Chapter 14: Utok’lakapa

“Hello, old friend. It’s been a long time.” Aran’s voice sounded distant in his own ears, as if it were someone else saying the words. The thought that maybe it really was someone else registered somewhere in his mind, but the concern dissipated quickly before the scene in front of him.

A massive, clawed hand big enough to pick up Strider and crush him slammed into the ground before Aran, followed by a second one. Aran walked forward slowly, watching as the creature pulled itself up to the surface. A horned head emerged above enormous shoulders, the black prongs curving out over the forehead before curling back to finally point skyward. Eyes like fire narrowed as they fell on Aran, punctuated by a bass, rumbling growl.

Bulging muscles rippled as it pulled itself to its feet and straightened to its full height. Dark of skin, bald and devoid of any clothing, the horned man towered three times as high as the tallest tree around. He looked down at Aran, those glowing red eyes flaring as he flexed his fingers and rolled colossal shoulders as if preparing for a fight. His muscular form looked chiselled from the rock he’d just emerged from, fit and strong, and loins of a size to match the rest of him hung between his thighs.

Elaina skidded to a halt beside Aran and stared upward, eyes wide. “What in the name of Aros?” She whispered. She held Shatter before her, ready to swing. Her head barely came level with its ankle.

“Utok’lakapa,” Aran answered grimly. “A world guardian. And a particularly nasty one, at that.” Elaina would likely have no knowledge of these ancient beings, almost godlike in their power. Aran should have no knowledge of them, either, but his recently heightened connection to the vala lent him certain advantages.

Millennia ago, the world had been protected by seven guardians, called ‘lakapa,’ in the ancient language of the arohim. Each one oversaw a different domain and used their power to maintain the world’s balance. During the Great War, however, Maharad’s seductive whispers found their way into the guardians’ ears, and one by one, they were corrupted. Vasuda – the mountain of a being standing before Aran and Elaina – had been the first one to fall under Maharad’s influence.

The havoc the lakapa would have wrought upon the world would have been catastrophic but for the destruction of Morgeth, which happened before the guardians could unite on the battlefield and inflict irreversible damage. As it was, the face of some parts of the land were changed forever. Mountains where previously there had been none, lakes and rivers altered in size and shape or destroyed entirely. Entire islands sunk into the sea or new ones raised from its depths.

Whatever the link was between Maharad and Morgeth – even Aran wasn’t quite sure about that, yet – it was enough that when Morgeth died, the guardians retreated to the deep corners of the world and slumbered, too weakened to fight any further. Now, with Maloth on the rise, they had awakened once again.

Elaina eyed Aran for a moment, but asked no more questions before turning back to run her gaze up the frame of the Titan. Aran smiled when he felt no fear through the melda; she had no shortage of courage, did Elaina Fairborn.

A booming laugh thundered from the creature’s mouth. “You are unkind, Anarion. What way is this to greet a worthy adversary?”

“Once, Vasuda,” Aran began. “You were worthy, once. Then you sold your soul for more power.” From the corner of his eye, he saw Elaina looking at him curiously.

“YOU KNOW NOTHING!” The guardian boomed. Aran could feel the vibrations of the immense voice in his ribs. “Just as your forebears knew nothing! I have been watching you, Anarion, from deep within the stone that shields the world’s heart. I feel all that touches dirt, rock and metal. There is nothing I cannot see.

“The Mor’ion comes, Anarion,” Vasuda continued. “And you are not prepared. His power shakes my earth. He has called me, and I will answer, and so will my brethren.”

Aran had a sudden realisation. “These tremors have not been of Maloth’s doing, have they, Vasuda? They are yours!”

The guardian smiled, his teeth slabs of smooth, white rock behind obsidian lips.

“Then you are the biggest fool of all!” Aran said, anger boiling in his gut. “You would have had a place among the gods themselves, for your service, yet you allowed Maharad to worm his way into your heart, binding you to his will.”

“I AM BOUND BY NOTHING!” Vasuda roared, pointing a tree-sized finger at Aran. “I CHOOSE MY FATE, AS I HAVE ALWAYS!”

The ground beneath Aran’s feet shuddering briefly was all the warning he had before a spike of earth stabbed upward, obviously intended to impale him. He flipped backward smoothly, alighting a few feet back from where he’d been standing.

Another spike emerged beneath Elaina, but she pivoted gracefully and swung Shatter. The spike exploded into a thousand small shards. “Is that your best effort?” Elaina taunted Vasuda. “I certainly hope not.”

