A Paladin's Training Ch. 15

Once Aran's tale was done, it was time for Elaina to tell hers. Taking a deep breath, she started at the beginning.

***

Aran listened intently to Elaina's story, his brows drawing down as she told of her capture by the Druids at Jeira's farm. The thought of Elaina being harmed by these creatures sparked a fury inside him, though he suppressed it, instead quietly thanking Aros that she was able to escape safely.

While he was grateful that Jeira had not been home when the Druids had come, Aran raised his concern for her ongoing safety. Elaina told him she had spoken with Smythe, who was currently searching for her. With luck, she would still be in Ironshire, and Smythe would find her in short order.

While Aran could not feel his Bonds while here on the Plane, he had not felt anything troubling coming through from Jeira in recent days, which meant that she was safe, at least for now.

Momentarily, he felt a pang of guilt at making love with Elaina while Jeira was potentially in danger, until he remembered that time worked differently on the Plane of Aros, with a minute in the physical world equating to hours here, which meant that only a few minutes had passed in reality, and precious time had not been wasted.

For Elaina's rescue, Aran would give his gratitude to the elves when he could, and deal with these Druids as soon as Sara and the Servants were safely delivered to Amina's Temple.

He was pleased to hear that Elaina had met Induin and Liaren, and that they liked each other. He was eager to see his elvish twins again, and hoped to be able to do so sooner rather than later.

There were long moments of silence after Elaina's story came to a close.

Aran spoke first. "While I am concerned for Jeira, I will trust in Smythe to find her and her husband and protect them until I have brought Sara and the Servants to the Temple. I hope to be there within two weeks, maybe sooner, if we can find horses."

"I will remain at the Temple and prepare for your arrival," Amina said. "In the meantime, I will continue to listen for undiscovered Gifted. I thought I sensed something in the direction of Maralon some weeks ago, though it has not recurred."

Aran shook his head. "I felt it too, briefly. There were signs of two Gifted, though I fear the worst for them; the Heralds have been scouring the city day and night. I had to choose between going out to find them, and risking everyone else, or getting everyone safely out of Maralon."

It had been a hard choice; he hated the idea of leaving anyone to the Heralds, let alone Gifted.

"I need to leave Ildernass," Elaina stated. "I am no good to anyone hiding with the elves."

Aran shook his head again. "The Druids could be waiting for you on the other side; I won't have you risking yourself unnecessarily." Suddenly a thought came to him. "Do the elves have a ship or boat that can take you upriver to the Karvani Mountains? That would put you much closer to Amina's Temple, and you'd be clear of the forest, and the Druids. Perhaps Induin or Liaren could help?"

Elaina smiled. "It's a good idea. I'll ask them."

"Good," Aran said, returning her smile. "Knowing you are safe will make it that much easier for me to focus on reaching the Temple."

"Very well," Amina began, eyeing each of them in turn. "Both of you will journey to the Temple, and Smythe will continue his search for Aran's Bonded. Now that you are free of the Planeward, you can contact Smythe as you see fit."

"I warned him of the Druids," Elaina added. "He is aware of their presence."

"I will be dealing with them in due course," Aran said quietly. "There are enough obstacles in our way without creatures like them hunting us."

"As long as you don't go alone, Aran." Elaina said, placing a hand on his leg, her beautiful face serious.

Aran could see the sense in that, even though inside he felt like rushing off and cutting them down for hurting Elaina. He placed a hand on top of hers and smiled reassuringly. "I promise I won't."

With all things discussed, the meeting came to a close. Tender embraces were shared, with much kissing and touching and fondling before the three Gifted returned to their bodies on the physical plane.

*

Elaina's eyes came open, and for the first time in many days, she smiled. Aran was alright, and soon enough, she would be able to Bond with him! She could barely contain her joy!

As soon as it was light, she would find Induin and Liaren and see if there was a way to get upriver. There had to be a way, and if there wasn't, she had a mind to risk crossing the river anyway, and Druids be damned.

Thoughts of Aran continued to play through her mind; his gorgeous face, his strong chest, the way he looked at her with desire hot in his blue eyes. Not surprisingly, she felt an ache growing in her lower belly, and her sex began to moisten.

