Verneresse 4

Here's the rest--all I've got so far. Hope you like it. Thanks, by the way, to the greatest tickle fiction authors I've yet read--ShemthePenman, Capt. Spalding, Christopher Shea, and Sam Shpade. These may be pseudonyms for some of the same people, but who cares? Their work inspired me.

MEANWHILE, ABOARD THE OTHER SHIP...

Kiana and Illiana awoke to find themselves hogtied,
their wrists and ankles shackled together, on the deck of the boat from Caerdyl. The sun had come up since Drumpf and Khan had knocked them unconscious, and they awakened to a bright, beautiful, misty morning. Their captors had been kind enough to place them on a pile of soft rolled rugs, so their discomfort was mental rather than physical. How had their mission gone sour so quickly? Where had these wizards come from? Why hadn=t their contact told them that the ship was loaded with such potentates?
Kiana peered at the characters arrayed in front of her from beneath heavy, long-lashed lids. Closest were the pair that they had hit first: the old man (Ezra), now fully clad in his dark, puritanical clothing, glared at them with smoldering humiliation and rage simmering barely beneath the surface. Beside him was the voluptuous blonde (Leah), clad now in a simple black skirt and white blouse, though still barefoot, who smirked a bit at her attackers= predicament. Kiana felt uneasy that she now lay in their power. Next were the two wizards who had dispatched them so easily without even resorting to magicks: the weatherbeaten dwarf (Drumpf) and the martial artist who could have been her elder kinsman (Khan.) The two of them seemed detched, somehow, as if subduing two ninja thieves were simply a matter of course for men of their experience. Given the ease with which they had captured Kiana and Illiana, it may well have been a matter of course. That realization did little for Kiana=s ego.
Beside the dwarf stood a pretty young brunette (Amethyst) whose spectacles enhanced rather than hid her natural beauty. She wore a simple but pretty blue dress and a pair of rope-soled flip-flops, and looked simultaneously excited and sleepy. Kiana had heard her utter the words Aninja pirates@ to Drumpf a few times with the inflection of a scandalized ingenue trying desperately to be nonchalant. Behind her stood two half-elven valkyries, one with silver hair (Beryl) and one with auburn (Jessa) clad in their breezy, light but strong elven chain mail, who regarded the two ninjas with cautious distaste.
It had taken Kiana several moments to take in the entirety of her surroundings because of the irritating and overwhelming presence of the captain, who promenaded back and forth in front of them and held forth imperiously.
Captain Philpott was a small, round, comical looking man who wore a god-trimmed red coat with large epaulettes, an old-fashioned seacaptain=s cap, a bushy white handlebar moustache, and shiny black boots, and he was relishing his role as law-enforcer and disciplinarian aboard ship. His speech blathered on and on, and even the other passengers seemed to grow visibly tired of his pontifications.
A...And further, young ladies, the two of you should be ashamed of yourselves for turning to a life of crime and piracy on the high seas. Though I confess I cannot fathom what you may have sought by manhandling--or, rather, womanhandling, I suppose--these fine and esteemed passengers in the way you did, you were nevertheless transgressing bounds that any civilized society, whether on land or at sea, must hold sacrosanct in order to progress and to thrive as such....@
Illiana stirred next to her and muttered, quietly enough that only the two of them could hear, AAre you in one piece?@
Kiana grunted. AThe old bastards went easy on us. Left us with nary a scratch.@
AHow long is this old idiot going to spout off?@
Kiana allowed herself a chuckle. AI don=t know. At least they aren=t hanging us, or sending us over the side.@
Illiana moaned softly. AI might welcome a swim in place of this torment.@
At last, as Captain Philpott paused to catch his breath and collect his thoughts, Drumpf managed to break in. AThank you, captain. They=ve done no permanent harm, and the ship is no doubt in need of your expert guidance to keep us all out of harm=s way. We shall continue to question the prisoners, if you don=t mind.@
Philpott stood bolt upright and saluted Drumpf. ARight you are, sir. I shall return to duties more worthy of my abilities. I leave dealing with these prisoners to my wise passengers.@ He spun on his heel and marched belowdecks.