“Foolish child,” the guardian rumbled as he extended a hand toward Elaina, fingers spread, palm forward. “You know not your insignificance.” Aran readied himself to snatch Elaina out of the way as the earth began to groan ominously.

An instant later, however, the groaning stopped and Vasuda tilted his horned head to the side, as if listening to something. “This exchange is ended,” he said after a moment. “I look forward to watching you both die at the hands of the Mor’ion.”

The ground opened beneath Vasuda’s feet and he began to sink back into the earth from whence he’d come. Aran watched him until just his head remained exposed. The guardian smiled menacingly. “I will see you on the battlefield, Anarion.”

Elaina stepped forward with a snarl, Shatter raised. Suddenly, visions flashed into Aran’s head, a premonition of the next few moments. Elaina, swinging Shatter with all her might. Vasuda, countering by snatching her up in the hand he had hidden beneath the ground. Aran, rushing in to defend Elaina. Vasuda rending a gash in the earth beneath Aran’s feet, leaving him standing on nothing but air above a crevice hundreds of feet deep...

The vision had taken no more than a heartbeat. Somehow, Aran knew they would become reality unless he did something. Darting forward, he put a hand on Elaina’s shoulder. “Let him go,” he said as the crown of Vasuda’s head disappeared, followed by those wickedly curved horns. The huge hole in the ground closed itself up in the guardian’s wake, rocks and earth shifting and roiling as if alive. “Now is not the time to fight him.”

Aran sensed Vasuda’s presence descend sharply, then begin to move north about as fast as Strider could gallop. Elaina spun to glare at Aran incredulously. “How could you say that? Didn’t you feel his power, his malice?”

She was right. There had been a potent aura of darkness around Vasuda. It was a shame, and a waste; he had once been a benevolent and majestic force of nature. Now, he was an agent for Maharad, and in turn, Maloth. Aran had wanted to fight him, but something had stayed his hand, an instinct he couldn’t quite discern.

He nodded in answer to Elaina’s question. “I did,” he said as he sheathed Oroth smoothly. “And it pains me to let him go, but I am not sure we could have defeated him, if I’m being truthful.” He met Elaina’s gaze levelly, and her expression softened.

Hooking Shatter back into her belt, she came to him and grasped his shoulders. “When has that ever stopped you before, my love?” Her clear emerald eyes searched his earnestly. “Surely, with this new power you hold, you could have won.”

Elaina’s unending faith in him made his heart swell, and he smiled. Reaching up, he took her hands in his and held them. “Maybe,” he said softly. “But whatever I have become, I am not a god. He was toying with us, Elaina. Those spikes he made were just the merest fraction of what he can do.”

Elaina nodded thoughtfully. “I believe you,” she said after a moment. “But how do you know all this? You were speaking to him as if you knew him.”

“It’s my vala,” he explained. “I seem to have access to thought and memory beyond my own. At times, I can see the lives of other arohim from the past. That’s how I knew Vasuda.” Aran wasn’t sure how Elaina would react, but all she did was smile.

“One thing that has not changed about you,” she began as she touched his face. “You are still full of surprises.” Her lips found his, and for a few seconds Aran forgot about everything else but Elaina.

“Come,” he said when their lips parted. “We should get the horses and go after Liddea. She hasn’t gone far.” Elaina nodded agreement, and they hurried off.

Half an hour later, Aran and Elaina caught up to Liddea. She was leaning back against the trunk of a freshly fallen elm, taking big gulps of air. The vast expanse of pale cleavage at the neckline of her blouse heaved up and down with each breath. She must have run all the way here without stopping to be so winded.

The pretty Dwarf smiled, though, when she saw Aran and Elaina approaching, and her smile deepened when she noticed Elaina leading her pony. She hurried forward to take the dappled mare’s reins. “You brought Rosy!” she exclaimed in delight. “I was so worried about her!” She made a fuss over the animal, stroking her nose and murmuring to her. Rosy received the affection readily, nuzzling into Liddea’s hand.

“We need to keep moving, Liddea,” Aran said gently. “Our time was short before, but now it is even shorter.”

Liddea nodded and followed as Aran began to walk, leading Strider by the reins. Elaina took up the rear once again. Even with so many trees down, the forest was still far too dense for riding. It was possibly worse, now, due to fallen branches and whatnot. They made their way slowly, winding their way around when the path was blocked by debris. Now and then, Aran used Oroth to cut a path through when there was no suitable detour, and Elaina did the same, using Shatter to demolish great trunks of oaks and elms into splinters.

