Clash in the Darque
Micaela, the angelic warrior and spiritual leader of the Covenant Sisterhood, held dire council with her inner circle of Covenant members in the King of Summercastle's war room.
The war room was filled with maps, the vast tables covered with markers of the Summerland and its surrounding.
The room had never seen so many women at once. Certainly, none had ever been invited to the king's war meetings, but this time there would be no men to sit and listen to the ominous discourse on the plans for war. The king, whose name the Angels had forgotten as easily as the aged king forgot them once out of their presence, was easily persuaded to tend to his subjects and leave the Angels to their own affairs. The king would prepare their subjects for war, but the order of battle would be decided by Micaela.
As the king, a pawn on the board laid out by the Covenant, cared for his subjects, the Angels planned the next step in the war.
"What are our losses?" the angelic general's voice was tense yet certain as she asked Areli, the youngest of her angelic host, yet the most capable in affairs of tallies and numbers.
The younger angel looked at a parchment marked with her calculations and scribbled her last results before answering in a crisp unbreaking voice.
"Of 250 angels who joined the battle yesterday, we have 127 accounted for and battle-ready, 61 wounded but able to fight, 53 confirmed dead, 9 missing and presumed dead."
Michaela's face betrayed no emotion as she absorbed the numbers and calculated her odds. She was stone, impenetrable, undaunted, and unfazed.
"Damaris?" the general asked curtly, trying not to betray her feelings that her odds improved greatly with the prodigal daughter alive rather than dead.
"Missing," Areli answered, her voice breaking ever so slightly as she delivered the news. "Missing, but presumed dead."
Damaris was Micaela's finest angel, the best of all, perhaps even her equal if there ever was an angel to match her in battle prowess, stamina, and mental endurance. She was a warrior without equal among her sisters, but damaged, in love with a mortal, flawed in the eyes of the Covenant, and a threat to the very existence of the Sisterhood.
She'd have had to be sacrificed sooner rather than later should she have survived.
"We have killed their general and their forces are sprawling ahead of us," Micaela stated the present situation. "We must press the advantage. Attack while we still have numbers. Destroy the Darque at its source."
A loud clang rang on the central table as a bloody and heavy crown was tossed upon its surface staining maps and casting markers in all directions. The crown rang hollow on the table.
It was the crown of a demon prince.
"That is the crown of the demon prince Dagoos. I slew him myself. He and his reign of terror are undone," a clear voice declared as a battle-weary angel entered the room, her face defiant, her red hair feral, her steel-blue eyes on Micaela.
"Damaris!" Areli exclaimed as she flew to her friend's side and embraced her. "We thought you lost."
"I am still here among you," Damaris said, scanning the room and her sisters seeing ever so subtle hints of approval.
"I am glad," Micaela said stiffly but genuinely. "This is a clear sign from Heaven that we must continue to push our offensive forward."
"No," Damaris replied in defiance against Micaela who was never defied, never challenged, never resisted. Many an angel held her breath. "It is a trap. They will retreat at their center and then they will outflank us and destroy us. We must pick our battles. To rush forward is to burn out on the battlefield."
"Trap or no trap, we fight as the Covenant has fought for millennia," Micaela declared, scanning the room, checking her power, holding her Sisterhood under her sway and her will. "We fight uncompromisingly toward victory or onto death. We will launch our attack as the sun rises.
"And you will join us," the general added the statement, her voice ringing clearly in the room, her eyes staring at Damaris and daring the defiant sister to resist, to oppose, to rebel.
Damaris' eyes narrowed and her lips pursed ever so slightly and the Sisters braced themselves as one braces for the thunder after the peel of lightning.
And then it stopped. The thunder never came, the duel was ended as Damaris broke off her gaze, not in submission, but rather out of necessity as something, somehow, someway more urgent and pressing than the war against the Darque.
Damaris swallowed as a difficult but simple decision was made and she slipped away as smoothly as she had entered leaving all puzzled.
"Shall I follow her?" Areli asked Micaela who stood pondering what had just transpired.
"Nay," the leader of the Covenant replied, having decided beyond any doubt that the prodigal daughter would return. "She will join us. I am certain of it. The doubts that cloud her mind will dissipate."
She cast her gaze around the room infusing her sisters with confidence and hope. There was no room for doubt, no room for hesitation. They returned her steel-like gaze and she too felt her confidence and her resolve grow.
"Prepare for battle, sisters. We attack at sunrise."
* * * * *
Phillip felt the cold, wet flagstone of the Summercastle inner courtyard beneath the bare soles of his feet as he breathed in the familiar scents of home. X'mena stood beside him trembling as she felt the cold stone on her feet and drew breathes of unfamiliar scents and listened to unfamiliar sounds and voices.
"Sorcery!" was the first word shouted as the word was cast with a fearful but ferocious bark. It was followed by many more shouts and similar accusations. "Wytches!" "Evil ones!"
