Chapter 9

***AMINA: Temple Sura, Ekistair***

Amina suppressed a proud smile as she watched Tavish and Ayla side-by-side, awkwardly stepping through the initial forms of the Mohar, the fighting style that all Arohim learned. They were not granted weapons, yet, nor were they granted clothing during initial training. There were certain things that came first. They were still uncomfortable with their nudity, though they were getting better every day.

This was one of the rooms that had been appropriated for training. Clear of furniture, the large stone room was on the western side of the Temple, and the tall arched windows – long devoid of glass – let in a pleasant breeze. The sun had vanished long ago, but the Sunstones placed inside small niches in the walls provided what light they needed.

Amina watched over the twins keenly, correcting them here, encouraging them there. She had wondered often in her long years of solitude if she would ever again experience the rewarding task of training par’vala in the ways of her beloved Order. Then Aran had arrived at her doorstep and shifted the course of her life dramatically. There was hope again, and that was a dream she had not allowed herself until recently.

As twins, Ayla and Tavish shared similar features. Both were dark of hair and eye, and of middling height, with Ayla being shorter by a head. They came from a well-to-do family, and so were rather well-fed upon arrival at the Temple, but Tavish’s vala was already active, so his body was growing leaner and stronger by the day. His sister was still carrying maybe ten or fifteen extra pounds, but that would either be worked off through training or naturally through the vala.

The pretty young girl had had brief success with her vala yesterday, touching it for a mere second before losing it, but touching it nonetheless. She would be strong one day, this girl. She would make a fine Paladin, as would her brother. Ayla’s vala would not fully manifest until she made love for the first time, but that would happen at the girl’s own pace and nobody else’s. She would still develop her skills under Amina’s watchful eye in preparation for when that time came.

Tavish, however, had crossed that bridge before coming to the Temple, and so his abilities would develop faster. The boy stumbled suddenly as his eyes flicked to Amina’s chest and he lost his focus, his bare foot catching on the ankle of his other leg. Ayla looked at Amina from time to time also, but seemed not to have the same problem as her brother.

“You must concentrate!” Amina chided, stepping up to Tavish as he righted himself. His face reddened to a shade not dissimilar to a beetroot as she stood before him, hands on hips. She was wearing only her vaima, and she knew he could see right through it, but he may as well get used to being around people in the flesh, seeing as how he would be living in the Temple for the foreseeable future.

The training forms were all done unclothed to heighten awareness of one’s body. Only sparring was done with protective armour, for obvious reasons.

“Sorry, Priestess,” Tavish mumbled, focusing on the ground at his feet and resetting himself before starting his forms over. He very carefully did not look at Amina again, though she could almost feel the strain of him keeping his eyes down. His member stood rigid, and she could tell he was embarrassed, though he shouldn’t be. What were people teaching their children, these days, that they should be ashamed of their bodies and their desires? Amina wanted to shake her head in disgust. It would take her months to undo these inhibiting learnings.

“There are many things that can be used to distract a warrior,” she told him as she walked around behind him. “Food if you’re hungry, gold if you’re poor, water if you’re thirsty.” She leaned in closer, putting her lips almost against his ear. “And sex if you’re horny.”

Tavish cursed and stumbled again, and this time Ayla mirrored him. They mumbled apologies and started over.

“You are destined to become Arohim,” Amina said as she slowly strode circles around them, keeping a critical eye on their stances. “And it saddens me to say this, but the world, for the most part, will not accept you. At least, not yet. You will have enemies around many corners, and something as trivial as nudity is but a speck before the problems you will encounter.

“Your bodies are special,” she lectured, just as she was lectured in her first weeks, a thousand years ago. “And they are the vessel for your spirit, and your vala. They are beautiful, and strong, and thanks to the grace of Aros, you will have them for many long years, never aging, never weakening until the day you leave this world.

“You will be hated by some, desired by others, but this is the way of things. A Paladin must always act from love, even in times of violence, when you are protecting yourself or others. Your vala will not be available to you if your intention is to harm for personal gain. Aros does not allow it.”