As they travelled, Aran explained to Elaina and Liddea about the world guardians, and Vasuda. Elaina listened carefully, saying nothing, but surprisingly, Liddea piped up with an interesting comment.

“Sounds like the Stonelord,” she said absently when Aran finished describing Vasuda.

Aran looked back over his shoulder, but didn’t stop. “Stonelord?” He asked, curious.

“A Dwarven god,” Liddea went on. “Shaper of Stone, Master of Earth. He was once worshipped by all our people, but now he is all but forgotten. Only the oldest and most dedicated Dwarves still pray to him. It’s said that when the earth shakes, the Stonelord is angry. When the mines produce jewels, or gold, he is pleased.”

“I wonder what chance it is that your Stonelord and Vasuda are one and the same?” Aran mused. “Why don’t the Dwarves worship him anymore?”

“It is said that he became sullen and bitter,” Liddea answered. “There was a time of chaos, maybe a thousand years ago or more, when the earth shook almost daily, and our mines collapsed, along with many homes inside our mountains. The Stonelord had forsaken us, or at least, that was what the Dwarves believed.”

“Then I would say that we are speaking of the same being,” Aran confirmed. “Just with different names.”

“And you say there are six more like him?” Elaina asked from behind Liddea. When she saw Aran nod, she muttered an oath under her breath.

“And if the tremors are Vasuda’s hand in events,” Aran added. “Then the storms are most likely Rava’s.” That statement was met with silence from the women. Aran could sense Elaina’s concern through the melda; if things were this bad already with only two lakapa awake, what would happen when all seven were working together?

Not knowing what to tell his companions, Aran continued leading them through the forest, hoping some ancient knowledge might surface that would help him in the fight to come. Try as he might, he could not seem to access the memories at will. Perhaps there was a trick to it he hadn’t learned yet.

So focused was he on this that he almost failed to sense the small cluster of auras that entered his awareness, perhaps a half-mile up ahead. “A small band of Dwarves approaches,” he announced to the others. “A dozen of them. I sense no darkness in their hearts, though they are wary. Just keep moving as we are and we’ll run into them shortly.”

No more than half an hour later, as Aran led the women down into a shallow ravine, the Dwarves appeared atop the opposite slope. A mix of men and women, they were armed with stout bows as well as swords or maces on backs or hips. Their armour was of good steel that shone faintly in the moonlight that glinted off helm or breastplate or greave.

Twelve arrows were nocked and aimed at Aran, Elaina and Liddea. “Hold, strangers!” The woman in the centre of the line called. “You have crossed into Dwarven lands. Turn away and no harm will come to you.”

Her accent was lilted like Liddea’s yet her words were more clipped. Abrupt, even. Liddea spoke up before Aran could respond. “Pir ru med a mir, Foringi. Iak em Liddea til bu kyn.”

The translation flashed into Aran’s mind automatically, courtesy of his vala. ‘They are with me, Captain. I am Liddea of the Farmers.’ Aran wondered what ‘of the Farmers’ meant. Perhaps it was a society among the Dwarves?

The captain stared down at Liddea. She said nothing, nor did she lower her bow. “Sem ru pinn felagi, Liddea til bu kyn?”

Again, Aran understood. ‘Who are your companions, Liddea of the Farmers?’

Liddea gestured to Aran, then Elaina on her other side. “Sa ir Aran Rodull’brandr ok Elaina Fagr’burin. Pir ru arohim, ok iak em arondur.” This is Aran Sunblade and Elaina Fairborn. They are arohim, and I am arondur.

Several of the Dwarves shifted slightly at that, but not the captain. Aran felt into her heart and read her emotions. Determination and courage conquered the small amount of fear that wormed in her belly. She was a strong woman, for sure. One who would do her duty. Another emotion flickered briefly before being pushed back down; hope.

“Er pir snotr til vita gaetinn,” Aran said into the tense silence. “Erfior aevi ru a bu heimr.” All eyes snapped to Aran as he began to speak in the Dwarven tongue, and he felt no shortage of amazement from Elaina.

Aran continued. “Iak em viss bu Dvergr ru pola akaft. Pir viss, felagi, ver koma um nathae, ok ver vilja einn stefna med bu Konungr. Ver eiga fregn til Glinda Stonedeep.”