Drumpf turned to Khan, looking for tacit agreement, then spoke to the two bound women. AWell, ladies, let me explain the situation to you. Khan and I subdued you as gently as possible because you did no true violence to your victims.@ He raised a hand to acknowledge and silence the protests of Ezra and Leah. ANevertheless, you did treat them in quite an ignominious fashion, let alone frightening them almost to death. So, some redress seems necessary.@
The two ninja women stirred uncomfortably in their bonds. Khan glanced knowingly at Illyana=s fingers, which were moving subtly to draw a metal sliver from the top of her boot. AIt is as I thought, Drumpf. These ninjas will not be held long by such ineffectual bonds. We will need answers from them before they escape.@
AYou=re right. We shall have to rearrange their positioning. Amethyst, cast a Stockstill spell upon our guests, if you please.@
Amethyst nodded. Her brow furrowed attractively for a moment as she recalled the spell, then she spoke a few words and held both forearms pressed together in front of her. Immediately, Kiana and Illiana felt their muscles go rigid: they were paralyzed. It was an awful feeling; only experience with such fleeting magicks kept the ninjas from panic. At a sign from Khan, the two valkyries unlocked the womens= shackles, straightened their limbs, and, ignominiously but effectively, rolled them in the carpets on which they lay so that they were swathed from shoulders to shins, then wrapped chains around the outside two or three times to ensure that escape would be virtually impossible. Illiana cursed under her breath--they were now well and truly helpless.
ANow,@ Drumpf said. A I would be inclined to send you off in a rowboat with no further consequence except that your aims and mode of operation seem uncomfortably close to some that I have encountered all too recently. So why don=t the two of you tell me about what you were doing to Ezra and Leah, here, and about these peculiar amulets you were carrying?@
Kiana=s dark eyes flashed; her delicate jaw-muscles set firmly. AI will tell nothing, and neither will Illiana. You have tipped your hand; you are not cruel people.@
Illiana chuckled and tossed her auburn hair, which had fallen free of her ponytail. AWould that all of our victims were as forgiving. Our job would be much more peaceful.@
AI will view no more of this!@ Ezra grumbled, and stormed off belowdecks. The passengers regarded the smug ninjas in a curious stalemate. At last, Leah spoke. AWe have to do something to them, Drumpf. They tickled the two of us almost to death.@
Drumpf smiled broadly. AOh, do not imagine that they will escape us unscathed. In fact, Leah, I will ask you to do me the honor of assisting me in my fact-finding.@
ACertainly I will, but what shall I do?@
Drumpf winked at Leah. AWell, if they won=t tell us what they were doing to you with these amulets, the only way it appears we=ll learn is through trial and error!@
A smile spread over Leah=s naturally mischievous face. AOf course. Let=s see if these ladies will be more helpful under different circumstances.@
Kiana and Illiana started in alarm as the agonizing simplicity of Drumpf=s plan became instantly clear. AY-you can=t. They won=t work like that. Y-you=ll make them explode!@ Kiana shouted, even as Illiana exclaimed that they would vanish entirely. Kiana glared at her, enraged that she had spoiled her bluff, but Illiana was too panicked to notice as Leah yanked off her tabi boots one by one to reveal a pair of solid but graceful bare feet. In turn, Leah exposed Kiana=s long-toed, delicate bare feet.
Once both the ninja women were barefoot, the two valkyries, grinning at the ninjas= predicament, brought two large steamer chests in front of the seated women and rested their legs on top of them, still wrapped in the rugs. Their bare soles were now helplessly presented for Leah=s amusement.
Unable to wait, Leah gave Illiana=s bare feet an exploratory tickle, scrabbling her fingers over the soles. Illiana jolted and let out a shriek, her toes curling and wrinkling the formerly smooth arches. Leah beamed in satisfaction, then stroked her fingernails up the bare soles of the seething Kiana. Kiana tried to hide her susceptibility, but after two or three strokes she let out a yip and wiggled her bare toes desperately as giggles bubbled out of her breast. Leah grinned broadly at the two nervous ninjas, whose bare feet wrinkled and fairly shrunk into themselves in a fruitless effort to escape her. AIt appears these two are quite ticklesome, themselves,@ Leah gloated. AAre you ready, Mr. Drumpf?@
"Quite so, my dear," Drumpf said, gazing studiously at the mirth crystals in his hands.
