“Right of Passage”
Damaris and Gertrude stood before a great oak that lived deep in the Briar Forest. It was not dark like the rest of the trees although it's trunk was covered by the briar. The myriad of scars on the bark of the tree were evidence that its growth did not come at a price.
“She was just a sapling when I left her my metal,” Damaris said. Both she and Gertrude were cut and bleeding from the thorns that now no longer obeyed the Wytch and seem intent on barring them from their escape. “Now she has grown strong and beautiful.”
“Will she not wither and die when you take your metal away from her?” Gertrude asked curiously.
“Nay,” Damaris answered as she touched the bark and caressed it lovingly. “She is what she is not because of the metal, but rather because the metal told her what she could be. She will live long and well even among the briar. Even they, despite their jealousy, will come to respect her with time.”
Damaris traced several runes on the oak with her finger and the oak opened and light poured forth.
She pulled a package from the tree and placed it under her arm. With her other hand, she touched the oak one last time and whispered a thank you to her friend who had protected her metal all these years.
She placed the package on the ground and knelt before it, resting on the back of her heels.
Gertrude watched at a distance.
Damaris opened the package. There was a helm, a sword and a shield. She looked at them lovingly.
“They are the soul of an Angel, you know,” she said to Gertrude. “I was away from my metal, but I always knew it was here. It is a powerful bond between an Angel and her metal.”
“Then what are you waiting for?” Gertrude asked wonder why she did not seize the metal.
“As soon as I touch my metal, the Covenant will know where I am,” Damaris said evenly. “They will come for me. I am too valuable for them not to.”
“You knew that though,” Gertrude said trying to understand her companion. “Before you came here to the Briar Forest, you knew that.”
“Does knowing change the pace of the seasons or slow the rising of the moon? Yes, I knew,” she said sadly. “As I touch this metal, my life which I have lived so passionately these past few years will end forever. There is no going back.”
She placed the silver helm on her head and then she reached for her sword and her shield and they began to glow. Damaris's torn garments were shred away from her body and the grim and dirt and blood disappeared. Snow white wings spouted from her back and she stretched them out wide.
When the light died she stood before the Wytch in her silver helm that crowned her head of red hair and her sword and shield at her sides. She was garbed in the purple tunic of the Covenant covered with shiny chain mail which meant she was a high ranking warrior.
“I fly the first leg of the journey, Wytch,” Damaris said. “I assume you have means to accompany me.”
Gertrude nodded and concentrated. She shrank and became a hawk.
“Three times before the dawn I may change my shape to that of any creature I have touched. I'll fly with you.”
“Then let us leave this forest,” Damaris said as she leaped into the air and flew.
* * * * *
Gertrude flew with Damaris and the Wytch could not help but wonder at the beautiful and relaxed flight of the Angel. Rare was the opportunity Gertrude could be near an Angel who would not try to run her through with a sword or a spear.
Gertrude has flown since young when she first morphed into a robin. Flight was an exhilarating experience especially the first time.
This Angel had abandoned flight for years and now that she flew, she was obviously enjoying herself.
They reached Summerland near mid day and Damaris descended to the ground suddenly.
“Why are we stopping?” Gertrude asked.
“We're being followed,” Damaris said.
“The Darque?” the Wytch asked.
“No,” Damaris answered curtly.
Damaris landed and took her sword and stabbed it into the ground.
“What are you doing?” Gertrude asked.
She was answered not by Damaris but by the arrival of another Angel.
She was younger than Damaris and of inferior rank. She had no armor and only a short sword as her weapon. Her face was long and her features delicate. Her hair was short and golden and she had a friendly air about her.
“If you keep quiet and out of the way, I will mask you and she will not notice you,” Damaris whispered before turning to face her fellow Angel.
“I've come for you, Damaris,” she said in a beautiful musical voice. “Micaela awaits you to rejoin her legion. Battle is about to start and your skills are needed. No mention of your 'departure' will be made... For now.”
“Areli,” Damaris said addressing the Angel of the Covenent who she knew well. “I will go South and I will rescue my lover. Once I have rescued him, I will return and then the Covenant may do with me as it pleases.”
“Michaela cannot take no for an answer,” Areli stated obstinately. “You know that.”