The inner courtyard of Summercastle was only open as a refuge for the common folk during the war. And now it was crowded with hundreds of people who Philip knew by name and whom he considered family, friends, and countrymen.
"It is I. Phillip of Summerland, I return after many months lost at war with the Darque," he insisted, standing boldly but with his hands open and his arms spread to his sides to show he was unarmed and not a threat. They looked at X'mena, alien, dark-skinned and they paid no heed to his words. He stood in front of X'mena to protect her as best he could.
"Lies!" the people shouted as they surrounded them and pelted them with stones and garbage. "Philip is dead. You are an apparition, bearing a friend's face but sent to destroy us."
Garvis shoved his way through the crowd. He knew his son. They were not of blood but they were father and son.
"Stop you fools!" Garvis shouted glaring at his countrymen. "I know my son from a Wytch. It is him."
Garvis hugged his son and pulled the stranger close in his embrace. It was not a time of questions but a time of faith.
"Get them clean clothes. Get them fed," Garvis ordered. "We have much to talk about."
* * * * *
Orphea watched the reunion from the shadows of a parapet, her hate seething. She would wait for her moment. Revenge would be hers.
A chill went up and down her spine as she contemplated her revenge.
A snake hissed in her left ear. "Yooou failed."
The other ear had another serpent whispering dark words laced with malice. "The Master issss disappointed."
"I couldn't kill them in Joy," Orphea stammered. "I can kill them here," she pleaded.
"Tooo late..." the snakes hissed in unison.
"No, don't do this. I can do it. I am here," Orphea insisted, knowing full well the intentions of the snakes.
"Your body will do it, but the Massster Darque Lord wants usss to do it."
"No!" She protested. One snake turned to look at her and the gaze was hypnotic. Her resistance melted away. The other snake bit her on her neck. Intense pleasure flooded her body. Her body was excited. Her senses magnified.
The other snake continued to stare at her. The gaze was mesmerizing. Unblinking. She could not shout. She could not struggle.
The snakes tightened around her.
The Darque had corrupted her. Dominated her. She was infected by their corruption for many years now.
But now they went further. The Darque was strangling her existence. This time they were snuffing her spirit out of her body. They were taking her, body and soul.
Orphea knew the Darque. They preferred to corrupt. To take over a body and soul requires resources and attention. The bodies and souls are burnt out quickly and they are never natural and their pure demonic evil erodes the body.
Now they were worried about something and they were acting brashly.
Her consciousness faded and a new consciousness entered her body.
Was this the end for her? Had the Darque finished with her? Consciousness slipped away and a new evil awareness surged from within her body.
* * * * *
Phillip and X'mena bathed were given clothes and fed. Garvis listened to their story intently as they ate a hearty dinner of hot stew and bread.
"Have you seen Damaris, Father?" Philip asked. X'mena flinched at the name but said nothing.
"I saw her go after you," Garvis said. "I wanted to stop her but she left with such determination I could not stop her. Since that, I have not heard from her. My head tells me she must be dead, but my heart tells me she is still alive."
"The war with the Darque has claimed too many lives," X'mena said.
Garvis looked at them both and he could see his son and the gaze he used when he looked at Damaris. X'mena loved him and Philip was being torn between Damaris and the Southlander princess.
"Rest," Garvis commanded. "Gather your strength. It will be a terrible battle tomorrow. The battle of our lives."
* * * * *
Fed and dressed, Phillip went to the armory and picked weapons and armor.
He missed his bow and many weapons had already been distributed to the militia. He would make do with what remained.
X'mena found him in the armory. She was dressed in the clothes of a Summerland maiden. She had been strapped into a girdle. She looked very uncomfortable.
"I refuse to wear this," she said.
"What happened to your ladies in waiting who were assigned to aid you?" Philip asked.
"I drugged their tea with some sleep juice I found in your apothecary. They dream pleasant dreams and snore blissfully in the room your king assigned me."
"You should have taken the tea yourself. Battle will come tomorrow. You need to sleep."
"As do you."
He nodded.
She took a short sword and tested its weight.
"I will fight along your side tomorrow, " she stated. "I will not stay back here at the Castle."
Phillip nodded again.
"Take what you need. And get some sleep. We'll both need our energy. "
* * * * *
Phillip sent a servant out to accompany X'mena back to her quarters. He sent guards to her door as well.
He was half tempted to have her locked in her quarters to keep her safe. He even considered having her taken to the Needle to be safe.
He should have said something else to her. He could not remove her from his mind.
He tossed and turned as he tried his best to sleep. But he could not sleep. He got up and looked out the window.
The stars shone brightly. It would be a clear day tomorrow. He watched his door and heard quiet footsteps approach and a lamp draw near his door.
He drew a dagger and tread lightly to the door. He was a hunter. He stayed silent not even breathing to give himself away.
The doorknob turned and the door creaked open with a lamp leading the way.
He took the intruder by the wrist and pulled hard, taking the lamp away and holding the dagger aimed at the neck.
It was X'mena and she gasped in surprise.
"You are very quiet," she said.
