The Tattooed Woman Pt. 22

A tear appeared in Dana's eye, and she sniffed as she responded miserably, "True."

"You could stay here you know."

The woman raised her head, "In bondage?"

Azure shook her head, "No, not in bondage, for a reluctant or untrustworthy scout is worse than useless. True, you would be indentured to our company for a while, or if need be, to myself and after your service was done you would be free, and more than that, for I'm sure the Captain would make a place for you if you wanted one and if she didn't then I would. And we do not care if you are 'Half-Elven', or Half-Orc, for that matter, Hell I would tolerate even a Half-Wit if you were good at your job. You would be truly free, to be yourself, without looking over your shoulder or suffering the slings and arrows of Human prejudice."

Lashelle smiled at her, "You could make a life here, and if your brother came later, then with you to speak for him then so could he," she chuckled, "and besides, indenture is not so bad, it served me well enough after all, just be sure to read the terms before you agree to anything."

Dana's head came up and she stared at the Dark Elf in astonishment, "You were enslaved?"

"No, not enslaved, I was an orphan child and raised by the sisters at the Temple of All Gods. They looked after me, fed me, clothed and educated me and while they asked nothing in return it was expected that I would one day make an effort to repay the debt, so when a bannerette offered to take me into her ranks as her squire and herald, I sold myself and gave the coin to the sisters at the temple. I was indentured for a decade and then served her for three more until she was killed in a border skirmish, for she was a fair Mistress, and in truth, I'd grown fond of her. Afterwards, I left to join the Free Companies, and that's how I fell in with Nyx, and through her the Captain."

She smiled at the memories, "I guess the point of my tale is that slave or no, life is often what you make of it. I mean you've met the Captain, and you've met us. Do you think we're the sort to keep you in chains for sport?"

"But I heard such evil things about you, Dark Elves I mean."

Azure laughed, "And doubtless much of what you heard is true enough. We are hardly saints after all. We are capricious, prideful and arrogant to a fault, we admire the cunning and devious over compassion and empathy, but we also admire loyalty and believe in honouring our debts and holding to our word once given. I am telling you, giving you my word if you will, that if you fight for us, I will treat you like a sister in arms for as long as you serve, I will free you when we're done, and if anyone treats you otherwise or offers you abuse in the interim I will cheerfully cut their throat for them, as would any of our Company, for we stick together."

Dana's heart pounded and she licked her lips nervously, "And would your Captain hold to such a bargain?"

Lashelle laughed out loud, "You met her Dana, above almost all else she is loyal to those in her service. You keep faith with her, and she would bend over backwards to look out for you, but you fuck with her, and she will peel you like a grape, assuming Nyx didn't beat you senseless first, and they both have a tongue that can strip bark from a tree if you vex them. On saying that though, if anyone outside our Company offered you insult, she would take that as a personal affront and like as not gut them like a fish for she has a temper on her when she gets irritated."

Azure giggled, "Just ask Nyx. The Captain kept her up to her armpits in Orc-shit for a week after the woman was.. um, insubordinate."

Lashelle had to look away to stifle her grin at the oblique description of what Nyx had done.

Looking between the two women Dana nodded slowly, "I admit your Captain treated me decently enough when you had me last time, but why tell me this, you could just hire a scout surely? Why bother with me?"

Azure sniffed, "I spent a day hunting and dodging you and I liked what I saw, besides, anyone hardy enough to bathe in that brook with all that ice and snow about is surely tough enough for us."

Dana spluttered, "You watched me bathe?!"

"I was bored, and it was entertaining," she grinned, "from your, um... reaction, the water was certainly cold. I was tempted to steal your knickers for a jest, but that would have been taking the piss."

"Where were you hiding?"

"Under the snowbank on your left, about fifteen feet from you, near the draighean tree. To your credit, you looked for tracks before washing, but I'd lowered myself from the branches of the blackthorn, so I hadn't left any. Your brother was meant to be on watch, but he looked away for a moment or two as you undressed, which was chivalrous of him, if a tad unwise."

"You were stalking us?"

"Yes. I thought about cutting his throat and shooting you, but it didn't seem fair what with you in your birthday suit and all, besides, our Captain was looking for a peaceful accord with yours at the time. I told Lashelle about it; she made a sketch from my description."