At the mention of Glinda, the Dwarves on the crest stiffened. After a tense moment, the captain lowered her bow. “You have some stones on you, Aran Sunblade,” she said flatly in the common tongue. “You enter Dwarven lands and request an audience with the king? Just like so?”

Aran nodded, and surprisingly, the captain barked a short laugh. “If only my men had the courage you display, ey?” A few of the Dwarves beside her shifted uncomfortably, and one or two cleared their throats in embarrassment, but their arrows remained trained on Aran, Elaina and Liddea.

“Lower your bows,” the captain ordered, looking to either side before her gaze returned to Aran. “You play a dangerous game, arohim – if that is indeed what you are – but my instincts say you are no threat, and I learned to trust them long ago.”

“No harm will come to you from us,” Aran assured her. “Or any of your people.”

The captain nodded. “Very well. Come, we will escort you to Dun’Arghol, and on the way, you can elaborate on your claims regarding the Lady Glinda.”

Giving Elaina and Liddea a wink, Aran began the ascent up the incline, which provided a mostly sturdy footing for Strider as he led the stallion up the embankment. When he reached the crest, the Dwarf captain offered her hand.

“I am Finya,” she said as Aran took her hand. “You speak our tongue well, Aran Sunblade.” There was a distinct glint of approval in her dark eyes as she looked him over. Slinging her bow over her back, she removed her helmet. Dark, curly tresses tumbled free, falling down over her shoulders. She was quite pretty, with her face a similar shape to Liddea’s, but her cheekbones were higher, and her eyes a little larger.

Aran smiled warmly. “It is amazing what can be achieved with one’s tongue, with the proper desire and application.” Behind him, he could sense Elaina shaking her head in amused exasperation. Liddea was watching the captain, probably wondering how she would respond.

Finya barked another laugh. “Keep that up, and I may just start to like you, Aran Sunblade.” She looked at Elaina. “Is he always like this?”

Elaina grinned. “I wouldn’t have him any other way.” The two women shared a silent exchange for a second or two, before they both nodded at one another. Aran got the feeling something had just been decided between the Paladin and the captain.

“Right!” Finya snapped, clapping her gauntleted hands together sharply. “Let’s be on the move, then. Borma, Usaf, take the rear! Torfa, Lombi, take point!” There was a rush as Dwarves hurried to their positions, and in a moment, Aran, Elaina and Liddea were folded into the middle of a tight knot, so they were protected from all sides.

“This really isn’t necessary, Captain Finya,” Aran said to Finya’s back as they began to move south east. “Elaina and I are more than capable of defending ourselves. Besides, there is no danger for at least five miles in any direction.”

The captain eyed him quizzically over her shoulder. “And how can you possibly know that?”

“I am arohim,” Aran said simply. “I can feel everything around me for quite some distance.”

“You had better hope so,” Finya retorted. “For if I present you to King Burin and it turns out you’re just a smooth-tongued pig farmer that found a fancy sword, I’ll gut you myself.”

This time, it was Aran’s turn to laugh. Elaina echoed in her sultry chuckle. From time to time, one of the male Dwarf soldiers would shoot her a quick glance; she was a hard woman to ignore, as beautiful as she was. Especially the way she filled out that tunic.

“I will not disappoint you, Finya,” Aran soothed. “So, you wanted to hear what I know about Glinda?”

“Yes, but not yet,” Finya replied. “Talk to me once we make camp, which we will do once dawn breaks. I know a handy little cave complex where we can lie low for a few hours. We have been on patrol for a day and a night, and my men need to rest.”

Aran cast his senses out. “Ah, yes, there it is. About four miles south east, just past the stream that runs around the giant fig.”

Several sets of eyes regarded him appraisingly, including Finya’s. “Hmph,” she grunted as she looked back at him. “Perhaps you are the real thing.”

“He is the most powerful of us,” Elaina said to Finya. “Though usually he is more modest about it.”

Aran sensed mirth through the melda, telling him that Elaina meant those words in jest more than anything else. Truth be known, he was being more open with his abilities than usual, but that was mostly because he needed Finya to believe him.

“Bah!” Finya snorted. “Who wants modest men? Give me a man with a bushy beard and a hairy chest who wants to talk me through every one of his battle scars!”

A few coarse chuckles came from the men at that, and some from the women, too. Aran decided he liked the Dwarves’ rough, abrupt humour. He’d gotten glimpses of it from Liddea, but he supposed she was not a soldier, so perhaps she was a little different. More refined, maybe.

