? Perhaps she was and didn't know.

"You make strange friends, healer," Serefi muttered. She relaxed marginally, however. "Withdraw," she commanded her clan. They did so slowly, backing up a few paces, though none shifted back to human form, and Serefi didn't demand it.

"You have no idea," Aran said in response. With some space around her, Immelanle sat down with a rumbling sigh, gracefully folding her legs beneath her as she shifted the hammer's handle. The head of the thing was as big as a horse and decorated with Giant runes. The Druids tensed as she raised a hand above her shoulder and grasped the hammer just beneath the head to lift it free, but she merely placed it on the ground beside her, exhaling in relief.

"It is good to put that down," she rumbled, tilting her head from side to side. "The journey has been long."

"How has your search fared?" Aran asked.

"Rather well," she replied, placing her palms on her knees. "Better than I had hoped. These lands are a haven for Noroth, it appears, and most were eager to join the cause once they heard me speak."

That was wonderful news. An army of Giants would be something indeed. "How many?" Aran enquired.

"Sixty-three, thus far," she said, "of my cousins from the desert, the forests and the mountains. Mandaralorn was headed for the sea, last I saw him. I expect he has gathered even more."

"Amazing," Aran said, smiling broadly. "Thank you, Immelanle. I owe you a great debt."

"You owe nothing, Anarion," she said, leaning forward slightly, ancient, silvery eyes intent. "Nothing at all."

"You are very gracious," Aran replied, giving her a deep nod of his head. The Druids were slowly starting to relax. They morphed back into human form one by one. Immelanle smiled at them.

"The children of Ranada are strong," she said. "I too was in the dark god's grip, for many years." She put a hand to her mountainous chest. "Your pain is known to me." The Druids seemed to accept that, though none outwardly offered anything in response. She turned her attention back to Aran. "You had a task for me?"

"Yes," he replied, looking to Serefi. "The children of this clan must be kept safe, hidden away somewhere. Can you help with this?"

There were some noises of disagreement from the Druids, but Serefi held up a hand to silence them. She searched Aran's face, her expression impassive. "You know what you ask?" she said in a low voice. "Our first children in a hundred winters, and you want to trust them to her?"

"I can think of no one better," he told her, looking into her reptilian eyes. "The Giants of Atlos are strong and honourable. It is a wise course to trust them."

"Perhaps it is, and perhaps not." A commanding female voice from behind Aran made every head turn. A brown-skinned, rangy woman strode from the trees, statuesque, handsome rather than pretty, and proudly unclothed. Her eyes were the colour of amber, brilliant in her dark face. Silver-streaked black hair fell in wild waves down her back, matching the small triangle between her lean thighs.

The Druids in the hollow all dropped to their knees at once, Serefi included. Aran had not sensed the woman coming, but then, he had not sensed Sadani initially, either.

"I have been searching for you, Ranada," Aran said, bowing respectfully. He was pleasantly surprised to feel no touch of Maharad in the Titan.

Serefi hissed at him but kept her eyes on the ground. "Do not address the Denmother, fool!"

Ranada glanced at Serefi, then returned her attention to Aran. "Strange company you keep, arohim." Her voice was deep for a woman's. "A clan of Druids and an Oron'norothi."

Behind Aran, Immelanle got to her feet and bowed deeply. "It is an honour, Guardian," she said smoothly. Ranada gave only a curt nod to the Giantess, as if Immelanle was of little interest.

"We are in strange times," Aran replied. "How can I be of service, Ancient One?" It was best to show respect.

Ranada came forward, lean muscles rippling beneath the skin of her thighs. Her body seemed built for long running. He thought those yellow eyes belonged on a wolf, like Ronan's. Perhaps that was the form she took when she shifted. She stopped barely a foot from Aran and looked him over. She was a head taller than he, the height difference making her stare feel imperious. "You cleansed the hateful one from my children," she said, her tone flat and expressionless.

Aran nodded. "It is my purpose to push him back, wherever I find him."

Ranada merely grunted, a sound that could have meant anything. Aran searched her feelings but found her to be as alien as Sadani. "The samana approaches," she went on in that same emotionless manner. "The time has come for me to reveal myself again, as the others have done." She cast her eyes about the hollow. "I will protect the younglings, Alpha," she told Serefi, who nodded quickly, keeping her eyes down. "The Norothi can go as she wishes," she said to Aran, as if her demands were to be met without question. Well, he supposed there was no harm in what she asked, and he wasn't sure if he could stop her anyway. The World Guardians were not beings you argued with; not even when you were as powerful as Aran.

"Tell me, arohim," Ranada began in a low voice, "do my children have a future in this world?"

Aran met her eyes levelly, blue against yellow. "If we win, they will." He didn't know how, but he would see it done. "If not, they will be cast into darkness like the rest of us."

Ranada searched his face for long moments before nodding. "Very well. Take care of this clan, Paladin. I will send the others to find you." At that, she strode away towards the trees. Without slowing, she whistled sharply, and one of the Druids - the light-haired wolf woman - scrambled off. A few moments later, she reappeared with the younglings in tow, trailing after her like a gaggle of goslings behind a mother goose. They followed into the jungle after Ranada.

Serefi stared after them almost longingly, the most emotion he'd ever seen on her face except for when he'd cleansed her. It made him realise something he had not thought about often enough, lately.

"Where any of them yours?" Aran asked gently.

She turned to face him. "Two," was all she said before whirling to address her clan. "Rest while you can. Tomorrow, we run toward battle." There was some chuckling and banter, but the clan as a whole seemed a little sombre at the absence of the little ones. "They are safe with the Denmother," she reminded them firmly. "Safer than they are even among us."

With a sigh, Immelanle bent to pick up her hammer. "I fear our plan has been superseded, Anarion," she rumbled as she slid the haft back into place through the loop on her back.

"I'm sorry," Aran replied. "Had I known, I would not have wasted your time."

The Giantess smiled, large, white teeth flashing in her pretty face. "It matters not; I follow you regardless. Which direction would you point me now?"

Aran thought for a moment. It was a good question. Where to send her? Serefi provided the answer. "Run with us, Giantess!" she called up to the towering woman. "Perhaps it is time the Druids and Giants fought together again!"

Aran raised his eyebrows. Why was Serefi suddenly so accepting of Immelanle? The beautiful Druid seemed to sense his question. "I said we would fight at your direction, Paladin. The Giantess says she will too. That is enough for now."

"I think that is a fine idea," Immelanle said brightly. "I would be honoured, Alpha." She bowed deeply. "If that suits, Anarion."

"It does," Aran replied at once. "We are all headed to the same place, now. Tomorrow, move west and south, and keep going until you find the main force. They'll be somewhere north of the Sorral Plain. If you find an army of Orcs along the way, they are friendly. Ask for Hegra and tell her I sent you. There will be a place for you with them if you prefer not to run alone."

Serefi frowned. "You speak as if you are not coming."

Aran shook his head. "I will rejoin you when I can, but you have reminded me that I have not seen my mother in far too long." She was out there, somewhere. He would know if she'd died. Aside from missing her, there were a few questions niggling at the back of his mind that only she would be able to answer. "Run hard, Druids," he told them, saluting with fist to chest in the Paladin way. "Giantess. I will see you on the battlefield."