The Tattooed Woman Pt. 28

THE TATTOOED WOMAN - Chapter 28

I hope folks are enjoying the story so far. Please leave comments, as criticism both positive and constructive is inherently useful. Plus, I like reading comments, so that's cool.

The Tattooed Woman Volume 2 - Chapter 14: Mine's Bigger Than Yours.

The main column was still within sight of the walls of mighty Emain. A winding snake of armour and steel, skirted by skirmishers and scouts, with bold champions carrying proud banners and pennants high, many bearing the sigils of Houses great and small. Its vanguard played martial tunes on flutes, pipe and drum, and it was trailed by an ungainly baggage train comprising a motley and assorted collection of wains and porters under light escort. To the flanks prowled bands of Orcish kind, lean and feral, armed with scimitar, spear and shield, with many bearing the mighty warbows that their enemies and prey knew well to fear.

All the panoply of war was on display, and on the surface at least it had the appearance of a powerful force, but Captain Ashunara took one look at their snail's pace, and with a snort of disgust vowed to stay as far away from the slow-moving circus as she could possibly manage.

She had set an easy pace, for she knew some of her Company were green enough but already her small command had left the column in its wake, roving ahead and doing its best to all but disappear into the wilds.

Once again, she had made decision to eschew mounts and pack animals, weighing their advantages against the noise they made and the ease by which they could be tracked. Further in any engagement or battle a full quarter of her small force would be required to steady and control the beasts, or they would be lost in short order, and she doubted she could afford such abstractions.

She turned to Muriah who stood nearby and beckoned. At her approach she handed over a small scroll and nodded towards the column, "Here, take this missive and convey it to Captain Barissa of House Carne, she is supposedly chief of scouts, and I would think you would find her tent somewhere near the front of that mess, await her reply and convey it back to me," she pointed off towards a pronounced hillock in the distance, "we shall be headed towards yon vantage point, but it would be well if you did not linger overmuch as we will be having a cold camp after supper and I have no desire to leave a light burning for you that may give up our position."

Muriah nodded and took the message but paused as the Captain maintained her grasp upon it and raised her brows. To one side Nyx cleared her throat and eyed her expectantly and the younger Dark Elf flushed.

"Uh, yes Captain."

Ashunara grinned and released the small scroll, "Good lass, baby steps Muriah, baby steps."

She deigned not to hear the woman's muttered reply.

Nyx chuckled once she was out of hearing, "She's going to be a lot of fun."

"That she is Nyx, that she is."

...

The tent was easy enough to find, a sizeable marquee draped in the colours of House Carne and surrounded as it was by footmen in their livery, but Muriah could not for the life of her fathom as to why they had halted and set the thing up with still more than half a day of light left. There was a bustle about the place, and she could feel her hackles already rising as she fell under the indolent glances of other Dark Elven bravos who loitered about the area, resplendid as they were in their newly forged armoured carapace, all shining and bright. Their colourful garb and heraldry contrasted vividly with the dull utilitarian mail she herself wore and a few of the peacocks smiled and chuckled at her appearance but the words of Elsadore came to mind even as she clenched her fists in annoyance.

The canny old veteran had helped her don the mail she wore and made careful inspection of her new boots, "Hmm, the boots are decently made and will wear in well enough, but I'd only wear them for a half day at a time until they do, or your feet will suffer. Ask around and see if you can borrow an old pair from someone, I'd give you mine, but your dainty little feet would be lost in anything that would fit me. You know, the Captain has wee feet, try her."

"I couldn't ask her!"

"She won't care lass, t'is a matter of practicality and that trumps almost all in her book, and trust an old soldier, you need to care for your feet when on a march. Ask her at supper," she grinned, "t'is an order if it makes you feel better."

"You're no Sergeant, can you be giving me orders?"

Elsadore burst out laughing, "Well, tell you what, I've fought in more campaigns than you've had hot dinners and I could beat the Hell out of you with both fucking hands tied behind my back, and until you can do something about that I guess I can make you do anything I please. But in truth I'm trying to help you, but t'is up to you if you don't want to listen."

Muriah felt her cheeks flush as she blushed, "Sorry, just... force of habit I guess."

The old veteran waved off her apology with a grin, "Och, don't fret lass, you worry too much, you're among friends now. We look out for each other, and you won't upset a battleaxe like me with just a few daft words."