Amina watched them move for a time. They were progressing readily, even at these early stages, especially for ones such as they; coddled youths torn away from a soft life. Their despicable treatment at the hands of the Heralds had changed them, though. Tavish had found strength in those terrible conditions, while Ayla had been broken, and was slowly putting herself back together.

Ayla’s wounds had closed, the hundreds of gouges and stripes all over her body well on their way to being healed. Scar tissue was forming, though even that would vanish as she worked with her vala.

Amina wished she could take the pain away for them, but that would rob them of anything they gained; Tavish’s determination, for one, and whatever it was Ayla had gained. She would find it, eventually.

“You will become paragons of strength, honour and love,” Amina continued. “And these will be the banners beneath which you fight, whether you are fighting with words or steel. Your attitudes will be challenged, and many of them will change. Sex will no longer be something only done in private, behind closed doors. The pleasures of the body are to be celebrated, and celebrate you will.”

The twins stumbled again at that, but righted themselves quickly. “Those who captured you denounce our ways and say that we are evil hedonists, a corrupt and perverted religion.”

Tavish’s brow drew down at the mention of their capture. His eyes hardened, as if he were staring at his torturers right this moment.

“The Heralds are our greatest enemy, and their voice is heard throughout the East, and many believe their lies. Will we let them continue their poisonous zealotry?”

“NO!” Tavish boomed hotly, startling Ayla. To Amina’s eyes, a light flickered to life around the boy, flaring a few times before disappearing. “I saw them for what they really were,” he muttered to nobody in particular. “I know them.”

To Amina’s surprise, Ayla seemed to draw some anger from her brother, her own face growing darker. “I know them, too,” she whispered. It was the first time she’d spoken all day.

“Good,” Amina encouraged. “Your anger is righteous, though it comes with a danger. If your anger turns to hate, then your vala will abandon you. Do you understand this?”

At their confused looks, Amina ordered them to stop and listen. “Anger can be used to fight for what you believe, to protect others. But hate is a wild and dangerous thing. A Paladin does not hate, not ever.”

“But Priestess, surely the Heralds deserve our hate?” Tavish asked, for once not seeming uncomfortable in Amina’s presence.

Amina shook her head. “This is the difference, par’vala,” she explained. “What they did is a terrible thing, inexcusable, and it will not go unanswered, but if you fill your heart with hate and allow that to drive you, you will be no different from those you seek to punish.”

Ayla looked thoughtful, though Tavish seemed to struggle with the idea. “What will you do if Rodric Eames falls to his knees before you and begs you for forgiveness, if he genuinely seeks redemption? Will you strike him down? Or will you show him the way back to the light?”

Tavish considered this for long moments, his lips pursed. “How will I know who to save, and who not to?” He asked finally.

Amina placed a hand on his shoulder and met his eyes. “You will one day have the ability to look into someone’s heart, Tavish par’vala. And then you will know who wishes to be saved, and who does not.”

She gave the words a moment to settle before clapping her hands together. “I think that’s enough for one day. You both have done well. Go and wash and take some rest. You have another full day tomorrow. I will have one of the Servants bring you some supper.”

Tavish quickly moved off to gather his clothes from the corner, but surprisingly, Ayla remained. Normally she was in the midst of a flurry of clothing by now. “What is it, child?” Amina inquired.

“Might I have a word, Priestess?” she asked timidly. “In private?”

Tavish looked over, halfway through pulling his breeches on. He opened his mouth to say something, but Ayla interjected. “It’s alright, Tavish. I’ll just be a moment.”

When Tavish looked about to argue, she added, “I can hardly get into danger with Amina here, can I?” Her words were gentle, but firm.

“Very well,” Tavish replied stiffly as he resumed getting dressed, bending to snatch up his shirt and shake it out with more force than was strictly necessary. Once done, he picked up his boots and left barefoot.

Amina’s lips quirked in a pleased smile. Barefoot was good; it meant he was getting more of a feel for his body’s senses. He’d never before left the training room without first putting his boots back on. It was also good to see Ayla speaking for herself. Tavish had been guarding her like a she-wolf guards a wounded pup ever since they arrived at the Temple. His reasons were sound, but there was no need for such fierce protection within these walls. The girl needed space to breathe, room to become the woman she would grow into.