“I know,” Damaris said turning and removing her helm and armor.
Areli turned as well and walked to the opposite side of the clearing away from Damaris.
Their backs to each other they continued to remove their tunics and unfasten their sandals. They were only garbed in silken white chemise and their bare white feet hovered inches above the ground never touching the earth.
“What are you going to do?” Gertrude asked furtively.
“A duel. Tickling duel.” Damaris whispered. “For the Right of Passage. If I win, I may continue on my way. If I lose I must do as she requests. No blood shed among Angels. Never.”
“You can't possibly win. You are one of the most ticklish women I've ever seen,” Gertrude said.
“Areli is just as ticklish. Perhaps more so,” Damaris said stretching her muscles as if she were about to enter battle. “I've had her under my fingers before. She is younger and faster than I.”
“Then how do you expect to win?” Gertrude asked.
“Not always does the fastest and toughest win,” Damaris stated. “So step away and do not interfere. If I lose this duel I release you from your Blood Debt.”
The two Angels faced each other at a distance and Gerturde flew to a high point above the clearing to watch the duel.
A heavy breeze cast their beautiful hair to the wind. Gertrude was a Wytch who could appreciate beauty and even with their hair and garments blown around them, they were magnificent .
Damaris and Areli circled each other with their wings stretched out and they studied each other's defense and posture.
They fluttered their wings at each other and made sudden feints. They held their fingers up moving them in a suggestive tickling motion that seemed innocent enough but nonetheless chilled Gertrude.
She had seen Angels many times before. Usually killing demons and Wytches and such. But this was different. They were two beautiful creatures prepared to engage in a bout of tickling with the same intensity as they might show before entering a bloody battle.
Gertrude realized that the Angelic Duel was a question of territory. For she who controlled the center, would be victorious, no matter how ticklish she was. She watched with awe as they continued to circle each other. They paused for a moment suddenly and all became motionless. Even the wind seemed to die down somewhat like the calm that hearlds the storm.
It was a moment that if you had blinked you would have missed it. The Angels rushed at each other in a flurry of feathers and with a battle cry that could make the hardiest foot soldier tremble in his boots.
As they met at the center of the clearing, Damaris's wings deftly rolled to the inside of Areli's guard before the younger Angel could close the gap. This gave Damaris the advantage where she could push her opponent's wings to the outside where they could do her no harm.
With this edge, she tackled Areli to the ground and mounted her promptly. Damaris's wings kept Areli's wings out and her opponent's arms pinned to the ground while Damaris pressed her torso against Areli's with her head neatly pressed to one side of Areli's.
Areli struggled and bucked as much as she could but she was rendered practically immobile by Damaris. She could not break the hold Damaris had upon her.
She relaxed and all was quiet inside the tent of white wings and feathers that they lay under. They could hear each other breathing and even their accelerated heartbeats.
A moment passed in silence before Areli broke it.
“Mercy?” she asked.
Damaris turned to the ear of her opponent and whispered.
“It is not the way of the Duel. I apologize for this,” Damaris said to her ear.
Damaris continued to pin Areli down, but her hands were free and they started by gently scratching Areli's vulnerable underarms with her nails.
Areli reacted instantly and squealed loudly and kicked with her legs as hard as she could. Try as she might she could move her legs but she could not move her torso even a single inch. Her wings flapped helplessly sending dust and feathers up in the air.
She screamed and begged for Damaris to stop.
But it was not the way of a duel to grant mercy. Domination had to be established and this was the only way. Damaris continued tracing her tickling fingers down to Areli's ribs which she could easily feel under the thin fabric of the chemise. Her victim's squealing and screaming grew more intense as Damaris randomly tickled between the ribs.
Damaris knew Areli well and she was saving the best for last. She had weakened her opponent and now she went in for the kill. Damaris continued to pin Areli's body to the ground, but now she sent her arms behind her searching for her victim's most ticklish spot: her knees.
Damaris look for the spot just above the kneecap and she pressed there deliberately. Areli's squeals became shrieks and she kicked hard and in all directions, but it was not difficult for Damaris to maintain her tickling of the knees.
It might have been a minute, but to Areli is must have been an eternity.
