© Antidarius
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A PALADIN'S JOURNEY
CHAPTER 15: Ripples of the Vala
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Smythe sighed luxuriously as he stepped into steamy water of the Chapel's main bath. The fires were roaring at each end of the chamber, keeping out the evening chill. He waded to the middle of the bath - where it was deepest - and just stood for a moment, letting the heat soak into his muscles. As tall as he was, the water failed to cover his chest even in the deepest part, so he bent his knees and submerged himself up to his chin.
Closing his eyes, he allowed himself to relax for a time. It had been a trying few days, but the Chapel was now more or less organised. Ari had been instrumental in assigning tasks for everyone while Smythe was busy trying to turn farmers into soldiers. Kedron had been some help, there, but the lad needed to keep up with his own training, too, so Smythe had been dividing himself between the two, as well as teaching that new par'vala, Ostin.
Just when Smythe's hands were full, Aros threw him another potato to juggle. Still, the more arohim could be found, the better for everyone. At this rate, Smythe was going to have to organise recruiting parties.
Thankfully, Kedron was a fast learner. Since recovering from his wounds, he'd taken back to his lessons like a duck to water, with perhaps more vigour than ever before. The death of his father appeared to have cleared some of his worries, in a strange way, allowing him to focus and dedicate himself more fully. Kedron was helping with Ostin where possible, showing the newer par'vala some of the basics when Smythe allowed it.
By a stroke of luck, Ostin had not accidentally melded with anyone yet, so that was something. It was a double-edged sword, that fact; Ostin was not vulnerable through a meldin, but his vala was not fully awakened yet, so his training would take longer. Oh, well. You had to cook with what was in the kitchen, not what you wished was in the pot.
More refugees were arriving, drifting down from the Sorral Plain. Things were bad enough out there between the Heralds and the storms and the earth tremors that folk were actually seeking shelter in the Emerin forest! A place that had been long feared by locals as haunted or some such nonsense.
Ari had quickly dispatched several small groups to search the northern woods for any such lost souls, and the Chapel's numbers had swelled. Every room was now occupied, with two or three to a bed, and tents were starting to pop up on the grounds in small clusters where room could not be found inside. This was only a temporary solution, of course; Smythe had already been approached by several villagers requesting permission to erect more permanent housing, though he had not approved it, yet.
Conversely, nobody seemed to care how crowded it was anymore. In fact, the general sentiment was quite the opposite. Inhibitions had all but disappeared where the villagers were concerned, and Smythe had lost count of the cavorting he'd witnessed over the past few days, often out in the open.
A portion of the Chapel had been assigned to the children, and Ari had created a rotating roster to make sure there was always someone looking after them, so any promiscuous activity on behalf of the adults could not be accidentally witnessed by eyes too young for such things.
"I was hoping to find you here," a woman's voice said from the doorway. So immersed in his own thoughts was he, that Smythe had failed to detect her presence.
"Hello, Elsa," he replied warmly, turning to face her and finding her wearing only a white towel. It was knotted between her prodigious breasts, and only covered her to just below her ample bottom. Elsa was not an overweight woman, but she made a bloody good armful. She and Smythe had grown close, of late. Her sandy hair fell loose about her shoulders, and her brown eyes watched him hungrily.
"Care for some company?" She asked coyly as she reached for the knot in the towel. When Smythe nodded, she pulled it loose and let it fall, showing him her voluptuous form.
"With an invitation like that, lass," Smythe began. "A man can only find so many responses." As she sauntered toward the steps that led down into the bath, he admired the way her breasts shifted back and forth. "There's something I've been meaning to talk with you about, also."
"Oh?" Elsa quirked an eyebrow as she entered the water and waded to him. "Can we talk and fuck at the same time? I don't know what it is, but I just want you inside me every chance I get." Her hands found his shoulders and she pressed her lush body into him as her smooth thighs enveloped his waist.
Smythe chuckled. "I don't see why not." His hands slid down her back to firmly squeeze her arse. A hot moan escaped her lips before Smythe covered them with his own, kissing her thoroughly. He hadn't been completely sure, but holding her in his arms now was the deciding factor.
