A Paladin's Journey Ch. 03

*all characters are over the age of eighteen years*

*Quick note: Sorry for the delay in getting this one done! Life has been crazy-town, though in positive ways :)

You'll notice two new terms in this chapter. The term 'Meldir' (pronounced mehl-DEER) refers to two (or more) people who are Bonded through the Gift of Aros. 'Meldin' (pronounced mehl-DEEN) refers to one individual in a Bonded pair. Example: "We are Meldir. He is my Meldin."*

***

***CAELEDRIN VELENAR – High Elven City of Laefendell, Palistair***

Caeledrin lounged nude on the plush silk cushions, his hands folded behind his head. He sighed as he enjoyed the sensations of the two she-Elves diligently attending his cock with their talented mouths. Both in their third century, raven-headed Alendaes and golden-haired Gwynes were rounding out nicely, their hips, breasts and thighs generously proportioned. Alendaes was kneeling between Caeledrin's spread thighs, bathing his balls with her tongue, while Gwynes was straddling his chest, presenting her smooth, pale buttocks and bald pink pussy for his enjoyment while she swallowed as much of his throbbing member as she could. Caeledrin was not small, but she made a valiant effort nonetheless.

This was what life was about, for Caeledrin; lazing about in his lavish quarters and reveling in the pleasures of women and food and wine. More than six hundred years he had walked this earth, and he'd figured out long ago that the world never really changed, no matter how much one tried to change it. Things stayed more or less the same, if you really looked at it, so why bother? Life was to be enjoyed, and Caeledrin planned on relishing every minute for the rest of time.

"Your Grace?" Wonderfully buxom and curved, Caeledrin's high counsel, Velesande, looked down at him quizzically from where she was standing nearby. She was an excellent treat for the eyes, with that flowing golden hair and a voluptuous form easily discernable through the loose diaphanous robes that High Elves favoured. A treat for the eyes, but rarely for the ears, unfortunately, as she tended to drone on about matters that Caeledrin cared little for. What had she been saying? Ah, yes, further word had been received from Ellerion Valenar, Caeledrin's wife.

Ellerion had vanished some time ago without explanation but had started sending regular letters back to Laefendell a few weeks later. Always one to pander to the common folk - 'lifting morale,' she called it - Ellerion had insisted on travelling with a supply caravan to a small mining outpost in the west, which had been raided by Orcs, according to later reports. While there had been plenty of dead Elves, none of the scouts had been able to locate Ellerion. The worst was feared; that she'd been captured by the Gor'dur, until the letters had started arriving. Apparently, she had escaped the raid and was in a safe place, but she had learned much about the enemies of the High Elves and was sending back as much information as she could.

Caeledrin could care less that his wife was gone, or whether she was in danger or not; he had plenty of women to occupy him, and his marriage to Ellerion was one of convenience, a unification of two powerful families. He also cared little for what the Orcs and Dark Elves, or anyone else got up to, as long as it didn't disturb his fun.

"Forgive me, Velesande," Caeledrin drawled lazily as he squeezed Gwynes's ripe buttocks. The pretty Elf atop him moaned in response, and her slit was glistening with her moisture. Her smell was sweet, like fruit wine, and Caeledrin felt himself swell further in the wet cavern of her mouth. "I appear to have grown somewhat distracted."

Velesande bobbed a graceful curtsy, her spectacular breasts swaying beneath the thin fabric of her robe. Before she'd left, Ellerion had been the most beautiful and coveted Elf in Laefandell, but Velesande was not far behind. "Forgive me, your Grace, I will repeat myself." Velesande was always polite, always proper, at least when attending to political matters. She held a small roll of parchment in her delicate fingers and unfurled it to scan its contents again. "High Matriarch Velenar sends word that the Orcs and Dark Elves have formed a treaty and are moving on Amindaer City."

That got Caeledrin's attention. He sat up, rudely shoving Gwynes aside, though he allowed her and Alendaes to continue their work on his cock. "Truly?" He mused, stroking his smooth chin. "That could be problematic." For the last half-century, the Orcs, Giants, Dark Elves and High Elves had stood at odds after fleeing the failing Seven Kingdoms of Ekistair and carving out their own realms here in Palistair, across the sea. Aside from the odd skirmish or raid, there was relative peace between these four races, as long as they left each other alone. If the Orcs really had sided with the Dark Elves, then they could march for Laefandell.