Damaris continued with one knee in each hand. She'd titillate Areli's knees varying the intensity until she was certain that there was not even a single ounce of fight in her opponent left.
She stopped tickling and Areli's shrieks and squeals quickly died off. She was fully drained and there was not doubt as to the result of the duel.
Damaris opened her wings and cool air refreshed them both. She stood up and away and observed the exhausted angel who remained on the ground breathing deeply but otherwise spent and motionless.
“You will let me go,” Damaris said. “Our duel is over.”
“Yes,” Areli said still breathing heavily. “You were always the better. It was to be expected, but I had to try.”
“I know,” Damaris said nodding.
She began to recover her gear and suit up once more.
“Farewell, Areli,” she said when she had finished to the defeated Angel while nodding to Gertrude in a sign that it was time to go.
“Wait!” Areli said finally just standing up after her ordeal.
“You cannot stop me,” Damaris said. “Right of Passage had been won.”
“I know, and I respect that. But there is something you must know. The Darque will fall upon the capital of Summerland on the morrow like a heavy hammer on the anvil,” Areli said. “The Summerlanders do not know how to fight the Darque properly. They will perish. Every last man woman and child in the castle. Unless we do something about it.”
“Many will die during this war,” Damaris said coolly. “It is only the beginning.”
“What would your lover think if he knew you could help his people in their moment of peril and you chose better to save him?” Areli asked.
Damaris's jaw tightened. Phillip would never forgive her. He would prefer to die first and his actions and sacrifice with the first assault of the Darque only confirmed this.
“Then you will come and aid us as we defend the castle?” Areli asked detecting Damaris's hesitation.
“Yes,” Damaris said with calm resignation. “I will go with you.
“But you must tell me something first,” Damaris added. “How did you know my lover was from Summerland?”
“I didn't,” Areli answered with a sly smile. “I figured it was a worth a gamble. You are my better with the sword and my better when your tickling fingers are pitted against mine. But my greatest weapon is not a blade but rather my golden tongue.”
“You could have started there and saved yourself the tickling,” Damaris said as Areli dressed and gathered her gear as well.
“I wanted to see if you had lost your touch after your years away,” Areli said finishing and preparing to depart. “You must have been practicing all these years, for obviously, you have not lost your touch.”
Damaris laughed and Areli joined her.
“I bear you no ill will Areli,” Damaris said earnestly.
“Neither do I,” Areli said. “The Covenant, of course, is a different story.”
“Of course,” Damaris said kissing Areli gently on the forehead.
“But that is not important today,” Damaris said. “Today we are allies and today we will bleed and draw blood together as sisters. Let us depart!”
They flew up and away together into the sky.
Gertrude was left to herself watching them fly away.
“I've never met an Angel that wasn't mad,” she said shaking her head gently before flying after the pair into the blue sky.
* * * * *
Orphea knelt on her heels, prone on the wet black quarry stones of the desolate courtyard in old King Tepik's castle deep in the Southlands. She was naked save for a white loincloth.
Her pale white skin and long blond hair contrasted with the stones likening her to the moon on the dark black sky.
HE, was there in the courtyard.
He came as soon as the news broke that the two prisoners had escaped and that one of the prisoners had so humiliated Orphea. She who had been left with the charge of breaking the will and spirit of the Southlanders before moving on to the North.
Failure was not tolerated by the Darque and she knew that these might be her last moments clinging to life.
She knew he was there. His presence with electrifying. There was no need to look at him to know he was there.
He wore black robes like all those he dominated. His perfectly shined boots were visible in Orphea's peripheral vision as he strode near her she could hear the gently tapping of the boots on the quarry stone.
“Orphea,” he said his voice charming and pleasant as always. “I had high hopes for you. You were my favorite. You are a tantalizing seductress and you've brought many into the fold. But you have failed us. Your commitment to the Darque is dwindling and you need to have that commitment reinforced.”
He stopped in front of her. She could see his boot clearly now and his robes as well.
She did not dare look at him.
Dark black serpents issued from under his robes. She did not resist and as they wrapped around her ankles and wrists she hung loosely as they tightened and pulled her up from the ground.
