“Battle in the Darque”
The Battle for Summercastle was fought as the sun set and darkness set in.
The Darque always favors fighting during the night. Most of their legions could see better in the darkness and there is nothing more confusing and more terrifying for their enemies than waging war in the pitch blackness.
The Angels of the Covenant waited readily and bid their time. They did not make their presence known until the Darque had already marched it forces to the towering walls of the Summercastle. When it seemed there was no hope for the Summerlanders and all would be lost, the Angels launched their vicious attack on the flanks.
Micaela, along with Damaris and scores of other Angels, sliced into the Darque's ranks. Despite their inferior numbers, the Angels stirred confusion in their enemy's ranks while the Summerlanders gathered strength and added to the attack. Had the Angels attacked sooner, the battle would not have counted with the Summerlanders' assistance and the Angels required all the aid they could muster.
The Darque's Northern Division had met almost no real resistance until that moment. All opponents had been surprised or simply overwhelmed. Summerland should have been no different.
Yet the result of the battle was dramatically different. The heavy mages that offered support to the Trollan infantry did not know where to strike with their powerful spells. They were picked off by the Angel sharpshooters. Officers met a similar fate by arrow or by sword.
The Darque Dragons were a different story and the battle in the air was a tight one. Having stirred turmoil on the ground, Micaela took Damaris and her very best warriors to the air.
The Dragons were surprised at the appearance of the Angels bit they did not hesitate to breathe their foul Dragonflame at the Angels. Many Angels fell as they closed the distance. But, once close, the fight was more than fair. Tooth and claw versus sword and shield.
Many Angels fell but the tide had turned. With extreme sacrifice, the Angels could defeat the Darque Dragons and send the few survivors fleeing in a desperate retreat.
With the Dragons in the air routed, Micaela focused on returning to the main forces, but before she did, she turned to Damaris and shouted:
"Take six sisters and strike at their General," she said. "The Trolls and their officers are fair game and they must be routed, but if we want to strike fear into their leaders' hearts we must strike at the top of their hierarchy. The General must not be allowed to escape with life."
Damaris nodded, called to her sisters and they followed closely behind her.
"Success," Micaela said as she left.
"Death," Damaris replied with the traditional answer to the Angelic farewell.
Micaela nodded grimly and her sisters lined up behind her charging into the terrible melee.
* * * * *
Rushing the Darque's command position at night was madness.
The demon mages and skilled archers were ready and waiting. Four sisters had fallen before Damaris could even identify the Darque leader.
He wore black like the rest of the Darque but he had gold trappings identifying him as a high officer. It was night but Damaris could see the enemy perfectly.
The leader did not run for cover nor did he even flinch at her approach. Guards and colleagues stood near by but none made any effort to try and protect the general.
The general and his allies were powerful. Damaris knew that but her only interest was slaying the general and fulfilling the will of the Covenant. What happened to her afterwards was of little consequence. She charged him like a great eagle descending on her prey with her talons outstretched.
Her last two sisters fell behind her as she made her approach. They had been shot out of the air by powerful spells cast by demon mages below. Only Damaris remained. Only she could see the mission through and slay the leader of the demon host. She drew back her arm with her sword and prepared to plunge the blade through the center of the demon's mass. Her speed and the force of her blow guaranteed a perfect strike. As she flew in she extended her arm with the sword fully intent on slaying the minion of the Darque with one decisive attack.
Her blow did not land however. The demon raised his hand at the last possible moment as if he were to attempt to shield himself from the blow and he shouted a single powerful command. Instantly time and space came to a standstill for Damaris. She stood frozen in the air, her sword's point a mere inch from the demon's outstretched hand.
"That was calling it quite close. Don't you agree, Mortimer?" the demon general said coolly stepping out of the path of the dangerous blade.
"Yes, General Dagoos," a mage in dark black robes said drawing near and nodding with approval. "Close, but but perfectly executed."
"You should not play with such a dangerous enemy," one of the officers commented. "With her incoming speed, your magic could and should have crushed her to death outright. Sparing her is a mistake."
Damaris could see and hear perfectly. But she could not move a muscle and she remained suspended in the air helpless. She studied her enemies intently.
The General donned the crown and cape displaying his rank. He was tall and had a devilish aspect to his handsome countenance. Behind him stood a young version of himself dressed in officer's attire. He was much younger than the general yet he seemed also to be a very important advisor.
"You should kill her immediately," the officer suggested.
"I'll do with her as I please, Karbano," the general said coldly. "I can kill her at any time I choose. But the time will be mine for the choosing."
"What of the Summerlanders and the Covenant?" the officer named Karban demanded angrily. "They are routing our forces as we speak yet you do nothing. You have not even sounded a retreat."
"They're not beat enough to sound a retreat," the general answered without even looking at the battlefield. All his attention was for Damaris. "We'll withdraw when I see it fit to retreat. Or do you suppose you could do better, cousin?"
"With all due respect, General Dagoos, I think I can," Karbano answered arrogantly.
Damaris watched as the general's eyes flashed and a satisfied grin appeared on his face. This alarmed Damaris but the young officer did not seem to notice.
"If that is the case, then I need to place a special charge upon you, Karbano, my dear cousin," Dagoos said thoughtfully. "It is quite a burden to bear but I believe you are up to it."
"Anything, my General," the young officer said beaming. "I am ready and willing to serve the Darque in any capacity."
"That is good to hear. I am giving up the charge of General of the Northern Division," Dagoos said. "I will take the blame for the failure, but I leave it to you to try and put this all back into order."
"Gladly, my liege," the young officer responded.
"You must wear the General's crown and don the crimson cape that marks you as a General of the Darque," Dagoos said removing both items and handing them to the new General.
"As you wish, cousin. I only wish to serve," Karbano said placing the crown gingerly on his head and the crimson cape over his shoulders. "I will lead the men back. Then we will regroup and I promise that we will erase any blemish this has brought to the honor of the great Dagoos."
Dagoos smiled softly and returned to Damaris's side. Damaris immediately felt uneasy at the side of the conniving demon.
"This one is a special one," Dagoos said pressing his cheek against Damaris's. "I think I will keep her. Her blade is so sharp." He caressed her arms and reached for her hand and touched it gingerly. "I dare not touch the blade for it hates Demons."