"Yes, your Grace," Velesande said, her big, sapphire eyes floating down to where his cock was being attended to. She licked her full lips unconsciously. "As with the others, the High Matriarch's letter was signed by her hand, and sealed with her seal."

"How many fighters have we in our army, Velesande?" Caeledrin asked, idly pushing Alendaes' head further onto his cock, forcing his way deeper until her throat opened and he slid all the way down. She was a determined thing, committed to pleasuring her King, and she looked up at him with large, emerald eyes adoringly even as her slim throat bulged.

"We have ten thousand warriors ready to march," Velesande replied immediately.

"And how many are in this force of Orcs and Dark Elves?"

"The High Matriarch estimates their numbers at five or six thousand, your Grace. Her Grace suggests that we attack them once they begin their siege of Amindaer and pin them against the city's walls."

"Very good, Velesande," Caelendrin said with a smile for the beautiful Elf. "Prepare the legions, but first I want scouts sent south, and regular reports sent back. I trust Ellerion's word, but I want confirmation." Ellerion was loyal to her people, and Caeledrin doubted very strongly that she had turned traitor, but it still paid to be sure.

"At once, your Grace," Velesande said, curtsying again before turning to leave the chamber.

"You should stay and take pleasure with us," Caeledrin suggested as Gwynes swung a long leg across his waist, straddling him while Alendaes aimed his thick shaft at Gwynes' slick entrance. His view of Velesande was blocked by Gwynes' perfectly symmetrical breasts, large and pale on her chest, but he heard her response well enough.

"I would like nothing more, your Grace," she said genuinely. "But I would carry out your orders first, if you agree?"

Gwynes lowered herself down, her sodden snatch engulfing him inch by inch in delicious wet heat. He waved Velesande away impatiently, knowing she was right. The last thought Caeledrin had before he lost himself in fucking Gwynes was one of triumph; if Ellerion was right, then this was his chance to secure the HIgh Elves' power on Palistair. With the Dark Elves and Orcs gone, he may even be able to take Amindaer City! With no enemies left to fight, and an impenetrable fortress around him, Caeledrin could enjoy the pleasures of his lifestyle with no fear of interruption.

A greedy smile crossed his face as he palmed Gwynes' tits, images filled his mind of rooms full of naked she-Elves, all beckoning him to join them, to give them his cock. Changing the world was pointless, but carving out his own piece, free of threats, to enjoy as he would? That was worth pursuing.

***

***ARAN – Karvani Mountains, Ekistair***

The sun was at its peak as Aran, Smythe and Elaina led their horses up the long, winding stair. Statues lined their path, worn smooth by centuries of wind and rain, rendering their features indistinguishable from one another. Aran thought they had all once been monuments of people – Paladins, most likely – though he couldn't tell for sure.

Ayla had awoken some time ago, and was now riding Elaina's chestnut mare, Willow. Tavish walked alongside his mounted sister, one hand on the pommel of her saddle, which she covered with her own hand. Ayla had listened to Aran's explanation of events – he'd been as gentle as possible – but she'd said not a word since waking, even to her brother.

Where Tavish had adjusted to his new circumstances remarkably well, Ayla seemed disconnected, riding with a distant look on her face. Aran supposed that was to be expected, considering what she'd been through. Hopefully, with time, she would recover from the ordeal. It was good that her brother was with her; he would be a source of comfort for the girl. Aran's heart had clenched when Tavish told them what Eames' had done to Ayla; ordering three thugs to violate her while she was defenseless. Luckily, Tavish's Gift had manifested, and he had spared his sister the worst of the men's vile attentions.

Aran walked abreast with Elaina at the front of the party as they climbed, with Smythe bringing up the rear, leading Thunder behind Tavish and Ayla. He looked over his shoulder to see the Sorral Plain laid out below like a rolling green carpet dotted with clumps of trees here and there. They were almost at the entrance to Temple Sura – named after Edellein Sura, an ancient Paladin – and the view was tremendous. This high up, one could see almost all the way to Maralon, though the city's walls were hidden by the horizon.

Aran opened his mouth to mention the view to Elaina, but the words fled as a distant rumble sounded, growing louder, as if something colossal was rapidly approaching. The horses whickered nervously, and Strider tossed his black head, though Aran held tight to the reins.