No longer interested in sleep, she trailed her fingers down her belly to her smooth, hairless pussy, slowly caressing herself as she imagined Aran there with her, above her, his weight pressing her into the bed as he slid his hard cock into her.

***

Aran and his party broke camp the next morning after a quick meal, during which he shared his success at making contact with Elaina and Amina. Sara, Sorla, Sylvia, Lynelle, Liddea and Erik had quietly celebrated the good news with him before preparing for another day's walking.

The journey had been arduous, so far, especially without horses to ride, but the Servants were a strong bunch, and none of them had complained once about the long days of walking.

They had been keeping off the Maralon Road - the main road that connected Maralon in the north to Ironshire in the south while curving east around the intervening Karvani Mountains - primarily to avoid Herald patrols. For the same reason, they'd also stayed clear of the many farms and homesteads that dotted the surrounding countryside; the less they were seen, the better.

Aran had the group take every precaution he could conceive of, regularly sending the nimble half-elf Sylvia scouting ahead as well as behind for anything or anyone of which they should be wary. So far, they had avoided any trouble.

The first few days went smoothly, with nothing eventful occurring, just long hours of trekking over the relatively flat plains, the Karvanis only just visible in the far distance. Spring was slowly becoming summer, and soon the regular summer thunderstorms would begin, although hopefully not until after they reached the Temple.

Aran spent the evenings teaching Sara and the Servants ways to defend themselves without weapons, using only their bodies to fight, which was something none of them knew much about. He didn't expect to teach them a great deal in only two weeks, but something was better than nothing, so he held lessons every evening.

It was late afternoon on the seventh day when Aran spotted Sylvia, the young half-elf appearing atop a small rise right in front of them and heading towards them at a dead sprint, her long golden hair trailing behind her.

Aran's stomach clenched as no fewer than ten mounted men crested the rise behind her and descended after the girl at a gallop, eight of them armed and wearing the crisp crimson coat of the Maralon City Watch. The other two wore red-lined yellow cloaks that streamed behind them as their horses ran, marking them as Heralds of Dawn.

He considered the options quickly; Sylvia was fast, and had a good lead on them, but they were mounted, and would be on her in precious seconds. Aran was the only trained fighter in the group, and had little hope of overcoming ten men, especially while trying to keep the others safe.

Turning, Aran regarded his charges, all of whom were watching him, depending on him to lead them. "Lie flat on the ground, and wait here," he ordered as he unbuckled his sword belt and let it fall to the ground before sprinting in Sylvia's direction.

Galloping hooves thundered toward him as he raced flat out across the plain, waving his hands so the riders could see him. Fingers pointed as they spotted him, and Aran slowed to a stop as Sylvia reached him, her breath coming in laboured pants.

"I'm sorry, Aran!" She gasped between breaths. She went to say more, but Aran held a finger to his lips as the riders approached, fanning out to form a circle around him and Sylvia.

He put an arm around Sylvia as the riders tightened the circle, and she pressed her shoulder against his ribs, but gave no other outward sign that she was bothered by being surrounded by ten hard-faced, mounted men.

One of the Heralds spoke first, a fat fellow whose jowls wiggled as he talked. "State your business, boy!" He spat, pointing a gloved finger at Aran.

Conversely, the other Herald, who sat his horse alongside the fat one, was a bony, thin fellow, with lank black hair and a nose too large for his face.

"Forgive me, my Lord," Aran replied politely. "I saw you chasing my girl, and I rushed over to see what was wrong."

"What's wrong, boy," the man began, his beady dark eyes fixed on Sylvia. "Is that this filthy half-breed ran when I asked her to stop! She must surely be guilty of something, to run from the law as she did!"

Sylvia opened her mouth to say something, probably in response to the 'half-breed' remark, but stopped when Aran squeezed her shoulder. Aran hated hearing the slur, too, but kept himself in check.

"I can assure you, my Lord," Aran said with a friendly laugh. "That she has not a dark bone in her body. She is merely curious, and likes to explore, don't you, Rinna?"

Sylvia looked up at him and smiled bashfully before looking down at her feet in a very good impression of an ashamed girl.

Aran continued before the fat Herald could say more. "You'll have to forgive her, my Lord; Rinna's a little simple, and doesn't say much." He felt Sylvia tense slightly at 'simple.' "I reckon she probably got scared by so many men on horses coming at her. We have a small farm not far away, and don't see such things so often."

