A Paladin's War
Copyright© 2020 by Antidarius
Chapter 19: Newcomers
Fantasy Sex Story: Chapter 19: Newcomers - The Third Volume of The Paladin Saga
Caution: This Fantasy Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Fa/Fa Mult Consensual Magic BiSexual Heterosexual Fiction High Fantasy Paranormal Demons Sharing Group Sex Harem Orgy Polygamy/Polyamory Cream Pie Exhibitionism Oral Sex Tit-Fucking Nudism Royalty
Aran sighed as he moved another marker onto the area of the map that read “Cathgard.” The smooth black stone meant another five thousand of Maloth’s forces was estimated to be in the city, bringing the total to near fifty thousand. How had he brought so many across the sea? Aran had seen the skeletons of great ships in amathani once, being built by Maloth’s forces, but surely the Demon had not managed to produce enough vessels to carry this many men.
“I do not think they have moved outside the walls of this middle one,” the Druid beside him said as she leaned forward over the table and stabbed at Cathgard with a slim finger. Tall, lean and dark, Mika was not one of the Druids he’d spent time with in the north recently, but he was very glad for her ability; she could change into a great eagle, making her a most valuable scout. She was one of only two Druids in the camp who could take a flying form.
“What makes you say that?” he asked. They were alone in the command tent this evening, though that would likely not last long; it was like the main street in Beringarde in here most days, but without the scandalous outfits. Well, for the most part, anyway. Being exposed to so many arohim had begun to relax the inhibitions of much of the camp. Some folk had even begun taking after the Druids and walking around bare as newborns, somewhat inadvisable for Humans, Elves and Dwarves who didn’t have tough skin like Orcs, or the ability to rapidly heal like Druids.
Mika turned her pretty face to regard him. Her features were striking, with high cheekbones, a fine jawline, and a bold nose that did indeed remind him of an eagle’s beak. It all served to make her rather attractive, Aran thought, especially with those deep brown eyes and that short, spiky white hair. She seemed far too young for white hair, no more than thirty years old, but Druids lived a long time. For all Aran knew, she could be older than Smythe.
“I saw none of the fires and smoke outside of these walls,” she explained as she briefly traced her finger along first the east wall, then the west wall of the city. “And none of the Orcs, Dark Elves, Giants or grey-skins.”
Aran still didn’t know what the grey-skins were, but their numbers had apparently more than tripled since the invasion began. How was it possible? It was only a matter of time before Maloth ordered his army to continue the invasion into the next city. But which way would he go? East or west?
His thoughts were interrupted by Mika’s hand on his shoulder. He turned to meet her gaze. She’d come closer, her face not more than a foot from his, her head slightly tilted in a very birdlike manner, but there was nothing avian about that light in her eyes. Well, except perhaps the predatory glint.
“I wish to mate with you, Anarion, ” she said abruptly.
Aran blinked, then smiled at her. It was refreshing - and sometimes a little confronting - the way Druids approached intimacy; no dancing around the subject. They either wanted to do it, or they didn’t. He looked her over. She was beautiful, in an earthy, rugged way.
When she saw his eyes wander down, she grinned and turned to the table, putting her hands on it and bending forward, presenting her tight rear. “You like what you see, I think. You may enter me, if you wish,” she purred, looking over a slender shoulder at him. “Serefi says you fuck like a Druid, and I am curious.”
Aran couldn’t ignore her lithe form, and the way she held herself, ready for him. “You make a tempting offer, Mika, but-”
Before he could say any more, two figures pushed into the tent in the form of Lena and Imella, both garbed in hastily donned robes as if they’d run straight from their tent. Brown-haired Imella was Kedron’s meldin, and raven-haired Lena was close enough with them both that Aran thought Kedron might meld with her any day now. Well, as soon as he was allowed, anyway.
He didn’t need his vala to sense something was wrong; it was written on their faces clear enough. “What is it?” he asked quickly. Mika straightened slowly from the table, her expression making it clear she was not pleased with the interruption.
The girls barely noticed the Druid, focusing on Aran. “Something has happened to Kedron,” Imella said in a wavering voice. “There was a sharp pain,” she touched her chest just above her right breast, “and then I think he went unconscious.”
Aran muttered a curse. “When?”
