The Tattooed Woman Pt. 30

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The Tattooed Woman Volume 2 - Chapter 16: Something Wicked This Way Comes.

Ashunara sat on the log and pursed her lips in thought. Ostensibly she was watching members of her Company at training, but half her mind lay elsewhere as she mused.

A bit away from the camp Dana and Lily were practicing archery with Azure, firing rapidly from crouched stances, with bows canted. After each salvo the scout would gesture for them to move, compelling them to shift position, closer or further from the targets, or loping from left to right, only pausing to loose further arrows at her signaled command, for even in training the canny wench refused to shout or make unnecessary noise.

The weapons were shortbows of Orcish make. They were recurved and lovingly crafted from wood, horn and sinew, and though less powerful than the deadly warbows they were lethal enough, faster to use and quieter, and the bodkin and broadhead arrows slammed into the targets with significant force.

It was strenuous work, made all the harder as Azure had fashioned blunted arrows of her own, padding them with cloth and leather, and every so often she would loose a shot at one of her students if she thought they had slowed or required some additional motivation.

The Captain was familiar with the woman's accuracy with a bow, "Or knife, sword, or pointy stick for that matter," and she chuckled at the casual manner in which she fired off arrows left and right of her pupils, missing them by mere inches at a time. But even in missing, the whistling of an arrow as it nipped at their heels or almost clipped their ears had the desired effect.

Closer to their hidden encampment Muriah was continuing her training with the spear while Gorsini had taken to sparring with a couple of Orcs and she had watched a while. The man was certainly skilled with the longsword he favored and holding his own against his larger and stronger opponents.

When he took a break to drink and wipe the sweat from his face, she had asked why he had chosen to spar with the Orcs and now she grinned as she considered his reply.

He had chuckled, "Gives them a chance to take a swing at the Human."

"That it?"

He sniffed and his eyes were serious for a moment, "No, t'is good for their morale, and lets them see me as a warrior, but even more so you said we were fighting Firbolg?"

She nodded, "So they say."

The man grunted, "Well, I've never fought Firbolg, but I've heard they are somewhat Orcish in size and fighting style, so this is the next best thing."

The Captain idly scratched the tip of a delicately pointed ear as she mused, "It's been a long time since I've crossed blades with them, they retreated into the mountains and deep woods ages ago and are seldom seen these days, though there was the odd raiding party."

He nodded, "Are they Orcish then?"

The Dark Elf considered, "Somewhat taller, leaner, perhaps not so powerfully built, but just as wild. They are skilled hunters, and favour bow and spear, though I doubt they are averse to using axe and sword should the need arise."

Looking at him she gave a thoughtful half-shrug, "In truth it's not really their fighting ability that concerns be overmuch, but their speed."

"Speed?"

"Aye, my Company are hardy and experienced enough for the most part that I'd pit them against foes even at odds with reasonable confidence that we'd prevail. But Firbolg, like Orcs, are prodigiously quick when it comes to travelling across country, even over very rough ground. This troubles me, for we're not used to being outpaced," she jerked her thumb back over her shoulder," and that column back there that we scout for is waddling along with all the speed and urgency of a pregnant cow in a pasture."

Gorsini nodded, "Surely though, to move at such a pace these Firbolg need must travel light, with little in the way of armour, or supplies?"

She nodded but made a sound of resigned exasperation, "What you say is true enough, they wear hides and leathers for the most part, or no armour at all trusting to woad to protect them, and with our mail we'd like as not cut them to pieces in a stand-up fight. But they know that as well as we do, and they'll not serve themselves up to be slaughtered just for our convenience," she sniffed and continued thoughtfully, "no, they'll harass us, ambush and kill our scouts, get in behind us and attack the baggage train, that's what I'd do at least if I were them."

Gorsini frowned and then gave her a grin, "Hang on! Ambush and kill our scouts? That's us is it not?"

"Aye, that's us."

The man laughed and slapped her on the back, "Well, lucky for us we have a devious bitch for a Captain who'll turn their tricks back on them I would think. Is this not so?"

She nodded, "That's the plan. But you know what they say about plans."

"They never survive contact with the enemy? Or every plan is a good one until the first arrow is loosed?"

Favouring him with a wry chuckle she nodded, "Both."