Elaina looked over at him, her emerald eyes widening. "What-"

The mountain beneath them shuddered and groaned, causing man and beast alike to stumble. Tavish yelled something, but his words were lost in the roar of the trembling earth. Ayla was swaying dangerously in the saddle, and Smythe was cursing as he tried to keep his feet and control Thunder at the same time, the black stallion rearing in panic. Clutching Strider's reins in a death grip, Aran staggered to Elaina, and they clutched each other until the tremor finally subsided.

Aran took a deep breath as the mountain shivered a last time and went quiet. What a time to have an earthquake! "Is everyone alright?" They all nodded. Somehow, Ayla had not been unhorsed. The vacant expression was gone from her face, replaced by wide-eyed fear. "Come on. We should hurry inside." He checked his Bonds, but thankfully, all his women appeared unharmed, if a bit shaken. He turned to continue up the mountain, but Smythe called from behind.

"Aran, look."

Smythe was pointing to the northern horizon, in the direction of Maralon, where a line of black clouds was massing, stretching east and west as far as the eye could see. Billowing towers rose high into the otherwise clear sky. Aran looked at Smythe, confused. "Those clouds weren't there a minute ago."

"Aye," Smythe said, his voice tight and his busy eyebrows drawn into a frown. "They were not, but they are now."

As Aran watched, the storm advanced at an unbelievable pace, blanketing the Sorral Plain in shadow as it approached. Thick forks of lightning stabbed at the earth, and the thunder was distant crashing, but already audible. "We need to get inside," Aran said, punctuating his own words by starting forward. An earthquake and now another freak storm? What in the Hells was happening? Intuitively, Aran thought he might know, but he dismissed the thought for now; there was nothing he could do about that particular problem at this moment.

Nobody argued, and the group hastened up the wide, shallow stone steps, wanting to be inside the Temple as quickly as possible. The wind picked up, gusting in from the north as if to push them toward their goal, flapping their cloaks about wildly and making the horses skittish. "Easy, boy," Aran murmured to Strider as he tugged the stallion along. The midday sun suddenly disappeared, and Aran looked up to see the leading clouds already obscuring the glowing ball. 'This cannot be natural,' he thought to himself as he quickened his pace. Glancing behind, he saw the storm now lashing the plain below, a curtain of rain hiding the rolling hills from sight, only broken by frequent forks of jagged lightning. Thunder rumbled continuously like a growl deep in the belly of a monstrous beast.

They weren't going to make it. The storm was moving too quickly and would surely sweep them off the face of the mountain as if they were loose stones. The wind gusted higher, and Aran felt the force of it trying to blow him down. "Hurry!" He bellowed over the now howling wind as he broke into a run, leaping up the stairs as fast as he could manage. Hail began to fall around them, fist-sized chunks of ice that shattered on the mountainside. If one of those hailstones hit someone in the head, they would likely not survive. "We're almost there!"

Pain lanced through him as a jagged piece of hail struck him in the left shoulder, the force of it making him stumble.

"Aran!" Elaina yelled, bending to pick him up by the arm. She was strong, and she pulled him to his feet easily. Wincing with pain, he hurried forward, hoping that he had not broken anything. Finally, he sensed the entrance to the Temple, less than a hundred yards away. He closed the distance at a sprint, Strider eagerly leaping along behind him, whickering nervously all the way. Using his Gift, he kept an eye on the party, so if anyone else got hit, he would know.

Reaching the stone archway, Aran stepped to the side, but did not enter. He let Strider go and slapped him on the rump, sending him trotting inside as he waved the others through. Elaina first, with her horse, then Tavish and Ayla and finally, Smythe. As Aran ducked in after, a piece of hail smashed into the stone where his head had been a moment ago.

Sighing with relief, he followed the others into the Temple. Outside, the torrential rain began to fall.

*

They got as far as the vast chamber with its forest of pillars and statue of Edellein Sura when the Servants came rushing up to greet them, concerned looks on their faces. Aran quickly scanned them, but they appeared unharmed by the quake. Visions had flashed through his mind of the Temple collapsing, but this chamber, at least, appeared undamaged. Two faces were not in that cluster; Sara, whom Aran had not laid eyes on for some time, now, and Kedron. Aran could sense they were both in the Temple, though not together.

Amina led the flock, all clad in their short, diaphanous purple robes, and Aran admired her lush form, breathtaking even in these dire circumstances. Not that there was a single unattractive woman in the bunch, by any means, but Amina shone like a bonfire beside candles.