“Only a few minutes ago. We came straight here.” She winced and touched her chest again, as if still feeling the pain. Maralon was not so far away that a serious wound in Kedron would not transfer through the melda to some degree.
Aran checked in on Sorla. She was unharmed - he knew that, for he would have felt anything physical - but worried. He hadn’t thought anything of that earlier; she had plenty of cause to be worried about the mission to Maralon.
He turned to Mika, who was now leaning back against the table casually, supporting herself on her hands, keen eyes watching the girls with only an idle interest. “Mika, I need you to fly to Maralon. I need to know what is happening there.” He should go himself, but there was too much here that needed overseeing, and he couldn’t do everything. Kedron was alive; that was something at least.
Mika’s fine eyebrows rose. “My eyes are sharp, Anarion,” she began curtly, “but you expect me to find this one man in an entire city? At night?”
“I want you to try,” he said firmly, fixing her with a level stare. “But first, fly to the hole at Senna. There are four-thousand men stationed there.” He hurriedly scribbled a message on a slip of parchment and signed it. “Give this to the captain there before flying on to Maralon,” he continued as he rolled the slip up and dripped some hot wax on it to seal it, pressing his signet ring into the wax before it dried. Jeira had had it made for him; a sunburst crossed by a slightly curved blade. “Be fast, Mika.” He held out the rolled slip.
The Druid met his eyes for a moment, as if considering whether to obey or not, but then she nodded and took the note, then stalked from the tent, almost bumping Lena on the way past.
Aran sighed. Druids were useful, but they did not like authority. He looked at the girls, who were watching him uncertainly. “You two should get some sleep,” he said gently, moving over to them. “Kedron is alive, and he has good people with him. He will be well.” Aran hoped that were true.
Imella nodded, wiping a tear from her eye. “I know. It’s just hard after...”
She trailed off, but Aran knew what she meant; Kedron’s father had been a Herald of high station, and had kidnapped and tortured Imella some months ago in an effort to get to his son. The ordeal had been terrible for the poor woman.
“Thank you, Aran,” Lena said, her arm around Imella’s shoulder. “We’ll get out of your way.”
Before he could say any more, they hurried out. He wanted to stop them, to offer some more assurances, but he let them go. What was the point of assurances if things could go badly? He sighed again; the war hadn’t even properly started yet, and already the bad news was flowing.
Walking back to the map table, he leaned on it, his muscles feeling fatigue they normally shrugged off. Kedron would have to fend for himself, for now. A pang of regret gripped him at the thought, but he pushed it away. The more he thought about Kedron, the more he wanted to worry about Sorla, and if he started doing that, he would end up haring off into the night looking for her and ignoring his other responsibilities.
“And what has gotten you in such a twist?” Elaina’s voice said from the tent’s entrance.
He turned, glad for her appearance. He’d sensed her approaching in the back of his mind, but his preoccupation had taken priority. She was garbed in her usual breeches, shirt and tunic, though the tunic was undone and the shirt was unlaced at the top to show some pale cleavage. It was a warm night; Aran’s own shirt was unlaced halfway down.
“Something has happened to Kedron,” he began. Elaina’s face grew concerned as he explained what he knew.
“Aros will protect him,” she said firmly when he was done. “The boy has been in worse scrapes.”
“Aye,” Aran agreed. She came to him, and he opened his arms to receive her. It was difficult to worry as much with Elaina around. “How is your day thus far?”
She pulled back enough to lift her face up, giving him a wonderful view of her brilliant green eyes. “I just left the par’vala. They are coming along well, I think.” She chuckled. “Even Mikel, when I can get him to stop leering at me.”
Aran laughed. “Can’t blame the lad, can we? I mean, I’m quite sure I saw a dead man crawl from his grave the other day just to get a look at your bottom.”
Elaina grinned. “Oh, shut up.” She left his arms and moved around him to the table. “So,” she mused after a minute. “Maloth has not left Cathgard yet.”
She was a quick study, Elaina, and had a fair mind for tactics. A large part of what Aran knew came from her. The rest from Smythe, experience, and the vala memories that surfaced sometimes. “Not yet,” he replied. “I met him last night. In amathani.”
Elaina ripped her eyes away from the maps and gaped at him. “You what?!”
“He has discovered some way to enter the plane. I found him there. Our interaction was brief, but informative.”