"I say you should kill her and be done with it," the young officer said looking out on the field of battle and preparing to issue his commands as General.
"A good general never suggests, cousin," Dagoos said. "A General never says what should be done but rather what will be done."
"I'll keep that in mind," the young general said practically ignoring Dagoos.
That would be a mistake. Damaris was certain of it.
"Ah, my young cousin, Karbano. The burden of leadership is a heavy one," Dagoos said grasping Damaris's hand tightly with his powerful grim. "Allow me to relieve you of some of that burden!"
Dagoos took Damaris's sword hand in his own hand and with a swift and bold movement, he pulled Damaris's arm back and them pushed it forward with terrible force and precision aiming for the younger demon's neck.
Karbano never knew what hit him.
Dagoos watched as his cousin's head fell neatly off his shoulders and the demon's body fell soon after. The crown was still fitted neatly on the young demon's head.
"A General for five minutes, dear cousin," Dagoos said with a malicious smile. "Rejoice, for only a fortunate few have the privilege to don the General's crown."
"That was a waste," Mortimer the mage said shaking his head gently.
"That was necessary," Dagoos said. "Now they can feel confident. They have routed the Northern Division and slain its general. What a victory! The Covenant must believe they have the upper hand."
"What will that gain?" the dark mage asked frowning.
"That will stir confidence in the Covenant. The kind of confidence that will persuade them make rash decisions. The Northern Division is just the point of the Darque lance. The Covenant has shown its very best. The rest of our forces will follow behind and drive themselves into the heart of the North and of the Covenant."
"You knew this would happen?" Mortimer asked.
"Sooner or later it was to happen. It has all be foreseen by the Master," Dagoos said nodding. "Now take us away from here. Nor the Summerlanders nor the Covenant will pursue our forces at night. Take us back to our lair and take this trophy with us."
"The Angel?" Mortimer said raising an eyebrow as Dagoos gestured to Damaris.
"Yes," Dagoos said. "They cannot detect our lair and they will assume her dead. They will not think twice. It was a suicide mission anyway and the field is littered with feathers and the body of a dead General cut down by an Angelic blade. A demon cannot lie but it is well known that the best deception is the truth."
Mortimer nodded and prepared a spell. It was long and complex and the words hurt Damaris's ears.
Complete, a whirlwind grew from beneath them and lifted them high into the air and away from the battlefield.
Silence remained behind until it was broken by the gentle fluttering of a sparrow's wings following the whirlwind into the sky.
The small tired sparrow seemed to sigh wearily as she took to the air.
* * * * *
“You a stunning creature," Dagoos said studying Damaris and her suspended form.
They were in the General's lair in a small castle hidden in a dark cloud in the sky heavily laden with black clouds. There were soldiers and servants and mages in the lair and all worked hard to keep their master happy. Damaris was certain that even the Covenant would overlook this base of operations.
Damaris was taken to a large windowless room and left there for some time. She remained in the same pose as when she was about the strike. A powerful magical force held her frozen in place, yet she could be moved and manipulated as the Demon General saw fit.
When Dagoos returned, a smile of satisfaction appeared on his face. One that she was becoming familiar with. One that she was dreading.
"The military affairs have been tended to, so now I have some time to dedicate to you,” he said. He donned a new crimson cape and a new crown that marked him as a General.
“I am a general of the Darque but I can appreciate beauty," he said. "I hate an Angel who is after my head swinging her sword in every which way. But I love an Angel like you. Powerful, beautiful, majestic, but also helpless and at my mercy."
He paced calmly around her studying her body. She could feel his eyes on her body and she felt only desire to somehow free herself from this enchantment and slay this demon general.
"You hate me," he said. "That is understandable. You are angry as well and the fact that you are helpless to express it make sit all the more interesting. My magic keeps you immobile, but your senses are perfectly attuned to your surroundings. Allow me to demonstrate."
He pulled and tugged at the laces of her sandals.
Damaris felt her blood go cold.
What was this demon spawn up to?
"I never met an Angel who was not ticklish," he said tossing one of the sandals to the ground.
He studied her sole intently before drawing his fingers over it and tickling enthusiastically.
Her foot did not react and no laughter issued forth from Damaris's mouth, but Dagoos did not cease his tickling. There was no physical reaction from Damaris. She could not move a muscle.
But the stimulation did not go unregistered. It tickled terribly and Damaris felt an anxiousness she could not remember having felt before growing at the pit of her stomach.
Damaris's mind went wild. The tickling sensation was so vivid and so intense, but she could not laugh nor could she move her foot away from the gentle tickling fingers. Dagoos chuckled to himself in satisfaction and Damaris was certain that he knew exactly what he was doing.
"You see, your body is immobile and frozen in time and space. But your body's senses remain in perfect tune to your environment. Thus you continue to see and to hear and to smell and of course, you continue to feel."
Damaris felt him pluck one of her white feathers from her wings. She burned with anger and though she could not speak her face flushed red with anger.
"You are so beautiful when you are angry," he said smiling cheerfully to her flushed face. He traced the feather on Damaris's face and neck, twirling the feather in tickling motions that made her go mad.
"Don't get me wrong, I love the laughter of an Angel," he said as he walked back to her bare foot. "But to know that you can feel this and that it drives you madder yet because you cannot resist or release your laughter. That, my dear, is pure pleasure."
He placed the tip of the soft feather on her heel and slowly with excruciating patience, he drew the feather over her sole.
The feelings were electrifying. She had felt feathers on her body before, but this particular motion that Dagoos was doing was not only excessively tickling in nature, but also strangely familiar.
She had been tickled in a similar manner before. Not with evil and not with spite. The anger she felt faded away as her mind raced among the ticklish sensations trying to register exactly when was it that she had been tickled so.
Not among the Covenant for certain.
It was not their way to tickle playfully. Many things could be said of the Covenant. Playful was certainly not one of them.
Somewhere else, someone else, somewhen else...
Dagoos reveled in his tickling torture and Damaris could not ignore it.
“I will enjoy this very much,” he said. “And when I am done, I will abandon the feather for the blade. You will wish you were dead along with your sisters on the battlefield. I'll make sure you dread the very day you were born!”
But she tried to go back to when she had felt tickling like this. To a time when the tickling was playful and the days were without care. There were memories forgotten. Memories she tried to recover.
Such was her desperation to remember, that memories buried away by magic were suddenly unlocked.