The serpents sank their fangs into her wrists and ankles injected their sweet venom into her bloodstream. She twisted involuntarily in the grasp of the serpents as pleasure surged through her body. She could feel his presence more than ever now.
The serpents leaned her body on its back and her bare feet were lifted so he might examine them without leaning over.
He appeared to study them as if he had never tickled them before. Orphea knew that he knew every single curve, wrinkle and angle of her soles.
“Orphea, when my pets inject their venom into your body, you die,” he said pleasantly. “Now you come back to the Darque. Allow me to welcome you back into life.”
He ran his perfect slim and long fingers up and down her soles.
Orphea despised being tickled. She could not stand it. To have been tickled and humiliated by the Summerlander was more than she could bear. But this was different.
He began to tickle her as he had countless times before. She laughed and screamed against her will but despite hating and despising being tickled she felt pleasure course through her body. He was her Master and her body had to obey.
He pushed her legs open and the serpents accommodated her so he could effortlessly run his tickling fingers up her calves, and behind her knees. He paused there for a moment focusing on her knees and Orphea's writhed body shook with pleasure and laughter.
The Master continued up the white creamy thighs running his fingers along her inner thighs. The muscles of the thighs tightened at his touch.
Pleasure is the coin of the Darque. It is paid in spades to those who serve. Orphea was reminded once more why she joined the Darque and she silently swore allegiance to the source of such sensations.
He continued to tickle her round buttocks and lingered again at the small of her back. All the time the serpents moved and pulled in perfect coordination to keep her body where he could reach it with the least effort.
Up her back he went and then to her ribs were she was especially tender.
Her body was wreaked with spasms of pleasure and laughter.
Shrieks and laughter and orgasms blended together in an amalgam of surrender to pleasure.
He outlined the contour of her beautiful breasts with his fingers and tickled them. He taunted the nipples with his fingers on one hand while the other hand worked on her neck. Her neck was ticklish and he passed on to her ears giving them all his undivided attention and sending her into wave after wave of delightful and torturous pleasure.
He released her then and she fell to the ground on her hands and knees panting heavily.
“Those who accept the Darque as their master must do so voluntarily,” the Master said circling around Orphea. “You are free to go now if you wish. Or free to serve. Decide now.”
“I am of the Darque, Master,” she said looking up at him. “I am yours to command.”
The Master's face was covered with a helmet and a polished visor. It was said that the perfect beauty below the mask could only drive a person to madness. So as she stood before her master she beheld her face instead of his.
Was her reflection darker and more malefic than she remembered? Was it the visor or was it she herself who had changed?
Orphea stepped towards the Master and he opened his arms to receive her.
He wrapped his arms around her almost naked body and held her close to his body. His black robes covered Orphea's white body in pitch black darkness leaving only her head to stand out on his black robes.
“You have been reborn,” the Master said stroking her hair tenderly with his powerful white hand. He pushed her gently away and she was now garbed in black traveling clothes with gear and weapons. She was ready to go.
“I will mark you,” he said taking her face in his hands. He pressed his thumbs against her cheek bones and drew three lines on each side of her face each one under the prior. Where his thumbs passed it was as if his fingers had been dipped in jet black ink.
“No member of the Darque will stop you and others will give you free passage because they will recognize you as one of my precious own,” he said.
Orphea smiled. She felt strong and fresh and ready to begin her quest.
“You are seduction, you are deceit,” the Master said. “Track our enemies down and bring them back to me. And as you advance, bring ruin and despair. Let no one doubt that the Darque is here and here to stay.”
Orphea bowed down to him and turned away to rush out of the castle in pursuit of Phillip and X'mena. A small black crow cawed loudly and flew down from the castle tower following its mistress.
“Was that wise?” one of the pet black snakes asked the Master as he watched her run away. “She has already failed once.”
“Both the Summerlander and the Southlander princess have been corrupted by her,” the Master said. “They just don't realize how much they have been corrupted. That alone makes her the best choice to send in their pursuit. Orphea serves the Darque better alive than dead. When that ceases to be so, your fangs will seal her fate.
“That is the way of the Darque, is it not?”
“So it is,” the snake hissed satisfied with the answer. “So it is.”
To be continued...