"Friends?"

"If you'll have us lass, besides how do I borrow money from you for drink in the future if we're not friends? For I'd not lower myself to owing coin to someone I disliked."

After adjusting a couple of straps to her satisfaction she stood back with a grin, "Not bad, looks like Falsara taught you pretty well, but she was always a canny one."

"You knew her?"

"Aye, me and Nyx served with her in the border wars, oh, a long time before you were born. She was a Corporal then, and we were but green recruits," she grinned, "just like you are now."

"What was she like?"

"Tough, but funny as Hell, a good sword to have at your side, but the only person I ever met who was a worse singer than me. Course the only time she sang was when she was absolutely shitfaced, so mayhap I'm being unfair."

"How did she get the..."

"Scars?"

Muriah nodded and Elsadore paused with a thoughtful look, "Not my story to tell, but in truth we all have scars lass, it's just that hers are on the outside is all."

"Sorry, I shouldn't have as-"

"Like I said, don't fret, t'is only natural to be curious about such things. There! That should do it. You at least look the part now, and those wee adjustments should save on chaffing and the like, as well as cutting down on unwanted noise."

"Er, why is our armour so dull? I saw some of those others and they looked bright as fishscales."

The veteran chuckled, "Aye, and when they get turned into a pincushion on the battlefield, they'll wish they weren't so fucking pretty, but t'is the adamant used in the forging, it darkens the metal. Expensive, but the Captain favours it for the added protection and it makes us harder to spot at night. But she's another canny wee bugger."

"How do I beat her?"

"Who? The Captain?"

Muriah blushed again and fidgeted before answering, "Aye."

"You won't."

Eyes flashing, she almost snapped. "You think I can't!"

Elsadore laughed, "There's the Muriah I know so well, but it's not like that girl. You train hard and you learn fast, I've no doubt you could one day be the better sword if you keep at it, but that's not what I mean."

"What is it then."

The big woman shook her head and chuckled, "Because she's the most devious bitch I've ever fucking met, she could sell water to a fucking fish, and I know folks like Nyx mind. By the time you get good enough you won't want to beat her, you'll want to be her."

"Horseshit!"

"As you say, what do I know? I just stab people after all."

Muriah looked to the grinning woman and couldn't help but smile, "I still think you're talking pish, but you do a lot more than just stab people Elsadore, and everyone knows it."

"Ha! Well, I sing too, here, have you heard this one? I learned it from a Dwarf, so t'is probly got something to do with shagging sheep, or somesuch."

"Oh, Gods no."

...

The tent was all black silk, with black and red pennants fluttering above. Within was smoke and gloom even though the scarlet flames of witchfire that had been set in ornate copper braziers burned bright enough to cast writhing lurid shadows upon the canopy.

The figure hunched upon the throne that had been set within that tent raised his head and smiled his scarlet smile as his blood red eyes flicked to the intruder that the blackguards of his personal bodyguard had ushered into his presence. The Drow approached and dropped to one knee before the throne, averting her gaze as was proper, but despite the display of obeisance her voice still carried an air of haughty arrogance and hungry pride, "My Liege sent for Dullahan."

"Rise."

In a movement eerily reminiscent of the uncoiling of a serpent the figure stood. She was tall, and lean, long limbed and quick, yet possessed of a strange stillness, not at all unlike some hunting spider, deadly and endlessly patient. Her mail was as black as her skin, she wore a wicked falcata at her side and a curved dagger in her belt. The helm she held under her left arm bore a short mane while its visor depicted the leering jaws of a feral wolf.

Dullahan waited for her Lord to speak, she was good at waiting, for she knew that at such times more often than not an unwary foe would reveal some weakness she could then exploit to her advantage. The man before her was no different.

Her Lord stirred, as she knew he would, and at his slightest gesture a slave moved from the dark shadows to the side of his throne bearing a tray of golden cups. He drained one, and with a casual wave of his hand indicated to the other, "I offer a refreshment."

The tall woman eyed the cup warily and made a polite gesture of deferral, "You honour your faithful servant my Liege, but if it please you I prefer not to indulge in pleasures of the flesh while there is yet work for me to do."

He smiled, "If drink is not to your taste, then perhaps the slave herself might refresh you. With suitable motivation she can be quite talented, even for a Dark Elf."