“Alright, then, spread out!” Finya barked. “If they’re really arohim, then the last thing they need is to be crowded by you lot!” The soldiers obeyed immediately, fanning out into a wide circle about ten paces across. Nothing more was said as the group moved through the increasingly rocky terrain. The forest of oak and elm and fig slowly gave way to bare, stony ground that began to incline gradually.

The sky began to lighten in the east before long, and Finya called a halt as the grey predawn became orange, banishing the violet blanket of night. Sure enough, just as Aran had foreseen, a small hollow lay before them, split by a stream that curved around a massive fig, its roots fanning out like thick tendrils. The earthquake seemed to have left the hollow untouched but for an inordinate amount of fallen fig leaves littering the ground.

Behind the fig was a cave mouth, maybe as high as Aran was tall and about half as wide. Two Dwarves broke formation to descend the slope into the hollow, but Aran looked at Finya and shook his head, telling her there were no unwanted guests to be found.

Calling the scouts off, Finya ordered her men to set up camp. They went about the task with practiced efficiency, quickly building a fire and unpacking utensils and wrapped food from their packs to prepare a breakfast. Aran’s stomach grumbled at the thought of a meal.

When one black-bearded soldier – Lombi, Aran had heard him called – asked Finya about posting a watch, she glanced at Aran briefly before answering. “With Aran and Elaina here, I do not think a watch is necessary, Lombi. They will sense someone coming long before we see them.”

A few of the Dwarves grunted approvingly, and one of them muttered as he walked past, “Wouldn’t mind that trick for myself. Bloody hard to ambush someone with that talent.”

When Liddea started down the slope to help with camp, Finya forestalled her. “You are a guest, Liddea bu kyn. Please make yourself comfortable in any way you see fit.”

Liddea blushed graciously and inclined her head. “Thank you, Captain Finya. I feel a wash in the stream would be just the thing right now.” With a smile for Aran and Elaina, the pretty Dwarf began to gingerly pick her way down the slope, pulling Rosy along behind her, at least until one of the soldiers scurried up to offer her a hand.

“Come,” Finya said. “Let us take our ease for a short time until my men are rested. I would not mind a wash myself, either.” Indeed, several of the other Dwarves had the same idea. Half a dozen soldiers were removing their armour and clothing right there in the open, men and women alike. They washed in a business-like manner, though Aran could see the way they were eyeing one another’s bodies, and his vala was telling him they would like to be doing more than just washing.

Liddea joined them, unabashedly disrobing and stepping daintily into the water, making noises at how cold it was. The male soldiers eyed her appreciatively, and she returned the stares in kind.

From beside Aran, Elaina spoke quietly. “It seems Dwarves are as uninhibited as the-” She cut herself off abruptly. “As we are,” She finished after a moment.

She had been meaning to say “the Elves,” but had wisely changed what she’d said. Drawing parallels between Dwarves and Elves could be dangerous among present company. Sentiments were not good between the two nations. Aran was hoping to begin mending this rift once in the Dwarven capital.

Aran smiled at her, and replied in a low voice. “I’m beginning to wonder if it’s only Humans that hold to ridiculous inhibitions so tightly. If it is, then most of the blame could be laid at the feet of the Heralds, most likely.”

Elaina nodded thoughtfully, but said nothing.

“Captain!” One of the bathing women called as Finya passed her. She was a pretty, fair-haired thing with a long braid that touched the cleft of her plump bottom. Almost slender for a Dwarf, her breasts were not as large as some of her kin, though that wasn’t saying much; Aran would still fail to fit them in his hands.

Finya stopped by the stream. “Yes, Miri?”

“How much time do we have?” Miri asked. “Lombi’s been eyeing me off all night, and I wouldn’t mind some of what he’s offering, ey?”

Lombi was washing nearby, standing up to his knees in the stream. Several scars criss-crossed his hairy chest and tight midriff; he had seen no few battles. The well-muscled Dwarf chuckled at Miri’s question, but eyed the captain expectantly, obviously hoping for a favourable answer.

Finya sighed. “I suppose I can’t expect you to go without for too long,” she muttered to herself. “Fine, but be quick about it. And make sure you get some actual rest. We will not be stopping again before the capital.”

