The Tattooed Woman Pt. 33

THE TATTOOED WOMAN - Chapter 33

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.

Again, a shout-out to Avicia for their suggestions and much-needed help editing this.

The Tattooed Woman Volume 3 - Chapter 33: Sirens and Serpents

It was a glen, much like many others, though perhaps somewhat more remote and lost than most. For the old crofters oft whispered that the faerie folk sometimes visited the place, and those few locals who wandered there, either by design or chance, knew well to avoid the elf-rings and pixie mounds lest they intrude upon the privacy of the wild Sidhe or their reclusive cousins, and be called upon by such perilous and playful folk to dance for their supper, or sing for their freedom.

There were a few brave fools, possessed of an adventurous and restless spirit, who had found themselves drawn to those hills. Sometimes, years later, they returned with a strange gleam in their eyes, or if a lonely or comely wench, they might be with child, while if a brave lad, then more often than not, a small squealing and wrapped bundle might appear one day upon their doorstep. Such children were oft fair of face and feature, freckled, with green eyes and mischievous nature.

A deep pond of dark waters could be found in this particular glen, far back among the trees of that wooded vale. And if one were brave or foolish enough to seek out this pool then, if they left some small offering, or perhaps sang a song, or told a tale, then the Merrow would perchance slip out from among the reeds and pass a few words.

The Merrow was a water sprite of sorts and had lived in that pool since before the time of men and Elves. She watched the stars, weaved, sang, and played with the humans and Fae who visited and was content.

Today, however, her musing was disturbed by the sound of weeping. It was a sad sound, filled with lost hope and broken dreams, and so she listened a while until curiosity prompted her to lay aside her loom and investigate.

Sliding to the surface, she slipped silently through the reeds to regard the shore. There, upon the far bank, perched unhappily upon a boulder, sat a woman. She held her face in her hands as she wept, and her long fair hair hung down almost to the water. She was undressed, and strangely no gown or frock was lying on the ground or hanging from a bush to indicate that she had been swimming.

The Merrow moved through the water with barely the slightest of ripples, but the woman's head came up nonetheless, revealing the most brilliant of blue eyes that glistened with tears. One sparkling droplet fell from her cheek, sizzling briefly as it touched the water, and the Merrow knew.

Rising partly from the surface, she tilted her head as she regarded the weeping creature, "Only love can produce such tears in the likes of you, young Dragon," she shook her head sadly, "You have fallen for a mortal child, have you not?"

Ellén sniffed and nodded miserably.

"Your first, I surmise?"

"I..."

The Merrow's silver tail shifted seamlessly to long legs as she rose from the pond and moved to sit on the rock beside the blonde woman, her long green hair falling over her gills and down across her breasts almost to her waist. Her eyes were as black as the depths, and her small teeth looked as sharp as needles.

Picking up a pebble and casually tossing it into the pond. She spent a moment watching the ripples before drawing a breath, "Ah, 'tis an old tale, young one, though I confess it is usually Elves and the like who grow fond of such and not one of your regal blood. This human must be special indeed."

"I think she is."

Looking at the blonde woman, the Merrow sighed sadly, "You know she will die one day; they all do."

Gazing down into her hands, Ellén shook, "I almost killed her today, I..."

The Merrow smiled, "Hush now, girl, what's past is done, and almost is the biggest word that ever there was."

"But..."

"Shhh, tell me, Dragon, can you swim? Perhaps a dip in my pond would ease your sorrows. Many are the sad memories washed away by those waters."

Ellén smiled, "It hardly looks big enough for me."

The green-haired creature grinned as she stroked a soft hand down Ellén's arm, and her voice whispered, "Oh, I assure you, it's deeper than it looks, a lot deeper."

The Dragon gazed at the dark waters and sighed, "'Tis tempting, but I think not today. I suspect you would give new meaning to the term "Drowning your sorrows," no?"

Smiling, the Merrow looked at the woman and shrugged, "Each to her own; I had to try."

"Fair enough."

Flicking another stone into the water, the Merrow chuckled, "I do not drown those I lure to my watery bower, you know. Eventually, they splash ashore. Sometimes they are changed, and sometimes it is the world that has changed around them; one can never know."

Ellén chuckled, "But I live in the sky, and you in the waters. Where then would a Dragon and a mermaid build their house?"

Laughing, the Merrow gestured expansively around her, "Why on the banks of my pond, obviously, then we could visit each other as is our want."

"I wonder then which of us would change the other."

"Should you ever desire to find out, little Dragon, you know where I'll be."

"Little Dragon?"

The Merrow chuckled darkly, "Oh trust me, child of the sky, there are leviathans that swim in the blackest depths that make even the mightiest of wyrms appear as minnows. And the cold abyss hides secrets so ancient that they have not been seen or spoken of since the making of the world. I could show these things to you."

"Maybe one day."

"Maybe... "

The Merrow stood, "Here now, I was weaving afore you came. Let me fetch you a cloak to cover yourself. We cannot have you wandering back to your true love looking thus, 'tis unseemly," she smiled again, revealing a row of gleaming teeth, "no matter how fair you are."

"A kindly offer, but my mother always taught me to be wary of accepting gifts from a creature of the Fae."

The Merrow tilted back her head and laughed, a rich, musical sound that stirred the reeds and caused the waters to ripple and splash, "Oh, your mother sounds very wise. But I suspect that should I attempt such a petty ensorcellment, one of us would get quite the surprise."