"I humbly thank you my Liege, but I would be uncomfortable taking rest knowing there were duties unfulfilled awaiting me. If it please you, this unworthy servant would instead ask how she may serve?"

The man gave an exasperated snort, "How dull you are. Still, if you insist on being so tedious then I see no need for you to tarry here. Attend me, my spies reveal that the column from Emain has finally set forth. It has the appearance of a strong enough force with a significant baggage train. Take your hounds and your Redcaps and hunt their scouts to bloody extinction, I want that column blinded before it nears here."

The woman considered, "Is there some stratagem I needs be aware of Sire?"

He smiled, "If the column is oblivious to our movements, and if we time our stroke carefully, we might entrap this baggage train outwith the city even as their forces and vanguard pass under its walls. Can you imagine the desperation and despair of the defenders as they helplessly witness such a rout from the battlements? The denial of their supplies and hunger it causes will weaken those besieged significantly, while the fear such a thorough massacre would inspire will make the eventual razing of the city all the sweeter, would it not?"

"As you say my Lord, but..."

"You hesitate?"

"No Sire, it will be as you command of course, but it was my understanding that the column be allowed to enter the city unmolested."

He nodded, "True, it is the Master's design that the column be lured to the city so that their eventual defeat and destruction be all the more devastating, and we conform to his wishes. But this tactic does not conflict with that plan, and I see no reason to deny ourselves an opportunity to strike a worthy blow while simultaneously creating an opportunity to enrich ourselves. Do you argue otherwise?"

"No, my Lord, I sought only clarification."

He sighed, "Then consider it clarified. Now as you so steadfastly decline my offers of hospitality, I suggest you be about your business."

If the woman was concerned by the veiled annoyance in his tone neither her salute, bow, nor the thin smile that played across her lips revealed any sign of it, and her voice was clear as she spoke, "From your lips to my ears. It shall be as you command, my Liege."

...

Muriah collapsed in a gasping puking heap... again. Wiping snot from her nose and snarling a breathless curse she leaned heavily on her spear as she tried to push herself upright and was so concentrating on forcing air into her agonising lungs that she was startled when a strong hand gripped her arm and hauled her to her feet, "Up you get lass."

She looked into the face of Nyx and tried to stop her legs from trembling like so much jelly pudding.

The older woman grinned and held her steady for a moment before passing over a waterskin, "Take a sip, not too much now, or you'll choke."

Muriah stood panting for a second as the veteran wiped her face with a cloth from her belt, "There you go, catch your breath," she sniffed, "better?"

"T-thanks."

"Don't fret girl, we've all been there," she grinned and leaned close to whisper, "even the Captain."

"The Captain?"

"Oh, fuck yes, why I remember," she paused, "you know what, come see me after we make camp and mayhap, I'll tell a few tales, maybe if we get her drunk enough some night, she might even tell a few of her own."

The younger woman licked her lips and looked down to her feet, "S-sorry, I fucked up again."

"Don't worry about it, besides don't think on this as punishment, if the Captain was really as pissed as she made out you would fucking know all about it, I can assure you. Think on this as training."

"Training?"

"Aye, t'is ten days march to Miosgan Meadhba, if not for you and the Humans who joined us, we could do it in eight, while the bastard Orcs could make it in five. But that utter shitshow back there will be lucky to do it in twenty with all the baggage they've got. It takes stamina to go on campaign lass, no point being good with a sword if you don't have the wind to fight, or you can't march fast enough to get to the battle in time in the first place."

Muriah drew a few more agonised breaths before straightening up, "It fucking feels like punishment."

Nyx laughed, "Well now, let's review for a moment just how you came to be spending your day trotting endlessly back and forth between our Company and the main column until you end up puking your guts out shall we?"

"Do we have to?"

"Well, you can start running again if you like instead?"

Muriah gave a wheezing chuckle, "Fine, review away."

"What were your orders?"

"Deliver a damned message, wait for a reply, bring it back."

Nyx nodded and scratched her head with a vaguely bemused expression, "Now that sounds pretty simple to me. So, mayhap you can help me understand how that somehow translated into, "Deliver a damned message, punch the Captain of another Company in the face, knock out two of her teeth, and get dragged back here in chains," because I'm just fucking dying to know?"

The younger Dark Elf mumbled a few words, but Nyx shook her head, "Nope, let's hear it."

