“Wrath of the Pink Dragon”
The following weeks were on the job training for Patrisa.
The Free Spirits of the Last Laugh raided all the Realms with absolutely no discrimination or prejudice whatsoever.
Trade caravans, slave traders, border patrols and small villages were all valid targets. It did not matter to the Free Spirits their alliances or allegiances.
They never did any damage during their raids though. No houses were burnt, no one was hurt. They would take who they could, tickle them beyond their limits and then leave them somewhere out of the way. Captain Cecil was only interested in stealing the magic that could be gathered by tickling it out of his victims. He'd usually leave their victim's purses intact.
In the case of slavers, however, he'd rob them penniless and he'd take all the slaves with him. The Free Spirits would either recruit them as new crew members or set them free far from where the slavers could capture them again.
Patrisa felt comfortable with this and she embraced the form of life.
She learned stick fighting with the demon Danea. Patrisa was quite surprised when she discovered the sticks were almost second nature to her. Something was alive in the fighting sticks and they took to Patrisa as if they had been waiting for her to somehow come across them. She even knew their names. One was named Ash and the other Oak. It was something no one had told her. It was just something she knew.
The demon Danea was an excellent fighter and trainer. Her body was feminine but it was hard and battle tested. She seemed very stoic and even mean and cruel. But Patrisa realized that she was actually a very pleasant person when you got to know her.
Danea trained her very well but very hard. Within weeks Patrisa was highly proficient with the combat use of the fighting sticks. Her hands were torn with painful callouses but Patrisa shrugged off the pain. Now she was a good tickler and a good fighter.
The only thing she was missing was magic.
"You can't do it unless you open your Third Eye," Danea said as they trained on the deck one evening. Patrisa's body was getting hard and firm as well as fast and agile; she was so proud.
Danea gestured to her own Third Eye. It was a strange rune that all creatures of this world wore on their forehead. It was from where magic entered and exited the body.
In order to open her Third Eye, she would need to be tickled witless. She new she'd been tickled countless times in such a manner on her world, but now, after weeks on board the Last Laugh, she had gone all that time without being tickled. In her world she could barely go several hours without someone creeping behind her and tickling her.
So when it came regarding the Third Eye, she just couldn't bring herself to have someone tickle her that way. At least not voluntarily.
"I'd do it for you," Danea offered. "I'd tickle you quickly and efficiently. It would be over before you knew what hit you."
The Demon mistress wore heavy black leather armor that protected her ticklish spots from her victim's futile attempts to escape by tickling. She then used secret demon techniques to subdue her victims and then she tickled hard and savagely.
Other crew members said that the technique resembled her own however without the degree of passion Patrisa apparently injected into each tickling session. Patrisa knew one thing: she did not want to be tickled by Danea. It just seemed too much for her to bear.
"I'd do it if you let me tickle you first," Patrisa offered thinking that maybe that would be fair. She'd get to dish it out and then she's have to take it. It sounded fair at least. More fair than any of the tickling she endured on her world.
Danea shook her head. "I've seen you tickle," she said frankly. "You tickle like in a mad frenzy. You won't find anyone interested in such a deal. Any of the Free Spirits will tickle you without a second thought, but none will let you tickle them unless it is against their will. Already they are calling you the 'Tickle Scourge'. Nay, you won't find anyone to take you up on your offer."
Patrisa frowned.
"My offer stands, Scourge," Danea mentioned. "And I will train you as best as I can once you do decide to have your Third Eye opened. But don't wait too long or someone else might decide to open it for you."
Patrisa nodded in agreement. In this world it wouldn't be long before in a battle she could be tickled senseless and the deed would be done. In some ways she hoped that it would happen soon, but on the other hand she kind of felt uneasy giving in if she could help it.
"Let Patrisa be, Danea," Captain Cecil said as he approached the two women.
The proud captain of the Last Laugh and leader of the Free Spirits was an inspiration for Patrisa. He was strong and quick in battle and he was a natural leader. He was also quite a skilled tickler. His magic hand caused instant paralysis and he could mesmerize even the strongest wills and make powerful suggestions that could not be resisted.
It was a winning combination that easily explained his success and that of the Free Spirits.
"I want her trained the hard way anyway," Cecil explained to Danea. "If she can get by without relying on magic, she will be ten times as potent when she finally does combine magic into her skills. I did not always have the Cold Hand, and I am grateful that I didn't until I learned how to depend upon my skill and wits to get me out of trouble. So don't rush Patrisa, she'll decide who she wants to tickle her in good time.”
"I'd let you tickle me, if you let me tickle you first, Captain Cecil," Patrisa offered.
Cecil's sky blue eyes darkened and became like the sea.
"Why would I let you tickle me if with a single gaze I could simply convince you that you were being tickled by a dozen invisible Pixies and be done with this?" Cecil asked.
"Because we are the Free Spirits," she replied confidently. "Free will and freedom to determine one's fate."
Cecil smiled sadly.
"Even the Free Spirits need rules, Tenderfoot," he said. "Decide freely as long as you want. But if with in one moon you have not opened your Third Eye, the crew will gang tickle it out of you. Fair enough?"
Patrisa nodded as Cecil walked away seemingly brooding dark thoughts.
"What did I say?" Patrisa asked puzzled by the captain's response.
"Tickling and being tickled consensually like you suggested is something very intimate around the Realms. It's usually something reserved for emergencies, for very intimate friends or in the very best of situations, lovers."
"Ah.... He misses someone," Patrisa nodding as realization dawned upon her.
''Good intuition, Tenderfoot,'' Danea complimented. ''And you don't even have an open Third Eye yet."
''What happened?" Patrisa asked curiously.
“It's a long story and you mustn't let him know I told you,” Danea said in a hushed voice. “Only I know the entire story.”
They took a shift at the crow's nest and Quentin was much relieved to give it to the Demon and the Tenderfoot.
Once Danea was certain no one could hear her, she told her tale.
''Cecil was slated to be a high level Animus Avenger,” Danea began. “He'd report directly to Lord Xavis, ruler of the Animus. His job was to stomp out troublemakers like us at Xavis's whim. I should know because I was captured by him.”
“You?” Patrisa asked surprised.
Danea nodded. “I had crossed into Animus territory and wandered into forbidden territory. When the Enforcers tried to arrest me I naturally resisted. Suffice to say I made enough of a ruckus to attract the attention of Lord Xavis's finest lieutenant. He tracked me down and captured me. I've never been tickled by someone as determined as he. He tried to break my will and he would have accomplished it and I would be part of Xavis's group of tickle slaves today if it were not for Rossia.”
“Who is Rossia?” Patrisa asked.
“Let me tell the story, Scourge,” Danea said with irritation at the interruption. “Rossia's father is the Elfling King. His only daughter. She was a beautiful Elfling. She was tall and lithe for an Elfling. But even then she surely two heads shorter than Cecil. The Elfling King kept her hidden deep in the Mushroom Wood. But she had plans of her own. She escaped the Elfling Realm and her father's protection to journey through the Realms and see the world.
