The Tattooed Woman Pt. 04

THE TATTOOED WOMAN

Thought I'd try something a little different.

I borrowed heavily from some of the concepts to be found in stories by EstebanMamono so I offer a shout out and big thanks to him.

Please comment on the story, I'm curious to learn what you think.

Chapter 4: Lessons Learned

Even with an Orc supporting her they made only a few miles before the burned woman's legs crumpled beneath her and she collapsed. Ashunara swore, but it wasn't unexpected, and she'd already had Azure looking for a good, well-hidden campsite.

The Orc casually threw the semi-conscious woman over its massive shoulder as they moved slowly up along a rough trail towards a small corrie on the side of the pass. The hollow, bowl-like feature contained a pool of frigid water and was surrounded by outcrops of jagged rocks. It would be cold, but at least there was shelter from the icy wind and the features provided concealment and good visibility.

The Captain nodded her thanks at the scout as they filed into the campsite, "Good work Azure, you've done us proud."

With practised skill, the veterans quickly set the camp and a few campfires were lit. The slaves huddled around the flames for warmth while hot food and drink were prepared. The young slave Cassie and a few others watched as the still-blackened figure of the burned woman was carried into the Captain's tent. Sergeant Nyx got to work, and sentries swiftly moved to take up positions on the perimeter, while Orcs and slaves alike set to gathering wood from the sparse undergrowth.

The plump woman next to the little slave girl stirred and Cassie watched as she plodded across to the cookfire, where a Dark-Elf stirred a large pot of soup. The silver-haired woman glanced up and gave the slave an appraising look as she approached nervously, "Er, beg pardon ma'am."

"Yes?"

"Well, you see, er, I'm um, well.."

"Oh, for the love of night what is it? Spit it out woman!"

"WellImacookandImakegoodsoup..."

"You want to help?"

"Well, yes."

"Why?"

The matronly woman blushed, "Well, um, I like cooking and... well, I'm fat."

The Dark-Elf grinned, "Plump."

"What?"

"Plump, not fat."

The woman smiled self-consciously, "Kind of you to say so ma'am, but well, um, normally the cook gets to taste the food she makes, and well, I'm a good cook, but..."

"But what?"

"Well, I like to eat."

The Dark-Elf tilted her head back and laughed musically, "Oh Gods you're funny! You think if I let you help, you'll get more rations? What's your name slave?"

"T'is Maggie ma'am, Maggie Cook."

The Dark-Elf tilted her head quizzically, "A cook named Cook, do you jest with me woman?"

"No ma'am, I'd not dare! But aye, I'm truly named Cook, and the blacksmith is called Smith, the Barrel-maker is Cooper by name, and our leatherworker was called Tanner ma'am. It's just a thing that happens with us over time I think."

The dark Elf nodded, "Oddly logical. You know if you want more food, you just have to ask, we won't starve you, provided you're not just being greedy of course."

"Truly?"

"What use would there be in that? A half-starved slave gives half the work, no?"

Cook grinned, "I used to say something like that to me husband ma'am, "Ye can't go do a full day's toil with an empty belly" I'd tell him, but he was a big lad so he was, and he liked his vittles."

"What happened to him?"

"Oh, went off a soldiering and never came back. I got a letter some years back, but..."

"You never read it?"

The woman turned beetroot red, "Ah, well, ye see..."

"You can't read?"

"Aint no schools for poor folk cept the kirk ma'am, and I just never had the time ye see. And I always felt too ashamed to ask the priest to read it for me, you know, in case he wrote somethin private maybe, like a sentiment perchance. I'd be black affronted if'n the priest read that."

"Do you have the letter with you?"

"Erm, aye, I carry it always, t'is the only letter anyone's ever sent me," she gave the Dark-Elf a frightened look, "ye'll not take it will ye? It's all I have of him and, well, he wasn't a bad lad."

"No, I have no need of it, but tell you what, you stir the pot and if you want I can read it for you. I doubt any human sentiment will embarrass a 'Darkling Witch' like me, eh?"

"Ye'd do that for me?"

The Dark-Elf shrugged, "Don't see why not. Reading is hardly a chore, and cooking is slave work anyway."

The matronly woman stirred the soup, happily tasting it and occasionally dissecting the fresh rabbits and other small game that had unwisely strayed into bow range, adding the meat to the pot while the Dark-Elf pored over the crumpled, well-fingered letter and read it to her. It was in the Common Tongue, and the calligraphy and grammar were truly atrocious thought Lashell, but still, the human must have been a clever enough fellow, for he'd clearly taught himself to read and write. It was mostly prosaic, with comments on soldiering and how he missed her cooking, asking about kin and loved ones, and speaking of antics with his fellow spearmen. He did say he loved her, which brought a small sob from the poor woman, of how he'd bought her a piece of silk ribbon with his first wages, and how he expected the fighting to be over by Yule.