Next: Battle in the Darque
Damaris and Gertrude stood before a great oak that lived deep in the Briar Forest. It was not dark like the rest of the trees although it's trunk was covered by the briar. The myriad of scars on the bark of the tree were evidence that its growth did not come at a price.
“She was just a sapling when I left her my metal,” Damaris said. Both she and Gertrude were cut and bleeding from the thorns that now no longer obeyed the Wytch and seem intent on barring them from their escape. “Now she has grown strong and beautiful.”
“Will she not wither and die when you take your metal away from her?” Gertrude asked curiously.
“Nay,” Damaris answered as she touched the bark and caressed it lovingly. “She is what she is not because of the metal, but rather because the metal told her what she could be. She will live long and well even among the briar. Even they, despite their jealousy, will come to respect her with time.”
Damaris traced several runes on the oak with her finger and the oak opened and light poured forth.
She pulled a package from the tree and placed it under her arm. With her other hand, she touched the oak one last time and whispered a thank you to her friend who had protected her metal all these years.
She placed the package on the ground and knelt before it, resting on the back of her heels.
Gertrude watched at a distance.
Damaris opened the package. There was a helm, a sword and a shield. She looked at them lovingly.
“They are the soul of an Angel, you know,” she said to Gertrude. “I was away from my metal, but I always knew it was here. It is a powerful bond between an Angel and her metal.”
“Then what are you waiting for?” Gertrude asked wonder why she did not seize the metal.
“As soon as I touch my metal, the Covenant will know where I am,” Damaris said evenly. “They will come for me. I am too valuable for them not to.”
“You knew that though,” Gertrude said trying to understand her companion. “Before you came here to the Briar Forest, you knew that.”
“Does knowing change the pace of the seasons or slow the rising of the moon? Yes, I knew,” she said sadly. “As I touch this metal, my life which I have lived so passionately these past few years will end forever. There is no going back.”
She placed the silver helm on her head and then she reached for her sword and her shield and they began to glow. Damaris's torn garments were shred away from her body and the grim and dirt and blood disappeared. Snow white wings spouted from her back and she stretched them out wide.
When the light died she stood before the Wytch in her silver helm that crowned her head of red hair and her sword and shield at her sides. She was garbed in the purple tunic of the Covenant covered with shiny chain mail which meant she was a high ranking warrior.
“I fly the first leg of the journey, Wytch,” Damaris said. “I assume you have means to accompany me.”
Gertrude nodded and concentrated. She shrank and became a hawk.
“Three times before the dawn I may change my shape to that of any creature I have touched. I'll fly with you.”
“Then let us leave this forest,” Damaris said as she leaped into the air and flew.
* * * * *
Gertrude flew with Damaris and the Wytch could not help but wonder at the beautiful and relaxed flight of the Angel. Rare was the opportunity Gertrude could be near an Angel who would not try to run her through with a sword or a spear.
Gertrude has flown since young when she first morphed into a robin. Flight was an exhilarating experience especially the first time.
This Angel had abandoned flight for years and now that she flew, she was obviously enjoying herself.
They reached Summerland near mid day and Damaris descended to the ground suddenly.
“Why are we stopping?” Gertrude asked.
“We're being followed,” Damaris said.
“The Darque?” the Wytch asked.
“No,” Damaris answered curtly.
Damaris landed and took her sword and stabbed it into the ground.
“What are you doing?” Gertrude asked.
She was answered not by Damaris but by the arrival of another Angel.
She was younger than Damaris and of inferior rank. She had no armor and only a short sword as her weapon. Her face was long and her features delicate. Her hair was short and golden and she had a friendly air about her.
“If you keep quiet and out of the way, I will mask you and she will not notice you,” Damaris whispered before turning to face her fellow Angel.
“I've come for you, Damaris,” she said in a beautiful musical voice. “Micaela awaits you to rejoin her legion. Battle is about to start and your skills are needed. No mention of your 'departure' will be made... For now.”
“Areli,” Damaris said addressing the Angel of the Covenent who she knew well. “I will go South and I will rescue my lover. Once I have rescued him, I will return and then the Covenant may do with me as it pleases.”
“Michaela cannot take no for an answer,” Areli stated obstinately. “You know that.”