“One thing she did not realize was that Elflings usually travel in groups. And a single Elfling usually caused much suspicion. So much that while traveling through the Animus Realm, she was captured and taken to Lord Xavis. He relished having captured his enemy's daughter. He called for Cecil and had all his other responsibilities were relieved. He was to break her will and make her a malleable slave of the Animus. That would surely infuriate the Elfling King even more. Perhaps enough to provoke a war.
“I shared my torture chamber with Rossia. We awaited our fate, bound and trapped as we were. And despite all this she was so cheerful and perky that I could not help but feel uplifted by her presence. She asked about my home and my people and she seemed so full of questions.
“Cecil was not the man you see today. He was inflexible and cruel. He was bound by duty to break Rossia and he meant to do it.
“The Elfling princess Rossia was as ticklish as they come. There was not a spot on her that couldn't be titillated. That of course wasn't unusual. But what was totally unusual, was her laughter.
“When she laughed it was like music, Tenderfoot. Not even the most heartless torturer could resist a smile when she laughed.
“Cecil tickled her hard and he quickly became frustrated. She seemed to enjoy the tickling no matter how brutal it was. She would always smile at him. It would be an honest smile. The kind that disarmed you because it bore no resentment whatsoever.
“He'd get angry and he promptly took to taking it out on me. He'd tickle my feet in ways I never imagined and with skill and determination unmatched. He'd mesmerize me with that magical gaze he has. I have a strong will and mind but he'd manipulate me so easily.
“My laughter and cries for mercy seemed to sooth his mind as he studied Rossia and the problem she represented. She was a mystery. There was no malice in her. There was no excessive pride or selfishness that could be used as leverage. She would take the tickling in good faith until she was a breathless and even then she'd speak with Cecil with absolutely no remorse or hate.
“Then one day, Cecil made the mistake of trying to mesmerize Rossia. He would not suggest her anything. He meant to dig deep into her very soul and stomp out any semblance of free will there. When he did that, he exposed her soul but at the same time he exposed his own. They saw each other for what they really were and that frightened Cecil more than anything. He realized that he would not be able to break her and he had lost the desire to break her.
“Cecil was tormented. I could see that and I felt it too, because he tickled me with even greater intensity driving me to the very border of madness. He came so very close to making me a tickle slave. I reached a point that I knew that my sanity would not last another day. He'd break my will and that would be the end of me.
“However Cecil did not return that fateful day. When he did return, it was late at night and I was sleeping. But I heard whispering voices and I opened my eyes to see something that shocked me. Cecil had come for Rossia. He had come to free her and to flee.
“He growled softly and began to stare at me with his mesmerizing gaze. My will was so weak that he could make me sleep and forget having seen them with barely a thought.
“Rossia stopped him however. She asked him to release me as well. Cecil disagreed, but I saw then that he was even weaker than I and that there was no way he would be able to resist her will. He was in love and he would do whatever Rossia desired.
“Even free me.
“Cecil hesitated but he released me anyway.
“'You won't regret freeing me,' I told him as he released me from the bondage and handed me my armor and my boots.
“And he did not regret it. His magic was strong, but it was my sword arm that more times than not turned the tide in our favor as we escaped together from the depths of Xavis's dungeon.
“Xavis was furious. He had lost his most prized prisoner and greatest Avenger in one felled swoop. He sent hundreds of Enforcers and Avengers across the Realms chasing us and we dodged them at every turn. The Elfling King learned of the escape and was furious that an Animus still had his daughter held captive. He also sent spies and warriors after us.
“We traveled among the Realms and saw them all. Rossia and Cecil became lovers and tickle mates. We had many adventures together. Rossia was fascinated by the new and strange places we visited on our journeys.
“Rossia was frail and delicate of health. Perhaps it was the traveling, perhaps it was the incessant chasing or perhaps it was just her time to go. She became ill one day and after two nerve racking days she died. She had not suffered but it broke Cecil and it broke my heart to see him suffer so.
“Her last request before she died was that Cecil take her body back to her father to be buried in the Elfling Realm.
“That was suicide and Cecil knew it.
“'You needn't come, Danea,' he told me. 'It will most likely mean the death of us.'
“I told him that Rossia was my friend as well and I would not be free if it were not for her. 'I'll take my chances', I told him.”
“He placed Rossia in a coffin with a glass cover. Rossia seemed so peaceful in death. It was almost as if she were asleep. We traveled to the Elfling King's court and we entered with each of us holding a side of the coffin.
“Hundreds of Elfling sentries surrounded us with their sharp spears. Cecil and I deposited the coffin on a small dais before the Elfling King's Throne. There would be no escape. Their numbers were overwhelming.
“The Elfling King was old and wrinkled. His skin was of a deathly white complexion and he wore robes of immaculate white to match. He became paler yet as he gazed upon his daughter's corpse. Pain racked the Elfing King's face and for a brief instant he seemed to be vulnerable.
“'Was she happy?' he asked in a cracked and uneven voice.
“'I believe so,' Cecil answered. 'I did my very best to make her happy.'
“The mask went up again on the face of the Elfling King and anger dominated his features as his face flushed red. His hand went to his white sword and his knuckles were white as his robes as he gripped the weapon with intensity.
“'Go,' he said in an almost inaudible voice.
“'Go!' he shouted drawing his white sword. 'Sentries, open your ranks! Let them leave the Realm! Away with you, Cecil of the Cold Hand! Next time we meet it will be your head on a platter. Go! Go! Go!'
“We turned and left and no one stopped us.
“I think Cecil hoped to die that day and was disappointed to leave the court still breathing. I worried for him. Even after Rossia's death he was still a very wanted fugitive. I remember telling him that if we were fugitives, we mind as well give them a proper reason to want to catch us.
“That was when Cecil thought of the Free Spirits. We started recruiting people from all over the Realms. People who had been rejected, persecuted and hunted. Most were people like us without a home and without a future. Cecil turned us all into a powerful fighting machine.
“He might have done something similar had he remained an Avenger, but this was different. It was the idea that all were equal and all had the right to be free and determine their own fates. That was Rossia's influence. Of that I have no doubt.
“Oh, and we gave The Elfling King and Xavis cause to hate the Free Spirits. We plundered them frequently; especially the slavers. But we raided all the rest of the Realms with equal relish as we do now. I realized that Cecil had made peace with himself and what had happened and he bore no one ill will. Not even Xavis and the Elfling King who continue to hunt him to this day.
“That was what I respected most about him. I know I could not forgive those two if it were I in his shoes.”
Danea looked out on the horizon and she smiled as the sun began to set and twilight set in.
“That's quite story,” Patrisa said sensing that Danea had concluded her tale. “I admire him more now after what you've told me. But why tell me? I'm just a new Free Spirit recruit. And a Tenderfoot at that.”
