The Sword Of Demokles Ch 03

I apologise, dear readers, for the last sexless story. I was truly preoccupied with the affairs that beset and plague me in this wretched world, and interrupted as I was by these affairs, I did not get much chance to do justice to the chronicles of our hero. I am happy to inform you, however, that that sorry state of affairs is now a thing of the past, and we will once more pierce the mysteries of time and look into the past, where our hero continues with our journey...

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Riding with Lord Ridmor, Damien was soon bored, life of a soldier consists mostly of routine, and routine was something Damien was not used to. He chafed at the bits, as did Balzer, who he had retrieved from the tribe in the space of a night. His inhuman speed, boosted by his boots, meant that he could cover miles in an hour, and still not be the least tired. His shield could have transported him in the blink of an eye, but Damien wanted to revel in his new found powers. As Damien rode, his thoughts went back to the night he had spent with the tribe, and his reunion with the shaman, who had been glad to see him. His appearance had caused her to disappear in her hut for some time, returning clad in only a dress of fronds that shifted every time she moved, and revealed tantalising glimpses of her bountiful breasts and her abundant pussy.

She had insisted on feeding Damien with meat of a lizard that she said boosted sexual appetite. By the middle of the meal, Damien could stand it no more, and picked up the woman and carried her in her hut, with her squealing deliciously on his shoulder. Once inside, he had made short work of her leaves, and divested himself of his clothes, before falling with a ravenous appetite on her breasts. He sucked on them until they were raw and grew taut by the breath Damien blew on them. Then she proceeded to take Damien's ten inch cock in her mouth and wrap her lithe tongue around it. She ran her hand up and down the shaft, and at the same time thrust her tongue into the small opening at the top, causing Damien to groan with pleasure. Then she had spread her legs and offered herself to Damien. Never one to refuse an opportunity thrust his way; Damien had lowered his mouth to her pussy, and lapped it up like nectar from the gardens of Ambrosia, stimulating her clitoris with his finger and thumb, sending her groaning in delight at the pleasurable pain that was coursing through her pussy. Damien had pushed a finger in her ass and found her to be wide and inviting there as well. He had pushed his cock in both holes, and had been rewarded by shrieks that split the night like the screams of a banshee. His back had been clawed mercilessly, and his shoulders bitten, but his new abilities meant that he healed as soon as an injury was done, so he was perfectly fine as he sat the saddle.

"...don't you think, Damien?" Lord Ridmor's voice brought him back to the present with a jolt.

"Certainly, my lord" Damien said, for Lord Ridmor was little more than a pretentious buffoon who had not the slightest idea of military tactics or arrangement of men. His primary concern seemed to be his appearance, even this morning he was wearing a gold braided cloak with armour that was heavily gilded and inlaid with jewels.

Damien looked back at the sprawling column and sighed. If they were attacked, it would be a miracle if more than a quarter of them survived.

As soon as the thought entered his mind, he heard the creak of a bowstring, and the snap as it was released. He could hear the swish of the arrow as it flew towards him. Guided by his inhuman instincts, he fluidly twisted and watched as the arrow flew past him to bury itself in the throat of Lord Ridmor. The Lord fell from his horse, choking and coughing, and gurgling blood that choked him even as it flew out of his neck. Damien drew his sword faster than the eye could see, and guided Balzer in a gallop to the thicket where he had seen the arrow coming from. He was aware of the Krulls scrambling around him. Someone threw a spear at him. Damien tossed his shield in the air, caught the spear and launched it back at the man before catching his shield. The spear went through the man's neck and buried itself in the earth. Someone came at him with a sword, without slowing down, Damien slashed at him. Valinor gleamed and flashed, and the man's head flew from the body.

He turned around and saw that the column was in dire straits. Although Canifor was doing his best to rally the men, and tossing balls of fire everywhere, it was clear that he would be overwhelmed in minutes. Damien spurred back to the action. He hacked and slashed and bodies piled about him. There was one shaman who was wreaking havoc among the men with his poison casts. As Damien charged at him, he let loose a ball of fire at Damien. The shield deflected the attack, causing a tree to burst apart in smithereens, but the force of it threw Damien out of his saddle. He landed like a cat, on his feet, and charged in the nearest group of Krulls. Lion feeds became sparrow on the mountain became stream of blood became penetrate the pussy became caress the nipples as blood flew around him. The last man of the bunch came at Damien, and suddenly he was tired of killing. He hit the man a blow with his shield that knocked him out. He lifted his sword in lion roars on the plains. The jewel on Valinor's hilt glowed blood red. The fight was over. Less than half of the men had survived. Canifor rode over to where Damien stood.