"P-please..." Illiana squeaked, as Kiana gritted her teeth and squeezed her eyes shut.
Leah started in with gusto, attacking the very centers of the ninja women's foot-bottoms with her scrabbling fingernails. Their broken, squealing wails of laughter filled the air and drifted out over the open sea as Leah tickled their feet with a vengeance. The crystals in Drumpf's grasp flared to life, glowing and humming softly but intensely, growing ever brighter as the two tormentresses turned tormented fed them with their desperate, ticklish laughter.
Amethyst found her attention divided between the fascinating spectacle of the glowing, flashing crystals and the more amusing spectacle of the barefoot ninja women getting a richly-deserved, exhaustive sole-tickling. Illiana was wide-eyed, looking shocked and alarmed at the powerful, shuddering laughter the tickling drew out of her. Her chortles were still strong, but punctuated by great heaves and gasps for breath. Kiana, who from the start had seemed the tougher of the two, had completely cracked. Her eyes were shut tight, her lips drawn back in a broad grin of helpless hilarity. Tears trickled down her reddened cheeks, and her every lithe muscle stretched taut in a relentless, if fruitless, battle against her bonds. Her golden bare feet were incredible to watch, as her long, acrobatic toes wiggled and spread in a wild and ineffective dance to protect her bare soles from Leah's relentlessly tickling fingernails. The mirth gems hummed happily and glowed like Christmas trees before Drumpf's studious gaze.
When Leah started to worry about the health of her two heaving, begging victims, she stepped back and allowed them to breathe. Drumpf called Amethyst over to him. "These crystals store staggering amounts of power," he murmured. "But they are only imperfect shards. Somewhere, there are larger, more perfect crystals, whose power I can only begin to imagine. Still, there is hope. Lorelei came after us because some essential detail of the crystals' function must elude them still. If we can discover it, and find the mad jester's journals before they do, we may yet prevent them from using this power for ill."
There was a chorus of shrieks and giggles behind them. They turned to see Ezra viciously tickling the captives' bare feet as he growled rebukes and imprecations. "Touch a man of the cloth, will you? Assault on my dignity...Won't tolerate...." Illiana's face was crimson, now, streaming with tears as her solid, slightly plump feet wiggled and squirmed. Kiana's laughter had begun to break, becoming a silent hiss punctuated by the occasional gasping giggle.
At that moment, the ship gave a great heave, knocking the passengers off their feet and casting the ship into general disarray. The passengers rushed to the front of the boat to find Captain Philpott hurling a harpoon into the water after a great, swiftly moving mass of shadow.
"Apologies, comrades," Philpott announced. "Hull-bumper. Not particularly dangerous to such a fine ship as this, but they will give you a bit of a jolt. I've chased him off."
But when the companions returned to the rear deck, their captive ninjas were gone. Only their forlorn and forgotten boots remained.

Interlude: Amethyst's Research-A Madman's Journal, Part One
After the strange events of the day, Amethyst relaxed in her cabin and mused on Drumpf's briefing. The scenario seemed to get more bizarre and unbelievable with every development, and their journey had scarcely begun. She felt a bit guilty that their troubles had spilled over into others' lives-the old parson still didn't seem completely recovered from his foot-tickling, and looked disheveled and jumpy long after his female companion had taken her revenge on the two spies. She was also less than comfortable with the fact that the spies had made their escape only moments after being tickled into near-unconsciousness, cutting through their bonds and seemingly vanishing into thin air while their captors' attention was diverted. Drumpf and the Asian warrior monk had downplayed their concern, but Amethyst could tell that neither was pleased with the turn of events. Drumpf had seemed more urgent after their departure, and probably would have left the ship for alternate transportation had they not been so near to the Isle of Two Moons.
In the few hours since the spies' escape, Drumpf had laid out their plans, as nearly as he knew them. On the Isle of Two Moons, they would seek out two of Drumpf's old travelling companions-the warrior Broygerd and the beautiful thief-acrobat Cerise-and then plan their quests for the keys to Verneresse. There were three keys, each of which was in the possession of a powerful force. One was among the isles of the middle sea, in the possession of the Amazon queen Astaria. Another belonged to Skoreas, king of the giants, whose palace lay in the hills of the Northern continent. The fair ones had the third, on an island whose location even Drumpf didn't know-it was rumored that only the boldest and most far-ranging pirates knew how to reach the island. They had their work cut out for them, Drumpf had told her with a rueful smile. Still, they had already found allies-the monk and his attendant Valkyries had agreed to accompany them for a time, and Drumpf seemed to consider them trustworthy enough.