Amina turned to Ayla, who was shifting her feet nervously. “Speak when you are ready, child,” she said gently.

“It’s just that, um, well,” Ayla began clumsily, her lack of words sounding strange with her polished accent. “I noticed that Tavish is outpacing me, in the training, and I wonder if that’s because he, um...” She trailed off, too embarrassed to say it out loud.

Amina smiled warmly. “You are very perceptive, child. Yes, it is because Tavish is no longer a virgin that he is progressing faster than you.”

Ayla chewed her lip in thought. “So, I will fall behind if I do not do the same as Tavish?”

“In some ways, yes,” Amina replied truthfully. “But in others, no. Tavish’s vala will develop more quickly, but he will have to work harder to learn control. Young Kedron is no doubt experiencing the same problem, as he and Tavish are in the same boat, there. If you choose to wait, you will have a much easier time handling your power when it manifests itself. Aran was trained in this way, as was Elaina, I believe.”

The girl brightened at that. “I’m happy to hear this, Priestess,” she said sincerely. “I was worried that ... well...”

Amina didn’t need her to finish that sentence. She lifted Ayla’s chin with a finger. “Child, I would never force you to rush something as treasured as your first time. Nor would any other Arohim. Whatever you choose, and when you choose it, is up to you and nobody else. In that arena, I will only offer guidance, not orders. The passage to womanhood must be natural and authentic.”

To Amina’s pleased surprise, Ayla jumped forward and hugged her fiercely. “Thank you,” the shorter woman whispered into Amina’s breasts. Then she began to sob. Tears that she’d held inside since she was freed from the Heralds came spilling out, now that she knew it was safe to let them.

Amina just held her, making soothing noises and stroking the par’vala’s hair until she was done.

When Ayla finally left, Amina stood at the window, leaning on the solid stone sill with both hands and looking out over the mountainous terrain below. The cool night air felt good on her skin.

Her thoughts drifted toward Aran and Elaina, Kedron and Smythe, as they often did. She thought of them as her children, in some ways, and in others, not. She supposed that would be unconventional in many cultures, but there was nothing conventional about living for a thousand years. She felt a responsibility toward them, and a fierce, passionate love. They were the future of the Order, after all. The legacy of the Arohim would be built on their shoulders. Especially Aran’s, but he could not do it alone.

She felt a pleasant tingle in her belly when she thought of Aran. His hard body and those intense blue eyes never failed to excite her. Even from the first moment she saw him she knew he was special. Not that Henley was any slouch, with those broad shoulders and bulging arms, and that massive chest. Kedron was a handsome enough lad, but he needed seasoning. Amina favoured men over boys, and though Kedron was of age, she still considered him a boy. Gods, compared to her, they were all boys! Even Henley, and he was more than a hundred years old!

The tingles turned into an ache, and Amina grinned as she calmed herself down, damping the fire of her passions. It was one thing to be a figure of love and desire, wisdom and liberty, and it was quite another to let her urges rule her. Sara was learning that very thing lately, and Amina would not unleash that girl on the world until her hands were firmly on the reins of her vala.

All Arohim needed to learn control of their power, but for a Priest or Priestess, the discipline required was several times more than that of a Paladin. And the expectations were even higher. As the only High Priestess left, it was Amina’s duty to oversee Sara’s training, and it was Amina’s choice as to how that training was implemented. As it was, Amina saw no reason to change the old ways. In fact, she saw even more reason to adhere to the requirements of days past.

The new Order must be as good, if not better than the Order of old, or it would not survive this world.

Her heart lurched suddenly as a force rolled over her, a wave of energy that hit like a punch to the stomach. Gasping, she barely held herself upright, leaning heavily on the ledge.

That immense force was Aran’s vala! Where had this power come from? Surely, he had not been this strong before? Amina had thoroughly sensed for his ability several times during his training, and while she knew he would be powerful, she had never even fathomed this!

She could see him in her mind as clear as day, as well as feel that incredible vala more than a hundred miles away. She wanted to laugh with joy at his amazing strength, and at the same time she wanted to weep at the magnitude of it.

‘Please, Aros,’ she prayed silently. ‘Give him the fortitude to withstand this storm you have bestowed upon him.’