"Nice bit of action, eh?" he smirked. "I was worried when you charged off into the woods like that. Good on you to come back."

"Yeah." Damien was noncommittal. Canifor had neglected his duty by not putting a magical shield around Lord Ridmor. It would bear looking after. He whistled for Balzer. The barbarian at his foot stirred and groaned.

"One more for the crows." growled one of the men, who was finishing off the wounded nearby, raising his sword.

"Leave this one for questioning." Damien ordered, and the man replied only after a second's hesitation. "Yes, my lord."

When they made camp in the evening, Damien ordered the prisoner brought to him. He was a fine specimen of manhood, and Damien regretted what had to be done. "Is there anyone who speaks Krull?" he asked.

"I do, Sir." said one of the men, stepping forward in the light of the fire.

"Ask him where his camp is." said Damien. The soldier grunted something to the captive. The answer was in obvious negative, as the soldier reared, and in a flash of steel, cut off the man's left ear. His scream rose even more when another soldier took a hot brand from the fire and cauterized the wound.

"Ask him again." grated Damien.

"He says it is three days to the west, over the river and past the marshes."

"It is unlikely that there is a camp." Canifor put in. "Krulls are known to lie - even under torture. Maybe he's leading us into a trap."

"Three days..." Damien thought. "Beyond the forest is Krull territory, over the river in uncharted land, and the marshes are perilous. It is likely that there is a camp of Krull. Punitive raids would be a general norm, and would be so expected of the officer commanding. The problem is whether I can risk the lives of so many men with me."

"Kill the prisoner." He said aloud, and watched as one of the soldiers gave the mercy stroke to the prisoner -- a thrust through the heart.

"Keep a guard." Damien ordered. "We'll move in the morning."

A blast violently jolted Damien from his sleep. He had gone to sleep with his armour still on -- and it had deflected most of the magical energy. He slammed on his helmet and jumped out of his bed of rushes. He bellowed "On me" -- but the order died on his lips as he saw the carnage. Canifor had killed every one in the camp, and was standing in the middle of the camp, laughing his head off.

"Have you gone mad?" he shouted.

"No one will have the treasure -- or the woman. I shall have her myself, and to me alone." Canifor gibbered, before letting fly balls of fire at Damien.

Sadly, because, he was his father's friend, Damien leapt in the air, deflecting the balls of fire with shield. As he sailed over Canifor, he swung his sword. He landed beyond and waited for the sound as Canifor fell in halves. The horses had bolted, and finding them in the dark would be next to impossible. They would be far away by now. Damien sheathed Valinor, packed up as much provisions he could carry and headed off west, moving in an easy lope that equalled the pace of any trotting horse.

He crossed the forest in the night, walking deep in Krull territory. His enhanced senses warned him of Krulls in the forest by their smell and their guttural language, and he avoided them with ease. The morning next day he came to the river that marked the joint border between Utopia, Eritronia, and Harlotria. The winter lad shrunk the river to a trickle, and it flowed quietly, giving no indication of the raging torrent it would become come the winter rains. From bank to bank was a good sixty feet. Damien leapt in the air, and flew seventy feet through the air, landing on the opposite bank. The marshes could be seen from afar by the mist that covered them. Here and there flames flared, putrid gas suddenly burning. A bad place; a dank place; a place that smelled of corruption and death. Damien sighed and set off on his way, keeping far from the marshes.

After three days of marching Damien was sad, tired and bored. Although he could go on nearly infinitely before feeling hunger, thirst or cold, boredom was his one enemy that ate away at him incessantly. Tramping around in the jungle was not high in his list of preferred occupations -- and neither did he care for the mosquitoes and creatures that hovered in a cloud around his head.

On the fourth day Damien emerged onto the grasslands of Harlotria. Boredom had set in again, and he had decided not to kill a lot of Krulls just because he signed up with Lord Ridmor -- he was dead, and there was no reason why anyone would want to bother with him.

Harlotria was a strange land, where the women ruled the roost. Men stayed in the house, and did the chores, while women went out to work, commerce, and even fought. The sight of Harlotria's army charging was a rather disconcerting sight -- compounded by the fact that their war tunics were topless, so their ample breasts jiggled and bounced as they ran. It was hard to focus on military discipline while being so distracted. Sexual fidelity was not high in the list of norms of Harlotrian women, and Damien was looking forward to visiting the country.