Elaina’s eyebrows were almost in her hair. “How did this happen? Amathani is for arohim! Not Demons!” She began to pace up and down the tent, chewing her lip.
“It must be because of his heritage. My father,” Aran offered.
“Yes,” Elaina replied. “It would have to be, wouldn’t it. Does anyone else know?”
Aran shook his head. “Just you and me, for now. And Maloth, I suppose.”
She shuddered. “That creature gives me the willies. What about his sister?”
“No. Just him and me, as far as I could tell.” He told her everything, as much as he could remember, and she listened carefully, pacing all the while.
When he finished, she halted suddenly. “So, you could see his work in Cathgard. I suppose that means he can see our camp, too?”
Aran nodded reluctantly. “It would be foolish to assume otherwise, I think.”
“Fire and fury!” Elaina muttered, exhaling heavily. “We can’t stay still now, not for more than a day at most.”
Aran agreed. “No. Not that we would have anyway; we have too much ground to cover.”
“There are always spies in war,” she went on, “but we have two opposing commanders who can look in on the other, possibly whenever they wish. Bloody ridiculous! Books will be written about this, Aran. Volumes and volumes. The very notion changes everything!” She came to him and put hands on his shoulders. “We should tell Amina, and Henley, at the very least.”
“I suppose we should,” Aran replied. “But I would be reluctant to let this information spread further. Who knows what the Dwarves, Orcs, or even the Elves might think of it.”
Seeing the sense of his words, she nodded. “Yes. I think that is best, for now.”
He leaned down and kissed her. “I am glad I have you, my love.”
“You should be,” she replied with a grin, making him laugh.
“Now that you’re here,” he began, glancing at the maps. “Care to cast an eye over my ideas?”
“I will,” she answered slowly. “As long as we’re back in our tent by a reasonable hour. You’ve been working yourself too hard and you need rest.”
Aran doubted he’d be able to sleep until he knew Kedron, Sorla and the others were alright, but he acquiesced anyway. “Agreed.”
Together, they turned to the table and he began explaining his proposed strategy.
Coughing out a mouthful of dust, Kedron groaned with the effort of holding himself up on his hands. Something large, hard and heavy was pressing against his back, threatening to crush him, as well as Sorla and Sylvia, who were huddled face to face beneath his body, pressing themselves together to stay between his arms.
The tavern had collapsed into the earth, and Kedron had managed to protect Sorla and Sylvia, but Erik had tumbled away in the chaos. Had he survived? Kedron would have used his vala to feel for the man, but he was putting everything he had into holding up the stone slab, keeping the women alive for as long as he could. The arrow wound in his chest throbbed, threatening to break open, but he ignored it.
“You need ... To get ... Out,” he told them through gritted teeth. They looked up at him, eyes wide, their pretty faces covered in dust and dirt. He couldn’t see them with his own eyes; it was pitch black under all this rubble, but he could sense their condition well enough.
“Not without you, bonehead,” Sylvia replied with more bravery than her face was showing. The ground rumbled around them, and the rubble shifted, settling, renewing its attempts to flatten them.
Kedron’s arms trembled; he wasn’t going to last much longer. Maybe at full strength he could have done something more, but not now. His vala was leeching out of him by the second.
“Kedron! Sylvia!” Erik’s voice from somewhere nearby sounded muffled, but he was alive at least.
“Erik!” Sylvia called back. “We are trapped! Are you alright?”
There was coughing, but Erik replied after a moment. “It’s not so bad where I am! Somehow I got thrown free! I’m going to try and get to you!”
Kedron heard grunting, then the sound of stone scraping stone. He risked some of his remaining vala, just enough to get a sense of where Erik was. The man was only ten feet away, but between him and them was a small mountain of stone and timber, tiles and earth. He’d never get through all that in time.
Kedron’s arms were burning, and sweat dripped off his nose onto Sorla’s dress in a steady rhythm. A deep groan escaped his lips.
“Hold on,” Sorla urged him gently. “You can do this.” As if mocking her words, the rubble atop them shifted and settled, adding more pressure to Kedron’s already straining body.
These women were going to die, crushed like ants, and it was his fault. He brought them here, he got shot because he was too stupid to check for danger, and now he was too wounded to be any use. “I’m ... Sorry...” he managed. A tear escaped his eye and joined the sweat dripping from his nose.