The tempest abated as quickly as it had come, and Amina gathered herself, taking a deep breath and pushing away from the window. She would need to check on Tavish and Ayla, then Sara, and then Aran’s meldin. Perhaps they could help piece together what was happening out there.

She buried her frustration at not being out there with her children, protecting them, guiding them. Her duty was here, at the Temple, and would be for some time yet. She strode swiftly from the training room, heading for the twins’ quarters.

***ARAN – Emerin Chapel***

His old room on the upper floor of the Chapel was exactly as he’d left it. Darkwood paneling that reached halfway up the white stone wall, the arched window above the bed that looked out over the training yard, the simple washstand and the darkwood robe against opposite walls. This room was where he’d first begun to learn about who he really was. Where he’d begun his training and set himself on the inexorable path to his fate, whatever it may be.

Closing the door, he leaned back against it with a sigh, allowing himself to feel the weariness that had been nagging at him. Despite his fatigue, he grinned as he remembered his time here, training under Elaina, thinking that there could not possibly be anything more difficult under the sun.

It was the hardest year of his life, but he would do it all again just to be with Elaina, alone and undisturbed in this little sanctuary in the heart of the Emerin Forest. She was moving closer, slowly but steadily since yesterday. Judging the pace and the distance as best he could, Aran thought she might arrive as soon as tomorrow. Induin’s and Liaren’s melda were keeping pace with Elaina’s as they traveled.

“Please get here before the Heralds, my loves,” he whispered softly. “I don’t want to be burying more dead innocents if I can help it.”

As far as he could tell, the rest of his meldin were still at the Temple, clustered closely together in his mind in a bundle of sensation, each one different from the others. He allowed himself to feel them properly, getting a read on them.

Sorla seemed determined, while Rayna and Bella were sexually satisfied. Jeira was happy, but worried. Aran closed himself off from the sensations before he could lose himself in them. A dull ache washed through his muscles again. The aches had been growing more frequent of late, and he knew he was not as strong as he could be.

It wasn’t just the long days and the nights without sleep that was affecting him. Deep down, he was worried. He knew what he had to do, and he knew that he might not survive his destiny, but he could not see a way to do what must be done without hurting those closest to him.

They didn’t understand, not really. Jeira, Sorla, Rayna, all of them said they would rather be with him on this journey than anywhere else, but Aran couldn’t believe they truly knew what was coming.

He did. He could feel it approaching like a colossal menace, silent yet growing inexorably closer.

Even still, Aran wasn’t strong enough to send any of his meldin away. They were a part of him, and he them, and Aran was responsible for it all, bonding them without thought of his uncertain future. They would be stricken with untold pain, if he died. They would be targeted by his enemies if they were ever discovered.

It wasn’t just his meldin, either. Smythe, Kedron, the Servants, Sara ... He saw them all as his family, yet he would have to drag them through nightmare after nightmare. He could feel it in his heart, and he hated himself for it.

He saw the way they looked at him sometimes, when they thought he couldn’t see. Back in Korrin, one of the boys had found an abandoned wolf pup one winter and brought it home. He’d raised it well enough, and the wolf never hurt anybody, but most of the villagers would eye the thing as if afraid it would start ripping throats at any second.

That was the look Aran had seen in Smythe’s eyes yesterday.

Leaning his head back against the door, he closed his eyes for a minute, forcing himself not to think about the bed across the room, how good it would feel to lie down just for a few minutes, even though he knew his problems would still be there when he woke.

Faces and voices spun in his mind. Amina, her big sapphire eyes full of concern. “Nobody has ever had your strength, Aran...”

Elaina, her beautiful face anxious. “You may be the strongest that’s ever been...”

Smythe, trying to keep his nervousness down so Aran couldn’t sense it. “That much power can change a man...”

There was a rap on the door, the impact knocking lightly against his head where it rested against the wood. Aran sensed Smythe on the other side. Standing erect and forcing his weariness down, he banished his dark thoughts and pulled the door open to greet the older Paladin.

“Everything well, my friend?” He asked with a smile, ignoring another wave of fatigue.