"Even on bare feet I can hear your steps,'' he said.
"What are you doing here?" he asked. "What happened to the guards?"
"They are not as clever or perceptive as you. They guard pillows while I scaled the wall outside the room."
"That answers my second question. And my first question?"
"Tomorrow might be our last day. I want to spend my last night with you. If I lose you tomorrow to the Darque or to your Damaris, so be it. Tonight is ours if you will have it with me."
Phillip tried to resist. But she was there, she was real and all was coming to an end.
She drew near and allowed her fragrance to fill his nostrils.
It was intoxicating and he had to use all his will to not crush her to him.
She touched his breast with her small warm hand and she drew sashes forth from under her robe.
He could not resist. He could not act.
She deftly tied Phillip to the bedposts in moments.
He wanted to protest, he wanted to resist, but she was impossible to resist.
Damaris was gone. Maybe dead.
X'mena was here. On the eve of probable doom, he was with a woman who loved him.
Tied down, helpless he felt excitement.
X'mena said nothing.
She gagged him with a sash.
She stroked his rock-hard shaft expertly with her hand. When he felt a climax approaching she held his cock firmly and tickled his balls.
Screams were muffled in the gag. She slid over his body, her stiff nipples tracing lines of pleasure over his entire body.
She rotated over his body until she was facing his large left foot. He squirmed in anticipation awaiting the attack on his foot but her small feet struck first reaching for his vulnerable armpits.
Screams and muffled laughter flooded the room. Tears streamed down his eyes.
He grew even harder yet.
She was excited too and she could hold back no longer as she straddled him. He could feel her humid sex on his. Her wet lips tightly wrapped around his shaft and she pulled him deep inside her. He was not penetrating her. She was wrapping herself around him.
Deep inside Philip felt her nails on his ribs. Torn between pleasure and tickle torture, the tickling overwhelmed him. He screamed into his gag and squirmed in ways that made X'mena hum with pleasure.
She kept him expertly at the edge. She manipulated his pleasure expertly. Knowingly.
Then as she came she tightened and he felt the inevitable point of no return. He held back a couple of seconds lingering on the brink and then he released.
Spent, exhausted, she rested upon his broad chest.
Phillip was content.
"I love you," she murmured. "I know you are promised to another. But whatever happens I have you to myself tonight."
Phillip felt confused and guilty but at the same time all felt right. In her arms and in her power he felt comforted.
He enjoyed her breast rising and falling as she breathed gently.
A familiar sound made him alert.
It was a hissing cloud of green mist. It crept under the door and edged towards the bed.
Phillip shook and grunted trying to alert X'mena. She began to stir but the mist quickly drew close to her nostrils and as she inhaled the mist entered and X'mena was sent back into a deeper slumber, her jaw slack and totally oblivious to her peril.
Orphea materialized at the foot of the bed.
She was evil and malicious but there was an added level to her sinister demeanor.
"Hello, Phillip,' she hissed softly. "I see you and the Southlander princess have become quite friendly. It would be a shame for that to end abruptly." She drew a finger along X'mena's bare sole but there was no reaction.
"I could make this permanent. I could make you a king. She'd be your queen. You'd rule Summerland and the Southlands. You'd crush the Wyldelands under your iron heel and you'd bring these nations together under one rule."
She touched X'mena and she was pulled up and away from Phillip. She floated up in the air and was pinned to the wall.
"This is your last chance," Orphea said. "The last opportunity. Think not of yourself. Think of the lives you will save. Think of suffering you will prevent. The Darque is order. The Darque is generous."
She tickled his foot and he grunted, frustrated that he could not control his reactions.
You can have this one too. She opened a robe and her sensual body was displayed in all its terrible beauty. He felt himself becoming hard despite himself.
He felt ashamed. He felt helpless.
I'll make it easy for you. She said, straddling him.
"Surrender to the Darque or she dies."
She pointed to the princess and a long dark serpent extended from her hand.
Its venomous fangs threatened X'mena's neck. Venom dripped from those deadly, dark fangs.
"If you scream, she dies. If you do not welcome the Darque, she dies. This is your last chance." Her hot wet sex rubbed against him.
She removed the gag.
"Ask for me. Ask and I will make all your dreams come true."
Phillip felt shattered. Broken. Defeated.
At that moment, when all seemed lost, hope burst upon the room.
The door exploded and splinters were showered in the room.
Damaris stood there. Brilliant, bright white wings framed her as she bore sword, shield and armor.
"Doom has come upon you!" Damaris shouted. "The Darque shall hold no sway over Summerland or its subjects. I am his guardian. If you wish to harm him further you will have to deal with me."
A shadow snake shot from Orphea's hand. The dark shadowy serpent attacked Damaris. She dodged swiftly counter-attacking with her sword.
Orphea became a green mist.
Damaris saw the danger and her wings flapped viciously, casting the vapors back. The snake attacked again but she protected herself with her shield. The venom burned into the shield.
Orphea materialized and drew a wicked blade. She held it to Phillip's throat.