Amethyst sighed. The whole prospect of the journey, and of the reason for the journey, seemed so unreal. She shook out of her sandals, crossed one ankle over her knee, and lightly strummed her fingers over the sole of her bare foot. Her toes curled inward, wrinkling her sole, and she felt a little giggly shiver course through her, but the sensation was nothing like the torment the dark elf had visited upon her helpless foot-bottoms a few days ago. The idea that such a silly thing could lead to such power was absurd to her-but, she reminded herself, just the thing one could expect from a mad jester.
Remembering the Mad Jester, Amethyst went to her pack and took out the bound volume of mystic apocrypha that Drumpf had given her to study. It contained a variety of stories about magicks that no-one could quite believe or discount, and within its weathered leather covers were the only purported excerpts from the mad jester's journals that had ever travelled beyond Verneresse. Most in the know had long dismissed the tales as absurd jokes, but in light of recent developments Drumpf considered them worth revisiting. Amethyst brightened her bedside lamp, closed the curtains, and opened the tome to the first fragment from Hieronymo's lost texts.

Early Observations in Mirth Energy
Being the journals of Hieronymo the great (some say mad, but some will say anything)

The Wrestling Champion

One of my first experiments with the power that could be generated by and usurped from laughter came when the court of King Colkis played host to a travelling champion, a female wrestler of great strength and beauty, who had won a number of matches against men in the kingdom and thus warranted an appearance before the lustful old King. Her name was Andromeda, and I found myself smitten at first sight by her marriage of femininity and power. She stood over six feet tall, and was well-muscled, but in a smoother and much more feminine way than the male athletes were. She had also maintained sizeable breasts, something that many Amazonian women seem to lose in their quest for what is essentially a man's body. For all the obvious strength in her face, her bone structure was delicate, her large brown eyes rimmed with long, full lashes, her lips lush and well-formed. A mane of dark auburn hair framed her stunning face and fell almost to her waist-she would have to bind it up when fighting, I thought.
For several months she entertained the king and court, wrestling some of the best men in the surrounding environs and defeating them. The king was delighted with her performance-less so the queen, who was none too fond of his notorious lecherous streak. Coins and flowers rained into the ring with each victory, and Andromeda stayed in the palace in quarters fit for a visiting dignitary. King Colkas had welcomed her into his court as his champion.
One night, however, a young swineherd with biceps the size of my head stepped into the ring and defeated Andromeda decisively. It was an epic match, but at the close she was forced to yield to the mighty young man's hold. Ashamed and angry, she stomped out of the ring without a word.
Andromeda still had the love of the court-the men didn't come to see her only because she was a good wrestler, after all, and she still won match after match. It was about a month after her only defeat that I made the mistake that led to the idea. Performing for the court one evening before a state dinner, I made a jest about Andromeda being unstoppable, so long as we keep the swineherds away. I had already been experimenting with the mirth energy, and I felt a surge of power in my amulet as the court roared (it's all in the delivery, trust me) but Andromeda, dressed in court finery, her eyes flashing, leapt to her feet and pointed at me. "You, Hieronymo! You have insulted my honor in what amounts in my culture to a challenge. You will face me one week hence in the ring to atone for this insult!" And, as she was wont to do, she stormed out. A fine stormer, she was.
At this point, I was shaking in my silly tasseled boots. I have always been more lover than fighter, and, if you speak to some of the women I've loved, they'll tell you what dire news that is. I could only hope that I could turn the entire thing into a joke, and save myself a beating.
I went to see her in her chambers after a couple of days of cool-down time. She lounged on the divan, all lithe, muscular, dark, sultry beauty, barefoot in a black silken robe. She drank from a goblet of wine as we spoke.
"Andromeda, I want to apologize. My job in this court is to make people laugh, and I suppose I occasionally go too far in the service of that end." I was babbling.
