The Tattooed Woman Pt. 15

The little slave flushed, "I wasn't going to slee..."

"And another thing. The bathhouse here is fucked at the moment, and the bastard Gnomes are charging a fortune to fix it. So, if you go to the local bathhouse don't go alone! Like as not you'll end up taken for a prostitute or harlot, molested in an alley or some other annoyance. Oh, you'll have rooms here and as long as you keep them clean, I don't care how you decorate them. Try not to take too many folks back there, I don't mind you earning a few extra coins if that's what you want to do, but I'm trying to rid this place of a bad reputation and don't want it known as a bawdy house despite my efforts. You'll have to remain here in the inn for the most part until I'm sure of you, and anyway, the streets are hardly safe for wandering and unwary humans at the best of times so it's less perilous."

"Wha...?"

The Dark Elf continued, and Nyx poured herself another drink, propping her elbows on the bar as the woman prattled on.

"So, I'll probably end up working behind the bar for a spell, and you might end up serving tables in addition to everything else I'll have you doing, I hope you're strong enough to carry a weighty tray," Cassie tried to interrupt but the woman kept going, "now some of these jackasses might try and get fresh with you Cassie, and as far as I'm concerned you don't have to put up with anyone's shit but mine so if they do, you give the bouncer a shout and he'll show the bastards the door, or if you feel up to it just break a tray over the cheeky bastard's skull."

The woman finally paused and gave them both what passed among Dark Elves as an apologetic look, "Look, I know this might not be the best place in the world, and it'll likely be hard on you for a while, but for what little it's worth I'll be working just as hard as you, and I promise, I will try and make it up to you in the fullness of time," she hooked a thumb at Nyx, who paused as she was refilling her tankard yet again, "ask her, she knows I'm good for it."

Nyx sniffed, and nodded as she lowered her tankard, "T'is true, she's an evil-tempered bitch at times and sulks something terrible when she doesn't get her way, no idea where she gets it from, but she's not much for lying," she laughed, "well except that time you got caught with yon half-elf lad, I thought the poor bastard was having a fucking heart attack when I walked into the stable. Turns out the poor soul was just a bit... erm, excited. What was your excuse again, some horseshit about practising medicine after he'd been kicked by a horse. Though I'm pretty sure if I'd been kicked in the nuts by a horse, I wouldn't have looked quite so happy about..."

"Ma!"

Maggie's jaw all but fell open, "Ma?"

Cassie choked back a giggle as Nyx blew out an exasperated breath and hit her head off the bar, "Oh, for fucks sake," she looked up at the two, "so, I can see by your face and can tell by your damned giggling that obviously you knew already Cassie, but this is my youngest daughter Narissa-Thule. Me and the Captain loaned her much of the coin to buy this place and between the two of us we own a wee bit less than a half share, but Narissa owns the greater part, she's the boss. I'm just helping her out, because yes, she's kin, but I also know that Maggie is probably the best cook for a place like this that I can imagine, while young Cassie here is a good and useful worker and unlikely to cause any difficulties."

She grinned, "So, me and the Captain have a scheme in mind whereby when we can eventually afford it we want to use this place as a sort of barracks or salon where the Company can muster, reside and use as we see fit. That would make this place utterly safe, for while the surrounding precincts may be a bit of a rough area, I can personally assure you that any street gang or cluster of louts that goes against our Company will be cut to ribbons in short order. The very idea of some congress of rogues harassing the likes of Azure, or Gods forbid Elsadore is so amusing I almost want to see it happen so I can revel in the result. But first, this place must be made livable and into the sort of place where the Company would want to take their ease."

Narissa cleared her throat with a troubled frown, "About that. There is an issue we need to discuss for a problem among the local fauna has developed."

"Oh?"

"Aye, there's a local gang, a mob of mixed bloods, freed folk, leg breakers, ex-gladiators and other unsavoury malcontents who run the local street girls, as well as the supply of alchemicals, spirits and the like. They are led by a Half-Elf called Syros and by all accounts he's a bit of an evil cunt.

"Apparently, the last owner ran up a sizeable debt to this fellow, and I imagine that since I've expelled his whores from my place and declined to purchase his narcotics and the overpriced swill he was touting that I'm not in his good books. There have been a few emissaries from his organisation who have taken pains to explain in great detail how unsafe the local streets are for a poor young lass like myself, and how regrettably flammable the old timbers of this place might sadly be."