By the end, the poor woman was clearly sobbing quietly, though she kept her back to the Dark Elf, stirring the soup as her shoulders shook. Lashell patted her on the shoulder and carefully folding the paper she placed it back into her pocket. "You don't have to stay girl; I can finish this off."

Maggie continued to stir the pot quietly for a while before she sniffed, drew a breath and straightened her shoulders with a sigh, "Do ye think I'll be a cook in your lands Mistress Elf? Won't my fare be a bit humble for grand folk?"

"Hmm? Oh, I don't know, we have a fondness for fried potatoes oddly enough, and tart it up as much as you like a chip's a chip, no?"

"No ma'am."

"Pardon me?"

"Erm, sorry, but no ma'am, I mean well aye, there's a score of chip recipes true enough, but there's also tattie fritters, pan-fried tatties, fried mash, fried hash, cheesy fried taters, pan-fried taters with bacon, erm... sweet potato hash browns, but we don't get sweet potatoes often of course, and oh, there's fried potato salad, which is no bad on a hot day. I'm sure there's a few more but my memory's no what it was. Er, are you alright ma'am?"

The Dark Elf's eyes had started to gleam in a way that made the slave even more nervous, "Can you make all those?"

"Oh aye! Simple stuff to be honest, nothin fancy."

"No, I mean now?"

"Well, no in a soup-pot while we're making rabbit n ham broth, but if you have the tatties, I'm sure I can knock up something later on if ye fancy it."

Lashell groaned, "Oh dear Gods I'm going to get soooo fat...."

"Mistress Elf?"

"Yes Maggie?"

"If I help cook tomorrow night and if it's not too much bother like, would you maybe read it to me again?"

...

Later, the slaves were given a good meal of hot soup, bread, a chunk of cheese and an apple, an orange or a handful of berries, and maybe a bit of shortbread if they were lucky. As they ate, a pair of Dark Elves, Tallis and Elsadore moved among them, chatting, laughing here and there, but also questioning, gathering names, discerning who had useful skills, or wealthy relatives (none, for these were poor folk), who could sing, who liked to dance, who knew their letters or could speak other tongues, who was frightened, but also who was angry and perhaps rebellious. Skilfully, artfully, and in some places slyly, they gathered their bits and pieces of information.

After the sentries were placed and the camp as secure as she could make it Nyx made her report to the Captain, it was typically blunt, "We'll if we don't pick up the pace we're fucked."

Ashunara laughed as she passed a flask across, "Don't mince your words Sergeant, tell me what you really think."

Nyx took a swig and sniffed, "Not bad, Orcish?"

"No, human would you believe. They call it potcheen, got some bite eh?"

The Sergeant took another swig and nodded, "Might go down well with the greenskins," she gestured at the figure sprawled on the Captain's cot, "how's she doing?"

"Far as I can tell the wounds are still healing. I managed to feed her some soup, I'm hoping she'll do better tomorrow because if she can't well, I think we'll maybe have to kill her and be done with it."

Nyx gave a resigned nod, "Be a shame, she's tough, and it's not really her fault. Could we maybe just leave her on the road?"

"We could do that I suppose, it would only be a small detour and she doesn't know a damned thing about us that could be useful to an enemy," the Captain sighed, "we'll see what the morrow brings."

The next day the burned woman managed more than half a day's march before she crumpled, and on the next, it was almost a full day before she fell, though her limping pace was slow. But each day she seemed to regain some strength and by the fourth, she could just about keep pace for a full march.

She shambled on, plodding silently, one foot in front of the other, not talking, just staring blankly. When she was handed food or drink, she simply stared at it until she was fed, and then she ate mechanically, when she was led to the latrine, she did her business and had to be helped to clean herself, and when she was pushed to the ground when they made camp, she just sat there seemingly so lost in her own thoughts that she was oblivious to her surrounding, her fellow slaves, captors or even the manacles that were now fixed to her wrists. She similarly ignored the weather and neither rain, snow or shine elicited so much as a blink. When thunder echoed around the mountaintops, and lightning made many flinch, she simply stood there, uncaring.