Still looking at the ground before her, Sylvia nodded, kicking at the grass with her toes.

Fat-man's beady eyes fixed on Aran, his distrust apparent. Aran met the man's gaze levelly, trying to appear innocent, but not too confident. Long moments passed before the man's expression softened slightly, and Aran saw mercy in his round face.

Just as the pudgy Herald opened his mouth, one of the watchmen spoke up, a solid, square-shouldered fellow with an equally square jaw. "He has the look of a fighter about him, Lord Tevin. Ain't no farmer, if you ask me."

Aran's pulse quickened, though he kept his features schooled.

Tevin eyed the watchman curiously. "Are you sure, Vendrick?"

"Sure am," Vendrick said with an assured nod as he looked Aran over. "From the way he was runnin', I'd say he usually keeps a sword on his left hip, and see his eyes, m'Lord? Ain't no fear in 'em. If I was a farmboy, I'd be shittin' my breeches bein' surrounded like this, but he ain't scared of us."

Sylvia shifted against Aran nervously as Tevin eyed Aran with his head tilted. "Did you lie to me, boy?" He asked quietly. "Are you a farmer, or aren't you? And what about you?" His cold stare moved to Sylvia. "Are you pretending to be something you aren't, half-breed?"

Thankfully, Sylvia kept silent, though Aran was beginning to seethe. He wished he hadn't left his blade behind, but it would have only complicated matters. He kept his mouth shut, furiously trying to think of a way to get out of this. He didn't want to use his Gift, as the Heralds would surely be watching for any sudden changes of heart the men had toward him. If their leader were a woman, then maybe, but for now he would have to think of something else.

With a satisfied nod, Tevin addressed Vendrick. "Thank you, Vendrick. I will note your excellent contribution to your superiors. You would make a fine Herald, man."

Vendrick knuckled his forehead in response. "Just doin' my duty, m'Lord."

"Take them in," Vendrick commanded to the rest of the squad. "They will be questioned back in Maralon."

Sylvia's emerald eyes were fearful as she looked up at Aran, and he squeezed her tightly against him before they were pulled apart. The last thing he saw before a bag was roughly pulled over his eyes was Sylvia's pretty face.

***

"How may I be of service, my Lord?"

Maloth slowly raked his gaze over the statuesque form of the creature before him. She had once been human, then killed and raised as undead. Now, she was something much more.

Where before her skin was only ghostly grey, now it was adorned with symmetrical runes of black that intermittently glowed red, matching her eyes, which - typical for undead - had neither pupils nor irises.

Her body had changed dramatically, the slender village woman growing taller, more voluptuous, until she stood naked before him with a ripe, lush form that almost rivalled that of his sister, Shenla. The only thing that hadn't changed was her hair, which still hung to her shoulders in straight, pure white tresses.

A suggestive curve played across the creature's full, dark lips as she eyed him up and down in turn, one hand resting on a wonderfully curved hip.

Beside Maloth stood his Bound pet, Kreya, the Warden of the Dead who had initially raised this creature. Kreya was also naked, her pale, slender body inked with runes and symbols in many places except her face and head, the latter of which was shorn, giving her an exotic appeal, especially with those big, pale blue eyes that stared stunned at the being she and Maloth had just created.

Glinda came up to Maloth's other side, her enormous dwarven breasts pressed into his hip as she clutched him, staring at the creature with wide eyes.

After making several attempts to speak, Kreya finally managed, "I, um, my Lord! What did we just do?"

Maloth knew very well what he'd just done. What's more, he thought he could replicate it. "It would seem we can empower your Risen by channeling your magic through my own," he told the young Warden without looking at her. "We will now spend time testing this power and it's limits, it's boundaries."

As he spoke, the attractive creature ran her hands over her curvaceous body, cupping her large breasts and smiling in satisfaction as she looked down at herself.

"Call in the other one," Maloth ordered Kreya.

Kreya whispered something, and her other Risen entered the tent immediately. This one was male, and wore nothing but a black loincloth; Wardens had a habit of dressing their minions provocatively. He was fit-looking, with short white hair. This particular specimen had apparently been the husband of the now transformed Risen woman.

"My Lady? My Lord?" The dead man inquired in his ghostly voice.