Nyx deliberately put her tankard down and her voice was suddenly very flat and cold, "You've been threatened?"

Narissa swallowed and nodded nervously.

"Where might I find this walking corpse?"

"Mother, please, I'm not sure..."

Adair had not been paying attention to much of what was being said as most of it seemed unimportant to her. She had smiled reassuringly at Cassie and was now looking about the common room with some small curiosity. There were Dwarves and freed slaves drinking and eating at the tables, alongside sailors, sellswords and rogues. The serving wench was a buxom woman, who from her collar looked to be an enslaved human, she was clearly overworked, and moved between the tables carrying a tray heavy with tankards as she nimbly dodged groping hands with an expression that poorly concealed a significant level of annoyance.

She noted with mild interest as the door opened and a cluster of figures entered. They were a rough-looking lot wearing sturdy garments of studded leather and with daggers and cudgels aplenty in their belts. Many bore wicked scars upon their faces and arms that looked to be the result of some historical affray or other and she watched as they peered about, looking into the nooks and shadows suspiciously before they turned their hungry gaze towards the bar and began to make their way across the common room towards them.

Narissa spotted them almost immediately and swore quietly while Nyx glanced up into the cracked mirror and grinned.

The leader of the group of ruffians looked to be a wiry Half-Elf with a hair lip while at his side stalked an enormous Half-Orc with bear-like arms that displayed thick, corded muscle. The lumbering creature's mouth was curled in a toothy snarl, there was a thoroughly vile expression on his face and his small yellow pig-like eyes glittered with a malicious glint.

The Half-Elf moved to the bar and gently pushed Nyx to one side with the back of his hand, "S'cuse me darlin, move aside there for I fancy a word with the slut here."

The grin on the face of the veteran swordswoman widened into a feral smile and her eyes sparkled dangerously as she nodded amiably and made room, "No problem."

The Half-Elf sniffed and turned back to Narissa, "So, you had a chance to think things over and mayhap reconsider your ill-tempered words? Syros ain't known for his patience my love, the streets round here are unsafe you know after all, and we wouldn't want a pretty young thing like yourself to be dragged into a dark lane one night and maybe suffer some unfortunate mischief now would we?"

Narissa glared at the man before smiling sweetly and leaning across the bar, "I've had a wee think about what I said, and maybe it's possible I didn't use the right words."

The Half-Elf smiled, "Well that's better! I'm glad to hear you've decided to be a bit more reasonable my lovely, after all, your face is so pretty I would hate to see it spoiled by a morass of ugly disfiguring scars."

Narissa nodded, "Indeed, obviously I failed to make my meaning clear, so to rectify this unfortunate miscommunication I want you to tell Syros to find himself a nice, jagged bit of preferably rusty metal, shove it up his arse, and go fuck himself with it."

"Listen to me you fucking bitc..."

Nyx slid a gold coin across the bar towards the Half-Elf as she spoke mildly, "Know what this is?"

The Half-Elf paused and looked down in confusion before reaching for the coin, "What...?"

The blade in Nyx's grip slammed down and impaled the man's hand into the bar, "It's called a knife apparently," she gave the Half-Elf a grin, "stick around, I'll be wanting a word."

The Dark Elf punched the next man in the throat and the brass knuckles she wore crushed his larynx like an egg. They were Dwarf-made, and Nyx had won them from Elsadore in a dice game many years past. How Elsadore had come by them she never said, but Nyx remembered how aggrieved she was at the loss of the game, claiming hotly that the Sergeant had cheated by using enchanted dice, which admittedly, was not entirely untrue.

The huge Half-Orc bellowed a roar and swung the wicked cudgel in his hand in an evil arc, aiming at the side of the Dark Elf's head, only to look in stunned surprise as a long-fingered tattooed hand caught his wrist and arrested the blow mid-swing.

He growled at the puny human who dared to interfere and made to wrench his arm free with a snarl, only to find that her grip would not be broken. He grabbed at her fingers with his free hand and vainly attempted to pry them loose as he spat, "Leave go of me you fucking whore!"

Adair tilted her head as she regarded the struggling creature, "Very well."