Lashelle nodded cheerfully, "I was going to paint it. It sounded such a pretty scene."

Dana groaned, "You two really are mad."

The younger Dark Elf smiled, "Perhaps so, but I think we're also shrewd enough when it comes to judging the worth of someone's character and the value of their given word. You have skills we can use, but more importantly, both of us think you can be trusted, and you're brave enough not to cut and run if things go awry."

Azure held out her hand, "So what I'm asking Dana, is if you'll fight with us?"

...

The Broch of Kouni was an ancient stone edifice built long centuries ago, back in the days of Queen Medb some said, and it perched on a bleak outcrop of rock looking out over the strand that crossed the great bay of Bá Dhún linking it to the notorious smuggler's den of Dorrin's Point and the villages of Elsinore.

The strand itself was a treacherous and shifting sandbar that was oft-hidden by high tides and would have been almost impossible for the unwary to navigate, were the path not marked by an eerie line of fourteen tall standing stones that, according to legend, was all that remained of a tribe of Fomorian giants that had offended the Danu, and then paid dearly for their impudence.

The double walls of the broch were more than eight feet thick and made from the obdurate stones of the bleak landscape, and the tower itself stood ten times the height of a tall man. Uncounted years of exposure to wind and rain had worn the stones smooth and their slick surface was nigh unscalable.

Kasa-Dur had no particular fondness for this posting, in fact, she pretty much fucking loathed it. She hated the cold, miserable weather and the drab dreary village that the tower protected, with its hardy, but mind-numbingly boring fisherfolk occupants. She longed for the taverns and fleshpots of distant Emain. But her House had little in the way of wealth, or standing, and their lands were poor. So, as youngest daughter she had done as she was bid and taken charge of this remote watchtower, and though she chafed at the unceasing tedium and isolation of the place she had to admit that sometimes, rarely, when the sunset turned the sky and sea to fire and the mermaids sang their siren songs out in the bay it was almost tolerable.

Her 'garrison' if one could laughably apply the title to the collection of young miscreants and old warriors that occupied the broch consisted of a half-dozen Dark Elves, who hated the place almost as much as she did, one drunken magister who was usually so far gone in her cups that she could barely stay awake at mealtimes, and a score of misanthropic Orcs and Half-Orcs who were too fucking stubborn and obstinate to just go home and die in their own beds.

The leader of the Orcs was a scarred old bastard who clearly thought little of her, who virtually ignored her for the most part, and when eventually forced to speak with her did so with monosyllabic grunts of barely concealed contempt.

She hated him most of all.

Her mother had made it clear that this was a punishment posting, and all because she had stabbed her sister in an argument over a male. It was so unfair! She had only knifed her once after all, and it wasn't even as if the bitch had died or anything, though it would probably take a while for the healing magic to regrow her nose. The fat-arsed harlot had been an ugly cow anyway, so no harm done, but she had always been mother's favourite. The flogging she had received had been almost worth it to see the snivelling weakling weep as she looked at her marred features in a reflecting glass. Still, mother had allowed the slut to wield the lash and she had done so with relish.

Afterwards, she had been hastily dispatched to this hellish shithole, probably to remove her from further interfering with her sister's efforts to attract a suitor.

Her aunt Udina Vox commanded the watchtowers that guarded the entrance to the bay and the grim-faced old harridan had laughed in her face when she arrived, shame-faced and still with weals on her back. She had pointed to the map showing the island where the broch stood and with an evil grin pronounced sentence, "I have just the job for you girl. Mayhap a year or five guarding yon cold rock will cool your blood and temper your spirit."

That very day she had been escorted to the boat that would take her to the island posting that would serve as her oubliette. Her aunt had surprised her though, for just as she was about to board the woman had looked her in the eye and neither her voice nor her smile was entirely unkind, "It won't be forever girl. Just take your licks, as we all must from time to time, and if you're not too angry with me I'll see you at Beltain for the feast. Now off with ye, for the tide won't wait, mayhap we'll speak again in a few months."

And that was that.

She never saw her aunt again.