Memories of not so long ago actually.
She was with Phillip the mortal. They were back at the cottage.
Something had happened that she had been forced to remember. Something very unusual but very important....
* * * * *
It was a Sunday morning.
One of those lazy mornings to stay in bed and enjoy one's lover.
But this morning proved to be quite different from any other.
Damaris and her husband Phillip awoke next to each other fastened down to their bed with thick silk rope tied in a myriad of complex knots.
They had their arms tied above their heads and their ankles tied to the foot of the bed.
"What?!" they both exclaimed as they pulled on their restraints.
"You are my captives," a stranger said inside the room. It was a woman in a soft pink robe. A mage of some sort though neither Damaris nor Phillip had ever seen these colors.
"What do you want?" Phillip asked angrily pulling as hard as he could on the restraints.
"My name is Leandra, I am a Magus of Joy," she explained. "I worship laughter and lust and my magic works to that end."
She was a young mage. She was thin of complexion with delicate features frames in light auburn hair. She was not tall at all and even Damaris who was head and shoulders smaller than Phillip towered over this small and seemingly frail mage.
"How did you tie us up without our knowing?" Damaris asked, testing the bondage and realizing it was well done and it was very unlikely they could pull their way out of it.
"Sleep spell," she said simply. "A little lullaby actually. You are light sleepers and you almost awoke. But my lullaby is soft and sweet, and you both succumbed to its fair tune. You are both so pretty when you sleep."
"I'll hunt you down," Phillip threatened ignoring the compliment. "To the end of the world if you hurt my wife."
"Hush, hush," the woman whispered with her index finger on her lips and her other hand on Damaris's sole. Her nails moved quickly over her small pinkish sole and the effect was instant and powerful.
Damaris shouted out in surprise first and then she settled in an involuntary laughter that she could not hold back.
"Stop that!" Phillip shouted. "Stop that or else."
Leandra answered the threat by placing her other hand on Phillip's bare sole which lay next to Damaris's thrashing foot. His angry features washed away and were replaced by a smile, then a grin and then silly laughter as his own foot thrashed next to his wife's.
They laughed side by side and twisted and turned helplessly on the bed.
The woman ceased tickling.
"Refreshing. So ticklish. So beautiful. You are such a treat."
Phillip and Damaris panted breathlessly next to each other.
"That was intense," Damaris said trying to make sense of what was happening. "I've never been tickled like that."
"My nails are charmed," the woman explained. "I can make the most serious, sourest, and least ticklish person in the world beg for mercy. Imagine what I can do to those who are genuinely and extremely ticklish such as you."
"What do you want?" Phillip asked roughly.
"A Magus needs to eat," she said. "Magus of Joy do not keep guilds so we are mostly on our own. I usually tickle out of the way folks like you for your gold."
"My purse is next to my cloak," Phillip said immediately. "There must be a dozen gold crowns there."
She checked and returned with the purse. "Quite right. A dozen gold crowns will last a while. But you will forgive me for being thorough. I've always gotten twice as much with just a little extra coercion."
Phillip and Damaris exchanged worried glances and they subtly rubbed the toes of their feet together in a comforting gesture.
Leandra smiled at the motion as she sat down next to Phillip. His chest was bare and his stomach hard and she admired his physique while Damaris cast daggers at her with her eyes.
She placed her ready hands at Phillip's sides and he twitched and twisted in anticipation.
But instead of tickling him she reached over and tickled Damaris's ribs in an unexpected move. Damaris screamed out in surprise. The nails expertly tickled her though her thin silk gown. She laughed helplessly as Leandra patiently attacked her ribs.
"The jealous sort," Leandra said running her fingers up and down Damaris's vulnerable sides. "She loves you though. That I can tell."
"Let her be!" Phillip insisted. "There's more gold in the fireplace. There is a loose brick at the base of the chimney. Remove it and take what is there, but leave us in peace."
"It is very good that you mention that and I do not doubt that the gold is there," the mage said. "But I am nothing if not thorough and I am enjoying myself much too much to stop just now."
"I'll find you, Wytch! I'll find you and punish you for this. The King's men will follow you to the ends of the world. I--"
Damaris continued to laugh but Phillip immediately joined her as Leandra drew her sharp nails all over his ticklish torso. His boyish laughter contrasted so much with his usual manly stature.
The mage would not allow them to speak. She went all over their torsos exploring all the ticklish turns and corners. She enjoyed exploring their navels especially. Phillip's was narrow and hard and a little touch with the tip of a nail would send him bucking up and down like a bucking horse. Leandra lifted Damaris's night gown to reach her navel which was round and deep. She could fit her nail inside the deep ticklish crevice without a reaction and then squeeze hearty yet musical laughter from her by merely twisting the nail inside.
Leandra tickled Phillip's hard chest and stimulated his nipples as she did so. He shook from side to side laughing as his nipples became hard. Leandra laughed herself showing how entertained she was.
Damaris watched angrily with her eyebrows furrowed, but they quickly relaxed as Leandra tickled Damaris's ample breasts through the this silk and her nipples also rose to the occasion as she tried desperately to shake away from Leandra's stimulating fingers.
Leandra expertly managed them both. She could think of few things as enjoyable as having two ticklish persons at her mercy.
She pursued the ticklish underarms of her captives but was forced to retreat because both lashed out with vicious attempts to bite her.
She chuckled at the feeble attempts to retaliate.
"You make me laugh with your antics," she said. "Very well, you win. I'll leave those underarms alone, but you'll have to pay for that later."
"Will you not leave us and let us be?" Damaris asked struggling to regain her composure.
"Not yet," she replied. "This, dear friends, has been just too fun."
She returned again to the foot of the bed and looked at the two pairs of bare feet that stared back at her. They moved the little they could waiting in anticipation.
But Leandra did not strike where they expected and instead leaned over and drew her fingernails lightly up their legs that were tied up next to each other. She started at the back of the heels and drew her nails to the calves. She watched the writhing as they both tried to resist. Phillip lost the battle as her nails reached the back of his knee and his leg stretched out rigid as a board shaking uncontrollably as he giggled in resignation. Damaris held out a little longer, but as the nails drew themselves ominously up her inner thigh, she could no longer resist and she joined Phillip in a loud and mirthful duet of laughter.