Braksos was an ill-tempered Dwarf at the best of times, which these were not. He sat at the table arguing furiously with his brother and cousin, and his burning anger had not been diluted in the slightest by the tankards of rum he had downed, "I tell ye the bastard cheated us! I say we go back and split his fucking skull!"

Grakos snarled as he pointed a tankard at his brother, "T'is what you always say! "Split his skull!" is your answer to every fucking problem and not always to our advantage says I. What of you cousin Malkon, have you no opinion? Or are you content to be dragged into endless brawls by this intemperate curmudgeon?"

The younger Dwarf took a draught of ale, wiped his nose and shrugged, "The Humans have a thing called an "Adventurers Guild" I hear. It lets them set prices and avoid cheating each other on jobs, mayhap we could..."

"WELL, I'M NOT A FUCKING HUMAN AM I?"

A further exchange of hot words was interrupted as the table detonated in a spectacular explosion of food, drink and crockery that showered the three angry Dwarves, as a surprised-looking Half-Orc came flying through the air and impacted head-first into it with a resounding crash.

Grakos recoiled backwards and fell off his stool, while Malkon looked down at the stunned figure lying atop what was left of his dinner, "Who the fuck are you?"

Braksos wiped stew and ale from his face and beard with a gnarled leathery hand and his eyes narrowed dangerously as he cast a baleful eye at the Half-Orc thug, "Right!"

Narissa belted one of the thugs with the cudgel she kept under the bar cracking his skull and dropping him instantly, but another grabbed her by the lapel and made to drag her across the counter only to fluster as Cassie pummelled him furiously with the broom she was carrying, "Letgoletgoletoletgo!"

He turned to swing a backhand at the little slave but suffered a change of heart as Narissa grabbed his head and slammed it face-first into the bar, smashing his nose with a sickening crunch.

Nyx slipped forward and deftly kicked one of the thugs in the testicles before punching his face with a wicked left hook. The brass knuckles caved in his cheekbone and he flopped to the ground senseless.

The last thug made the fatal mistake of drawing a blade.

There was no hesitation, warning, or mercy as Nyx whipped her shortsword across his throat in a blindingly fast and brutally efficient slash that all but took his head off and he collapsed in a gurgling heap.

She turned back to Narissa and as she did, she casually stamped on the head of one of the prone thugs, bringing his annoying groans to a sudden halt, "Quiet you."

Narissa held up a hand to forestall her mother's questions as she slid around the bar to approach the three snarling and swearing Dwarves who were still furiously kicking and stamping on the bloody form lying prone on the floor, "Lads! Lads! Here, let me get you some fresh ale and vittles on the house, and we'll see you to a better table while we're at it yes?"

Braksos would have said angry words but Malkon, who was never one to refuse free food and ale interrupted him quickly, "T'is uncommonly kind of you Mistress Elf and we'd be grateful to ye. Here, just let us throw this dickhead out with the trash and I'll gladly accept a fresh table."

Nyx sidled close to the Half-Elf at the bar and playfully flicked the hilt of the blade that impaled his hand to the counter, eliciting an agonised groan from the man, "Well, hello there."

...

Shalidar sat in her tent and shivered. Her face was pale, and her armour still stank of urine. She looked at her trembling hands and tried desperately not to sob as she thought back to what she had witnessed.

They had arrived in a calamitous din of thunder and flame as a mighty circle of eldritch lightning seared the ground to molten ruin. When the smoke and crackling fire dissipated the figures stood like so many graven tombstones in a haunted cemetery.

Shalidar looked about, somewhat bemused to find that the great portal had failed to convey them directly to their destination, but instead had deposited them some distance from the tall pillars of the shrine. Overhead clouds gathered and the cawing of ravens and crows sounded for all the world like a mocking refrain.

At a curt signal, weapons slithered from scabbards as the Fir Bolg of her personal guard moved to spread out like the shield they were. She remained motionless a moment longer, a tall figure armoured in plates and scales of shining bronze, wielding a morning star of cold-wrought iron that she knew could wreak untold harm to creatures of the Fae and other supernatural entities.

Then, striding forward she began her walk towards the shrine, the snow hissed and sizzled at her passing, the Fir Bolg preceded her and following at her heel came the Fomorian.