By then the burns were well on the way to being healed, the bruises around her ribs were fading and the deep gashes had been reduced to angry scars. Tufts of red hair sprouted on her head, and the blackened scabs of flesh that crusted her body had for the most part peeled away, revealing the pink of new skin beneath. More and more of her tattoos, if that's what they truly were, were revealed, appearing to be an intricate scaled pattern that coiled around her limbs, over her buttocks and across her back, to weave around her torso and breasts, along her arms and up as high as her neck. Occasionally, when the sunlight struck them just so they seemed to shimmer in a myriad of colours, and now and again, from the corners of her eyes, and usually when she was very tired, Ashunara was almost convinced she had seen the damned things move.

Nyx was slightly happier now that the pace had improved but she shook her head looking at the silent, unresponsive figure as Cassie helped her eat breakfast, spooning porridge into her mouth and chatting aimlessly to the woman.

"She's not going to be worth much coin in that condition. Might be an interesting bit of human art or somesuch bollocks I suppose."

The Captain glanced up for a moment, "She's not caused us any trouble, and some rich idiot will buy her for those creepy-ass tattoos if nothing else."

Nyx sighed, "It's kind of a pity, I mean it's difficult to tell right now but she could almost be pretty, good tits, nice ass, obviously strong. She'd have been a decent catch."

Ashunara pored over her map and answered absently before looking up again, "I suppose. Only another week till we get to the border, but I wanted to ask your opinion on something?"

"Aye?"

"Here have a look."

The Captain pointed at a mark on the map, set back in the hills maybe a couple of days further ahead, and perhaps a half-day's journey off their current path.

Nyx sniffed, "Looks remote, what is it, village?"

"No, near as I can tell it's either a monastery or a nunnery."

"Not those damnable Red Nuns? They're in-fucking-sane!"

"No, it's not martial, or at least not according to the map."

The Sergeant frowned, "That the map you bought from that last tinker? Can you trust it?"

Ashunara grinned, "Noo, but it might be worth a peek at least, no? A small party, maybe four of us and half the Orcs. We set out in a couple of nights' time. A quick snatch and grab."

"Whose left in command, and respectfully, if you say me I going to probably punch you."

"Why Sergeant, that's a terrible attitude to take, but no, I was going to leave Elsadore and Tallis."

"Good call, Elsadore is a seasoned fighter, though I can tell you she's going to be just a tad aggrieved at being left behind, and Tallis is smart, but a bit young and inexperienced for the likes of this."

"I thought so, and I'm sure you'll manage to break it gently to Elsadore."

"Oh fuck you very much, Sir. The only thing likely to get gently broken is my nose. You sure you don't want to tell her yourself, what with you being an officer and all that?"

Ashunara smiled sweetly at the veteran, "Sadly Sergeant, t'is the burden of command to delegate such tasks to capable subordinates. You know, to give them experience in dealing with the troops and whatnot."

"Experience in dealing with the tro... Why you toffee-nosed bint, I was dealing with troops when you were a stain running down yer mam's leg."

"Yes Sergeant, back when we had wooden swords because they hadn't yet invented metal or something like that yes? Back when fire was one of them newfangled ideas."

"Yer a pain in my arse!"

"Pardon me Sergeant?"

"Yer a pain in my arse, Captain!"

Ashunara passed the woman her flask with a grin, "Fair enough, here keep it, I've another, call it recompense for dealing with Elsadore. And Nyx?"

"Aye?"

"Tell her she'll be missed."

The Sergeant nodded with a smile, "Aye boss."

The next day the caravan made half-decent time, but the news of the upcoming raid raised tensions more than a little. The slavers had been pushing their captives hard, and despite the ample food, occasional rest breaks and the fortifying wine, they were tiring. Most kept up the pace, some sweating and puffing as they marched, but a few, like the podgy wool merchant they had captured, were having a hard time of it.

Cassie had been trying her hardest, but she was tired, and halfway through the hard march she stumbled, pulling down the woman in front of her. She lay panting as Varoona moved to her, whip in hand. The little slave cowered, "Sorry! Sorry Mistress, I'm just tired, I just need a second to catch my..."

Varoona had been tetchy all day and she slapped the still-coiled whip across the young woman's shoulder, "Get up slave! Move!"

The pot-girl wailed, and Maggie tried to help her back up only to be slapped aside, "Back in line slave!"

Just behind the fallen girl the burned woman had halted and stood impassively, staring blankly as always.

Varoona brought her whip down again, and the little slave began to panic as fear gripped her, "I'm sorry! Please don't!"

The tattooed woman blinked.

The Dark Elf cursed and gripped the fallen girl by the hair to pull her to her feet and Cassie gave a whimper of pain.