“Don’t you dare,” Sylvia hissed, her fingers brushing his face, the gentle touch at odds with her tone. Kedron felt a burst of affection for the half-Elf. He wondered if maybe one day Imella and Lena would accept her as his meldin. She started to say more, but more noise in the tunnel stopped her.
“Erik!” a woman’s voice called distantly. It sounded like Finya! Erik yelled back hurriedly, demanding help. Kedron gathered every spare scrap of strength and forced his body to hold, for just one second, and then another, then another...
Suddenly, there was much commotion, and the sounds of heavy things being dragged or rolled or tossed, all at the command of Finya, who barked instructions constantly, directing whomever was out there with her. Blissfully, wonderfully, the pressure above began to lessen.
“Almost there,” Sylvia assured him. “Just a little longer.” Then, more softly, she added, “Once I get you alone, I’m going to fuck you senseless, Kedron Stallen.”
A pained laugh escaped his lips, despite their predicament.
Sorla chuckled. “I think I’ll join you two.”
After another minute that felt like an eternity, Kedron felt the big slab of stone on his back lift away, and he collapsed in a heap on top of the women, no strength left even to roll aside first. His eyes closed of their own accord as strong hands seized him and began to move him away.
Kedron awoke in the dark, taking a minute to get his bearings. He was underground still, though apparently out of danger. His vala gave him a read of his surroundings. He was lying next to a low rock, surrounded by a small company of Dwarves and Druids, all taking their ease. Erik, Sorla and Sylvia were sitting near Kedron, chatting with Finya.
The pitch darkness of the tunnel was broken by a small lantern on the ground next to Erik, the only one who couldn’t see in the dark. Slowly, Kedron sat up, wincing as the wound in his chest protested, but it felt better than it had earlier.
“Ah, the hero awakes,” Sorla said quietly as she looked over at him. The light from Erik’s lantern cast a half-shadow across her face, lending an ethereal slant to her natural beauty.
As she spoke, Kedron sensed everyone turn his way. He didn’t know what to do, so he simply sat there, not yet ready to trust his legs; even sitting up had been a shaky process. His stomach growled; he needed to eat if he was going to be any use at all on the rest of this mission.
Thinking of the mission sunk his heart; what was happening on the surface? Had he failed? At best, Maralon was only half evacuated. How much of the tunnel had caved in? How many of his men had been lost in the collapse?
Sylvia was at his side while he gathered his thoughts. “Here,” she said as she put down a water skin and a sizeable leather pouch. “Eat and drink. You need your strength.”
“Thank you,” he replied gratefully. His voice sounded raspy, probably from all the dust he’d breathed in. “Are you alright?”
“Yes, thanks to you.” Before he had even raised the water skin to his lips, she had planted a thorough kiss on his mouth. After what seemed like a very long minute, she pulled back. “That will have to do until we’re alone,” she said slyly.
A few of the soldiers chuckled, and one or two made a lewd comment. Kedron blushed in the darkness, not used to being so open with his affections yet. He found himself thinking again about melding with Sylvia.
He cleared his throat and took a drink. The water was warm and flat. Delicious to his dry throat and mouth. “Is everyone else well?” he asked the whole group. “Thank you for coming for us. We owe you our lives.”
“My company is hale,” Finya replied, standing up. “The Druids did most of the heavy lifting.” She looked over to a disparate group nearby, lounging on the ground in different positions, all of them naked in the way of Druids.
“Thank you,” Kedron repeated for them. They offered nothing in return. Maybe they were upset at him?
“And my company?” he asked with a feeling of dread. He couldn’t feel any of them nearby except for his friends.
“If they were all in the same building as you,” Finya began, “they probably did not survive. We found some bodies in the rubble, a dozen or so.” Her tone was clinically blunt, someone used to reporting bad news who saw no reason to draw it out.
Kedron was glad he had left the rest of the legion outside the city walls. He needed to find a way to get a message to them, once he knew what the plan was. “What a waste,” he said in response to Finya.
“Death usually is,” she replied, a touch of sadness in her voice now.
Suddenly not feeling as hungry, Kedron forced himself to open the scrip and start eating. There was fruit, nuts, dried meat and cheese, enough for three men. Or one hungry arohim.
Finya looked around at her men. “At ease,” she barked in a low voice. “Amuse yourselves until it’s time to go. Stay close, and keep the noise down.”