The crone watched them come, as she sat on the steps of the acropolis with the hood of her shawl pulled about her head and her gnarled shillelagh lying across her knees. As the figures drew close, she cackled merrily, "And here are yet more visitors to this lonely part of the world," she chuckled, "it's almost as though I put up a shingle."

The Herald of the Fir Bolg advanced, "Cower mortal woman, for there stands Shalidar, Dragon of the South."

With a sigh, the woman slowly got to her feet, "I know who she is underling, for she is a child of Nemed, and the Goddess was there when she was first brought into this world."

Looking past the warrior the crone cast her gaze at the tall, armoured figure in bronze and smiled, "You look well young Shalidar. Have you come to make an offering?"

Shalidar peered intently at the figure before her, it had the appearance of some mortal creature, but this was surely some glamour for in her mind's eye it was as though the shawl she wore wreathed her in shadows like some magical cloak. Twisting her head, she focused her eyes upon the figure and a droplet of blood trickled from her nose as she pushed her sight forth to pierce this veil.

The woman made no move but her lips curled into a sly grin, "Careful there lass, you might hurt yourself."

The shadows parted a little, like the rolling of some eldritch wave and for the briefest of moments Shalidar thought she saw...

The armoured figure staggered back a pace and slumped heavily to the ground, and her voice was a hollow whisper, "Queen of Night..."

The crone said nothing.

Forcing herself to her feet Shalidar stood unsteadily, "Y... You cannot be here. You, a... and all your kin were exiled."

"Not all my kin."

"It is impossible."

"You are not the first to say such things."

"How?"

"I forged an anchor, and with it dragged myself, in part at least, back to this place."

"You cannot."

The woman straightened with a smile and her long hair, blacker than midnight flowed down her back, "And yet, here I stand."

"Not all of you, I think."

"No, not all."

"Where is your spear?"

The woman grinned merrily, "I seem to have misplaced it, strange is it not?"

Shalidar swallowed as the pounding in her head increased, "W... What are you going to do with me?"

The woman tilted her head to one side and her lips curled as she regarded the young Dragon with a wicked smile, "Why would I do anything with you?"

"I serve your enemy. Am I n... not then, your... foe?"

"Is that what you wish to be?"

Shalidar swallowed and shook her head.

"Probably wise."

"But my Master..."

The woman sighed heavily, "Yes, my fault I suppose, if I had wanted him exiled like the rest of us, I probably shouldn't have killed him."

Behind Shalidar the Fomorian stirred.

The dark-haired woman glanced up at the monster, "I see you there, giant of the underworld, and I have not forgotten who it is you serve."

The monster drew its great sword, with an iron blade as broad as a man's outstretched arm and longer than five coffins. Baleful flames in place of eyes ignited under its horned helm and its armour clanked when it hefted the brand ominously and took a great stride forward.

The woman glanced back at Shalidar and favoured the woman with a terrible smile, "It appears you brought me something red after all."

...

Hildegard luxuriated in the bath as servants moved about preparing the scented oils for the massage to come. A woman played soft music nearby while another sat behind her on a stool gently combing and braiding her hair. She looked across the tub at Ashunara who had roused slightly from the steamy water to reach for one of the goblets presented to her by a handsome young lad. She sipped the wine with a sigh as she settled back, grinning as the young man moved to offer the second goblet to the human woman.

The Captain had collected her from the slave quarter earlier that day but had made no explanation as to her purpose, though she had paused for a while to observe as Muriah endured yet another punishing lesson under Falsara's 'gentle' tutelage. She winced as the young Dark Elf hit the ground yet again and could only grin when instead of lying there like a pudding she scrambled to her feet with a snarl. Shaking her head with a wry grin she muttered, "Girl's got more balls than I have."

Hildegard protested, "She's going to get herself killed, Captain. Can you not, mayhap say something?"

"What would you have me say? And who to? You think Muriah would care for a cautionary word from me, and Falsara would tell me to eat shit should I try to interfere. This is her kingdom, and she suffers the likes of me only because I pay her to."

She looked to the worried human, "Besides, I think the mad fucker is actually starting to like the girl. And you have to admit, she's definitely improving," she winced at the thumping sound and subsequent groan from the sands, "well, mostly."

Hildegard looked worried but the Captain grinned, "Don't fret, I intend to have her out of here later today, so she need only last until then. I doubt Falsara will inflict any real harm," there was a clatter of blades followed by a pained yelp, "probably."