"Don't."

The whispered voice came from behind her and Varoona whirled and savagely slashed her whip across the face of the tattooed woman, it left an angry line, but she didn't so much as blink as the Dark-Elf snarled, "Mind your place slave!"

Turning back to Cassie she raised the whip again, "Get up fool!"

It was, very nearly, the last thing she ever did.

The round kick was blindingly fast, taking the Dark Elf in the midriff. Varoona landed over eight feet away in a crumpled heap as her breath exploded from her lungs. She rolled agonisingly to her knees and spat out a mouthful of blood as she clutched her shattered ribs.

With a hiss of metal, swords, spears, and axes were levelled at the tattooed woman, who had gone back to gazing impassively into space. Cassie stared in wide-eyed confusion as she scrambled to her feet.

A moment later Ashunara and Nyx sprinted up from opposite ends of the column, "Hold! Put up your blades!"

"What the fuck happened?"

Nyx bent to examine Varoona, "Her ribs are fucked Captain!"

Ashunara swore, "Dose her with a potion. Get her on her feet if you can."

She turned to the nearest Orc with a snarl, "You! What happened?"

The Orc shrugged and pointed to Cassie, who was now quivering with fear, and then at Varoona, "Small slave fall, she get angry, hit small slave. Big slave say don't, she hit big slave, big slave hit her, she fall down."

"Nyx, how's she doing?"

"Potion's doing its thing, but no way is she going to be able to move for at least a few days."

"SHIT!!!"

The Captain strode across to the bound magus and grabbed him by the front of his shirt, "How do you fancy getting in my good books Wizard?"

The man nodded frantically.

Ashunara pointed at Varoona, "Good answer! Get her on her feet and able to walk! Do it within the hour and I'll owe you, deal?"

The man nodded again and the Captain turned to the nearest Dark Elf, "You heard yes? Watch him close. He does anything you don't like cut his balls off."

"Yes, Sir!"

"Nyx!"

"Aye?"

The Captain pointed at a nearby tree, "You know what to do."

The Sergeant sighed, "Aye."

Nyx indicated to an Orc who took hold of the tattooed woman. She didn't resist or even acknowledge their existence as they led her to the tree where Nyx tied a rope to her manacles. Tossing an end over a high branch they hoisted her until her arms were stretched above her and only the tips of her toes touched the soft earth. Stripping away her cloak Nyx left her hanging naked and walked back to Ashunara, who was uncoiling her whip.

She leaned close and whispered, "I'll do it, Captain, you don't need to..."

The Captain sighed, "Thank you Sergeant, but needs must. Gather the slaves and the Orcs, they need to see this, there's a lesson that needs to be learned here."

"Aye Sir."

Stepping in front of the gathered throng Ashunara measured the distance to the hanging woman by eye before she turned to the small crowd. Speaking loudly, clearly and with enough authority to let them know that here and now her word was law, and she would brook no defiance, "This woman struck one of my soldiers! So watch! And see what her defiance has brought her!"

Turning to the woman she flexed her long whip, the pliant leather cracked sharply and Nyx saw the slaves wince visibly as Ashunara laid the first blow across the woman's back. At the second blow, Cassie fell to her knees, "No, no, no, no, no.... It was my fault. Please..."

Elsadore gripped the young slave's arm, pulling her to her feet, and her voice was firm, but strangely without cruelty, "You need to watch this Cassie, learn from it, or one day it might be you up there child."

A slaver's whip was made from long strips of braided leather, designed to frighten, inflict pain, and break the will, but not the skin. If used properly it would leave marks, but not draw blood, and while Ashunara hated the damned things, she had mastered their use the same way she mastered all the tools and weapons of her profession.

The violent cracking of the whip was loud, and dramatic, and each time it landed it left a red streak across the woman's back or buttocks, it struck with enough force to rock her body, but otherwise, the tattooed figure didn't react at all, she made no cry or whimper, in fact, she just hung there, and throughout the flogging, she didn't so much as utter a sound.

After a dozen strokes, the Captain lowered her arm and gestured for the Sergeant, "Nyx, check on her, make sure I haven't accidentally killed the wretch."

The Dark Elf strode across and looked up at the woman's face, seeing nothing but a blank and empty stare, no tears, no signs of pain, nothing.

Moving back to Ashunara the veteran whispered, "She's alive, but you're wasting your time, Captain. She doesn't feel a fucking thing. She's put her mind someplace else I'd say. I reckon you could probably whip her to death, and like as not she wouldn't even notice til the lights went out."