With no further ado, Miri waded to Lombi and pulled him into a torrid kiss while her hand sought the thick member hanging between his thighs. The other Dwarves paired off almost as quickly. Aran and Elaina grinned at each other.

Continuing on, Finya led the two Paladins slightly upstream, a little way away from the camp but still within sight. Aran and Elaina left their horses underneath the sprawling branches of the fig before following her.

Without saying anything, Finya dropped her helmet and began to strip, peeling off layers of steel before getting to the leather and linen beneath. She seemed to forget that Aran and Elaina existed at all, so focused was she on what she was doing. Once her pale body was completely bare, she turned and stepped into the water. Feeling around a bit in the middle of the babbling stream, she found a suitable rock to sit on and did so, facing Aran & Elaina. The water flowed around her, only just covering the tops of her thighs.

She sat proudly, straight-backed and square-shouldered. Her prodigious breasts perched just as proudly on her chest, the pink nipples drawn into points by the coolness of the water. “You can join me, or not,” she said casually. “I do not mind. I am ready to hear about Lady Glinda, however, whenever you wish to begin.”

Aran shared a look with his amatharn, and she shrugged as if to say: “Why not?”

A few moments later, they were sitting opposite Finya, the clear, cool water swirling and eddying around them. The Dwarf washed herself nonchalantly, and Aran appreciated the way her curved yet fit body moved, glistening wetly in the morning light. Several scars adorned her skin, most of them faded with age. A triangular one marred her left thigh, probably from an arrow. Another slanted from beneath her right breast and down almost to her hip, crossing her flat midriff. When Aran met her eyes, he realised she’d seen him studying her.

“I’ll give you the full story of each one,” she said slyly as she bathed. “When we have time, and if it’s alright with your good lady, here. Might take a good while, though. I have scars in a lot of interesting places.”

Elaina jumped in before Aran could speak. “It’s fine with me, Captain. I may watch though, if you have no objections?”

Finya chuckled as she ran her hands over her breasts and down her belly. “The more the merrier, I say. Now, I hate to kill the fun, but where were we?”

“What I have to say will be disturbing, Captain,” Aran began. “But I believe I can trust you. I’ve looked into your heart, and I see a good woman, one who does what is right, who serves others before herself.”

Finya eyed Aran and then nodded slowly. “That is my intent, I suppose,” she said. “Whether or not I am always successful.”

“Trust us, Finya,” Aran told her seriously. “Intention and a good heart are all that matters, most of the time.” He brushed her with his vala and included Elaina as well, bringing them all into more of an alignment before he began to explain about Glinda. This, of course, meant discussing Maloth and Shenla, and how Aran was connected to them. He told her everything that he’d pieced together about Glinda’s whereabouts and condition, bar some facts that he kept to himself to protect the Temple.

Finya listened intently, asking a question from time to time, but remaining silent for the most part. All in all, it took Aran nearly an hour to get it all across, with Elaina adding a bit here and there when Aran missed something important.

“Well,” Finya said after long moments of silence, once Aran had finished. “This is certainly not positive news, but it is good to know that she is alive. Burin will seek retribution, most assuredly, but I do not see how he can march across Ekistair and sail into Palistair without causing an uproar from the Northguard to the Forgotten Coast. Still, he may throw caution to the wind and march anyway; he does love his sister deeply.

“And, if what you say is accurate, Glinda will not want to return home, being under this Maloth’s will.” The pretty Dwarf shook her head ruefully. “What a mess. I feel as if I’m digging a mile below ground and an underground spring just burst into the shaft. No choice but to stay afloat and hope I don’t drown.”

“We will help how we can,” Elaina said gently. “But with Maloth’s army as large as it is, we have much to do ourselves to prepare the nations of Ekistair. With luck, our causes will unite, and then perhaps much can be done.”

Finya seemed to consider that for a moment, then grinned. “If you go to Burin like that,” she said, gesturing to Elaina’s nudity. “Then he’ll probably offer you the kingdom just for a kiss.” She sighed, then. “Are all arohim as pretty as you two? It’s hard not to stare, sometimes.”

Aran chuckled. “We appreciate the compliment, Finya, but we are what we are. Aros’ grace is a marvellous gift, one which we do our best to honour.”

“Well,” Finya said as she leaned back on both hands and squinted her eyes against the sun. It was a rather alluring pose, especially the way she parted her generous thighs, giving the two Paladins an uninterrupted view of her hairless sex. “Let us hope Burin likes you as well as I do, ey? Else, we’re all in trouble.”