“As well as can be,” Smythe said. “Ari has everyone organized. They all have a place to sleep and some food, and there’s even a bathing schedule! Though my name is too far down the list for my liking.” He finished with a chuckle.

Aran smiled. “He’s a good man, Ari. I’m glad he’s with us. How is Kedron?”

“Up and about,” Smythe replied. “Says he’s well enough to bring down a tiger with his bare hands, though I doubt it. He’s got Lena sticking to him like a fly on honey, but I think she’s keeping his spirits up. Can’t be easy with his girl in his father’s hands. The lad says she is moving closer steadily, but faster in the last couple of hours than before.”

Aran nodded grimly. “Looks like our Herald prisoners found their way back to their master.” He paused for a moment. “Listen, Smythe, I’ve been thinking. I need to know how many Heralds are coming for us, and I don’t want to risk sending you or anyone else to scout. That leaves me only one option.”

Smythe’s dark eyes searched Aran’s face for a moment before he inclined his head. “Alright, do what you have to do. I’ll head downstairs and keep an eye on the villagers. Some of them have been whispering about you since that Goblin raid.”

The big Paladin turned to leave, but stopped two steps down the hall. “Aran,” he added quietly, turning back. “I may be speaking out of turn here, but I can sense your weariness. Don’t overdo it, ey?”

“I won’t,” Aran assured him. “I think I can sense out that far without using so much of the vala, this time.”

“That’s a good thing, maybe,” Smythe mused, knuckling his mustache. “How about you let me visit the Plane tonight and you get some real rest? If there’s fighting coming, we’ll need you fit.”

Aran chuckled. “That’s very generous of you, old friend. Are you sure you can bear the treacherous burden of entertaining Amina and Elaina together?”

Smythe grinned wolfishly. “I’ll figure something out.” His face returned to seriousness afterwards, however. “I meant it, though, Aran. You should rest.”

“I will, as soon as this is done. I need to know what we’re in for.”

Smythe left after that, and Aran closed his door and locked it, preparing to tap into that hurricane of power he’d discovered within himself yesterday. Unbuckling his sword belt, he crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed. Hands on knees, he closed his eyes and breathed deeply and evenly.

‘Not so much, this time,’ he reminded himself. ‘Just bring it out slowly, until you can sense them.’

His feelings radiated outward more gently this time, first to surround the Chapel. Every soul in the building and its surrounds winked to life in his mind’s eye, like small candles in a dark room. Further out, for a mile, then two, then five.

Still nothing bar wildlife. A badger digging a new den. A fox sniffing through some fallen leaves. Ten miles. Twenty. Nothing.

Aran’s brow furrowed, but lifted a moment later when the first points of Human life appeared at about thirty miles north of the Chapel. As his vala passed over them, he received a shock. There were hundreds of them! Was he mistaken? Was it some other marching force?

No, it was Heralds. Too many of those moving lights were blackened and twisted with madness and pain. Too many, but not all of them. Aran guessed the force was five hundred strong, with maybe two hundred of them true, dedicated Heralds.

That left three hundred uncertain souls in the army, people who might be brought to see the error in following the Heralds.

An ache began inside Aran’s head, but he ignored it. Bringing his focus down onto the army, he concentrated his vala, laying his true heart and soul bare for them to feel. He’d never tried to align with so many before, and had to draw deeply on his power to do it.

The ache became a stabbing pain, but Aran pressed on, sweat forming on his brow. There was chance he could avoid a slaughter, here, and he was taking it.

***Smythe – Emerin Chapel, Ekistair***

The Chapel was as Smythe remembered it. He’d been here before, many years ago. Elaina had finished her training and Smythe had helped her get set up here before he moved on. That was the way it was done. No two Paladins residing together; it was too dangerous.

He stood in the library, warming his hands at the wide fireplace, though they didn’t need it. It was just something to do. All through the rest of the Chapel, villagers sat and talked quietly, or ate, or in a few cases, just stared at nothing for long periods of time.

Smythe felt for them. Their whole lives had been turned upside down in a matter of hours, and a few of them had lost people they loved only yesterday. He wished he didn’t feel guilty, but he did, even though he knew these folk would be much worse off if they’d been left for the Heralds.