Kreya was smart enough to know what came next without being told, and she summoned a purple glyph, which Maloth used as he had before, touching the glyph with one hand and the Risen man's chest with the other.

The transformation was much the same as before, the Risen screaming as his body shifted, growing larger and more powerful, his height rivalling Maloth's. His skin rippled as his muscles expanded until bulging veins snaked along his limbs. The same symmetrical black runes appeared, glowing red like burning embers. The black loincloth bulged before tearing asunder, mighty loins spilling free, even his long manhood decorated with the runes.

The voice had changed too; deeper, too deep for a human. "How may I serve, Master?"

The female studied the male interestedly, her head tilted slightly to one side. Her gaze lingered on the impressive phallus that hung between his muscular thighs, but her question was directed at Maloth. "Master, what are we?"

The male in turn ran glowing red eyes over the female's curvaceous form before turning back to Maloth, the same question plain on his face.

Maloth met two pairs of glowing red eyes evenly, not allowing his surprise to show in his expression. They were self-aware? He had not expected that.

"You have been altered from what you were," he told them. "Into something more, something better. You are dead, but you now have some access to the powers of a demon. You were Risen, but now, you are Morgai, and you will be feared by many." He looked at Kreya, then down at Glinda, who's eyes were transfixed on the male Morgai's runed member. "Not a word of this to anyone," he ordered them. "I will reveal this when I see fit. Understand?"

They both nodded obediently.

Pushing Glinda away, Maloth stepped closer to the Morgai. "How does it feel?" He asked them, wanting to gauge their awareness.

The male responded first, lifting big hands that he balled into fists a few times. "I feel strong, powerful!" His deeply bass voice radiated confidence.

The female's voice was sultry, smoky, full of promise. She giggled as she answered, and struck a provocative pose, hands on hips, massive chest thrust forward. "I feel like I could fuck an army to death!"

The male Morgai boomed a laugh at that. "You can start with me, woman, and if you have anything left, you can see about this army."

Maloth intervened before things could get out of hand. He could feel the strength of their lust; it would need to be kept in check. "Enough!" He barked. "You two are to be my personal guard for the time being. Serve me well, and I will grant you all the pleasure you desire. Fail me, and my retribution will be swift."

As one, the Morgai saluted with fists on chests.

***

"High Captain!" Latham barked, saluting as he entered Eames' study.

Seated at his simple wooden desk, Eames looked up from the pile of reports he'd been reviewing to regard Latham, the emblem on his City Watch tabard displaying a structure known as the Tower of Maralon, which had always been strange, to Eames, as Maralon had no towers.

To be truthful, Latham's arrival was a welcome distraction; so far, neither the Heralds or the City Watch had turned up anything - or anyone - useful.

"Report, Lieutenant," Eames said, keeping his growing frustration clear of his voice.

The solid, square-faced lieutenant spoke quickly. "High Captain, the Watch has apprehended two suspicious characters; a boy and a girl."

Eames' eyebrows rose. "Suspicious how, Latham?"

Latham swallowed as if unsure how to answer. "Uh, well sir, some of the men have been behaving... strangely... toward the girl, and the same for some of the females toward the boy."

Eames wanted to snap at the man, but kept his voice even. "Can you elaborate, Lieutenant?"

Latham's dark eyes flicked from Eames, then to the floor and back several times. "Uh, the men were... well... they were having problems with controlling their... lower areas, and the women were experiencing a similar problem."

Eames' palms came down on the desk as he stood, his chair sliding back to hit the wall behind him. This was the news he'd been hoping for! "Where are they being held?" He asked quickly.

"In the cells beneath the barracks, sir. I can escort you there immediately, if you wish."

"Not necessary," Eames said after a moment. "I will take one or two experienced Heralds with me. They are of strong will, and can resist the filthy power these beings possess."

*

A short time later, Eames strode along the line of cells beneath the City Watch barracks, accompanied by two of his most trusted Heralds; Brend, with his whip-thin physique and graying hair, and Lora, stocky and stern, her flat face hard as nails.

Brend and Lora had been Heralds for many years, and Eames trusted them with his life.

They stopped at the last cell on the right, a young man and woman, both dark-haired and fair-faced, and rather well-fed, by the looks. They had been stripped naked, and were crouched frightened in the corner of the small space, the girl huddled under the boy's arm.