“I know,” Damaris said turning and removing her helm and armor.
Areli turned as well and walked to the opposite side of the clearing away from Damaris.
Their backs to each other they continued to remove their tunics and unfasten their sandals. They were only garbed in silken white chemise and their bare white feet hovered inches above the ground never touching the earth.
“What are you going to do?” Gertrude asked furtively.
“A duel. Tickling duel.” Damaris whispered. “For the Right of Passage. If I win, I may continue on my way. If I lose I must do as she requests. No blood shed among Angels. Never.”
“You can't possibly win. You are one of the most ticklish women I've ever seen,” Gertrude said.
“Areli is just as ticklish. Perhaps more so,” Damaris said stretching her muscles as if she were about to enter battle. “I've had her under my fingers before. She is younger and faster than I.”
“Then how do you expect to win?” Gertrude asked.
“Not always does the fastest and toughest win,” Damaris stated. “So step away and do not interfere. If I lose this duel I release you from your Blood Debt.”
The two Angels faced each other at a distance and Gerturde flew to a high point above the clearing to watch the duel.
A heavy breeze cast their beautiful hair to the wind. Gertrude was a Wytch who could appreciate beauty and even with their hair and garments blown around them, they were magnificent .
Damaris and Areli circled each other with their wings stretched out and they studied each other's defense and posture.
They fluttered their wings at each other and made sudden feints. They held their fingers up moving them in a suggestive tickling motion that seemed innocent enough but nonetheless chilled Gertrude.
She had seen Angels many times before. Usually killing demons and Wytches and such. But this was different. They were two beautiful creatures prepared to engage in a bout of tickling with the same intensity as they might show before entering a bloody battle.
Gertrude realized that the Angelic Duel was a question of territory. For she who controlled the center, would be victorious, no matter how ticklish she was. She watched with awe as they continued to circle each other. They paused for a moment suddenly and all became motionless. Even the wind seemed to die down somewhat like the calm that hearlds the storm.
It was a moment that if you had blinked you would have missed it. The Angels rushed at each other in a flurry of feathers and with a battle cry that could make the hardiest foot soldier tremble in his boots.
As they met at the center of the clearing, Damaris's wings deftly rolled to the inside of Areli's guard before the younger Angel could close the gap. This gave Damaris the advantage where she could push her opponent's wings to the outside where they could do her no harm.
With this edge, she tackled Areli to the ground and mounted her promptly. Damaris's wings kept Areli's wings out and her opponent's arms pinned to the ground while Damaris pressed her torso against Areli's with her head neatly pressed to one side of Areli's.
Areli struggled and bucked as much as she could but she was rendered practically immobile by Damaris. She could not break the hold Damaris had upon her.
She relaxed and all was quiet inside the tent of white wings and feathers that they lay under. They could hear each other breathing and even their accelerated heartbeats.
A moment passed in silence before Areli broke it.
“Mercy?” she asked.
Damaris turned to the ear of her opponent and whispered.
“It is not the way of the Duel. I apologize for this,” Damaris said to her ear.
Damaris continued to pin Areli down, but her hands were free and they started by gently scratching Areli's vulnerable underarms with her nails.
Areli reacted instantly and squealed loudly and kicked with her legs as hard as she could. Try as she might she could move her legs but she could not move her torso even a single inch. Her wings flapped helplessly sending dust and feathers up in the air.
She screamed and begged for Damaris to stop.
But it was not the way of a duel to grant mercy. Domination had to be established and this was the only way. Damaris continued tracing her tickling fingers down to Areli's ribs which she could easily feel under the thin fabric of the chemise. Her victim's squealing and screaming grew more intense as Damaris randomly tickled between the ribs.
Damaris knew Areli well and she was saving the best for last. She had weakened her opponent and now she went in for the kill. Damaris continued to pin Areli's body to the ground, but now she sent her arms behind her searching for her victim's most ticklish spot: her knees.
Damaris look for the spot just above the kneecap and she pressed there deliberately. Areli's squeals became shrieks and she kicked hard and in all directions, but it was not difficult for Damaris to maintain her tickling of the knees.
It might have been a minute, but to Areli is must have been an eternity.