Leandra was leaning over the couple's feet as she tickled their thighs, and Damaris in a desperate attempt to stop the persistent tickling thrust her toes into the mage's rib cage trying her best to tickle her tormentor.
The effect was immediate and Leandra yelped and seemed to jump off the bed. She laughed to herself intensely and protected her side as if it has been a sword's tip and not a few toes that had attacked her.
Damaris and Phillip regained their breath.
“Sneaky,” Leandra said nodding her head with approval. “I'm going to make you both pay extra for that.”
She left for a moment and seemed to be rummaging through a knapsack.
She returned with a bottle of a viscous substance that seemed like honey.
“It's not honey,” she said answering their unasked question as she opened the bottle and smelled its contents. “It's called Nectar of the Manjari. It's made of a fruit found only in the Southlands. It is worth the trip as you shall soon see.”
She took a brush and began to coat Damaris's and Phillip's feet with the substance. The brush and the strange liquid tickled very much as she made long strokes to cover every part of their feet.
“Manjari nectar has the special property of awakening the senses,” the Leandra explained. “We reserve it for special occasions and I think today merits such.”
“I will find you,” Phillip vowed once again. “I swear it.”
“We have a volunteer to start,” the mage declared as she drew near Phillip's feet. She bent over and she tenderly began to lick the nectar off the arch of his foot. Phillip exploded in a violent reaction of laughter which Damaris had never seen before.
Leandra licked her lips. “The nectar is sweet and my tongue is hot and wet and practiced. You will never again be tickled like this, so please, lay back and enjoy.”
Before Phillip could protest, Leandra began to suck his toes clean. The mentioned tongue sneaked in between the toes causing a sensory overload. Phillip laughed like a mad man. He no longer controlled his body. It was the tongue who controlled him. Leandra somehow held his foot steady when Damaris was certain it should have been thrashing wildly.
“You are hurting him!” Damaris exclaimed.
“Quite the contrary,” she said shifting over to Damaris's small bare feet. “But you cannot understand until you feel it first hand.”
Leandra took her foot and began to lovingly lick the nectar off her feet. Damaris felt the ticklish sensation surge in her but this time it was so much more intense. She wanted to thrash her foot around, but somehow Leandra held her foot still.
Leandra was a musician and Damaris was the instrument. The tickling sensations of the tongue on her sole and toes was overwhelming. Surrender was her only choice and she gave into the extreme sensations. Leandra's tongue covered the entire surface of her feet. By the time she had finished Damaris had tears streaming down her cheeks and she could not stop laughing.
Leandra returned to Phillip and he shrieked once more helpless to resist the expert tickling on his now extra sensitive soles. The mage finished him off with expert execution and patience only gained by years of experience.
Leandra finally finished and both Phillip and Damaris remained motionless totally exhausted.
The mage collected her things and removed a single coin from Phillip's money purse.
“I'll only be taking one; it will suffice for now. I really enjoyed your company,” Leandra said removing a single coin and returning the purse. “The road for the Magus of Joy can be a lonely one.”
“I promised I'd find you and I will,” Phillip vowed still once again.
“You won't remember me or this morning,” she said. “You will have a long restful and refreshing sleep and when you awake you will have no recollection of what has happened.”
“I'm not going to sleep,” Phillip vowed and Damaris added “I will not forget.”
“Hush,” Leandra said. “You may one day recall what happened here, but it shall not be today.”
She sung a spell which was more a lullaby than an incantation.
“May silken slumber kiss your eyes! Do not wake until the moon does rise! Sleep, pretty lad, do not cry, And I shall sing a lullaby! Rock him gently, rock him steady, lullaby!"
Damaris felt nothing as Leandra sung her verse over and over again, but she watched in surprise as Phillip quickly fell asleep with the lullaby.
“Why am I still awake?” Damaris asked confused.
“The lullaby wasn't for you,” Leandra replied as she scratched Phillip's bare feet. There was no reaction. Satisfied, she untied him.
“The question remains the same,” Damaris stated. “Why am I still awake?”
“Well it's not every day one speaks with an Angel,” the Leandra said looking at Damaris knowingly.
“What?” Damaris asked surprised.
“I can tell. And I can tell that he does not know,” the mage said.
“What do you want of me, now that you know?” Damaris asked feeling now even more vulnerable.
“It won't last,” Leandra said sadly ignoring the question.
“What won't?” Damaris asked.
“I can see the future from time to time,” Leandra said slowly and sadly. “You will lose him. He's a mortal and you are not. You cannot hold on to him. He will be wrenched away from you.”
“I know that,” Damaris said swallowing hard. “But I will cherish this time with Phillip for all time. You can make me forget today, you can make me forget who I am, but you cannot make me forget my love for Phillip.”
“Someday,” Leandra said wistfully, “someone will ask you to forget your love for Phillip. When that happens you will think back to this day. That is my gift to you. I pray that will be enough.”
“I will remember now and I will try to make sure Phillip is kept safe of any menace,” Damaris said.
The young mage smiled. “Tell me your name and if you can remain awake I will tell you another vision of the future. A grand vision of your future.”
“Damaris,” she replied.
“Beautiful,” Leandra said tasting the name and committing it to memory. “Ready?”
Damaris nodded.
“May silken slumber kiss your eyes! Do not wake until the moon does rise! Sleep, pretty lass, do not cry, And I shall sing a lullaby! Rock her gently, rock her steady, lullaby!"
Damaris's eyelids drooped, and kept on drooping. They closed, and she nodded, as Leandra's voice went on with her enchanting singing. Her head jerked up once, and she blinked, trying valiantly to stay awake—but Leandra kept on singing, and her eyes finally closed.
She rested back on her pillow and her breast rose and fell with the slow, even rhythm of sleep.
Leandra gently tickled her foot and nodded with satisfaction as the Angel did not react to the tickling sensations. She untied Damaris and laid her next to Phillip and placed their heads together.
“Leandra of Joy bids you farewell, Phillip of Summerland,” she said kissing the ranger on the forehead. “Your dear wife loves you more than you can imagine.”
She then turned to Damaris and kissed her on the forehead as well.
“You missed the secret, but I have seen the future and this is no good bye. So, farewell, I say to you, Damaris.”
Then she added thoughtfully. “Damaris, Angel of Joy.”
To be continued....