“He's my friend and I want him to be happy. So are you,” Danea said softly. “I just wanted you to know.”
Danea deftly slid over the side of the crow's nest and opened her wings gliding to the deck far below.
She left Patrisa to think to herself for a long while.
* * * * *
The Free Spirits continued their raids and they tickled relentlessly. The treasure vault of the Last Laugh grew heavy with thousands of red gems. There was not a day that would go by without at least a score of tickling victims being tortured for magic.
Patrisa was like a sponge. She learned more and more about tickling and her skill grew at leaps and bounds.
Patrisa had the opportunity to tickle proud Centaurs. They would swear they were not ticklish and promise to put each Free Spirit's head on a pike, but when Patrisa had them at her mercy, the threats would quickly turn to apologies and promises of good behavior. There was nothing like mounting a bucking Centaur and breaking him or her into submission.
The miniature Pixies were a challenge because of their diminutive size, but Patrisa quickly learned a trick that really drew the admiration of all the Free Spirits. Other large ticklers would try miniature brushes and other special custom made tickle tools to tickle Pixies.
Patrisa simply took some of her long blond locks and tortured the pixies as if she were going after a ticklish nose or ear with her hair. The hair was deathly effective and the Pixies were tortured into submission faster and more effectively than any had witnessed before.
There was no challenge Patrisa wasn't up to take. The crew began to call her the “Scourge” more and more often and she was pleased with the sobriquet.
Danea taught her bondage.
Patrisa could not imagine so many knots existed and she felt first hand the tightness of proper bondage as Danea tied her into countless positions. Each was tighter and more restrained than the next. To test the bondage Danea would tickle Patrisa ever so briefly on the ribs. After weeks of having gone without tickling, these 'tests' as Danea referred to them were a reminder that Patrisa was every bit as ticklish as she had ever been.
Patrisa could see Danea's eyes light up as she tickled her and she always volunteered to tickle her Third Eye open and be over with it. Every time Patrisa would refuse and Danea would respectfully obey her wishes.
During the bondage training Danea became more and more bold and she tickled Patrisa all over her body with the soft end of a feather and with the hard tip of the quill. She was very meticulous in her efforts. She took one body part at a time and she scanned every single part with varying degrees of tickling until she was satisfied that she had been quite thorough.
It was done slowly and discreetly over many days and Patrisa was fascinated with Danea's professionalism. Tickling was truly an art. There was intense skill in even the simplest of tickling such as the graceful twirling a feathered tip into a bellybutton. Done just right it was as torturous as two pairs of hands.
Patrisa realized that she still had much to learn.
“You are quite interesting,” Danea said as she took a piece of charcoal one day and drew a woman's silhouette on a large piece of scroll. “While you are not ticklish in many classic spots such as under your arms or on the soles of your feet, you more than make up for it with terrible, terrible ticklishness in many spots on your torso.”
Danea used the charcoal to shade the more ticklish spots but it basically much made the drawing look like a short black strapless dress on the silhouette.
“If I were like you, I wouldn't have to wear so much cumbersome armor,” Danea said patting her heavy and tight black leather armor. “If you had armor yourself, you'd only need to cover your torso. You'd have extra mobility which would clearly give you an edge.”
Patrisa nodded in agreement.
Captain Cecil approached and Danea rolled up the scroll quickly before he could see.
“What's going on here?” Cecil asked curiously.
“Master-Tenderfoot confidentiality, Captain,” Danea said smoothly. “I can only say that Patrisa advances at a steady pace. She will not disappoint.”
"You've gained quite a reputation among the Free Spirits, Tenderfoot," Cecil said with admiration. "You'll climb the ranks of the Free Spirits soon enough."
A sudden call from the crow's nest alerted everyone to danger.
"A flying object approaching from starboard, Captain!" a Jackal headed Animus called from the crow's nest.
Cecil removed a spyglass from his coat pocket and extended it in a swift motion. He held it to his right eye and stared out over the sky to the object on the horizon.
Patrisa could only see a dark dot.
"Pink Dragon," Cecil said growing pale.
"What is that?" Patrisa asked.
“Danea, take care of the Tenderfoot,” Cecil ordered ignoring her.
“Turn to port, Quentin!” Cecil shouted. “Full speed ahead! Set full sails and cast the supplies and any other non-essentials over the side! We must be swift or we'll be the fodder of a Pink Dragon!”
“What is he talking about? What is a Pink Dragon?" Patrisa asked.
“It's a rare magical creature,” Danea explained hurriedly dragging Patrisa along as crew members raced from end to end of the ship obeying the captain's orders. Danea strapped on her sword and rapier in preparation for battle. “It's a dragon. Pink in color and its breath is a pinkish gas. If you don't like being tickled, you really won't like breathing that gas. It's like a laughing gas, but much, much worse. You'll fell every ticklish nerve suddenly activated in your body. I've seen champions and warriors of the greatest discipline succumb to a Pink Dragon's gas in less than a minute.”
“What does it want?" Patrisa asked understanding now why Cecil was so interested in escaping.
“Our magic,” Danea answered. “We are its rivals in the skies. And when it has subdued us all, it will sink the ship and we'll be none the wiser. So either we out fly it, or we kill it or we die.”
Live well and die free, Patrisa thought as she coolly removed her fighting sticks and prepared for a fight. She couldn't imagine though what good her sticks would do against a dragon.
Patrisa could see the huge pink form gaining on the Last Laugh. It would be upon them in moments.
It had a wild pink mane of hair that flowed beautifully in the air and shiny pink scales that covered its body. It was a third of the size of the ship. Spears and arrows were sent in the Pink Dragon's direction and they all broke and shattered on the dragon's shiny pink scale armor.
The dragon's snout was long and lined with dozens of sharp teeth. Its eyes were deeply intelligent and its nostrils flared in anticipation. A great white smile formed on the dragon's red lips and Patrisa had a bad feeling.
“Hold your breath,” Danea cried as the Pink Dragon heaved its head back and from its mouth released a cloud of pinkish gas that engulfed the deck. Danea seized Patrisa behind the mast and wrapped her arms around her before wrapping them both in her huge black leathery wings.
The pink gas dissipated quickly. And when Danea opened her wings there was no longer any trace of the dangerous gas.
“That was close,” Danea said with relief.
Patrisa nodded as she looked across the deck and saw the Free Spirits scattered and all struggling with a terrible hideous laughter. The crew all fell to the ground clutching their sides in a futile attempt to contain the laughter.
The Pink Dragon smiled a malicious reptilian grin enjoying watching them suffer.
“What will we do?” Patrisa asked looking to Danea.
The Demon mistress did not reply. Her eyes were wide and watery and they seemed to tremble faintly. Danea's usual stoic frown twisted on the edges slightly and trembled as if the frown were fighting a tempestuous battle against a smile.
The smile was winning.