"Understood. But you must realize something, Hieronymo." She was much more civil than I had expected, her voice husky but feminine, her features almost smiling as she stretched like a cat and wiggled her toes. "My job is to maintain a certain image. As a woman, I have to do considerably more than a man might to seem tough and frightening, regardless of my record in the ring. I'm not the greatest or strongest wrestler in the world. Many of the men who could defeat me won't even fight a female. Therefore, I have to make the most of the opportunities I have to expand my reputation as someone not to be trifled with. Destroying you in the ring for an insult is an unfortunate, but necessary, act of image-enhancement."
In spite of all my pleas, to which she responded with an attitude of sympathetic helplessness without budging an inch from her plans, Andromeda sent me back to my chambers with the firm conviction that I had only four days to live as a whole man.
By the time the night of the bout arrived, I had gone before the king, the queen, and the high priest in search of an escape, but all had flatly denied me. The general sentiment was that this would be a magnificent comic spectacle, and even the holy man was looking forward to it with no regard for its effects on my dispensable body. At last, as the hour approached, I could only think of a single, desperate shred of hope. I clutched my amulet and prayed to whatever capricious deity governed my world.
I stepped into the ring that night in full motley, with the cap and bells, brightly colored tunic, and silly shoes that everyone expected. She wore my favorite of her wrestling costumes, and the one which would prove, I hoped, best suited to my idiot's plan. Andromeda wore a tight black halter and very brief loincloth, an ensemble that underscored the chiseled muscles of her stomach and thighs. Her dark, beautiful hair was bound up in a single ponytail. With a bow to the king, she stepped out of her slippers and climbed barefoot into the ring. She gave me an utterly emotionless look as she stretched and flexed to the court's delight.
The match was, quite simply, not one. Andromeda had told me that she was not the strongest or best wrestler in the world, but or all the resistance I was able to mount, she may as well have been Atlas the titan. I found myself airborne time after time, crashing ignominiously into the ropes, sinking to the mat only to be trapped again in her muscular grasp. The only positive was that even in my dazed state I had the presence of mind to cop a feel or two.
I could sense that the early acrobatics were only a warm-up for her; I knew that, once she settled down, I could well be seriously hurt. The crowd cheered her on and laughed at my plight, which, I suppose, was appropriate if not enjoyable. At last, she grabbed my legs out from under me and we crashed to the canvas. Before I knew it, I was lying face down on top of her, my head locked between her ankles, flopping about like a fish as she casually examined her fingernails to show the audience how little she needed her hands. This is my moment if ever there will be one, I thought, glancing at the vast, golden, wrinkling soles of the bare feet that held me trapped.
I took a deep breath and wrapped both arms around her ankles. She snorted and did some casual leg-lifts, demonstrating that even if I did have hold of her ankles she could still sling me around at will. Then, I gritted my teeth and began tickling the bottoms of her trapped bare feet with my fingernails.
I had noticed in her chambers how soft and well cared for those big bare feet looked, and that had gotten me thinking about the possibilities of mirth energy in a situation like this. My great gamble, of course, was that she was in fact ticklish-a definite odds-on bet for anyone, but by no means a certainty. The half-second between my first scratchings on her arches and her first toe-wiggling paroxysms of manic, husky laughter lasted an eternity, but soon I realized that she was not just ticklish, but extraordinarily ticklish, and the soles of her feet seemed as vulnerable a spot as I could hope to find on a body so toned and muscled.
The crowd was laughing again, but this time at Andromeda as her daunting toughness dissolved into bellowing laughter. I couldn't see her face from my vantage point, but I could hear her desperate giggles pouring out like water through a broken dam and see those big bare feet (at least as large as my own) flexing and wiggling in helpless response to my tickling fingers. I have always been something of an expert at this sort of thing-at the beginning of my jesting career I was able to render a sour-faced middle aged woman who claimed never to have been ticklish in her life hysterical with the touch of a plume to the bottom of her foot-and Andromeda's ticklish soles stood no chance against my ministrations.
During all this, a peculiar phenomenon was occurring. Ordinarily, she would have ben strong enough even in while having her feet tickled to buck me off of her and reduce me to a stain on the mat. However, as she laughed, my amulet glowed like a cinder and fed her mirth energy directly into my muscles. I had been powered up by the ambient laughter enough to hold on at the beginning, and that level of powerful laughter from such a strong woman at such close range was enough to make my strength nearly the equal of her own. Had I perfected the amplification charms at that point, I'm quite sure I could have lifted a draft horse with one hand.