Next: "Picking up the Pieces"
The Battle for Summercastle was fought as the sun set and darkness set in.
The Darque always favors fighting during the night. Most of their legions could see better in the darkness and there is nothing more confusing and more terrifying for their enemies than waging war in the pitch blackness.
The Angels of the Covenant waited readily and bid their time. They did not make their presence known until the Darque had already marched it forces to the towering walls of the Summercastle. When it seemed there was no hope for the Summerlanders and all would be lost, the Angels launched their vicious attack on the flanks.
Micaela, along with Damaris and scores of other Angels, sliced into the Darque's ranks. Despite their inferior numbers, the Angels stirred confusion in their enemy's ranks while the Summerlanders gathered strength and added to the attack. Had the Angels attacked sooner, the battle would not have counted with the Summerlanders' assistance and the Angels required all the aid they could muster.
The Darque's Northern Division had met almost no real resistance until that moment. All opponents had been surprised or simply overwhelmed. Summerland should have been no different.
Yet the result of the battle was dramatically different. The heavy mages that offered support to the Trollan infantry did not know where to strike with their powerful spells. They were picked off by the Angel sharpshooters. Officers met a similar fate by arrow or by sword.
The Darque Dragons were a different story and the battle in the air was a tight one. Having stirred turmoil on the ground, Micaela took Damaris and her very best warriors to the air.
The Dragons were surprised at the appearance of the Angels bit they did not hesitate to breathe their foul Dragonflame at the Angels. Many Angels fell as they closed the distance. But, once close, the fight was more than fair. Tooth and claw versus sword and shield.
Many Angels fell but the tide had turned. With extreme sacrifice, the Angels could defeat the Darque Dragons and send the few survivors fleeing in a desperate retreat.
With the Dragons in the air routed, Micaela focused on returning to the main forces, but before she did, she turned to Damaris and shouted:
"Take six sisters and strike at their General," she said. "The Trolls and their officers are fair game and they must be routed, but if we want to strike fear into their leaders' hearts we must strike at the top of their hierarchy. The General must not be allowed to escape with life."
Damaris nodded, called to her sisters and they followed closely behind her.
"Success," Micaela said as she left.
"Death," Damaris replied with the traditional answer to the Angelic farewell.
Micaela nodded grimly and her sisters lined up behind her charging into the terrible melee.
* * * * *
Rushing the Darque's command position at night was madness.
The demon mages and skilled archers were ready and waiting. Four sisters had fallen before Damaris could even identify the Darque leader.
He wore black like the rest of the Darque but he had gold trappings identifying him as a high officer. It was night but Damaris could see the enemy perfectly.
The leader did not run for cover nor did he even flinch at her approach. Guards and colleagues stood near by but none made any effort to try and protect the general.
The general and his allies were powerful. Damaris knew that but her only interest was slaying the general and fulfilling the will of the Covenant. What happened to her afterwards was of little consequence. She charged him like a great eagle descending on her prey with her talons outstretched.
Her last two sisters fell behind her as she made her approach. They had been shot out of the air by powerful spells cast by demon mages below. Only Damaris remained. Only she could see the mission through and slay the leader of the demon host. She drew back her arm with her sword and prepared to plunge the blade through the center of the demon's mass. Her speed and the force of her blow guaranteed a perfect strike. As she flew in she extended her arm with the sword fully intent on slaying the minion of the Darque with one decisive attack.
Her blow did not land however. The demon raised his hand at the last possible moment as if he were to attempt to shield himself from the blow and he shouted a single powerful command. Instantly time and space came to a standstill for Damaris. She stood frozen in the air, her sword's point a mere inch from the demon's outstretched hand.
"That was calling it quite close. Don't you agree, Mortimer?" the demon general said coolly stepping out of the path of the dangerous blade.
"Yes, General Dagoos," a mage in dark black robes said drawing near and nodding with approval. "Close, but but perfectly executed."
"You should not play with such a dangerous enemy," one of the officers commented. "With her incoming speed, your magic could and should have crushed her to death outright. Sparing her is a mistake."
Damaris could see and hear perfectly. But she could not move a muscle and she remained suspended in the air helpless. She studied her enemies intently.
The General donned the crown and cape displaying his rank. He was tall and had a devilish aspect to his handsome countenance. Behind him stood a young version of himself dressed in officer's attire. He was much younger than the general yet he seemed also to be a very important advisor.
"You should kill her immediately," the officer suggested.
"I'll do with her as I please, Karbano," the general said coldly. "I can kill her at any time I choose. But the time will be mine for the choosing."
"What of the Summerlanders and the Covenant?" the officer named Karban demanded angrily. "They are routing our forces as we speak yet you do nothing. You have not even sounded a retreat."
"They're not beat enough to sound a retreat," the general answered without even looking at the battlefield. All his attention was for Damaris. "We'll withdraw when I see it fit to retreat. Or do you suppose you could do better, cousin?"
"With all due respect, General Dagoos, I think I can," Karbano answered arrogantly.
Damaris watched as the general's eyes flashed and a satisfied grin appeared on his face. This alarmed Damaris but the young officer did not seem to notice.
"If that is the case, then I need to place a special charge upon you, Karbano, my dear cousin," Dagoos said thoughtfully. "It is quite a burden to bear but I believe you are up to it."
"Anything, my General," the young officer said beaming. "I am ready and willing to serve the Darque in any capacity."
"That is good to hear. I am giving up the charge of General of the Northern Division," Dagoos said. "I will take the blame for the failure, but I leave it to you to try and put this all back into order."
"Gladly, my liege," the young officer responded.
"You must wear the General's crown and don the crimson cape that marks you as a General of the Darque," Dagoos said removing both items and handing them to the new General.
"As you wish, cousin. I only wish to serve," Karbano said placing the crown gingerly on his head and the crimson cape over his shoulders. "I will lead the men back. Then we will regroup and I promise that we will erase any blemish this has brought to the honor of the great Dagoos."
Dagoos smiled softly and returned to Damaris's side. Damaris immediately felt uneasy at the side of the conniving demon.
"This one is a special one," Dagoos said pressing his cheek against Damaris's. "I think I will keep her. Her blade is so sharp." He caressed her arms and reached for her hand and touched it gingerly. "I dare not touch the blade for it hates Demons."
"I say you should kill her and be done with it," the young officer said looking out on the field of battle and preparing to issue his commands as General.