Whatever minute dose of the pink cloud Danea had inhaled, it was enough to break her. Patrisa watched with horror as Danea smiled a mad grin that went ear to ear. She started to laugh timidly and contained at first and then wildly and violently. Her mouth opened wide and she laughed. She tried to shield her armored sides against some invisible tickler and reached for her booted feet as if she could somehow protect them from the tickling.
She could not. Patrisa pressed her back against the mast and watched in horror as Danea was tickled from head to toe by some invisible enemy that held nothing back and tickled with a ravenous hunger for laughter.
Patrisa heard the cacophony of laughter all over the ship and one by one the laughter died like candles being blown out one by one. The Free Spirits slowly gave in to the ticklish torture and they welcomed unconsciousness as they fell still and a shining red gem of magic appeared above their foreheads.
Danea was the last to fall. She struggled in a fetal position while Patrisa watched over her until she laughed no more. Patrisa patted her sweat drenched forehead gently.
“Sleep well,” she said to her friend before drawing her fighting sticks. She pressed her back against the mast and took several deep breaths. She had no illusions about her chances. Her sticks were nothing compared to the dragon's armor and she did not expect to even get close enough before the dragon cast a spell or breathed once more her magical breath.
Then she heard the dragon speak.
“How delicious,” the dragon said in what was clearly a feminine voice. “All this magic and the magic in your hold. All for the taking. I'll take the magic and send this ship to the ground. You should all be thankful that I am so merciful.”
“You'll get no thanks here, Dragon! You'd be wise to turn and fly away,” Cecil said stepping up from under deck. He wore his red sash over his mouth and his sky blue eyes were dark and full of anger. “I am Cecil of the Cold Hand and you must slay me if you wish to take this ship.”
Patrisa watched cautiously from behind the mast at the Pink Dragon who watched Cecil curiously.
“Finally someone with some spirit,” the dragon said. “I grow bored of those who are conquered so easily. That sash is magic and it has protected you. What makes you think it will protect you from my claws and talons?”
“I have more than a warm sash with which to deal with the likes of you,” Cecil said bravely to the towering dragon.
The dragon answered not with words, but with actions. With blinding speed she reached out with a clawed hand and grasped Cecil holding him tight around his torso. Colby placed his cold hand on the dragon's scaly armor and hoped he could paralyze the dragon.
It did not work.
“My armor is magic,” the dragon explained touching her armored breast with a blood read claw. “Crafted by the Maker many centuries ago. Your magic hand has no effect on me.”
“Unless the Maker has armored your eyes you will see things my way,” Cecil promised as he gazed into the dragon's eyes and prepared to mesmerize her.
Both were obviously taken by surprise. Cecil could not believe the dragon could resist his irresistible gaze and she could not believe that such a small and foolish creature could dare attempt to dominate her mind.
They stared silently into each other's eyes and neither seemed to be conscious of anything other than their opponent.
Patrisa stepped out from behind the mast and saw that neither noticed her presence. She could seen dots of sweat forming on Cecil's forehead. Despite the power of his mesmerizing gaze, he had met a worthy opponent. It did not seem that he would prevail as things were going.
Patrisa did the only thing she knew how to do. She attacked with her fighting sticks.
Ash and Oak whistled gently in the air as she twirled them in her hands with expert skill. She charged the Pink Dragon and attacked with a fury of blows that should have sent the strongest opponents to the ground. In this case there was the pink scale armor that marked the difference. Patrisa half expected the sticks to break on the hard armor like the spears and the arrows had during the attack launched by the Free Spirits. They did not. But the armor held up strongly.
Patrisa rained heavy blows on the armored dragon. She felt rattling vibrations travel through the sticks into her arms. But she did not give up and she pounded the dragon's belly until an ominous crack was heard. A scale had shifted loose. It was still attached to the armor, but it had come loose.
The dragon reacted by staring directly into Patrisa's face. Cecil was unconscious in her grip. He had failed to dominate the dragon and had in turn been dominated by the dragon's powerful mind.
“That armor took many centuries to complete,” she said angrily.
“I'll undo it in an afternoon,” Patrisa vowed striking the dragon on the snout.
“I am weakened,” the dragon said furiously. “My mind and my body have been taxed by you two. But I have more than a dozen ways to deal with your likes.”
Patrisa whirled her sticks around her body in acceptance of the challenge.
“It won't be easy, I promise you,” Patrisa vowed.
“Who are you, Tenderfoot?” the Dragon said examining Patrisa from head to toe. “You are no threat at all. You do not even have your Third Eye open.”
Patrisa could see that the Pink Dragon also had a rune etched on her forehead.
“I am the Tickle Scourge,” Patrisa said loudly and with great confidence.
“I've never heard of you,” the Dragon said sneering. “Cecil of the Cold Hand is well known. There are bounties on his head too numerous to count. But you, I do not know.”
“You will remember the name,” Patrisa promised as she attacked the Dragon with her sticks.
The Pink Dragon frowned at the insistent attack and with the back of her hand she struck Patrisa hard sending her flying across the deck and crashing against the rail. The heavy wood cracked and Patrisa groaned with pain, but she ignored it and stood up once more to face her adversary.
The Pink Dragon had forgotten her and was reaching her long pink arm into the hold to pull free hundreds of magical gems which represented the treasure of the Last Laugh.
Patrisa attacked with even more fury hitting the Dragon again with countless blows.
The Dragon was now more than irritated.
“You again?” the Dragon asked.
“Yes. And again and again and again,” Patrisa replied gritting her teeth and hitting the Dragon harder yet.
The Pink Dragon was not even fazed by the blows, but somehow the Tenderfoot had loosened one of her scales and that had no precedence. The mental battle with Cecil had left her too weak to attack with breath or with mind attack.
“I think your voice tires me more than your futile attacks,” the Pink Dragon said. “You should have joined your mates and slept the final sleep. You have officially become more than a mere nuisance. Congratulations. Now I must find a more fitting end for you.”
Patrisa hit the Dragon anywhere her sticks could reach and she did not tire. The Dragon would throw her over the side or crush her with a fist or tear her to bits with her teeth. But she would not go down without a fight.
“So much energy,” the Pink Dragon said wearily. “You seem tired, Tenderfoot. Have some sleep mist.”
She spoke words of magic and a green cloud of gas burst from the tip of her fingers and engulfed Patrisa.
When the the cloud cleared, Patrisa was motionless on the deck asleep. Her fighting sticks lay at her sides.
The Dragon lifted Patrisa by her arm and studied the limp form of the Manling.
“I could toss you over the side or crush you with my talons, Tickle Scourge,” the Pink Dragon pondered the choices and was tempted by both. “But that would be merciful. I have only two hands and I cannot take you and the treasure with me. The Last Laugh will have to wait, but dream while you can, Tickle Scourge, for when you wake, I promise you that your end will be a living nightmare!”
To be concluded....