"Cease or I will cut his throat."
Phillip looked at Damaris and then at Orphea.
"Destroy her Damaris. Don't think of me," he said.
Orphea saw no hesitation in Damaris's eyes. The minion of the Darque drew the blade across Phillips's neck and as the blade drew blood, Damaris threw her sword with blinding speed and deadly accuracy.
Orphea's body was pinned to the wall with the sword neatly through the center of her heart.
Phillip was bleeding but he was alive. The shadowy serpent retreated at the demise of its host and slithered through the window and into the night.
"Damaris," Phillip called as she cut him free. "What are you? Who are you?"
"I'm still Damaris. I'm still the woman who loves you."
Phillip's eyes darted to X'mena. She lay motionless on the ground.
"Who is she?" Damaris asked.
"She is a southland - -"
"You love her," Damaris stated plainly, her eyes growing wide in amazement. "You love this woman. "
Phillip was contorted.
Damaris pointed to Orphea who remained impaled on the wall but quickly faded. "She manipulated you, used you, and tried her best to corrupt you. I can forgive that."
She pulled the sword free and the woman's body fell to the ground and continued to dissolve.
"But you love another. My Phillip loves another."
Damaris raised her sword and approached X'mena.
"I can kill her. I could leave and you would not remember it was me. Things could go back to how they were."
"Damaris," Phillip pleaded as he put himself between his two lovers. "Slay me if you must. It is my fault. She bears no fault. She bears no guilt."
"You really love her," Damaris repeated the words. The realization crushed her soul.
"I do. I love X'mena. I'm sorry. I loved you. The thought of you kept the Darque at bay. So much has happened."
"How do you feel now?" Damaris asked already knowing the answer deep down in her being.
"Confused," he admitted. "But I know I cannot ignore feelings for X'mena. Will I forget when you leave my sight? Is that what will happen? Is this the burden you have borne all this time? The wings of an angel. The burden of duty."
She nodded and remained silent as thoughts raced and destinies were decided.
It took a few seconds which felt like an eternity but it was decided in a moment.
"You will forget I was here," she said. "Damaris your wife and lover has been replaced by Damaris the Angel. You will feel that I have released you, but you will not know why. You will know peace. I promise you that."
"And you, Damaris?" he asked, taking her hand.
"I will know blood,” she said her jaw tightening with resolve. “I will know vengeance and I will bear upon my enemies a wrath like none they have ever known. I've eluded my destiny but I cannot escape. I will join my Sisters and we will end this once and for all."
Damaris released Phillip’s hand and plucked a long bright white feather from her wings and gave it to him.
"This will give you solace," she said, placing the feather in his hand and then stepping away."
"Will I ever see you again?" he asked.
"Not in this world," she said, sheathing her sword. Orphea had faded into dust and no trace was left.
Damaris left through the window and paused just a moment before flying into the night.
"Farewell, my Phillip. My lover, my partner, my friend," she whispered to Phillip and the night.
And with that, she was gone and her memory faded from Philip's consciousness.
He was left with a battle scene, with X'mena who stirred on the ground, and a single large white feather in his hand.
The feather brought him peace. He took X'mena to her feet and he kissed her.
Free of guilt, free of fear, he kissed her and embraced her.
* * * * *
Damaris returned to the war room to find Micaela alone.
"And?" the general asked looking up from her maps.
"I'll fight tomorrow," Damaris vowed. "Tomorrow we will end this. One way or another. The enemy is near. We will have our opportunity. "
"So be it," Micaela replied with a confident smile spreading across her hard features.
* * * * *
Damaris sat alone in the Sliver. She meditated in the center of the room at the very top of the tower. She did not need sleep. She needed to calm the turmoil in her mind.
A knock came at the door.
She had sent the mortals away and set them to keep her uninterrupted. Only someone who was not a mortal could be attempting to pass.
Areli stepped in.
"You've relinquished your charge. You were to protect him," Areli said. "The danger remains and he will be in danger tomorrow like none he has ever experienced before.”
"I protect him more if I destroy the Darque,” Damaris said coldly. “He does not need me anymore."
Areli listened quietly and did not say a word.
She then drew near and she embraced Damaris.
Damaris stiffened at first but then she loosened in her friend’s arms.
Areli did not ask questions, she did not say anything. She held her friend close and the barriers that protected Damaris began to fall.
Hardness gave way to softness and Damaris trembled and wept. Tears ran down her cheeks. Tears of despair. Tears of regret an Angel was not supposed to shed.
“Tomorrow we will deal out death as the world has never seen before,” Areli said feeling the wet tears on her shoulder as she stroked her red hair, “but tonight you are safe here with me. Weep, Damaris. Weep for love and loss and all the things that matter.
“Tonight for sorrow, tomorrow for fury. Rest, dear Damaris. Tomorrow we soar out to our deaths. Our lives matter not, let us make our deaths something this world will never forget."
To be concluded… (finally!)