The man drew a breath and eyed the woman steadily, "You and I, we've dodged and skipped past each other on the border for years have we not?"

"True enough."

He turned to face her fully, "Well, in that time I think I've had opportunity to measure the gauge of my foe Captain, and I'm not concerned. If they cross blades with us, you'll hand them their fucking heads!"

She smiled at the compliment, "That's kindly spoken, but I'm still not sleeping with you."

The man theatrically clutched at his heart and staggered before laughing, "Damn! See I was right! No plan survives contact with the enemy."

She had walked off laughing, "Oh get back to work ye eejit."

Still chuckling at the memory, she looked up as an Orc approached. He was an imposing figure, towering over her, feral yellow eyes gleaming and tribal tattoos and scars displayed on his face and forearms. His long hair was tied in a fighting braid that fell down his back, his movements were almost like those of a wolf or mayhap a mountain lion stalking its prey, and he looked strong enough to snap her like a twig.

Rising gracefully, she gave him a respectful nod of acknowledgement, "Is it done?"

The creature grunted, "Aye, supply caches hidden or buried along our march."

"Well hidden?"

He sniffed and nodded, "Some might be found, but most not."

"Good. Any trouble?"

"Saw some patrols, some scouts, avoided them as you asked."

Ashunara grinned and thumped him on the chest, "Good work! I knew I could rely on you."

The Orc knew he was being played by the devious sprite, but he grinned nonetheless and his eyes gleamed, "I serve!"

Chuckling she gave an almost witsful sigh as she looked up at the creature's hard-bitten face, "You know Warrior, there are times you make me wish I was just a bit larger. I still say your mates are the most fortunate of women."

With a feral grin he nodded, "You have warriors spirit She-Elf, maybe next time if lucky you come back as Orc."

"I should be so lucky. Go get yourself some food for you and your warriors, Maggie's not here but there is some good salted pork, and Lashelle cooked up a decent rabbit stew for all that."

He grunted and ambled off.

Nyx sauntered over and handed over a flask, "How goes it?"

Taking a swig she nodded, "That question has a nuanced answer."

The woman sighed, "Typical, I'll take the short version."

"Our pace is glacial, but it gives us time for training I suppose which is all to the good. Seeing how our progress was so restricted I sent out the Orcs. They've laid a few supply caches along our most predictable line of march, so if we are forced into some hasty retreat or get completely separated from the column, we'll be able to move at speed and without wasting time foraging and the like, and we'll not be caught short of healing draughts and other useful trinkets. T'is not much, but I'll take any advantage I can hunt up."

The veteran nodded and looked up at the clouds, "How long before they start hitting us do you think?"

"Difficult to say, but at a guess I'd say their hunting parties will attempt to move in behind us first, that baggage train is a most wonderful target after all. But I think they'll wait until we're half-way there before they start trying to whittle us down, and they'll go for the scouts first for sure, try and blind us."

Nyx grinned, "Hmm, well, if we know what they're up to and who they're after, then I say we do a bit of hunting ourselves."

"A dangerous game Nyx, we're going to be playing cat and mouse with these bastards for the next fortnight at least."

The veteran laughed, "Well, if it's to be "cat and mouse" like you suppose, then I say we play the part of the cat."

The Captain considered a moment and nodded, "Fair enough, tomorrow night, after making camp we're going to stealthily detach and fuck off away from this circus. I know a few spots where their hunters are like enough to bivouac as they skulk up on the column. If we press on, we can get there before them and mayhap turn hunter into prey."

Nyx's grin was a wolfish one, "That's the spirit!"

...

The warding circle ignited in a blaze of crackling flames and Fiamma Vor spun with a snarl, blasting rod at the ready.

The blonde woman before her stood quite calmly, gazing at the burning circle with an enigmatic smile playing at the corners of her lips, "Not bad."

The Dark Elf eyed the creature warily and hefted the rod in her hand. The air began to crackle with magical energy, and her words were hard, "I command you. Show me your true form, demon!"

Before she could speak the word of power the woman interrupted, "Please don't," she gestured, "this circle? Well for all its skillful crafting, in truth it's just not that large."

The Dark Elf walked around her, "How did you get in here?"

"I opened one of your own portals."

"How is that possible?"