Next: Fall of the Free Spirits!
The following weeks were on the job training for Patrisa.
The Free Spirits of the Last Laugh raided all the Realms with absolutely no discrimination or prejudice whatsoever.
Trade caravans, slave traders, border patrols and small villages were all valid targets. It did not matter to the Free Spirits their alliances or allegiances.
They never did any damage during their raids though. No houses were burnt, no one was hurt. They would take who they could, tickle them beyond their limits and then leave them somewhere out of the way. Captain Cecil was only interested in stealing the magic that could be gathered by tickling it out of his victims. He'd usually leave their victim's purses intact.
In the case of slavers, however, he'd rob them penniless and he'd take all the slaves with him. The Free Spirits would either recruit them as new crew members or set them free far from where the slavers could capture them again.
Patrisa felt comfortable with this and she embraced the form of life.
She learned stick fighting with the demon Danea. Patrisa was quite surprised when she discovered the sticks were almost second nature to her. Something was alive in the fighting sticks and they took to Patrisa as if they had been waiting for her to somehow come across them. She even knew their names. One was named Ash and the other Oak. It was something no one had told her. It was just something she knew.
The demon Danea was an excellent fighter and trainer. Her body was feminine but it was hard and battle tested. She seemed very stoic and even mean and cruel. But Patrisa realized that she was actually a very pleasant person when you got to know her.
Danea trained her very well but very hard. Within weeks Patrisa was highly proficient with the combat use of the fighting sticks. Her hands were torn with painful callouses but Patrisa shrugged off the pain. Now she was a good tickler and a good fighter.
The only thing she was missing was magic.
"You can't do it unless you open your Third Eye," Danea said as they trained on the deck one evening. Patrisa's body was getting hard and firm as well as fast and agile; she was so proud.
Danea gestured to her own Third Eye. It was a strange rune that all creatures of this world wore on their forehead. It was from where magic entered and exited the body.
In order to open her Third Eye, she would need to be tickled witless. She new she'd been tickled countless times in such a manner on her world, but now, after weeks on board the Last Laugh, she had gone all that time without being tickled. In her world she could barely go several hours without someone creeping behind her and tickling her.
So when it came regarding the Third Eye, she just couldn't bring herself to have someone tickle her that way. At least not voluntarily.
"I'd do it for you," Danea offered. "I'd tickle you quickly and efficiently. It would be over before you knew what hit you."
The Demon mistress wore heavy black leather armor that protected her ticklish spots from her victim's futile attempts to escape by tickling. She then used secret demon techniques to subdue her victims and then she tickled hard and savagely.
Other crew members said that the technique resembled her own however without the degree of passion Patrisa apparently injected into each tickling session. Patrisa knew one thing: she did not want to be tickled by Danea. It just seemed too much for her to bear.
"I'd do it if you let me tickle you first," Patrisa offered thinking that maybe that would be fair. She'd get to dish it out and then she's have to take it. It sounded fair at least. More fair than any of the tickling she endured on her world.
Danea shook her head. "I've seen you tickle," she said frankly. "You tickle like in a mad frenzy. You won't find anyone interested in such a deal. Any of the Free Spirits will tickle you without a second thought, but none will let you tickle them unless it is against their will. Already they are calling you the 'Tickle Scourge'. Nay, you won't find anyone to take you up on your offer."
Patrisa frowned.
"My offer stands, Scourge," Danea mentioned. "And I will train you as best as I can once you do decide to have your Third Eye opened. But don't wait too long or someone else might decide to open it for you."
Patrisa nodded in agreement. In this world it wouldn't be long before in a battle she could be tickled senseless and the deed would be done. In some ways she hoped that it would happen soon, but on the other hand she kind of felt uneasy giving in if she could help it.
"Let Patrisa be, Danea," Captain Cecil said as he approached the two women.
The proud captain of the Last Laugh and leader of the Free Spirits was an inspiration for Patrisa. He was strong and quick in battle and he was a natural leader. He was also quite a skilled tickler. His magic hand caused instant paralysis and he could mesmerize even the strongest wills and make powerful suggestions that could not be resisted.
It was a winning combination that easily explained his success and that of the Free Spirits.
"I want her trained the hard way anyway," Cecil explained to Danea. "If she can get by without relying on magic, she will be ten times as potent when she finally does combine magic into her skills. I did not always have the Cold Hand, and I am grateful that I didn't until I learned how to depend upon my skill and wits to get me out of trouble. So don't rush Patrisa, she'll decide who she wants to tickle her in good time.”
"I'd let you tickle me, if you let me tickle you first, Captain Cecil," Patrisa offered.
Cecil's sky blue eyes darkened and became like the sea.
"Why would I let you tickle me if with a single gaze I could simply convince you that you were being tickled by a dozen invisible Pixies and be done with this?" Cecil asked.
"Because we are the Free Spirits," she replied confidently. "Free will and freedom to determine one's fate."
Cecil smiled sadly.
"Even the Free Spirits need rules, Tenderfoot," he said. "Decide freely as long as you want. But if with in one moon you have not opened your Third Eye, the crew will gang tickle it out of you. Fair enough?"
Patrisa nodded as Cecil walked away seemingly brooding dark thoughts.
"What did I say?" Patrisa asked puzzled by the captain's response.
"Tickling and being tickled consensually like you suggested is something very intimate around the Realms. It's usually something reserved for emergencies, for very intimate friends or in the very best of situations, lovers."
"Ah.... He misses someone," Patrisa nodding as realization dawned upon her.
''Good intuition, Tenderfoot,'' Danea complimented. ''And you don't even have an open Third Eye yet."
''What happened?" Patrisa asked curiously.
“It's a long story and you mustn't let him know I told you,” Danea said in a hushed voice. “Only I know the entire story.”
They took a shift at the crow's nest and Quentin was much relieved to give it to the Demon and the Tenderfoot.
Once Danea was certain no one could hear her, she told her tale.
''Cecil was slated to be a high level Animus Avenger,” Danea began. “He'd report directly to Lord Xavis, ruler of the Animus. His job was to stomp out troublemakers like us at Xavis's whim. I should know because I was captured by him.”
“You?” Patrisa asked surprised.
Danea nodded. “I had crossed into Animus territory and wandered into forbidden territory. When the Enforcers tried to arrest me I naturally resisted. Suffice to say I made enough of a ruckus to attract the attention of Lord Xavis's finest lieutenant. He tracked me down and captured me. I've never been tickled by someone as determined as he. He tried to break my will and he would have accomplished it and I would be part of Xavis's group of tickle slaves today if it were not for Rossia.”
“Who is Rossia?” Patrisa asked.
“Let me tell the story, Scourge,” Danea said with irritation at the interruption. “Rossia's father is the Elfling King. His only daughter. She was a beautiful Elfling. She was tall and lithe for an Elfling. But even then she surely two heads shorter than Cecil. The Elfling King kept her hidden deep in the Mushroom Wood. But she had plans of her own. She escaped the Elfling Realm and her father's protection to journey through the Realms and see the world.