"A good general never suggests, cousin," Dagoos said. "A General never says what should be done but rather what will be done."
"I'll keep that in mind," the young general said practically ignoring Dagoos.
That would be a mistake. Damaris was certain of it.
"Ah, my young cousin, Karbano. The burden of leadership is a heavy one," Dagoos said grasping Damaris's hand tightly with his powerful grim. "Allow me to relieve you of some of that burden!"
Dagoos took Damaris's sword hand in his own hand and with a swift and bold movement, he pulled Damaris's arm back and them pushed it forward with terrible force and precision aiming for the younger demon's neck.
Karbano never knew what hit him.
Dagoos watched as his cousin's head fell neatly off his shoulders and the demon's body fell soon after. The crown was still fitted neatly on the young demon's head.
"A General for five minutes, dear cousin," Dagoos said with a malicious smile. "Rejoice, for only a fortunate few have the privilege to don the General's crown."
"That was a waste," Mortimer the mage said shaking his head gently.
"That was necessary," Dagoos said. "Now they can feel confident. They have routed the Northern Division and slain its general. What a victory! The Covenant must believe they have the upper hand."
"What will that gain?" the dark mage asked frowning.
"That will stir confidence in the Covenant. The kind of confidence that will persuade them make rash decisions. The Northern Division is just the point of the Darque lance. The Covenant has shown its very best. The rest of our forces will follow behind and drive themselves into the heart of the North and of the Covenant."
"You knew this would happen?" Mortimer asked.
"Sooner or later it was to happen. It has all be foreseen by the Master," Dagoos said nodding. "Now take us away from here. Nor the Summerlanders nor the Covenant will pursue our forces at night. Take us back to our lair and take this trophy with us."
"The Angel?" Mortimer said raising an eyebrow as Dagoos gestured to Damaris.
"Yes," Dagoos said. "They cannot detect our lair and they will assume her dead. They will not think twice. It was a suicide mission anyway and the field is littered with feathers and the body of a dead General cut down by an Angelic blade. A demon cannot lie but it is well known that the best deception is the truth."
Mortimer nodded and prepared a spell. It was long and complex and the words hurt Damaris's ears.
Complete, a whirlwind grew from beneath them and lifted them high into the air and away from the battlefield.
Silence remained behind until it was broken by the gentle fluttering of a sparrow's wings following the whirlwind into the sky.
The small tired sparrow seemed to sigh wearily as she took to the air.
* * * * *
“You a stunning creature," Dagoos said studying Damaris and her suspended form.
They were in the General's lair in a small castle hidden in a dark cloud in the sky heavily laden with black clouds. There were soldiers and servants and mages in the lair and all worked hard to keep their master happy. Damaris was certain that even the Covenant would overlook this base of operations.
Damaris was taken to a large windowless room and left there for some time. She remained in the same pose as when she was about the strike. A powerful magical force held her frozen in place, yet she could be moved and manipulated as the Demon General saw fit.
When Dagoos returned, a smile of satisfaction appeared on his face. One that she was becoming familiar with. One that she was dreading.
"The military affairs have been tended to, so now I have some time to dedicate to you,” he said. He donned a new crimson cape and a new crown that marked him as a General.
“I am a general of the Darque but I can appreciate beauty," he said. "I hate an Angel who is after my head swinging her sword in every which way. But I love an Angel like you. Powerful, beautiful, majestic, but also helpless and at my mercy."
He paced calmly around her studying her body. She could feel his eyes on her body and she felt only desire to somehow free herself from this enchantment and slay this demon general.
"You hate me," he said. "That is understandable. You are angry as well and the fact that you are helpless to express it make sit all the more interesting. My magic keeps you immobile, but your senses are perfectly attuned to your surroundings. Allow me to demonstrate."
He pulled and tugged at the laces of her sandals.
Damaris felt her blood go cold.
What was this demon spawn up to?
"I never met an Angel who was not ticklish," he said tossing one of the sandals to the ground.
He studied her sole intently before drawing his fingers over it and tickling enthusiastically.
Her foot did not react and no laughter issued forth from Damaris's mouth, but Dagoos did not cease his tickling. There was no physical reaction from Damaris. She could not move a muscle.
But the stimulation did not go unregistered. It tickled terribly and Damaris felt an anxiousness she could not remember having felt before growing at the pit of her stomach.
Damaris's mind went wild. The tickling sensation was so vivid and so intense, but she could not laugh nor could she move her foot away from the gentle tickling fingers. Dagoos chuckled to himself in satisfaction and Damaris was certain that he knew exactly what he was doing.
"You see, your body is immobile and frozen in time and space. But your body's senses remain in perfect tune to your environment. Thus you continue to see and to hear and to smell and of course, you continue to feel."
Damaris felt him pluck one of her white feathers from her wings. She burned with anger and though she could not speak her face flushed red with anger.
"You are so beautiful when you are angry," he said smiling cheerfully to her flushed face. He traced the feather on Damaris's face and neck, twirling the feather in tickling motions that made her go mad.
"Don't get me wrong, I love the laughter of an Angel," he said as he walked back to her bare foot. "But to know that you can feel this and that it drives you madder yet because you cannot resist or release your laughter. That, my dear, is pure pleasure."
He placed the tip of the soft feather on her heel and slowly with excruciating patience, he drew the feather over her sole.
The feelings were electrifying. She had felt feathers on her body before, but this particular motion that Dagoos was doing was not only excessively tickling in nature, but also strangely familiar.
She had been tickled in a similar manner before. Not with evil and not with spite. The anger she felt faded away as her mind raced among the ticklish sensations trying to register exactly when was it that she had been tickled so.
Not among the Covenant for certain.
It was not their way to tickle playfully. Many things could be said of the Covenant. Playful was certainly not one of them.
Somewhere else, someone else, somewhen else...
Dagoos reveled in his tickling torture and Damaris could not ignore it.
“I will enjoy this very much,” he said. “And when I am done, I will abandon the feather for the blade. You will wish you were dead along with your sisters on the battlefield. I'll make sure you dread the very day you were born!”
But she tried to go back to when she had felt tickling like this. To a time when the tickling was playful and the days were without care. There were memories forgotten. Memories she tried to recover.
Such was her desperation to remember, that memories buried away by magic were suddenly unlocked.