Next: Final Chapter: “Mistress of Joy”
Micaela, the angelic warrior and spiritual leader of the Covenant Sisterhood, held dire council with her inner circle of Covenant members in the King of Summercastle's war room.
The war room was filled with maps, the vast tables covered with markers of the Summerland and its surrounding.
The room had never seen so many women at once. Certainly, none had ever been invited to the king's war meetings, but this time there would be no men to sit and listen to the ominous discourse on the plans for war. The king, whose name the Angels had forgotten as easily as the aged king forgot them once out of their presence, was easily persuaded to tend to his subjects and leave the Angels to their own affairs. The king would prepare their subjects for war, but the order of battle would be decided by Micaela.
As the king, a pawn on the board laid out by the Covenant, cared for his subjects, the Angels planned the next step in the war.
"What are our losses?" the angelic general's voice was tense yet certain as she asked Areli, the youngest of her angelic host, yet the most capable in affairs of tallies and numbers.
The younger angel looked at a parchment marked with her calculations and scribbled her last results before answering in a crisp unbreaking voice.
"Of 250 angels who joined the battle yesterday, we have 127 accounted for and battle-ready, 61 wounded but able to fight, 53 confirmed dead, 9 missing and presumed dead."
Michaela's face betrayed no emotion as she absorbed the numbers and calculated her odds. She was stone, impenetrable, undaunted, and unfazed.
"Damaris?" the general asked curtly, trying not to betray her feelings that her odds improved greatly with the prodigal daughter alive rather than dead.
"Missing," Areli answered, her voice breaking ever so slightly as she delivered the news. "Missing, but presumed dead."
Damaris was Micaela's finest angel, the best of all, perhaps even her equal if there ever was an angel to match her in battle prowess, stamina, and mental endurance. She was a warrior without equal among her sisters, but damaged, in love with a mortal, flawed in the eyes of the Covenant, and a threat to the very existence of the Sisterhood.
She'd have had to be sacrificed sooner rather than later should she have survived.
"We have killed their general and their forces are sprawling ahead of us," Micaela stated the present situation. "We must press the advantage. Attack while we still have numbers. Destroy the Darque at its source."
A loud clang rang on the central table as a bloody and heavy crown was tossed upon its surface staining maps and casting markers in all directions. The crown rang hollow on the table.
It was the crown of a demon prince.
"That is the crown of the demon prince Dagoos. I slew him myself. He and his reign of terror are undone," a clear voice declared as a battle-weary angel entered the room, her face defiant, her red hair feral, her steel-blue eyes on Micaela.
"Damaris!" Areli exclaimed as she flew to her friend's side and embraced her. "We thought you lost."
"I am still here among you," Damaris said, scanning the room and her sisters seeing ever so subtle hints of approval.
"I am glad," Micaela said stiffly but genuinely. "This is a clear sign from Heaven that we must continue to push our offensive forward."
"No," Damaris replied in defiance against Micaela who was never defied, never challenged, never resisted. Many an angel held her breath. "It is a trap. They will retreat at their center and then they will outflank us and destroy us. We must pick our battles. To rush forward is to burn out on the battlefield."
"Trap or no trap, we fight as the Covenant has fought for millennia," Micaela declared, scanning the room, checking her power, holding her Sisterhood under her sway and her will. "We fight uncompromisingly toward victory or onto death. We will launch our attack as the sun rises.
"And you will join us," the general added the statement, her voice ringing clearly in the room, her eyes staring at Damaris and daring the defiant sister to resist, to oppose, to rebel.
Damaris' eyes narrowed and her lips pursed ever so slightly and the Sisters braced themselves as one braces for the thunder after the peel of lightning.
And then it stopped. The thunder never came, the duel was ended as Damaris broke off her gaze, not in submission, but rather out of necessity as something, somehow, someway more urgent and pressing than the war against the Darque.
Damaris swallowed as a difficult but simple decision was made and she slipped away as smoothly as she had entered leaving all puzzled.
"Shall I follow her?" Areli asked Micaela who stood pondering what had just transpired.
"Nay," the leader of the Covenant replied, having decided beyond any doubt that the prodigal daughter would return. "She will join us. I am certain of it. The doubts that cloud her mind will dissipate."
She cast her gaze around the room infusing her sisters with confidence and hope. There was no room for doubt, no room for hesitation. They returned her steel-like gaze and she too felt her confidence and her resolve grow.
"Prepare for battle, sisters. We attack at sunrise."
* * * * *
Phillip felt the cold, wet flagstone of the Summercastle inner courtyard beneath the bare soles of his feet as he breathed in the familiar scents of home. X'mena stood beside him trembling as she felt the cold stone on her feet and drew breathes of unfamiliar scents and listened to unfamiliar sounds and voices.
"Sorcery!" was the first word shouted as the word was cast with a fearful but ferocious bark. It was followed by many more shouts and similar accusations. "Wytches!" "Evil ones!"
The inner courtyard of Summercastle was only open as a refuge for the common folk during the war. And now it was crowded with hundreds of people who Philip knew by name and whom he considered family, friends, and countrymen.