When she learned that Miosgan Meadhba had been besieged she knew what was coming, for to cut the city off from resupply by sea the watchtowers that guarded the bay, including the one she now stood in, had to be seized or razed to the ground and soon enough the enemy would turn their attention towards that end.

She crumpled the small message scroll that detailed her impending fate and with a disgusted snarl tossed it onto the fire that never seemed to warm the cold stones of her chamber. She sat in the chair for a few moments longer staring at the flames before drawing a deep breath and rising.

Magister Artemesia Ria was drunk, but then she was always drunk. She lay on soiled sheets wallowing in an inebriated haze and so barely noticed when the door to her chamber swung open with a crash and Kasa-Dur strode in followed by the young slave girl who was her aide and an armoured Orc.

The Dark Elf looked about at the filthy disorder and winced at the smell of sour wine and urine before turning to her aide, "Get that bitch out of bed, take her down to the beach, strip her and throw her in the sea. Once the cold and the water has sobered her bring her back."

"What if she drowns Mistress?"

"Then no need to waste time bringing her back."

"Yes, Mistress."

Moving to the barracks she found the scarred old Orcish Warleader and a few of his braves stripped to the waist and entertaining themselves at some form of raucous contest that seemed to involve axe-throwing and drinking. She strode past the target and up to the creature, ignoring the axe that flew past her, barely missing her head.

"Get your warriors armed and armoured! We must prepare this place for siege."

The Orc grunted and made to turn back to the target, hefting a hatchet for the next throw, but he froze as Kasa slid forward and he felt the point of her dagger come up under his testicles.

Her voice was cold and loud enough to carry, "I gave you a fucking order. Acknowledge it properly. And know this, the next time you disrespect me I'll have your balls for earrings!"

The Orc's gleaming yellow eyes narrowed dangerously, and his brow furrowed, but seemingly otherwise unfazed it sniffed before looking down and his gaze held the unwavering black eyes of the angry young Dark Elf standing before it for a long, long moment. Then, apparently satisfied by what it found there the thing snorted, its mouth curled into a wide feral grin, and he growled a single word, "Finally."

Stepping back, the old warrior drew himself up and slammed his fist against his breast, "I serve!"

...

Quintus made a sound that was halfway between a scream and a panic-filled whimper as the last two barghests charged at him. The first of the four beasts hadn't made it across the magical gate before his rushed incantation sent an overcharged firespell straight into its leering face. The incandescent bolt blew the thing's head apart and instantly seared a path through the creature before continuing on to detonate against a tree forty yards back from the charred and smoking corpse with enough force to turn it into a spectacular cloud of burning matchsticks.

The three remaining hellhounds spread apart as they came for him, howling and snarling as they bounded forth like smoky pieces of animated black shadow, with gibbous red eyes and slavering jaws.

A wave of fatigue washed over him, but sheer terror easily banished the weakness, and he screamed his second spell, conjuring a blazing hot cloud of wicked fireflies that swarmed the largest of the beasts. The monster was instantly engulfed from head to tail in brilliant orange flame, but its bloodlust drove it on for another twenty paces before the thing finally staggered to a halt and collapsed in a stinking blackened heap.

The last two beasts arrowed in towards him from left and right with horrendous speed, their crimson eyes fixed upon their prey and the desire to drink his hot blood driving them into an insatiable fury. Quintus stumbled back a half pace and blood trickled from his nose as he waved his hands in a frenzied arcane gesture before unleashing a third enchantment.

A burning portal opened immediately before the hound charging in from his left revealing a ghastly landscape of fire and molten rock beyond. The thing experienced the briefest moment of horrified realisation as it vanished into that hellscape before it could turn aside. Its agonised howl was abruptly cut off as the portal vanished.

Turning to his right Quintus screamed in horror as he came eye-to-eye with the last barghest. The beast was mid-leap, its frothing red jaws wide and fangs bared as it lunged for his throat. Reflexively he raised a warding hand and shrieked a word of power.

The great black hound froze in mid-air, its muscles quivering and bloody drool dripping from its gaping maw as its eyes latched upon the morsel before it. The human wizard kept his eyes fixed on the things evil leer as he held it bound by will and magic alone. He could feel the thing's unending hunger and its insatiable desire to rend and kill as it strove to reach him, and he whimpered as it edged ever closer.