"Fine! I was waiting for an answer like I was told, and Captain Fuckface had this servant girl offer me a goblet of wine, or somesuch while she read the bloody thing. But the wench tripped on some stupid fucking bearskin rug the woman has in her tent and the drink splashed me a bit, I mean it wasn't even that much. So then that bitch called her a "worthless whore" and hit her across the face with this stick thing she had in her hand. Well, next thing I knew she was flat on her back and spitting blood all over the place. I... um... might have gotten a bit heated."

"No shit, but hey! At least you didn't fucking stab her, so that appears to be an improvement, yes?"

Muriah couldn't help but grin.

With a sigh Nyx pushed the spear back into her hands, "It'll be sunset in a couple of hours, and I wouldn't be surprised if the Captain called us to an early halt for dinner. You'll be done then. Can you last?"

The woman snorted, "I'll drop fucking dead before I let the bastards see me quit!"

"That's the spirit. Oh, just so you know, "Captain Fuckface" sent a very charming and cordial request that you be lent to her for a few days as her cupbearer. She even offered to swap her own servant in your place. You fancy it?"

"She can kiss my arse!"

"That's what I thought. I'll let the Captain know."

"Um?"

"Spit it out lass."

Muriah blushed, "Is she pissed at me?"

"Fuck no! She laughed her ass off when she was told, made some dig at me saying that if you kept up punching Captains you'd be promoted to Leftenant in no time, the cheeky mare. But she has to be seen to be dealing with it so a field punishment it is."

"I thought she'd be angry..."

Nyx's grin was nothing short of evil, "Oh, she is, trust me."

"But I..."

"Don't worry about it, like I said, if she's ever that angry at you then you won't need to ask me, you'll fucking know. Now, enough lollygagging, best pick up your spear and get back to it."

"Fuck."

"Your pardon?"

"I said, "Fuck you very much, Leftenant!"

"Good girl."

The veteran watched as Muriah did as she was bid and staggered off, before wandering back to the Company. As she passed a couple of them, she mused out loud, "Anyone fancy a wee run?"

Varoona nodded, "I'll do it."

Elsadore grinned, "Here, pass me yer pack and I'll carry it for ye."

"Anyone carrying her pack?"

The bigger woman looked back at the running figure, "Guess not."

Nyx nodded, "Thanks lass, I'll make sure you're off watch tonight, Elsadore can take your place."

Elsadore groaned, "Well fuck, if I'd known that I would have offered to run."

"Elsie, the only time you run voluntarily is from the paymaster to the bar."

"Not true!" she protested with a wink at Varoona just before she set off after Muriah, "I sometimes run to the brothel."

...

Ashunara looked up at Nyx as she entered the tent that evening, "How are we doing?"

"She's just a bit knackered, she'll be fine."

"That's not what I asked Leftenant."

Nyx grinned as she caught the flask the Captain casually tossed her, "I know, but you wanted to."

"Well, that's fair enough I suppose. That bitch wanted me to flog her raw! I told her to go fuck a flagpole, so uh, she may not be best pleased, and given she's chief of scouts it may come back on us in some way."

The old veteran looked down at the woman sitting on the cot and chuckled as she unscrewed the stopper and swallowed a mouthful of liquor before passing back the flask, "She can eat shit, I mean what kind of fucking imbecilic cretin takes a bearskin rug with her on campaign I ask you?" She grinned, "You know, it's funny really, the lass is so like you it's scary."

Ashunara took a swig and sniffed, "I don't see it."

The older woman snorted, "Angry as fuck, stubborn as a boulder and determined beyond all sanity and reason?" She shook her head, "Clearly no similarities whatsoever."

"I wasn't that bad, was I?"

Nyx just stared.

"Shit. Anyway, report if you please."

"Well, we've been marching but a single day, at a fairly easy pace I might add, and we're already half a day ahead of the column. I mean did you see the size of that fucking baggage train? And as for their order of march? T'is a complete dog's dinner. I think out of all the Captains back there's mayhap less than a half dozen who have seen any real fighting in the last century."

Ashunara sat back on the cot and nodded, "All the experienced troops are either watching the border or have already made their way to Miosgan Meadhba. These are garrison soldiers and Household guards led by officers reliving their glory days, or too young and inexperienced to know what they're getting into."