The Sword of Demoles

Know, O Scholar, that in the years between the cataclysm of the destruction of Atlantis, and the rise of the people of the High Mountains, there was an age undreamt of, an age where the kingdoms of the world lay upon the world as glittering as the field of stars on the black velvet of the sky. Hither came the clan of the Demokles, sword in hand, pirates, rovers, swordsmen, with great virility and greater prowess, to break the rules and to make their mark on the world.

- The Numenorian Chronicles.

*

Damien journeyed on the path from the scene of the border raid. Behind him lay the bodies of the raiders that had so foolishly intruded upon the peace of the fair country, and the body of the satiated woman who had been fortunate enough to escape with her life. The way to the kingdom of Eritronia(check) was through either if the two ways. One was through the trade routes that five days through the Scendona desert, and the other was through the Misty mountains, the true name of which was Magnutin. The pass through the mountains was reputed to be held by the bellicose Janhvar tribes, led by their shaman. There was also the rumour of a vast treasure within the mountain, the secret to which was guarded by the tribe.

Damien stood at the crossroads and contemplated the choices. The trade wagons rumbled past him on their way to Eritronia through the desert. He looked up at the Misty mountains and the familiar thrill of adventure and recklessness come over him.

"What's life without a few challenges?" he said to his trusty steed.

The pass was dark and foreboding. Impossibly high walls reached upon one side, as if trying to capture the Sun itself and the other side looked into a gaping abyss, the bottom of which was lost in shadow.

"Brrrr... I certainly don't want fall in there." thought Damien as he rode on. It was bitterly cold on the mountain and he wished he had brought some warm clothing with him form the bodies of the brigands he had slain.

So absorbed was he with the thoughts of the border raid and the wanton pleasure thereafter that he did not notice that pairs of eyes were watching him from the ledges above. Being supremely confident of his martial abilities, it is hard to be sure of whether he would have cared if he had noticed them. He camped on a ledge for the night, wrapping himself up the best he could against the cold.

The morning brought hope to Damien's heart. One more day, and he would be in Eritronia. He laughed aloud at the thought, and jerked his reins. The pass widened into a valley, and the vegetation soon changed from sparse moss to stunted trees to a coniferous forest. Riding on through the forest, Damien was surprised to notice a strange form of vegetation protruding from a bush. It was a female posterior, and of such perfect shape and size as to set his manhood to attention immediately. He alighted from his horse in one swift movement, and just as swiftly drew his sword without a sound. Proceeding silently to the bush he shot a hand into the bush and drew out, accompanied by an indigent squawk, a young and nubile woman who was dressed in the most outlandish clothes -- a headdress of feathers, a mans shirt, and a tattered skirt that hung to her ankles in the back and was cut to her thigh on the front.

"Release me, you fool!" the woman shrieked. Suddenly the forest around filed with the creak of arrows being nocked and drawn. Damien reacted instinctively, securing his back against the nearest tree, and bringing the woman in front as a human shield.

"Go ahead, shoot." He snarled, holding his sword to the throat of the woman.

After a few tense moments, a man stepped out of the foliage. He was big, and well built, and carried a crude axe, which he pointed at Damien and began a long rant in a foreign language.

"What?" The confusion of Damien was apparent, and the point pointed the axe at Damien, then at himself, and swung it around in an obvious manner.

"A fight, huh?" The blood of Demokles was always ready for a good fight, and Damien pushed the woman away from him and dropped in the classic stance of the sword fighter, leopard crouches. The man gesticulating wildly advanced on Damien, swinging his axe. Damien dropped under the swing. The axe hit a tree, and splintered it into two.

"He's strong." thought Damien, as he flew to meet his adversary. Sword met axe in a shower of sparks, and Damien was slowly driven back.

"This is ridiculous." thought Damien, and threw his body in the attack. The jewel on Valinor's hilt glowed blood red as the sword met the hilt of the axe, slicing it through cleanly, and going on to lop off the head of the man. Damien dropped back into leopard crouches, as the forest erupted in a screaming multitude of barbarians.

"My Lord" the voice of the woman next to him caused Damien to look to her, and it was only with a small jolt of surprise that he saw she was naked, her bountiful breasts thrusting up at him.

"You have bested the champion of our tribe, and my mate. By the laws of the tribe, you are now are our leader and the shaman's mate."