“One thing she did not realize was that Elflings usually travel in groups. And a single Elfling usually caused much suspicion. So much that while traveling through the Animus Realm, she was captured and taken to Lord Xavis. He relished having captured his enemy's daughter. He called for Cecil and had all his other responsibilities were relieved. He was to break her will and make her a malleable slave of the Animus. That would surely infuriate the Elfling King even more. Perhaps enough to provoke a war.
“I shared my torture chamber with Rossia. We awaited our fate, bound and trapped as we were. And despite all this she was so cheerful and perky that I could not help but feel uplifted by her presence. She asked about my home and my people and she seemed so full of questions.
“Cecil was not the man you see today. He was inflexible and cruel. He was bound by duty to break Rossia and he meant to do it.
“The Elfling princess Rossia was as ticklish as they come. There was not a spot on her that couldn't be titillated. That of course wasn't unusual. But what was totally unusual, was her laughter.
“When she laughed it was like music, Tenderfoot. Not even the most heartless torturer could resist a smile when she laughed.
“Cecil tickled her hard and he quickly became frustrated. She seemed to enjoy the tickling no matter how brutal it was. She would always smile at him. It would be an honest smile. The kind that disarmed you because it bore no resentment whatsoever.
“He'd get angry and he promptly took to taking it out on me. He'd tickle my feet in ways I never imagined and with skill and determination unmatched. He'd mesmerize me with that magical gaze he has. I have a strong will and mind but he'd manipulate me so easily.
“My laughter and cries for mercy seemed to sooth his mind as he studied Rossia and the problem she represented. She was a mystery. There was no malice in her. There was no excessive pride or selfishness that could be used as leverage. She would take the tickling in good faith until she was a breathless and even then she'd speak with Cecil with absolutely no remorse or hate.
“Then one day, Cecil made the mistake of trying to mesmerize Rossia. He would not suggest her anything. He meant to dig deep into her very soul and stomp out any semblance of free will there. When he did that, he exposed her soul but at the same time he exposed his own. They saw each other for what they really were and that frightened Cecil more than anything. He realized that he would not be able to break her and he had lost the desire to break her.
“Cecil was tormented. I could see that and I felt it too, because he tickled me with even greater intensity driving me to the very border of madness. He came so very close to making me a tickle slave. I reached a point that I knew that my sanity would not last another day. He'd break my will and that would be the end of me.
“However Cecil did not return that fateful day. When he did return, it was late at night and I was sleeping. But I heard whispering voices and I opened my eyes to see something that shocked me. Cecil had come for Rossia. He had come to free her and to flee.
“He growled softly and began to stare at me with his mesmerizing gaze. My will was so weak that he could make me sleep and forget having seen them with barely a thought.
“Rossia stopped him however. She asked him to release me as well. Cecil disagreed, but I saw then that he was even weaker than I and that there was no way he would be able to resist her will. He was in love and he would do whatever Rossia desired.
“Even free me.
“Cecil hesitated but he released me anyway.
“'You won't regret freeing me,' I told him as he released me from the bondage and handed me my armor and my boots.
“And he did not regret it. His magic was strong, but it was my sword arm that more times than not turned the tide in our favor as we escaped together from the depths of Xavis's dungeon.
“Xavis was furious. He had lost his most prized prisoner and greatest Avenger in one felled swoop. He sent hundreds of Enforcers and Avengers across the Realms chasing us and we dodged them at every turn. The Elfling King learned of the escape and was furious that an Animus still had his daughter held captive. He also sent spies and warriors after us.
“We traveled among the Realms and saw them all. Rossia and Cecil became lovers and tickle mates. We had many adventures together. Rossia was fascinated by the new and strange places we visited on our journeys.
“Rossia was frail and delicate of health. Perhaps it was the traveling, perhaps it was the incessant chasing or perhaps it was just her time to go. She became ill one day and after two nerve racking days she died. She had not suffered but it broke Cecil and it broke my heart to see him suffer so.
“Her last request before she died was that Cecil take her body back to her father to be buried in the Elfling Realm.
“That was suicide and Cecil knew it.
“'You needn't come, Danea,' he told me. 'It will most likely mean the death of us.'
“I told him that Rossia was my friend as well and I would not be free if it were not for her. 'I'll take my chances', I told him.”
“He placed Rossia in a coffin with a glass cover. Rossia seemed so peaceful in death. It was almost as if she were asleep. We traveled to the Elfling King's court and we entered with each of us holding a side of the coffin.
“Hundreds of Elfling sentries surrounded us with their sharp spears. Cecil and I deposited the coffin on a small dais before the Elfling King's Throne. There would be no escape. Their numbers were overwhelming.
“The Elfling King was old and wrinkled. His skin was of a deathly white complexion and he wore robes of immaculate white to match. He became paler yet as he gazed upon his daughter's corpse. Pain racked the Elfing King's face and for a brief instant he seemed to be vulnerable.
“'Was she happy?' he asked in a cracked and uneven voice.
“'I believe so,' Cecil answered. 'I did my very best to make her happy.'
“The mask went up again on the face of the Elfling King and anger dominated his features as his face flushed red. His hand went to his white sword and his knuckles were white as his robes as he gripped the weapon with intensity.
“'Go,' he said in an almost inaudible voice.
“'Go!' he shouted drawing his white sword. 'Sentries, open your ranks! Let them leave the Realm! Away with you, Cecil of the Cold Hand! Next time we meet it will be your head on a platter. Go! Go! Go!'
“We turned and left and no one stopped us.
“I think Cecil hoped to die that day and was disappointed to leave the court still breathing. I worried for him. Even after Rossia's death he was still a very wanted fugitive. I remember telling him that if we were fugitives, we mind as well give them a proper reason to want to catch us.
“That was when Cecil thought of the Free Spirits. We started recruiting people from all over the Realms. People who had been rejected, persecuted and hunted. Most were people like us without a home and without a future. Cecil turned us all into a powerful fighting machine.
“He might have done something similar had he remained an Avenger, but this was different. It was the idea that all were equal and all had the right to be free and determine their own fates. That was Rossia's influence. Of that I have no doubt.
“Oh, and we gave The Elfling King and Xavis cause to hate the Free Spirits. We plundered them frequently; especially the slavers. But we raided all the rest of the Realms with equal relish as we do now. I realized that Cecil had made peace with himself and what had happened and he bore no one ill will. Not even Xavis and the Elfling King who continue to hunt him to this day.
“That was what I respected most about him. I know I could not forgive those two if it were I in his shoes.”
Danea looked out on the horizon and she smiled as the sun began to set and twilight set in.
“That's quite story,” Patrisa said sensing that Danea had concluded her tale. “I admire him more now after what you've told me. But why tell me? I'm just a new Free Spirit recruit. And a Tenderfoot at that.”