The blonde sighed, "Young lady, it was not demons who taught you magick, it was us."

The Magister hissed the word and her eyes blazed, "Dragon!"

Shalidar bowed, "At your service."

"Somehow I doubt that very much."

The creature smiled and its blue eyes glittered like sapphires, "Indeed, but perhaps we might serve each other, for I have a favour to ask."

"What favour?"

"Directly to business, is it? Shall you not at least offer refreshment? it's only courteous after all."

"I think I'll oblige you to state your business while you are still trapped in yonder warding, and then decide exactly what kind of welcome you deserve."

The Dragon nodded, "Wise, but do you truly think this circle can hold me?"

The Battle Mage sniffed, "You take one step outside that thing, and I will blow a hole right through you."

"You think you can?"

With a shrug the Dark Elf smiled, "Only one way to find out Wurm. I'm game if you are."

Shalidar chuckled, "Oh splendid! Courage and a sense of humour. I knew I would like you. Very well Magister, you have my given word, I mean no harm to you or any in this House today, and I shall depart peacefully at your command. Now, what's it to be?"

The Magister pursed her lips and her brow furrowed in thought. Dragons were terrifying creatures of immense power and notoriously fickle and prideful. Even beyond their physical might and durability they lived for millennia, and many were formidable sorcerers, possessed of dire and ancient secrets. Freeing such a monster from the confines of the warding circle would be nothing short of spectacularly perilous, however she had no doubt that given time the thing could simply smash its way out even if it had to bring the entire House down around its ears in doing so.

Further, Dragons, like so many powerful supernatural creatures, were devious beyond the ken of mortals, but they took insults very poorly indeed. This one had now given its word and parole, and to refuse such meant she was all but calling the thing a liar to its face.

Funnily enough, that struck her as a terrible idea.

She felt herself chuckle, she couldn't help it, "Plus, it's a fucking Dragon! A creature of myth and tale has just turned up in my parlour! What wizard or witch has not dreamed of passing words with such a being?"

Shalidar's blue eyes glittered mischievously, and she smiled lazily, as if she could all but pluck the thoughts from the Magisters brow.

"It's a Dragon, maybe she can."

"I can't."

"Fuck!"

The Magister shook her head, as if she could not quite believe what she was doing and tapped the floor with the end of her blasting rod. The chamber rang to the sound and the flames of the warding circle surrounding the creature flickered and died, "Very well, Dragon, please be welcome in my home as my honoured guest. I offer you comfort, refreshment, and succor, you are safe here, and while you bide under my roof your enemies are mine and no harm shall come to you save over my body."

Shalidar smiled broadly and clapped her hands in obvious delight, "Oh! You remembered the words! I did not know they were still spoken."

"It seemed appropriate."

...

Kasa-Dur was unsure how long they had spent in the cold and dark of that miserable cave. She had been in almost constant pain and a fever had set in on the second day. She had dim memories of the Orc feeding her pieces of half-chewed fish and cradling her like a child as he used his body heat to warm her.

When she finally woke and found her faculties had returned, she saw the creature again sitting at the cave mouth and watching the surround. While she had been lost to the fever dreams it had kept her fed and still had time to fashion a vicious looking stone-tipped spear, a flint hatchet and a knife with a wickedly sharp obsidian edge.

Hearing her shifting, he rose and moved close, reaching down unceremoniously to grip her chin in one of his massive, calloused hands and holding her head so he could peer into her eyes. Seemingly satisfied by what he saw and smiling at her complaints and fiery insults, he fetched her a piece of filleted fish.

She groaned at the sight and smell of it.

He grinned, "Eat, survive, live."

"Oh fuck, not more fish."

The Orc leaned down and quite casually flicked the end of her nose with a finger. When she cried in surprise and pain it deftly pushed the small piece of cut piscus between her teeth and held his hand over her mouth until she obediently started chewing.

When it moved back, she almost spat it out, but a stern look from those feral yellow eyes halted her and instead she swallowed, "Fuck knows what the mad bastard will do if I don't eat the bloody stuff."

Grumbling, she complained, "I can see you doing that to your pups you miserable fucker."

He sniffed and grinned amiably before holding out another thinly sliced portion. She was about to refuse but the furrowing of his brows compelled her to reconsider.