As it was, though, I was kind of trapped. I danced my agile fingers over her long, smooth, broad soles with abandon, and savored the hysterical laughter evoked as I teased her bare ticklish toes. But I had not yet determined how to store the energy I had harnessed, and she was a very strong woman. If I let up before she was utterly exhausted, my strength would be gone, and I knew she would take a decidedly unpleasant revenge. Meanwhile, she was bucking like a wild horse, a combination of spastic reactions to the foot tickling and concerted efforts to knock me off. Her laughter was still strong, somehow, though edged with hysteria and desperation. In the midst of this, I--big mistake-concentrated both hands on a particularly ticklish spot at the highest point of the arch of her right foot.
The shriek she let out indicated that the spot was effective, but the resulting spasm allowed her to pull her left foot free. I was distracted from my tickling for a moment as I reached out, trying to recapture it, and that was all the time Andromeda needed. I felt her strong hands seize both of my legs and yank them apart a second before she smashed her bare heel into the tender package laid vulnerable by my straddled position.
Instantly, I was in no mood to tickle her foot anymore. I let out a strangled gurgle and rolled off of her. I've heard that some strong warriors can take a blow to that area in stride, and had seen some of her opponents shake them off with little more than an angry shudder. But I'm a jester, and I curled up like a dead bug.
So there we were, as the laughter of the court (not enough to make me feel any better) washed over us. Andromeda, chest heaving, tears in her eyes from her ordeal, making a half-hearted victory sign to the audience, and me, clutching my stones, a few tears in my eyes as well, writhing in defeat, a perfect clown once again.
Over the next few days, I avoided Andromeda at all costs while experimenting further with mirth energies. Despite its agonizing conclusion, the bout had been an enormous success in terms of opening up practical applications for the new form of magick. The king and queen, fairly kind for all their faults, allowed me a few days of seclusion-I overstated the debilitating effects of the blow she had given me, and they gave general instructions that I should be left alone. I had little doubt, though, that Andromeda would seek some form of vengeance for her humiliation. With some satisfaction, I heard the court cobbler telling someone that she had ordered a pair of boots suitable for combat from him-apparently she had decided not to fight barefoot anymore.
After a couple of sleepless nights in the secret laboratory I accessed through the mirror in my chamber, I developed the means of storing the mirth energy that I siphoned for a fair length of time. I learned to enchant two auxiliary chips of the Great Mirth Gem; I added them to my pendant; these would serve as reservoirs, and would hold the energy until it was expended or the enchantment wore off. I also tinkered a bit with the amplification charms, augmenting the amount of power that the mirth energy would provide.
As it turned out, it was a damned good thing that I did so.
I returned to the court to entertain after five days of seclusion, and received a fine reception. Andromeda regarded me with barely concealed disdain as she sat in her accustomed place in her courtier's finery. At my appearance, there were a few whispers and glances her way, but none would meet her steely eyes, and the comments quickly subsided. My performance was a success, and the king and queen expressed their happiness over dinner at my restored health and return. I did notice, however, that Andromeda drank considerably more than usual, and as she drank, she took to staring at me more and more coldly. I threw her a wink and poured myself some more wine.
She waylaid me as I stepped into my room groggily and closed the door. I never stood a chance-one blow to the head put me under immediately in my inebriated state.
When I awoke, she had barred my door and stuffed some blankets under it-apparently to muffle my screams as she dismembered me. She needn't have bothered-in my rehearsals, I had made din enough that everyone ignored the bizarre sounds emanating from my chambers. She had trussed me up pretty well, too. My back rested on the rug, but my legs were suspended straight up in the air, ankles bound together by a rope that she had fastened to a rafter. She had tied my wrists, as well. I glanced around as best I could from side to side until I saw her reclined on my bed, drinking my best trochee. She smiled coldly.
"A fine vintage, Hieronymo. The oldest wines are truly the best. A pity I couldn't wait for my vengeance to mellow, but I'm quite sure it will be satisfying."
She wore Her thick, dark hair in the same formal style that she had displayed at dinner, and still wore the elegant silver gown and jewelry, but she had taken off her shoes and stockings, the better