“He's my friend and I want him to be happy. So are you,” Danea said softly. “I just wanted you to know.”
Danea deftly slid over the side of the crow's nest and opened her wings gliding to the deck far below.
She left Patrisa to think to herself for a long while.
* * * * *
The Free Spirits continued their raids and they tickled relentlessly. The treasure vault of the Last Laugh grew heavy with thousands of red gems. There was not a day that would go by without at least a score of tickling victims being tortured for magic.
Patrisa was like a sponge. She learned more and more about tickling and her skill grew at leaps and bounds.
Patrisa had the opportunity to tickle proud Centaurs. They would swear they were not ticklish and promise to put each Free Spirit's head on a pike, but when Patrisa had them at her mercy, the threats would quickly turn to apologies and promises of good behavior. There was nothing like mounting a bucking Centaur and breaking him or her into submission.
The miniature Pixies were a challenge because of their diminutive size, but Patrisa quickly learned a trick that really drew the admiration of all the Free Spirits. Other large ticklers would try miniature brushes and other special custom made tickle tools to tickle Pixies.
Patrisa simply took some of her long blond locks and tortured the pixies as if she were going after a ticklish nose or ear with her hair. The hair was deathly effective and the Pixies were tortured into submission faster and more effectively than any had witnessed before.
There was no challenge Patrisa wasn't up to take. The crew began to call her the “Scourge” more and more often and she was pleased with the sobriquet.
Danea taught her bondage.
Patrisa could not imagine so many knots existed and she felt first hand the tightness of proper bondage as Danea tied her into countless positions. Each was tighter and more restrained than the next. To test the bondage Danea would tickle Patrisa ever so briefly on the ribs. After weeks of having gone without tickling, these 'tests' as Danea referred to them were a reminder that Patrisa was every bit as ticklish as she had ever been.
Patrisa could see Danea's eyes light up as she tickled her and she always volunteered to tickle her Third Eye open and be over with it. Every time Patrisa would refuse and Danea would respectfully obey her wishes.
During the bondage training Danea became more and more bold and she tickled Patrisa all over her body with the soft end of a feather and with the hard tip of the quill. She was very meticulous in her efforts. She took one body part at a time and she scanned every single part with varying degrees of tickling until she was satisfied that she had been quite thorough.
It was done slowly and discreetly over many days and Patrisa was fascinated with Danea's professionalism. Tickling was truly an art. There was intense skill in even the simplest of tickling such as the graceful twirling a feathered tip into a bellybutton. Done just right it was as torturous as two pairs of hands.
Patrisa realized that she still had much to learn.
“You are quite interesting,” Danea said as she took a piece of charcoal one day and drew a woman's silhouette on a large piece of scroll. “While you are not ticklish in many classic spots such as under your arms or on the soles of your feet, you more than make up for it with terrible, terrible ticklishness in many spots on your torso.”
Danea used the charcoal to shade the more ticklish spots but it basically much made the drawing look like a short black strapless dress on the silhouette.
“If I were like you, I wouldn't have to wear so much cumbersome armor,” Danea said patting her heavy and tight black leather armor. “If you had armor yourself, you'd only need to cover your torso. You'd have extra mobility which would clearly give you an edge.”
Patrisa nodded in agreement.
Captain Cecil approached and Danea rolled up the scroll quickly before he could see.
“What's going on here?” Cecil asked curiously.
“Master-Tenderfoot confidentiality, Captain,” Danea said smoothly. “I can only say that Patrisa advances at a steady pace. She will not disappoint.”
"You've gained quite a reputation among the Free Spirits, Tenderfoot," Cecil said with admiration. "You'll climb the ranks of the Free Spirits soon enough."
A sudden call from the crow's nest alerted everyone to danger.
"A flying object approaching from starboard, Captain!" a Jackal headed Animus called from the crow's nest.
Cecil removed a spyglass from his coat pocket and extended it in a swift motion. He held it to his right eye and stared out over the sky to the object on the horizon.
Patrisa could only see a dark dot.
"Pink Dragon," Cecil said growing pale.
"What is that?" Patrisa asked.
“Danea, take care of the Tenderfoot,” Cecil ordered ignoring her.
“Turn to port, Quentin!” Cecil shouted. “Full speed ahead! Set full sails and cast the supplies and any other non-essentials over the side! We must be swift or we'll be the fodder of a Pink Dragon!”
“What is he talking about? What is a Pink Dragon?" Patrisa asked.
“It's a rare magical creature,” Danea explained hurriedly dragging Patrisa along as crew members raced from end to end of the ship obeying the captain's orders. Danea strapped on her sword and rapier in preparation for battle. “It's a dragon. Pink in color and its breath is a pinkish gas. If you don't like being tickled, you really won't like breathing that gas. It's like a laughing gas, but much, much worse. You'll fell every ticklish nerve suddenly activated in your body. I've seen champions and warriors of the greatest discipline succumb to a Pink Dragon's gas in less than a minute.”
“What does it want?" Patrisa asked understanding now why Cecil was so interested in escaping.
“Our magic,” Danea answered. “We are its rivals in the skies. And when it has subdued us all, it will sink the ship and we'll be none the wiser. So either we out fly it, or we kill it or we die.”
Live well and die free, Patrisa thought as she coolly removed her fighting sticks and prepared for a fight. She couldn't imagine though what good her sticks would do against a dragon.
Patrisa could see the huge pink form gaining on the Last Laugh. It would be upon them in moments.
It had a wild pink mane of hair that flowed beautifully in the air and shiny pink scales that covered its body. It was a third of the size of the ship. Spears and arrows were sent in the Pink Dragon's direction and they all broke and shattered on the dragon's shiny pink scale armor.
The dragon's snout was long and lined with dozens of sharp teeth. Its eyes were deeply intelligent and its nostrils flared in anticipation. A great white smile formed on the dragon's red lips and Patrisa had a bad feeling.
“Hold your breath,” Danea cried as the Pink Dragon heaved its head back and from its mouth released a cloud of pinkish gas that engulfed the deck. Danea seized Patrisa behind the mast and wrapped her arms around her before wrapping them both in her huge black leathery wings.
The pink gas dissipated quickly. And when Danea opened her wings there was no longer any trace of the dangerous gas.
“That was close,” Danea said with relief.
Patrisa nodded as she looked across the deck and saw the Free Spirits scattered and all struggling with a terrible hideous laughter. The crew all fell to the ground clutching their sides in a futile attempt to contain the laughter.
The Pink Dragon smiled a malicious reptilian grin enjoying watching them suffer.
“What will we do?” Patrisa asked looking to Danea.
The Demon mistress did not reply. Her eyes were wide and watery and they seemed to tremble faintly. Danea's usual stoic frown twisted on the edges slightly and trembled as if the frown were fighting a tempestuous battle against a smile.
The smile was winning.