Damaris continued with one knee in each hand. She'd titillate Areli's knees varying the intensity until she was certain that there was not even a single ounce of fight in her opponent left.
She stopped tickling and Areli's shrieks and squeals quickly died off. She was fully drained and there was not doubt as to the result of the duel.
Damaris opened her wings and cool air refreshed them both. She stood up and away and observed the exhausted angel who remained on the ground breathing deeply but otherwise spent and motionless.
“You will let me go,” Damaris said. “Our duel is over.”
“Yes,” Areli said still breathing heavily. “You were always the better. It was to be expected, but I had to try.”
“I know,” Damaris said nodding.
She began to recover her gear and suit up once more.
“Farewell, Areli,” she said when she had finished to the defeated Angel while nodding to Gertrude in a sign that it was time to go.
“Wait!” Areli said finally just standing up after her ordeal.
“You cannot stop me,” Damaris said. “Right of Passage had been won.”
“I know, and I respect that. But there is something you must know. The Darque will fall upon the capital of Summerland on the morrow like a heavy hammer on the anvil,” Areli said. “The Summerlanders do not know how to fight the Darque properly. They will perish. Every last man woman and child in the castle. Unless we do something about it.”
“Many will die during this war,” Damaris said coolly. “It is only the beginning.”
“What would your lover think if he knew you could help his people in their moment of peril and you chose better to save him?” Areli asked.
Damaris's jaw tightened. Phillip would never forgive her. He would prefer to die first and his actions and sacrifice with the first assault of the Darque only confirmed this.
“Then you will come and aid us as we defend the castle?” Areli asked detecting Damaris's hesitation.
“Yes,” Damaris said with calm resignation. “I will go with you.
“But you must tell me something first,” Damaris added. “How did you know my lover was from Summerland?”
“I didn't,” Areli answered with a sly smile. “I figured it was a worth a gamble. You are my better with the sword and my better when your tickling fingers are pitted against mine. But my greatest weapon is not a blade but rather my golden tongue.”
“You could have started there and saved yourself the tickling,” Damaris said as Areli dressed and gathered her gear as well.
“I wanted to see if you had lost your touch after your years away,” Areli said finishing and preparing to depart. “You must have been practicing all these years, for obviously, you have not lost your touch.”
Damaris laughed and Areli joined her.
“I bear you no ill will Areli,” Damaris said earnestly.
“Neither do I,” Areli said. “The Covenant, of course, is a different story.”
“Of course,” Damaris said kissing Areli gently on the forehead.
“But that is not important today,” Damaris said. “Today we are allies and today we will bleed and draw blood together as sisters. Let us depart!”
They flew up and away together into the sky.
Gertrude was left to herself watching them fly away.
“I've never met an Angel that wasn't mad,” she said shaking her head gently before flying after the pair into the blue sky.
* * * * *
Orphea knelt on her heels, prone on the wet black quarry stones of the desolate courtyard in old King Tepik's castle deep in the Southlands. She was naked save for a white loincloth.
Her pale white skin and long blond hair contrasted with the stones likening her to the moon on the dark black sky.
HE, was there in the courtyard.
He came as soon as the news broke that the two prisoners had escaped and that one of the prisoners had so humiliated Orphea. She who had been left with the charge of breaking the will and spirit of the Southlanders before moving on to the North.
Failure was not tolerated by the Darque and she knew that these might be her last moments clinging to life.
She knew he was there. His presence with electrifying. There was no need to look at him to know he was there.
He wore black robes like all those he dominated. His perfectly shined boots were visible in Orphea's peripheral vision as he strode near her she could hear the gently tapping of the boots on the quarry stone.
“Orphea,” he said his voice charming and pleasant as always. “I had high hopes for you. You were my favorite. You are a tantalizing seductress and you've brought many into the fold. But you have failed us. Your commitment to the Darque is dwindling and you need to have that commitment reinforced.”
He stopped in front of her. She could see his boot clearly now and his robes as well.
She did not dare look at him.
Dark black serpents issued from under his robes. She did not resist and as they wrapped around her ankles and wrists she hung loosely as they tightened and pulled her up from the ground.