"It is I. Phillip of Summerland, I return after many months lost at war with the Darque," he insisted, standing boldly but with his hands open and his arms spread to his sides to show he was unarmed and not a threat. They looked at X'mena, alien, dark-skinned and they paid no heed to his words. He stood in front of X'mena to protect her as best he could.
"Lies!" the people shouted as they surrounded them and pelted them with stones and garbage. "Philip is dead. You are an apparition, bearing a friend's face but sent to destroy us."
Garvis shoved his way through the crowd. He knew his son. They were not of blood but they were father and son.
"Stop you fools!" Garvis shouted glaring at his countrymen. "I know my son from a Wytch. It is him."
Garvis hugged his son and pulled the stranger close in his embrace. It was not a time of questions but a time of faith.
"Get them clean clothes. Get them fed," Garvis ordered. "We have much to talk about."
* * * * *
Orphea watched the reunion from the shadows of a parapet, her hate seething. She would wait for her moment. Revenge would be hers.
A chill went up and down her spine as she contemplated her revenge.
A snake hissed in her left ear. "Yooou failed."
The other ear had another serpent whispering dark words laced with malice. "The Master issss disappointed."
"I couldn't kill them in Joy," Orphea stammered. "I can kill them here," she pleaded.
"Tooo late..." the snakes hissed in unison.
"No, don't do this. I can do it. I am here," Orphea insisted, knowing full well the intentions of the snakes.
"Your body will do it, but the Massster Darque Lord wants usss to do it."
"No!" She protested. One snake turned to look at her and the gaze was hypnotic. Her resistance melted away. The other snake bit her on her neck. Intense pleasure flooded her body. Her body was excited. Her senses magnified.
The other snake continued to stare at her. The gaze was mesmerizing. Unblinking. She could not shout. She could not struggle.
The snakes tightened around her.
The Darque had corrupted her. Dominated her. She was infected by their corruption for many years now.
But now they went further. The Darque was strangling her existence. This time they were snuffing her spirit out of her body. They were taking her, body and soul.
Orphea knew the Darque. They preferred to corrupt. To take over a body and soul requires resources and attention. The bodies and souls are burnt out quickly and they are never natural and their pure demonic evil erodes the body.
Now they were worried about something and they were acting brashly.
Her consciousness faded and a new consciousness entered her body.
Was this the end for her? Had the Darque finished with her? Consciousness slipped away and a new evil awareness surged from within her body.
* * * * *
Phillip and X'mena bathed were given clothes and fed. Garvis listened to their story intently as they ate a hearty dinner of hot stew and bread.
"Have you seen Damaris, Father?" Philip asked. X'mena flinched at the name but said nothing.
"I saw her go after you," Garvis said. "I wanted to stop her but she left with such determination I could not stop her. Since that, I have not heard from her. My head tells me she must be dead, but my heart tells me she is still alive."
"The war with the Darque has claimed too many lives," X'mena said.
Garvis looked at them both and he could see his son and the gaze he used when he looked at Damaris. X'mena loved him and Philip was being torn between Damaris and the Southlander princess.
"Rest," Garvis commanded. "Gather your strength. It will be a terrible battle tomorrow. The battle of our lives."
* * * * *
Fed and dressed, Phillip went to the armory and picked weapons and armor.
He missed his bow and many weapons had already been distributed to the militia. He would make do with what remained.
X'mena found him in the armory. She was dressed in the clothes of a Summerland maiden. She had been strapped into a girdle. She looked very uncomfortable.
"I refuse to wear this," she said.
"What happened to your ladies in waiting who were assigned to aid you?" Philip asked.
"I drugged their tea with some sleep juice I found in your apothecary. They dream pleasant dreams and snore blissfully in the room your king assigned me."
"You should have taken the tea yourself. Battle will come tomorrow. You need to sleep."
"As do you."
He nodded.
She took a short sword and tested its weight.
"I will fight along your side tomorrow, " she stated. "I will not stay back here at the Castle."
Phillip nodded again.
"Take what you need. And get some sleep. We'll both need our energy. "
* * * * *
Phillip sent a servant out to accompany X'mena back to her quarters. He sent guards to her door as well.
He was half tempted to have her locked in her quarters to keep her safe. He even considered having her taken to the Needle to be safe.
He should have said something else to her. He could not remove her from his mind.
He tossed and turned as he tried his best to sleep. But he could not sleep. He got up and looked out the window.
The stars shone brightly. It would be a clear day tomorrow. He watched his door and heard quiet footsteps approach and a lamp draw near his door.
He drew a dagger and tread lightly to the door. He was a hunter. He stayed silent not even breathing to give himself away.
The doorknob turned and the door creaked open with a lamp leading the way.
He took the intruder by the wrist and pulled hard, taking the lamp away and holding the dagger aimed at the neck.
It was X'mena and she gasped in surprise.
"You are very quiet," she said.