They did as instructed, and Finya came over to kneel on Kedron’s other side. She was a handsome Dwarf, bordering on pretty, with brown hair tied back in a low bun to keep clear of her helmet, which she removed and placed on the ground as she settled down. “In truth, I am glad of your presence, Kedron,” she said quietly, for his ears alone. Well, Sylvia could hear, but Finya didn’t seem to mind.
“How so?” he asked her around a mouthful of apple. With every bite, he could feel his strength building, slowly but steadily.
She stared up at the tunnel roof. “This is all just feeling ... Wrong. Having an arohim with us is a comfort.”
Kedron sighed. “I fear I may not be much use in this condition, Finya. I also need to get back to my men on the surface. They are waiting for word. How was your mission faring before you came to save us?”
“We were untroubled until the collapse,” she replied. “And making good time, I think. Our task was to find the tunnel’s end and report back to command.”
“It has to end somewhere,” Kedron said absently as he chewed. His mind was still on the loss of his men. The responsibility weighed heavy on him. How many of them had loved ones waiting back in camp? Husbands, wives, children?
The food in his mouth tasted like ash, but he kept eating; his body needed the nourishment, and he was not going to risk more lives by not being at full strength. “Is there a way back through that way?” he asked, gesturing down the huge tunnel. “Past the collapse?”
Finya’s head swung. “No. Not unless you want to spend weeks digging. As we pulled you out, the cave-in began again, chasing us for almost a quarter mile. We were lucky to get away.”
Kedron sighed. So, stuck down here, then. With no way to get word to his men. Thus far, his first command was a complete failure.
It was almost evening as Aran squatted at the edge of a small clearing just outside the massive war camp, the deepening twilight absorbing the shadows of the tall pines and stout oaks surrounding the mostly bare patch of ground in front of him, where Elaina was putting the par’vala through their paces.
Mikel, Ostin, Edda, Ayla and Tavish all surrounded her, hands raised in various stances of the mo’har, the fighting style of Paladins. The boys were bare to the waist, while the girls kept a cloth wrap around their chests for modesty, which would not impede movement.
Aran and Elaina had always trained naked at the Chapel, largely so that Aran could learn to control his sexual urges, to learn focus. He thought soon this lot would be ready for the same, but Elaina had not enforced it upon them yet.
Kedron had done a good job with the younglings so far; he’d spent as much time with them as Amina and Elaina combined. Aran had not had the pleasure of teaching them a single lesson yet; his other duties had taken priority. He glanced at the violet sky above, hoping for a glimpse of Mika, who had not returned since he’d sent her to Maralon last night. Where was she? Surely she could make the trip there and back in a single day.
With nothing to do but wait, he put his attention back on the clearing. As he watched, a silent tension fell, none of the students wanting to make the first move. Elaina had dealt out plenty of blows already, and none yet had landed on her.
Seconds stretched out like minutes, the students watching their master warily as she stood in perfect Wind stance, arms outstretched parallel to the ground, one in front, one behind, palms out, knees bent, one foot back, one foot forward. Her eyes were closed, her face serene. Wind was ideal for fighting multiple opponents, especially if they were small, or quick.
Aran’s senses picked up a single moth, fluttering a few feet above lanky Ostin’s blonde head. He was a good lad, Ostin; a young country man from the Sorral Plain. He reminded Aran of himself before fate had yanked him out of his little village and thrust him into this life.
The moth spiralled downward and brushed against Ostin’s ear, and that’s when the stillness ended. Aran shook his head slightly as Ostin launched forward in River stance, right foot sweeping around to try and take Elaina in the belly. It was the right stance to fight Wind, but letting a bug trigger you into attacking meant you were not in control of your impulses, nor one with your surroundings.
Of course, Ostin’s action inspired the others to come forward. Elaina dealt with the lanky blonde first, spinning around his kick, seizing his leg in both hands and pivoting, sending him sailing off in the same direction he’d been heading.
Edda came next, the auburn-haired sister of Noah approaching from the side, moving well for one still new to the training. Elaina was not so hard with her, simply tripping her onto her back so she could roll away safely.
Ayla, Tavish and Mikel were not so gently dispatched. Elaina took the twins out first, Ayla with a fist to the belly and Tavish with a solid boot to the chest that thumped through the clearing and sent him tripping back ten feet. Aran winced at that one, but Tavish had a bad habit of leaving himself exposed, and so Elaina was teaching him the consequences.