"The shaman's mate, huh?" Damien thought furiously for a few seconds, and asked the question that was foremost on his mind. "So you know where the treasure is hidden? Lead me to it, woman."

The woman got up and led Damien into led him deep into the forest, followed by the silent tribe. Stopping in front of a wall, she uttered a few syllables in her own language. Damien watched as the wall slid open to reveal a cavern. "Enter, my lord, that you may discover the treasure for yourself."

Shaking off the feeling that he was walking in a trap, Damien walked in the cavern. The pitch dark suddenly changed to black light, and Damien saw at the end of the cavern, a fountain that spouted molten gold, which hit the floor and disappeared.

"Nothing to carry it in..." Damien thought, and took off his helmet. He drew a helmful of gold, and realised that it had turned to water.

Possessed by an inexplicable desire, he drank it, and immediately felt the power coursing through his veins. Turning back, he saw the fountain had disappeared. The pitch dark cavern was no longer so to him, for he could see every nook and cranny as if in broad daylight. He moved to the entrance, realising that his feet carried him faster than the fastest steed. He stopped in front of the wall. Confident of his new powers, he hit the wall, and it shattered with a thunderous sound. The tribe outside cheered as Damien stepped out, and in a mood of revelry, picked up the shaman, and kissed her. She responded to the kiss with a fiery passion, thrusting her tongue deep into his mouth, and clinging to her. No longer caring who watched him, Damien stripped off his armour and unsheathed his tool, thrusting it up into her. The potency of his thrust transported the shaman into transports of ecstasy, as it seemed to penetrate the very depths of her soul. Blessed with inhuman speed and strength, Damien thrust in and out of her faster than the eye could see, so it seemed that their bodies were joined together at the hip.

Soon, too soon it seemed to the shaman, it was over, and Damien shot up gallons of sticky seed into her womb. He disengaged from her, and watched as she bent to lick up the cum that was dribbling from his cock. "Journey on, my lord." She said. "Your path lies to glory in strange lands."

Damien exchanged a fond kiss of farewell with the shaman, and rode on.

Damien stopped at the city of Sissiphus and considered his predicament. He had left his steed at the tribe, and run through the pass. The trouble was, he could no longer carry as much provisions as he wished to, and was therefore out of food and coin. He could have attacked and pillaged any number of wagons, but the thought never crossed his mind, for he was a knight and not a common bandit.

He looked around him, and spotted an inn that sported the sign of "House of Angels" and walked in. The interior was filled with soldiers and ruffians, for this was the border area, and not much to distinguish between the two. He sat himself at a table, and immediately attracted the attention of the serving wenches, and of a few of the ruffians. One of the wenches came up to him and deposited a mug of ale on the table. "It's on the house" she said. "Looks like you could use it." Damien thanked her with a smile and looked into his cup, trying to figure out his next move. His thought was interrupted by a scream. He looked up and saw that one of the ruffians had grabbed one of the wenches, and pushed up her skirt and was attempting to bend her over the table.

"Here we go." Damien thought resignedly, as he got up and approached the man. "I think you have had too much to drink, friend." He said lightly. Interrupted in his advances, the man turned, and blinded by lust, drew his knife and thrust at Damien.

There was the snick of steel going through flesh, and Damien calmly held his sword at his side in lion on the mountain as the two halves of the man separated and fell on the floor. "Anyone wants to have a go at the wenches?" he asked mildly, looking around the room. Everyone refused to meet his eye, and he went back to his seat.

"That was an impressive display." A sonorous voice said behind him, and Damien turned to see a man dressed in the garb of a mage. "You are from the house of Demokles?" Smiling at Damiens sudden look of consternation, he sat down at the table, and grabbed two mugs of ale off one of the trays. "I know that sword." He informed Damien. "I was one of the few who served with your father on the Mandrakon swamps."

"Canifor!" exclaimed Damien. "I didn't recognise you."

"Neither did I." said Canifor. "So we are even. Where are you headed?"

"No idea." Damien took a swig of his ale. "I heard there was a war happening, so I came along to see what I could do for myself."

"Well, you're in luck." said Canifor. "I am currently serving with the Lord Ridmor. He is going to ride against the Krugs on the western border in a few days. He'll be glad to have a scion of Demokles in his troop."

"Lovely." said Damien. "Let's go join up."