"Even on bare feet I can hear your steps,'' he said.
"What are you doing here?" he asked. "What happened to the guards?"
"They are not as clever or perceptive as you. They guard pillows while I scaled the wall outside the room."
"That answers my second question. And my first question?"
"Tomorrow might be our last day. I want to spend my last night with you. If I lose you tomorrow to the Darque or to your Damaris, so be it. Tonight is ours if you will have it with me."
Phillip tried to resist. But she was there, she was real and all was coming to an end.
She drew near and allowed her fragrance to fill his nostrils.
It was intoxicating and he had to use all his will to not crush her to him.
She touched his breast with her small warm hand and she drew sashes forth from under her robe.
He could not resist. He could not act.
She deftly tied Phillip to the bedposts in moments.
He wanted to protest, he wanted to resist, but she was impossible to resist.
Damaris was gone. Maybe dead.
X'mena was here. On the eve of probable doom, he was with a woman who loved him.
Tied down, helpless he felt excitement.
X'mena said nothing.
She gagged him with a sash.
She stroked his rock-hard shaft expertly with her hand. When he felt a climax approaching she held his cock firmly and tickled his balls.
Screams were muffled in the gag. She slid over his body, her stiff nipples tracing lines of pleasure over his entire body.
She rotated over his body until she was facing his large left foot. He squirmed in anticipation awaiting the attack on his foot but her small feet struck first reaching for his vulnerable armpits.
Screams and muffled laughter flooded the room. Tears streamed down his eyes.
He grew even harder yet.
She was excited too and she could hold back no longer as she straddled him. He could feel her humid sex on his. Her wet lips tightly wrapped around his shaft and she pulled him deep inside her. He was not penetrating her. She was wrapping herself around him.
Deep inside Philip felt her nails on his ribs. Torn between pleasure and tickle torture, the tickling overwhelmed him. He screamed into his gag and squirmed in ways that made X'mena hum with pleasure.
She kept him expertly at the edge. She manipulated his pleasure expertly. Knowingly.
Then as she came she tightened and he felt the inevitable point of no return. He held back a couple of seconds lingering on the brink and then he released.
Spent, exhausted, she rested upon his broad chest.
Phillip was content.
"I love you," she murmured. "I know you are promised to another. But whatever happens I have you to myself tonight."
Phillip felt confused and guilty but at the same time all felt right. In her arms and in her power he felt comforted.
He enjoyed her breast rising and falling as she breathed gently.
A familiar sound made him alert.
It was a hissing cloud of green mist. It crept under the door and edged towards the bed.
Phillip shook and grunted trying to alert X'mena. She began to stir but the mist quickly drew close to her nostrils and as she inhaled the mist entered and X'mena was sent back into a deeper slumber, her jaw slack and totally oblivious to her peril.
Orphea materialized at the foot of the bed.
She was evil and malicious but there was an added level to her sinister demeanor.
"Hello, Phillip,' she hissed softly. "I see you and the Southlander princess have become quite friendly. It would be a shame for that to end abruptly." She drew a finger along X'mena's bare sole but there was no reaction.
"I could make this permanent. I could make you a king. She'd be your queen. You'd rule Summerland and the Southlands. You'd crush the Wyldelands under your iron heel and you'd bring these nations together under one rule."
She touched X'mena and she was pulled up and away from Phillip. She floated up in the air and was pinned to the wall.
"This is your last chance," Orphea said. "The last opportunity. Think not of yourself. Think of the lives you will save. Think of suffering you will prevent. The Darque is order. The Darque is generous."
She tickled his foot and he grunted, frustrated that he could not control his reactions.
You can have this one too. She opened a robe and her sensual body was displayed in all its terrible beauty. He felt himself becoming hard despite himself.
He felt ashamed. He felt helpless.
I'll make it easy for you. She said, straddling him.
"Surrender to the Darque or she dies."
She pointed to the princess and a long dark serpent extended from her hand.
Its venomous fangs threatened X'mena's neck. Venom dripped from those deadly, dark fangs.
"If you scream, she dies. If you do not welcome the Darque, she dies. This is your last chance." Her hot wet sex rubbed against him.
She removed the gag.
"Ask for me. Ask and I will make all your dreams come true."
Phillip felt shattered. Broken. Defeated.
At that moment, when all seemed lost, hope burst upon the room.
The door exploded and splinters were showered in the room.
Damaris stood there. Brilliant, bright white wings framed her as she bore sword, shield and armor.
"Doom has come upon you!" Damaris shouted. "The Darque shall hold no sway over Summerland or its subjects. I am his guardian. If you wish to harm him further you will have to deal with me."
A shadow snake shot from Orphea's hand. The dark shadowy serpent attacked Damaris. She dodged swiftly counter-attacking with her sword.
Orphea became a green mist.
Damaris saw the danger and her wings flapped viciously, casting the vapors back. The snake attacked again but she protected herself with her shield. The venom burned into the shield.
Orphea materialized and drew a wicked blade. She held it to Phillip's throat.