Bronze-skinned Mikel came next, right as Elaina’s boot hit Tavish. He must have been feeling optimistic, for he attempted a grapple from behind, trying to get his arms hooked around the fronts of Elaina’s shoulders to restrain her. He might have been strong enough - Mikel’s vala was powerful, but his technique was sloppy, and so Elaina twisted away from his grip and countered.
Aran’s eyebrows raised as her neat right cross took Mikel in the cheek, spinning him a half-turn before he grounded himself. Aran felt anger flare in the young man, but it was shoved aside by desire, of all things, which blazed hotter than the anger.
“What?” Elaina demanded, looking down at herself. In the tussle, her chest wrap had been pulled down over one breast, leaving her exposed. She made an annoyed noise. “Is this all it takes to distract you?”
Mikel didn’t know what to say. He pulled his eyes away from her abundant chest with some visible effort.
Elaina turned a slow circle, making no effort to cover herself. “What about the rest of you?” she asked. Aran watched curiously; this was not a lesson he expected her to give tonight, but it seemed timely. One by one, the par’vala averted their eyes. Aran could remember feeling the same, what seemed a long time ago now.
“Not so long ago,” Elaina went on, “training was done without any clothes at all.”
“You trained naked?” Edda asked uncertainly. Unconsciously, she crossed her arms over her chest.
“Why does that bother you, girl?” Elaina enquired sternly. “Are you ashamed of your body?”
Edda hesitated, then shook her head. “No, Master.”
“I should hope not,” Elaina said. “The vala inside us gifts us the power of beauty, which we should accept and respect. However, it is not all we are. Isn’t that right, Mikel?” She eyed the handsome young man intently, waiting for his answer.
Again, he appeared unsure what to say. Finally, he managed, “No, Master.”
“So, what else are we, as arohim?” Elaina probed.
“Uh, protectors?” Mikel responded tentatively.
“Correct,” Elaina replied, turning to Ostin. “What else?” It was a mark of her personality that she could command the lesson with a breast exposed and not lose a scrap of authority. It was also part of what she was trying to teach these younglings.
“Peacekeepers,” Ostin said with more certainty than Mikel.
“Warriors.” From Edda.
“Mediators.” From Tavish, who was rubbing his chest.
Ayla was last, but she seemed lost for words. The buxom brown-haired girl rubbed her neck, thinking.
“Ayla?” Elaina said, approaching her. “What else?”
“Lovers,” Ayla almost whispered. Aran could feel her embarrassment across the clearing. Some of the other par’vala cleared their throats uncomfortably. Mikel smirked. As far as Aran knew, Ayla, Tavish and Ostin were still virgins. Mikel on the other hand, had been happily fucking his way around Sarresh before Sara found him, using his barely-formed vala to maximum effect. The celibacy requirement during training had been hardest on him; he knew what he was missing out on, where the others didn’t yet.
“Yes!” Elaina barked, making the students jump. “Lovers,” she repeated more softly. A quick movement and her chest wrap was gone, tossed aside, leaving both her magnificent breasts bare for all present. “With our bodies, as well as our hearts. I know you have all felt the pull inside you. It is natural, normal and a wonderful thing, believe me. But first you must learn control!” She clapped her hands together sharply, startling the students again.
“Uh, Master Elaina,” Tavish began hesitantly. “Does that mean we shouldn’t, um, look?”
Elaina chuckled warmly. “Good luck with that, lad.” She walked over to him and put her hands on her hips, shoulders held back proudly. “I would be offended if you didn’t.”
Tavish took a deep breath and forced himself to meet her gaze.
Good lad, Aran thought, giving the boy a mental pat on the shoulder.
Elaina made an approving noise and whirled around. “You can look all you want,” she began firmly, “but watch the effect it has on you, on your mind, on your concentration.” As she walked past Mikel, who was ogling her tits again, she casually shoved him in the chest, sending him sprawling backward, sliding across the ground.
Aran grinned and shook his head. He remembered the first time he’d seen Elaina in nothing but her vaima. He’d been as useless as Mikel was now. Even worse the first time they’d trained naked.
Ostin laughed quietly, earning a glare from Mikel as he picked himself up.