Whatever minute dose of the pink cloud Danea had inhaled, it was enough to break her. Patrisa watched with horror as Danea smiled a mad grin that went ear to ear. She started to laugh timidly and contained at first and then wildly and violently. Her mouth opened wide and she laughed. She tried to shield her armored sides against some invisible tickler and reached for her booted feet as if she could somehow protect them from the tickling.
She could not. Patrisa pressed her back against the mast and watched in horror as Danea was tickled from head to toe by some invisible enemy that held nothing back and tickled with a ravenous hunger for laughter.
Patrisa heard the cacophony of laughter all over the ship and one by one the laughter died like candles being blown out one by one. The Free Spirits slowly gave in to the ticklish torture and they welcomed unconsciousness as they fell still and a shining red gem of magic appeared above their foreheads.
Danea was the last to fall. She struggled in a fetal position while Patrisa watched over her until she laughed no more. Patrisa patted her sweat drenched forehead gently.
“Sleep well,” she said to her friend before drawing her fighting sticks. She pressed her back against the mast and took several deep breaths. She had no illusions about her chances. Her sticks were nothing compared to the dragon's armor and she did not expect to even get close enough before the dragon cast a spell or breathed once more her magical breath.
Then she heard the dragon speak.
“How delicious,” the dragon said in what was clearly a feminine voice. “All this magic and the magic in your hold. All for the taking. I'll take the magic and send this ship to the ground. You should all be thankful that I am so merciful.”
“You'll get no thanks here, Dragon! You'd be wise to turn and fly away,” Cecil said stepping up from under deck. He wore his red sash over his mouth and his sky blue eyes were dark and full of anger. “I am Cecil of the Cold Hand and you must slay me if you wish to take this ship.”
Patrisa watched cautiously from behind the mast at the Pink Dragon who watched Cecil curiously.
“Finally someone with some spirit,” the dragon said. “I grow bored of those who are conquered so easily. That sash is magic and it has protected you. What makes you think it will protect you from my claws and talons?”
“I have more than a warm sash with which to deal with the likes of you,” Cecil said bravely to the towering dragon.
The dragon answered not with words, but with actions. With blinding speed she reached out with a clawed hand and grasped Cecil holding him tight around his torso. Colby placed his cold hand on the dragon's scaly armor and hoped he could paralyze the dragon.
It did not work.
“My armor is magic,” the dragon explained touching her armored breast with a blood read claw. “Crafted by the Maker many centuries ago. Your magic hand has no effect on me.”
“Unless the Maker has armored your eyes you will see things my way,” Cecil promised as he gazed into the dragon's eyes and prepared to mesmerize her.
Both were obviously taken by surprise. Cecil could not believe the dragon could resist his irresistible gaze and she could not believe that such a small and foolish creature could dare attempt to dominate her mind.
They stared silently into each other's eyes and neither seemed to be conscious of anything other than their opponent.
Patrisa stepped out from behind the mast and saw that neither noticed her presence. She could seen dots of sweat forming on Cecil's forehead. Despite the power of his mesmerizing gaze, he had met a worthy opponent. It did not seem that he would prevail as things were going.
Patrisa did the only thing she knew how to do. She attacked with her fighting sticks.
Ash and Oak whistled gently in the air as she twirled them in her hands with expert skill. She charged the Pink Dragon and attacked with a fury of blows that should have sent the strongest opponents to the ground. In this case there was the pink scale armor that marked the difference. Patrisa half expected the sticks to break on the hard armor like the spears and the arrows had during the attack launched by the Free Spirits. They did not. But the armor held up strongly.
Patrisa rained heavy blows on the armored dragon. She felt rattling vibrations travel through the sticks into her arms. But she did not give up and she pounded the dragon's belly until an ominous crack was heard. A scale had shifted loose. It was still attached to the armor, but it had come loose.
The dragon reacted by staring directly into Patrisa's face. Cecil was unconscious in her grip. He had failed to dominate the dragon and had in turn been dominated by the dragon's powerful mind.
“That armor took many centuries to complete,” she said angrily.
“I'll undo it in an afternoon,” Patrisa vowed striking the dragon on the snout.
“I am weakened,” the dragon said furiously. “My mind and my body have been taxed by you two. But I have more than a dozen ways to deal with your likes.”
Patrisa whirled her sticks around her body in acceptance of the challenge.
“It won't be easy, I promise you,” Patrisa vowed.
“Who are you, Tenderfoot?” the Dragon said examining Patrisa from head to toe. “You are no threat at all. You do not even have your Third Eye open.”
Patrisa could see that the Pink Dragon also had a rune etched on her forehead.
“I am the Tickle Scourge,” Patrisa said loudly and with great confidence.
“I've never heard of you,” the Dragon said sneering. “Cecil of the Cold Hand is well known. There are bounties on his head too numerous to count. But you, I do not know.”
“You will remember the name,” Patrisa promised as she attacked the Dragon with her sticks.
The Pink Dragon frowned at the insistent attack and with the back of her hand she struck Patrisa hard sending her flying across the deck and crashing against the rail. The heavy wood cracked and Patrisa groaned with pain, but she ignored it and stood up once more to face her adversary.
The Pink Dragon had forgotten her and was reaching her long pink arm into the hold to pull free hundreds of magical gems which represented the treasure of the Last Laugh.
Patrisa attacked with even more fury hitting the Dragon again with countless blows.
The Dragon was now more than irritated.
“You again?” the Dragon asked.
“Yes. And again and again and again,” Patrisa replied gritting her teeth and hitting the Dragon harder yet.
The Pink Dragon was not even fazed by the blows, but somehow the Tenderfoot had loosened one of her scales and that had no precedence. The mental battle with Cecil had left her too weak to attack with breath or with mind attack.
“I think your voice tires me more than your futile attacks,” the Pink Dragon said. “You should have joined your mates and slept the final sleep. You have officially become more than a mere nuisance. Congratulations. Now I must find a more fitting end for you.”
Patrisa hit the Dragon anywhere her sticks could reach and she did not tire. The Dragon would throw her over the side or crush her with a fist or tear her to bits with her teeth. But she would not go down without a fight.
“So much energy,” the Pink Dragon said wearily. “You seem tired, Tenderfoot. Have some sleep mist.”
She spoke words of magic and a green cloud of gas burst from the tip of her fingers and engulfed Patrisa.
When the the cloud cleared, Patrisa was motionless on the deck asleep. Her fighting sticks lay at her sides.
The Dragon lifted Patrisa by her arm and studied the limp form of the Manling.
“I could toss you over the side or crush you with my talons, Tickle Scourge,” the Pink Dragon pondered the choices and was tempted by both. “But that would be merciful. I have only two hands and I cannot take you and the treasure with me. The Last Laugh will have to wait, but dream while you can, Tickle Scourge, for when you wake, I promise you that your end will be a living nightmare!”
To be concluded....
Next: Fall of the Free Spirits!