Sitting up with a groan she peered about as she slowly chewed before looking back at the Orc, "Do we have anything resembling a plan?"

The creature nodded cheerfully.

After waiting a moment, she sighed, "Well don't fucking keep it to yourself you great lummox!"

It looked between her, and the piece of fish speared on the end of its knife.

"Oh, for fuck's... Fine! I'll eat the bloody thing! Now tell me your plan."

He hefted the stone-tipped spear, "Make little noise, draw little patrol. Kill them, take boat, leave."

She stared incredulously, "That's it?"

He nodded happily.

She licked her lips and looked down at the floor of the cave, "I.. can't fight, not like this."

He gave her a lazy smile, "I fight."

"But..."

The Orc patted her shoulder with a leathery hand larger than her head, and grinned, "I fight."

He pushed the stone dagger into her hands. As he picked up the spear and moved towards the mouth of the cave she called after him, "Orc!"

He looked round and she swallowed, "If this doesn't work, I just wanted to say..."

He waited.

She smiled and waved the knife he had left her, "That you're still an ugly bastard!"

With a feral grin he nodded and moved off.

...

Aventine Varro drummed her fingers on the arm of her chair as she looked at Hildegard, the sharp nails clicking as rhythmically as a metronome against the varnished wood.

With a sigh she finally spoke, "I tell you to engage a bodyguard to preserve your life, and somehow you return with a condemned homicidal murderess who killed her previous employer, is that the gist of it?"

Hildegard nodded.

"Perhaps you might care to explain your reasoning, for I'm finding it somewhat difficult to fathom this choice."

Sala seemed about to intercede, but Selene shook her head slightly and murmured quietly, "She needs must be able to answer this, or her existence as Handmaiden is done."

Hildegard drew a breath, "She has the skill I require, and is a proven killer as you say, but her current condition demonstrates that she has no familial connections or influence, or if she did, they have abandoned her."

The Matriarch nodded, "That much is obvious."

The Human pushed on, "I recognise her type, angry, bitter and betrayed. I've seen her likeness many times, indeed I've been her. Both of us despising those who cast us aside, those who threw us to the wolves for their own damnable convenience. But there is another side to that same coin, not simply a want to escape or a need for black revenge, but a deep desire to be seen as worth something. Now, I may be wrong, but I think I can use that, I believe that by offering her not simple kindness, which she'll see as a soft-lined trap, but a square deal, and by keeping to any promise I make her, then I can garner her trust, and if I can do that, if I can gain her loyalty, then not only would she never betray me, but she'd lay down her life for me if need be."

"So, you are manipulating her."

"I am manipulating the situation to our mutual advantage."

The matriarch mused thoughtfully, "T'is a gamble?"

"A calculated risk."

Aventine considered, "Very well. It smacks of base sentiment Handmaiden, but I will accept your reasoning, for now," she leaned forward, unblinking eyes fixed on those of the Human and her voice was cold, "but know this, if she offers harm to any in my Household I'll have her head, and you will be the one to wield the axe, understood?"

Hildegard swallowed, "Yes, Matriarch."

"Very well, go to your lessons, see to your new charge at supper and thereafter be about this Dwarven business I have set you."

With a bow the woman made to leave, but the voice of Aventine halted her, "Hildegard?"

She turned.

The Dark Elf smiled at her, "Nice outfit."

...

The battlefield was a smoking, blood-stained, mire, the ruins splattered in gore and littered with hewn and burned corpses. Viewing the scene of carnage Ashunara nodded in satisfaction. The ruins were ancient, crumbling and not well known, probably some settlement built by the druids and shaman who raised the many cromlechs and standing stone circles that crowned the nearby hills, but the old well still provided fresh water and so it was an ideal campsite.

The enemy had been confident in their approach, surely certain that no foes could reach this place so soon. The massive slavering hounds had been a significant concern, but Azure had gathered strong smelling herbs and roots to mask the scent of the Company, and Ashunara had cunningly measured the weather gauge in order to further confound any likelihood of detection.

Spying the caster striding in arrogance among the enemy, she had grinned wolfishly, and her eyes gleamed in hungry anticipation. Like a canny predator she waited as long as she could to draw her foes close, and then nodded to Quintus. At her command the wizard drew a breath and cut loose!