Memories of not so long ago actually.
She was with Phillip the mortal. They were back at the cottage.
Something had happened that she had been forced to remember. Something very unusual but very important....
* * * * *
It was a Sunday morning.
One of those lazy mornings to stay in bed and enjoy one's lover.
But this morning proved to be quite different from any other.
Damaris and her husband Phillip awoke next to each other fastened down to their bed with thick silk rope tied in a myriad of complex knots.
They had their arms tied above their heads and their ankles tied to the foot of the bed.
"What?!" they both exclaimed as they pulled on their restraints.
"You are my captives," a stranger said inside the room. It was a woman in a soft pink robe. A mage of some sort though neither Damaris nor Phillip had ever seen these colors.
"What do you want?" Phillip asked angrily pulling as hard as he could on the restraints.
"My name is Leandra, I am a Magus of Joy," she explained. "I worship laughter and lust and my magic works to that end."
She was a young mage. She was thin of complexion with delicate features frames in light auburn hair. She was not tall at all and even Damaris who was head and shoulders smaller than Phillip towered over this small and seemingly frail mage.
"How did you tie us up without our knowing?" Damaris asked, testing the bondage and realizing it was well done and it was very unlikely they could pull their way out of it.
"Sleep spell," she said simply. "A little lullaby actually. You are light sleepers and you almost awoke. But my lullaby is soft and sweet, and you both succumbed to its fair tune. You are both so pretty when you sleep."
"I'll hunt you down," Phillip threatened ignoring the compliment. "To the end of the world if you hurt my wife."
"Hush, hush," the woman whispered with her index finger on her lips and her other hand on Damaris's sole. Her nails moved quickly over her small pinkish sole and the effect was instant and powerful.
Damaris shouted out in surprise first and then she settled in an involuntary laughter that she could not hold back.
"Stop that!" Phillip shouted. "Stop that or else."
Leandra answered the threat by placing her other hand on Phillip's bare sole which lay next to Damaris's thrashing foot. His angry features washed away and were replaced by a smile, then a grin and then silly laughter as his own foot thrashed next to his wife's.
They laughed side by side and twisted and turned helplessly on the bed.
The woman ceased tickling.
"Refreshing. So ticklish. So beautiful. You are such a treat."
Phillip and Damaris panted breathlessly next to each other.
"That was intense," Damaris said trying to make sense of what was happening. "I've never been tickled like that."
"My nails are charmed," the woman explained. "I can make the most serious, sourest, and least ticklish person in the world beg for mercy. Imagine what I can do to those who are genuinely and extremely ticklish such as you."
"What do you want?" Phillip asked roughly.
"A Magus needs to eat," she said. "Magus of Joy do not keep guilds so we are mostly on our own. I usually tickle out of the way folks like you for your gold."
"My purse is next to my cloak," Phillip said immediately. "There must be a dozen gold crowns there."
She checked and returned with the purse. "Quite right. A dozen gold crowns will last a while. But you will forgive me for being thorough. I've always gotten twice as much with just a little extra coercion."
Phillip and Damaris exchanged worried glances and they subtly rubbed the toes of their feet together in a comforting gesture.
Leandra smiled at the motion as she sat down next to Phillip. His chest was bare and his stomach hard and she admired his physique while Damaris cast daggers at her with her eyes.
She placed her ready hands at Phillip's sides and he twitched and twisted in anticipation.
But instead of tickling him she reached over and tickled Damaris's ribs in an unexpected move. Damaris screamed out in surprise. The nails expertly tickled her though her thin silk gown. She laughed helplessly as Leandra patiently attacked her ribs.
"The jealous sort," Leandra said running her fingers up and down Damaris's vulnerable sides. "She loves you though. That I can tell."
"Let her be!" Phillip insisted. "There's more gold in the fireplace. There is a loose brick at the base of the chimney. Remove it and take what is there, but leave us in peace."
"It is very good that you mention that and I do not doubt that the gold is there," the mage said. "But I am nothing if not thorough and I am enjoying myself much too much to stop just now."
"I'll find you, Wytch! I'll find you and punish you for this. The King's men will follow you to the ends of the world. I--"
Damaris continued to laugh but Phillip immediately joined her as Leandra drew her sharp nails all over his ticklish torso. His boyish laughter contrasted so much with his usual manly stature.
The mage would not allow them to speak. She went all over their torsos exploring all the ticklish turns and corners. She enjoyed exploring their navels especially. Phillip's was narrow and hard and a little touch with the tip of a nail would send him bucking up and down like a bucking horse. Leandra lifted Damaris's night gown to reach her navel which was round and deep. She could fit her nail inside the deep ticklish crevice without a reaction and then squeeze hearty yet musical laughter from her by merely twisting the nail inside.
Leandra tickled Phillip's hard chest and stimulated his nipples as she did so. He shook from side to side laughing as his nipples became hard. Leandra laughed herself showing how entertained she was.
Damaris watched angrily with her eyebrows furrowed, but they quickly relaxed as Leandra tickled Damaris's ample breasts through the this silk and her nipples also rose to the occasion as she tried desperately to shake away from Leandra's stimulating fingers.
Leandra expertly managed them both. She could think of few things as enjoyable as having two ticklish persons at her mercy.
She pursued the ticklish underarms of her captives but was forced to retreat because both lashed out with vicious attempts to bite her.
She chuckled at the feeble attempts to retaliate.
"You make me laugh with your antics," she said. "Very well, you win. I'll leave those underarms alone, but you'll have to pay for that later."
"Will you not leave us and let us be?" Damaris asked struggling to regain her composure.
"Not yet," she replied. "This, dear friends, has been just too fun."
She returned again to the foot of the bed and looked at the two pairs of bare feet that stared back at her. They moved the little they could waiting in anticipation.
But Leandra did not strike where they expected and instead leaned over and drew her fingernails lightly up their legs that were tied up next to each other. She started at the back of the heels and drew her nails to the calves. She watched the writhing as they both tried to resist. Phillip lost the battle as her nails reached the back of his knee and his leg stretched out rigid as a board shaking uncontrollably as he giggled in resignation. Damaris held out a little longer, but as the nails drew themselves ominously up her inner thigh, she could no longer resist and she joined Phillip in a loud and mirthful duet of laughter.