The vala radiating from upstairs intensified, and Smythe found himself looking up at the stone ceiling again. Why wasn’t he done, yet? One benefit was the quiet peace that had fallen over the villagers as Aran’s vala enveloped them. Smythe hadn’t seen them so relaxed in a while, even the grieving ones.

“Is everything well, Henley?” A woman’s voice said from behind him.

Turning, Smythe saw Elsa, one of the village women, and he smiled despite his worry. She was a pretty one, with long, sandy hair and big dark eyes. Her lips were full and ripe for kissing, and the shape of her grey cotton dress promised a well-rounded figure. A wonderful armful.

“As well as can be, lass,” Smythe responded politely. Was she married? He couldn’t see a band on her finger. He hoped she wasn’t. A jealous husband was not something he wanted added to his concerns. His vala was certainly telling him that Elsa’s intentions did not belong to a married woman.

The vala upstairs intensified again, and Smythe wanted to clench his fists in frustration. Another minute of this, and he would be up those stairs in a flash to put a stop to it, even if he had to knock Aran unconscious!

Elsa stepped closer, looking up at him with those captivating eyes. “I just wanted to say thank you, Henley, for watching out for us. I’ve been talking with the others, and they all wanted me to offer thanks on their behalf, too.”

“Think nothing of it, lass,” Smythe replied absently, his attention still caught up by Aran.

Elsa giggled. “You keep calling me lass, but I’ll bet you my best dress I’ve got a year or two on you, Henley!”

Smythe had to pretend his mustache was itchy to hide the smile that bloomed on his face. Unless Elsa of Rostin was one hundred and six years old, then she was mistaken by a fair margin. “A woman’s age is not something I concern myself with, Elsa,” he told her smoothly. “Especially when she’s as pretty as you are.”

Elsa blushed crimson, but Smythe hardly noticed. Aran’s vala had just doubled in strength. With a curse, Smythe dashed from the library and up the stairs, leaving a startled Elsa by the fireplace. Finding Aran’s door locked, he put a solid boot to it, and the heavy darkwood timber burst inwards to show Aran sitting on his bed, his face twisted in a grimace of pain.

Smythe had to squint to see through the blinding light of the vala surrounding the younger Paladin. Sweat dripped from his nose and chin, and his eyes were squeezed shut under the strain of so much power.

“Aran!” Smythe bellowed. “Aran, stop!” He took a step forward, but suddenly Aran’s hand flung forward in a halting gesture. It was the only part of him that moved, but Smythe hesitated.

Hating himself for it, he stood in the maelstrom of Aran’s vala, convinced that he was watching his friend die.

***HERALDS OF DAWN ARMY – On Approach to the Emerin Forest***

“This is a mistake,” one of the recently recruited Heralds hissed to the man on his left as they rode toward the shadowy shapes of the outlying trees of the Emerin Forest. It was almost impossible to make out due to the bare sliver of moon in the sky, but he was sure it was the Emerin.

He didn’t know why, but just now he’d had a sudden gut urge that he was in the wrong place, at the wrong time, and something inside his was telling him insistently to ride the other way.

“Shut up,” a woman said from the rank behind. “You’re going to get us thrown out!”

“Surely I can’t be the only one that feels this!” The first man insisted, keeping his voice low. There were red-and-yellow cloaked Heralds – real Heralds, not recruits, like himself – riding not far away in the long column of five hundred. Then there was that naked girl in the cage ... All of this just felt wrong. “Something isn’t right!”

“I feel it,” a low voice muttered from in front. “But what can we do?”

“We can scatter,” a man suggested from somewhere nearby. “They can’t chase down all of us.” Some of the new recruits turned to stare daggers at this latest speaker, while others nodded thoughtfully.

“They’re only going to use us as a first charge, anyway,” an older man croaked from the rank behind. “I’ve seen it before.” He shut his mouth as a torch-bearing officer rode past the outside of the column, casting a sharp eye over the recruits.

“It’s as good an idea as any,” the first man agreed. The feeling suddenly intensified, and a ripple of movement went through the column. People turned their heads to look behind them, or shifted in their saddles uncomfortably.