"Cease or I will cut his throat."
Phillip looked at Damaris and then at Orphea.
"Destroy her Damaris. Don't think of me," he said.
Orphea saw no hesitation in Damaris's eyes. The minion of the Darque drew the blade across Phillips's neck and as the blade drew blood, Damaris threw her sword with blinding speed and deadly accuracy.
Orphea's body was pinned to the wall with the sword neatly through the center of her heart.
Phillip was bleeding but he was alive. The shadowy serpent retreated at the demise of its host and slithered through the window and into the night.
"Damaris," Phillip called as she cut him free. "What are you? Who are you?"
"I'm still Damaris. I'm still the woman who loves you."
Phillip's eyes darted to X'mena. She lay motionless on the ground.
"Who is she?" Damaris asked.
"She is a southland - -"
"You love her," Damaris stated plainly, her eyes growing wide in amazement. "You love this woman. "
Phillip was contorted.
Damaris pointed to Orphea who remained impaled on the wall but quickly faded. "She manipulated you, used you, and tried her best to corrupt you. I can forgive that."
She pulled the sword free and the woman's body fell to the ground and continued to dissolve.
"But you love another. My Phillip loves another."
Damaris raised her sword and approached X'mena.
"I can kill her. I could leave and you would not remember it was me. Things could go back to how they were."
"Damaris," Phillip pleaded as he put himself between his two lovers. "Slay me if you must. It is my fault. She bears no fault. She bears no guilt."
"You really love her," Damaris repeated the words. The realization crushed her soul.
"I do. I love X'mena. I'm sorry. I loved you. The thought of you kept the Darque at bay. So much has happened."
"How do you feel now?" Damaris asked already knowing the answer deep down in her being.
"Confused," he admitted. "But I know I cannot ignore feelings for X'mena. Will I forget when you leave my sight? Is that what will happen? Is this the burden you have borne all this time? The wings of an angel. The burden of duty."
She nodded and remained silent as thoughts raced and destinies were decided.
It took a few seconds which felt like an eternity but it was decided in a moment.
"You will forget I was here," she said. "Damaris your wife and lover has been replaced by Damaris the Angel. You will feel that I have released you, but you will not know why. You will know peace. I promise you that."
"And you, Damaris?" he asked, taking her hand.
"I will know blood,” she said her jaw tightening with resolve. “I will know vengeance and I will bear upon my enemies a wrath like none they have ever known. I've eluded my destiny but I cannot escape. I will join my Sisters and we will end this once and for all."
Damaris released Phillip’s hand and plucked a long bright white feather from her wings and gave it to him.
"This will give you solace," she said, placing the feather in his hand and then stepping away."
"Will I ever see you again?" he asked.
"Not in this world," she said, sheathing her sword. Orphea had faded into dust and no trace was left.
Damaris left through the window and paused just a moment before flying into the night.
"Farewell, my Phillip. My lover, my partner, my friend," she whispered to Phillip and the night.
And with that, she was gone and her memory faded from Philip's consciousness.
He was left with a battle scene, with X'mena who stirred on the ground, and a single large white feather in his hand.
The feather brought him peace. He took X'mena to her feet and he kissed her.
Free of guilt, free of fear, he kissed her and embraced her.
* * * * *
Damaris returned to the war room to find Micaela alone.
"And?" the general asked looking up from her maps.
"I'll fight tomorrow," Damaris vowed. "Tomorrow we will end this. One way or another. The enemy is near. We will have our opportunity. "
"So be it," Micaela replied with a confident smile spreading across her hard features.
* * * * *
Damaris sat alone in the Sliver. She meditated in the center of the room at the very top of the tower. She did not need sleep. She needed to calm the turmoil in her mind.
A knock came at the door.
She had sent the mortals away and set them to keep her uninterrupted. Only someone who was not a mortal could be attempting to pass.
Areli stepped in.
"You've relinquished your charge. You were to protect him," Areli said. "The danger remains and he will be in danger tomorrow like none he has ever experienced before.”
"I protect him more if I destroy the Darque,” Damaris said coldly. “He does not need me anymore."
Areli listened quietly and did not say a word.
She then drew near and she embraced Damaris.
Damaris stiffened at first but then she loosened in her friend’s arms.
Areli did not ask questions, she did not say anything. She held her friend close and the barriers that protected Damaris began to fall.
Hardness gave way to softness and Damaris trembled and wept. Tears ran down her cheeks. Tears of despair. Tears of regret an Angel was not supposed to shed.
“Tomorrow we will deal out death as the world has never seen before,” Areli said feeling the wet tears on her shoulder as she stroked her red hair, “but tonight you are safe here with me. Weep, Damaris. Weep for love and loss and all the things that matter.
“Tonight for sorrow, tomorrow for fury. Rest, dear Damaris. Tomorrow we soar out to our deaths. Our lives matter not, let us make our deaths something this world will never forget."
To be concluded… (finally!)
Next: Final Chapter: “Mistress of Joy”