Leandra was leaning over the couple's feet as she tickled their thighs, and Damaris in a desperate attempt to stop the persistent tickling thrust her toes into the mage's rib cage trying her best to tickle her tormentor.
The effect was immediate and Leandra yelped and seemed to jump off the bed. She laughed to herself intensely and protected her side as if it has been a sword's tip and not a few toes that had attacked her.
Damaris and Phillip regained their breath.
“Sneaky,” Leandra said nodding her head with approval. “I'm going to make you both pay extra for that.”
She left for a moment and seemed to be rummaging through a knapsack.
She returned with a bottle of a viscous substance that seemed like honey.
“It's not honey,” she said answering their unasked question as she opened the bottle and smelled its contents. “It's called Nectar of the Manjari. It's made of a fruit found only in the Southlands. It is worth the trip as you shall soon see.”
She took a brush and began to coat Damaris's and Phillip's feet with the substance. The brush and the strange liquid tickled very much as she made long strokes to cover every part of their feet.
“Manjari nectar has the special property of awakening the senses,” the Leandra explained. “We reserve it for special occasions and I think today merits such.”
“I will find you,” Phillip vowed once again. “I swear it.”
“We have a volunteer to start,” the mage declared as she drew near Phillip's feet. She bent over and she tenderly began to lick the nectar off the arch of his foot. Phillip exploded in a violent reaction of laughter which Damaris had never seen before.
Leandra licked her lips. “The nectar is sweet and my tongue is hot and wet and practiced. You will never again be tickled like this, so please, lay back and enjoy.”
Before Phillip could protest, Leandra began to suck his toes clean. The mentioned tongue sneaked in between the toes causing a sensory overload. Phillip laughed like a mad man. He no longer controlled his body. It was the tongue who controlled him. Leandra somehow held his foot steady when Damaris was certain it should have been thrashing wildly.
“You are hurting him!” Damaris exclaimed.
“Quite the contrary,” she said shifting over to Damaris's small bare feet. “But you cannot understand until you feel it first hand.”
Leandra took her foot and began to lovingly lick the nectar off her feet. Damaris felt the ticklish sensation surge in her but this time it was so much more intense. She wanted to thrash her foot around, but somehow Leandra held her foot still.
Leandra was a musician and Damaris was the instrument. The tickling sensations of the tongue on her sole and toes was overwhelming. Surrender was her only choice and she gave into the extreme sensations. Leandra's tongue covered the entire surface of her feet. By the time she had finished Damaris had tears streaming down her cheeks and she could not stop laughing.
Leandra returned to Phillip and he shrieked once more helpless to resist the expert tickling on his now extra sensitive soles. The mage finished him off with expert execution and patience only gained by years of experience.
Leandra finally finished and both Phillip and Damaris remained motionless totally exhausted.
The mage collected her things and removed a single coin from Phillip's money purse.
“I'll only be taking one; it will suffice for now. I really enjoyed your company,” Leandra said removing a single coin and returning the purse. “The road for the Magus of Joy can be a lonely one.”
“I promised I'd find you and I will,” Phillip vowed still once again.
“You won't remember me or this morning,” she said. “You will have a long restful and refreshing sleep and when you awake you will have no recollection of what has happened.”
“I'm not going to sleep,” Phillip vowed and Damaris added “I will not forget.”
“Hush,” Leandra said. “You may one day recall what happened here, but it shall not be today.”
She sung a spell which was more a lullaby than an incantation.
“May silken slumber kiss your eyes! Do not wake until the moon does rise! Sleep, pretty lad, do not cry, And I shall sing a lullaby! Rock him gently, rock him steady, lullaby!"
Damaris felt nothing as Leandra sung her verse over and over again, but she watched in surprise as Phillip quickly fell asleep with the lullaby.
“Why am I still awake?” Damaris asked confused.
“The lullaby wasn't for you,” Leandra replied as she scratched Phillip's bare feet. There was no reaction. Satisfied, she untied him.
“The question remains the same,” Damaris stated. “Why am I still awake?”
“Well it's not every day one speaks with an Angel,” the Leandra said looking at Damaris knowingly.
“What?” Damaris asked surprised.
“I can tell. And I can tell that he does not know,” the mage said.
“What do you want of me, now that you know?” Damaris asked feeling now even more vulnerable.
“It won't last,” Leandra said sadly ignoring the question.
“What won't?” Damaris asked.
“I can see the future from time to time,” Leandra said slowly and sadly. “You will lose him. He's a mortal and you are not. You cannot hold on to him. He will be wrenched away from you.”
“I know that,” Damaris said swallowing hard. “But I will cherish this time with Phillip for all time. You can make me forget today, you can make me forget who I am, but you cannot make me forget my love for Phillip.”
“Someday,” Leandra said wistfully, “someone will ask you to forget your love for Phillip. When that happens you will think back to this day. That is my gift to you. I pray that will be enough.”
“I will remember now and I will try to make sure Phillip is kept safe of any menace,” Damaris said.
The young mage smiled. “Tell me your name and if you can remain awake I will tell you another vision of the future. A grand vision of your future.”
“Damaris,” she replied.
“Beautiful,” Leandra said tasting the name and committing it to memory. “Ready?”
Damaris nodded.
“May silken slumber kiss your eyes! Do not wake until the moon does rise! Sleep, pretty lass, do not cry, And I shall sing a lullaby! Rock her gently, rock her steady, lullaby!"
Damaris's eyelids drooped, and kept on drooping. They closed, and she nodded, as Leandra's voice went on with her enchanting singing. Her head jerked up once, and she blinked, trying valiantly to stay awake—but Leandra kept on singing, and her eyes finally closed.
She rested back on her pillow and her breast rose and fell with the slow, even rhythm of sleep.
Leandra gently tickled her foot and nodded with satisfaction as the Angel did not react to the tickling sensations. She untied Damaris and laid her next to Phillip and placed their heads together.
“Leandra of Joy bids you farewell, Phillip of Summerland,” she said kissing the ranger on the forehead. “Your dear wife loves you more than you can imagine.”
She then turned to Damaris and kissed her on the forehead as well.
“You missed the secret, but I have seen the future and this is no good bye. So, farewell, I say to you, Damaris.”
Then she added thoughtfully. “Damaris, Angel of Joy.”
To be continued....
Next: "Picking up the Pieces"