Aran was right. It was time to meld again.
"Elsa," he began a little raggedly once the kiss broke. She looked back at him hungrily. "I want us to be meldir, if you'll have me." She eyed him curiously, not understanding the word. When Smythe explained it, she beamed a magnificent smile.
"You want me?" She asked, unbelieving. "But I'm just a lowly village woman, and you're a... a bloody arohim warrior from the stories!"
Smythe chuckled. "Of course, I want you, woman! You've been the high point of my day enough times for me to know I want you around as long as I can have you. I think you'll make a wonderful arondur, too, if you're interested."
Elsa's lips finding his again was all the answer Smythe needed. Opening his vala, he performed the melding. They gasped as one as it took hold, and Smythe smiled as he once again felt what it was like to share his soul with another after so many years.
"It's incredible!" Elsa breathed. Her eyes scanned his face as if seeing him for the first time. "I can feel every part of you!"
And I, you," Smythe replied, touching her face. "It gets better, too." At that, he adjusted his hips and slipped inside her. Without any further help from Smythe's powers, Elsa immediately fell into a shuddering climax. Her inner walls gripped him like a vice as she held onto him for dear life.
In the way of the melda, Smythe felt her pleasure as if it were his own; wave upon wave of hot, melting bliss crashing through him. With no more need for words, he stayed like that with Elsa for a long time.
***
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CHAPTER 15.1: A Beacon of Hope
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"I can't believe you're being so calm!" Elaina said for the tenth time that afternoon as she paced back and forth across the expensive-looking red-and-gold patterned rug in the spacious quarters that had been assigned to Aran and herself, deep inside Dun'Arghol's palace.
"I am calm because it would not serve any purpose to feel otherwise, right now," Aran replied evenly from where he sat cross-legged on the huge four-poster bed in the middle of the bed chamber. The frame was made entirely from stone and appeared to be of one piece with the walls, floor and ceiling, as was the rest of the furniture in the room.
He watched Elaina stride the length of the big room. Even in her current state of stubborn determination, she couldn't keep that seductive sway out of her hips. Her natural allure was a part of who she was. She wore only a loosely-buttoned shirt that ended just below her bottom, leaving her creamy legs bare for Aran to admire. She spun to face him, her eyes narrowing. "How can you think of sex at a time like this?"
She hadn't seen him looking, but she would have sensed his appreciation through the melda. Aran chuckled softly. "Have you seen what you look like, my love? I would have to be dead not to."
With an infuriated growl, she resumed pacing, heading to Aran's left past the tall stone dresser before spinning on her heel to go back again, past the carved archway that led out into the sitting room, to the opposite wall where a floor-to-ceiling painting hung depicting a brawny Dwarf dressed in hunting leathers and standing over a dead tiger, one boot on the corpse.
Where this particular Dwarf had found a tiger in these parts, Aran was unsure. Unless it was not a tiger at all, but a mor'laman'gul. Aran grimaced at the thought. With everything happening in the world, the Druids had not resurfaced. Where had they gone? Knowing Aran's luck, they would spring out of the dresser any second, right when he needed to focus on Burin.
The Dwarven king was what had Elaina in such a tizzy. When Captain Finya had delivered Aran, Elaina and Liddea to the palace in the heart of the mountain city late yesterday, the request for an audience with Burin had been denied. Not the presence of two arohim, nor Finya's authority as a captain had changed that.
The Dwarves had not been rude. In fact, they'd been decidedly hospitable, providing comfortable rooms as a sign of respect for their guests, and offering any service that might be required during their stay. Liddea had been given rooms nearby. Aran could feel her presence a short distance away. She was sleeping peacefully; the journey to Dun'Arghol had been hard on her.
"Why did you stop me when I tried to align with them?" Elaina asked him, not slowing her pacing. "A few seconds and I would have had them falling over me and carrying us to Burin physically to save us the trouble of walking!"
Aran smiled. "Because the audience was secondary to the more important goal, my love, which was simply to get inside the palace."
Elaina stopped dead and turned to face him. In two strides she was standing inches away with her arms folded beneath her spectacular breasts, looking down at him curiously. "I know that tone. What are you planning?"