The serpents sank their fangs into her wrists and ankles injected their sweet venom into her bloodstream. She twisted involuntarily in the grasp of the serpents as pleasure surged through her body. She could feel his presence more than ever now.
The serpents leaned her body on its back and her bare feet were lifted so he might examine them without leaning over.
He appeared to study them as if he had never tickled them before. Orphea knew that he knew every single curve, wrinkle and angle of her soles.
“Orphea, when my pets inject their venom into your body, you die,” he said pleasantly. “Now you come back to the Darque. Allow me to welcome you back into life.”
He ran his perfect slim and long fingers up and down her soles.
Orphea despised being tickled. She could not stand it. To have been tickled and humiliated by the Summerlander was more than she could bear. But this was different.
He began to tickle her as he had countless times before. She laughed and screamed against her will but despite hating and despising being tickled she felt pleasure course through her body. He was her Master and her body had to obey.
He pushed her legs open and the serpents accommodated her so he could effortlessly run his tickling fingers up her calves, and behind her knees. He paused there for a moment focusing on her knees and Orphea's writhed body shook with pleasure and laughter.
The Master continued up the white creamy thighs running his fingers along her inner thighs. The muscles of the thighs tightened at his touch.
Pleasure is the coin of the Darque. It is paid in spades to those who serve. Orphea was reminded once more why she joined the Darque and she silently swore allegiance to the source of such sensations.
He continued to tickle her round buttocks and lingered again at the small of her back. All the time the serpents moved and pulled in perfect coordination to keep her body where he could reach it with the least effort.
Up her back he went and then to her ribs were she was especially tender.
Her body was wreaked with spasms of pleasure and laughter.
Shrieks and laughter and orgasms blended together in an amalgam of surrender to pleasure.
He outlined the contour of her beautiful breasts with his fingers and tickled them. He taunted the nipples with his fingers on one hand while the other hand worked on her neck. Her neck was ticklish and he passed on to her ears giving them all his undivided attention and sending her into wave after wave of delightful and torturous pleasure.
He released her then and she fell to the ground on her hands and knees panting heavily.
“Those who accept the Darque as their master must do so voluntarily,” the Master said circling around Orphea. “You are free to go now if you wish. Or free to serve. Decide now.”
“I am of the Darque, Master,” she said looking up at him. “I am yours to command.”
The Master's face was covered with a helmet and a polished visor. It was said that the perfect beauty below the mask could only drive a person to madness. So as she stood before her master she beheld her face instead of his.
Was her reflection darker and more malefic than she remembered? Was it the visor or was it she herself who had changed?
Orphea stepped towards the Master and he opened his arms to receive her.
He wrapped his arms around her almost naked body and held her close to his body. His black robes covered Orphea's white body in pitch black darkness leaving only her head to stand out on his black robes.
“You have been reborn,” the Master said stroking her hair tenderly with his powerful white hand. He pushed her gently away and she was now garbed in black traveling clothes with gear and weapons. She was ready to go.
“I will mark you,” he said taking her face in his hands. He pressed his thumbs against her cheek bones and drew three lines on each side of her face each one under the prior. Where his thumbs passed it was as if his fingers had been dipped in jet black ink.
“No member of the Darque will stop you and others will give you free passage because they will recognize you as one of my precious own,” he said.
Orphea smiled. She felt strong and fresh and ready to begin her quest.
“You are seduction, you are deceit,” the Master said. “Track our enemies down and bring them back to me. And as you advance, bring ruin and despair. Let no one doubt that the Darque is here and here to stay.”
Orphea bowed down to him and turned away to rush out of the castle in pursuit of Phillip and X'mena. A small black crow cawed loudly and flew down from the castle tower following its mistress.
“Was that wise?” one of the pet black snakes asked the Master as he watched her run away. “She has already failed once.”
“Both the Summerlander and the Southlander princess have been corrupted by her,” the Master said. “They just don't realize how much they have been corrupted. That alone makes her the best choice to send in their pursuit. Orphea serves the Darque better alive than dead. When that ceases to be so, your fangs will seal her fate.
“That is the way of the Darque, is it not?”
“So it is,” the snake hissed satisfied with the answer. “So it is.”
To be continued...
Next: Battle in the Darque