"Thank Aros!" The golden-haired Priestess exclaimed as she came forward. "When I sensed that storm coming after the quake, I feared... never mind." Her sapphire eyes fell on the twins. "Welcome, children, to Temple Sura!" She beamed at them, and Aran saw Ayla leave her fugue long enough to blink disbelievingly at Amina's transparent purple robe. Tavish's eyes looked ready to fall out of his head.

"Are you well, my dear?" Amina asked Ayla, who had dismounted woodenly from the saddle with Tavish's help. Ayla took one look at the Priestess's compassionate gaze and broke down into ragged sobbing, the first sounds she'd made since being rescued. Amina clucked her tongue for all the world like a mother hen and clapped her hands together. "I need two women to take this poor girl and help her get cleaned up," she said as she turned to the waiting group. "Jeira and Rayna, I think."

Immediately, the two women came forward and Aran shared a quick smile with them as they passed him to gently collect Ayla and lead her off. The stricken girl appeared unwilling to let go of Tavish, however, and so he found himself being towed along, concern for his sister painted across his youthful face.

Amina watched them go with her full lips pursed. "I will go to her later," she murmured to the three Paladins. "For now, she needs a bath and some rest."

"I could use the same, I think," Elaina said with a grin, shucking her cloak to reveal her shirtless body, nude from the waist up and caked with dried Troll blood. They had not dared stop again since encountering the Troll, even for Elaina to clean up.

Frowning, Amina delicately peeled away some of the blood from Elaina's very considerable breast and studied it intently. "This is Troll's blood," she said after a moment, staring at Aran, Smythe and Elaina in turn.

"Aye, Priestess," Smythe confirmed as he stepped forward. "Happened upon him out on the Sorral Plain. He'd just finished his dinner; roasted Herald."

Had the situation not been so grim, Aran would have smiled at Smythe's dark humour. Amina eyed the big Paladin with an unreadable expression on her face before turning back to the waiting group of Servants and friends of Aros. "I must discuss these matters with the Paladins in private, children," she said kindly. The small crowd dispersed immediately, but not before Erik, Sylvia and Sorla each came forward to take a horse.

Aran squeezed Sorla's hand briefly as she silently took Strider's reins from him, and the pretty half-Orc returned the squeeze, winking at him before moving off. Love flowed through the Bond from her, accompanied by a feeling of relief, as if she had exhaled after holding her breath for a long time. Aran could sense that same feeling from all his other Bonds, too. He hated making them worry; he would have to make it up to them somehow.

"Come," Amina said once they were alone. "I must speak with the three of you about what happened out there, and in Maralon. Also, Elaina appears in need of a bath." The Priestess eyed the busty Paladin up and down, a small smile curving her lips. "No matter how appealing she looks, even covered in blood."

They all chuckled, at least until the Priestess turned her eyes on the men. "And judging by the smell," she added, wrinkling her perfect nose. "You two are in even greater need of a wash."

Aran just shrugged. "I figured we'd get a chance sooner or later, Priestess, though bathing didn't seem all that important compared to Heralds and Trolls."

"Indeed," Amina said as she turned away. "Come, we will use the bath chamber in my quarters. There is less chance of us being overheard unnecessarily."

They all watched somewhat transfixed as the Priestess swayed through the tall stone columns, her hips rolling hypnotically and her ample bottom wiggling delightfully beneath the flimsy material of her robe.

"That woman," Elaina murmured as they followed her from a few paces back. "Makes me mad for pussy like you wouldn't believe."

Aran and Smythe chortled at that. "I think I would believe, lass," Smythe said with a grin. "I've seen too much to believe otherwise!"

"I'll second that," Aran added, winking at his Meldin when she looked at him.

"I wonder why she wants to talk in private?" Smythe mused, stroking his thick black mustache that ran from beneath his bold nose and connected to a strip of hair that ran along his jawline, leaving his chin bare. Aran had never seen facial hair in that fashion anywhere else.

"Probably to avoid worrying the others," Aran guessed. "I'm sure they don't need to hear all the gruesome details of what happened just yet. They'll find out soon enough from Tavish and Ayla." Pleasure suddenly flowed into him from several Bonds all at once, telling him that wherever they were, the others were having a good time.

"Holy shit!" Elaina breathed, putting a hand to her naked chest. "Is that coming from them?"