Weakness washed over him, and he dropped to one knee, knowing that the instant his gaze broke or his magery faltered the thing would rip him to shreds.

From nearby came the sound of a dry chuckle as Fiamma stepped from her protective circle. She nestled her iron blasting rod in the crook of her arm before clapping her hands together in mock applause as she walked slowly around the almost frozen beast. Her voice held a note of dark amusement as she examined the tableaux before her, "My, my, that was rather exciting wasn't it, hmm?"

She reached up and stroked the black fur of the beast. The thing quivered at the insult and drove all the harder to break free. Quintus groaned as it nudged closer and in his almost terror-frozen mind he imagined he could already feel the fetid breath of the monster upon his face.

Fiamma tilted her head and gave the young wizard a curious look, "An interesting spell, some rudimentary binding and holding enchantment I should think. Probably tied to some telekinesis-based magic hmm?"

She looked down at the man as his leg gave out and he fell to both knees, his raised hand trembled visibly from the effort of holding the beast at bay, and blood and sweat dripped down from his face as he poured his magic into the spell.

The old Dark Elf sighed, "So, what's your plan eh?" Wait for it to die of old age?"

Quintus almost snarled, "S-s-stab... it."

The warlock laughed with dark glee as she applauded happily, "Oh wonderful! You hold it by magic and cut the thing's throat while it is bound helpless before you. That is simply marvellous! How almost Dark-Elven of you," she paused, "so, why have you not done it I wonder? What is the flaw in this plan of yours?"

His vision blurred and every word was torture, but he finally managed to utter the syllables, "G-guards took... m-my... knife."

"Oh, how bothersome of them."

"H-help... me."

The Dark Elf turned her gaze on the man, cooly gauging the remaining strength of his crumbling will for a long moment before smiling brightly, "I don't have a knife either, not really my forte you see," she looked back at the barghest as it inched ever closer to him and mused, "still, I do have a letter opener in my workroom over there, somewhere. It's a pretty little thing, made from enchanted silver. A suitor gave it to me, oh, such a long time ago, I sometimes wonder what became of he..."

Quintus groaned.

Fiamma tutted in annoyance at the man's impatience and moved out of his field of vision. In the endless moments that it took her to return the tortuously slow movement of the creature ate almost a third of the distance that separated Quintus from a gruesome death.

Smiling happily the Dark Elf placed an egg-timer before the human, "There! That should do nicely."

"W-what..."

"Oh, it's an experiment I suppose. I want to see if you can hold the thing for as long as it takes for the sand to run out. Surely you must be curious yourself," she grinned, "after all I should think you would be quite invested in finding out no?"

"I-if... if I d-do... w-ill you... help... me?"

"Hmm, well, helping people is not really my forte either you know," she sighed, "I tell you what. If you manage not to die horribly before the sand runs out that just might give me time to go and find that letter opener. I mean I'm sure I left it someplace, but I just can't seem to put my mind on where; a symptom of old age no doubt."

Quintus muttered an obscenity that made the Dark Elf giggle happily, "I'll take that as an agreement. Now I'm off to go look for that elusive paperknife, please do try not to make a mess of my floor before I get back there's a good little Human."

The next few minutes were a hellish eternity of fatigue and gasping weakness as the granules, like falling tombstones, tumbled down through the sandglass with a damnable, tortuous sluggishness that showed utter indifference to his pain and fear. Blood trickled from his nose, eyes and mouth as he heaved his will against the slow, inexorable advance of the obscene monster that was bearing down on him. Sweat poured from his brow as he drove his magic against the thing, desperately struggling and failing, to hold it at bay. A low snarl of hungry anticipation emerged from the beast as it oh so slowly drew closer, grinding down his last reserves of power.

His heart pounded, his chest heaved, and his vision dimmed as the uncaring sands fell. A whimper of relief escaped his bloody lips as a movement at the corner of his blurred vision caught his eye. The Dark Elf had returned!

Fiamma sniffed as she picked up the sandglass and regarded it carefully as the last few granules tumbled through its narrow neck. She turned to him and smiled merrily, "Oh, well-done sirrah, that's actually almost impressive," she frowned, "unfortunately I couldn't find my letter opener, so sorry."