Ellén's eyes sparkled, and for just a moment, the Merrow caught the briefest of glimpses at the slitted, almost cat-like pupils, and she shivered as the Dragon spoke, "I wonder who."

"Well, I, for one, have no desire to find out. Let us just say it is a gift between friends, without cost or obligation. Besides," she smiled, "what weaver would not take delight in seeing a thing made by her own hands graced by so fair a maiden."

"You are kind."

The Merrow chuckled and shook her head, "I am Fae."

The creature slid back into the waters and disappeared beneath the surface, leaving only a faint wake to mark the powerful movement of her tail. But soon enough, she returned, and with a flourish, she cast a net-like cloak of some shimmering weave about Ellén's shoulders.

Stepping back, she smiled happily, "There! That should preserve your modesty and turn aside the leers and lustful glances of mortal men," she waggled her eyebrows suggestively, "unless, of course, you court such looks."

Ellén blushed, and giggling, she stroked the fine material, "Scales?"

"It seemed appropriate given the wearer, and of course," the mermaid smiled, "'Tis waterproof."

A faint breeze that gently stirred the reeds and rippled the waters caused the Merrow to look up from the cloak, and she drew a fearful breath, "Majesty."

Following the creature's gaze, Ellén looked over her shoulder and saw the dark figure of the Crone standing in the shadows under the trees. The old woman eyed them as she leaned heavily upon her gnarled and knotted shillelagh. She looked as though she was half-formed from the darkness itself, and only her eyes gleamed.

As she moved out into the light, it appeared to Ellén that the jealous shadows clung to her black garb for just a few moments before retreating back under the trees. She hobbled forward and looked about the glade before turning her gaze back upon the two supernatural figures before her.

With a nod to the mermaid, she gave the creature a smile, "Good morrow, Mistress Merrow; how goes it in the depths these days?"

Ellén watched the thing swallow nervously before answering, "Well enough, your Majesty."

The Crone chuckled as she cast a glance at Ellén's garb, "A fine cloak, very fine. Fand herself would be pleased that you had not forgotten her arts."

The mermaid licked her lips nervously, "Your Majesty, it... it has been such a long time... Is she... well?"

With another smile, the Crone nodded, "She is as she always was, beautiful as a storm, eternal and unchanging, still angry at her husband and doting upon her sister. You have her eyes, young Merrow, and looking upon your craft, I think she would be glad to see you faring so well. Should I cross her path, would you have a word I might give her?"

Ellén stared in amazement as tears appeared in the eyes of the mermaid, "Y-you would do thus, for me?"

"It is a fine cloak Mistress Merrow, and the artisan is worthy of fair payment."

The mermaid blushed, "I-I promised no obligation for it. I could not ask..."

The Crone smiled, "Then this once, let us call it a gift between friends. What would you have me say to her?"

"T-tell her I love her."

"Oh, lass. She knows this already, but I will convey your words should our paths cross. Doubtless, they would bring a smile to her lips and a tear to her eyes."

"Thank you, my Queen."

The Crone nodded, "My pleasure, now, if it please you to excuse us a moment, Mistress Merrow, I would have a few words with this young lass here."

The mermaid hesitated, and licking her lips in obvious terror, she spoke, "Um, your Majesty. Please..."

"Please, what?"

"S-she's young; whatever it is she's done to vex you, I-I'm sure it can be... um... undone."

The Crone lifted a hoary brow and stared at the creature for one long terrible moment before snorting, "I think you have a gentler spirit than your mother. She and her sister once horse-whipped a man near to death for casting a stone at them, but you have no less courage, I see. But you need not fear, for I am not vexed, and no harm will come to her."

She gestured casually with her hand and smiled, not unkindly, "Now, shoo."

With obvious relief and a last glance at Ellén, the Merrow slid back into the waters and was lost to view. The Crone watched as the ripples faded, and she chuckled, "Brave."

Ellén looked at the woman, "You're Her, aren't you?"

"Am I? I sometimes wonder."

Turning back to the Dragon, the old figure sat herself on the rock next to her with a sigh. Looking at Ellén, she chuckled, "I'm glad to see you have a cloak. I would have loaned you my shawl, but I seem to have... misplaced it. First my broom, and then me shawl, should I continue to be so careless I will doubtless end up as naked as you one day, and wouldn't that be a sight."

The Dragon shook her head, "Somehow, I doubt carelessness plays any part in this."

"You'd be surprised."

"No doubt."

Ellén shifted upon the stone and winced in pain.

The Morrigan eyed the long red scar that ran down her side and along her thigh. It was concealed by magic, but even so, it looked angry enough, like a recent burn or a scald, but it had not pierced her skin at least. Her eyes narrowed, and a moment later, her gaze pierced the glamour completely, revealing all the ragged scratches, scrapes and abrasions that marred the girl's skin.

"Och lass, you've been ill-used this night."

"It'll heal."

"Aye, true enough, but we can't have you going back like this; what would Cassie say?"

Ellén sobbed at the name, "I near killed her! She'll be better off without me!"

The Crone chuckled as she fished out a small pot from under the voluminous folds of her dress. Dabbing her fingers in the contents, she began to gently trace the mixture along the wounds, "And doubtless she'll be agreeing with your canny assessment?"

"Well, I..."

"Uh-huh."

"But, I..." she paused and sniffed, "what in Hell is that stuff? It smells awful."

The Crone sniggered, "Sugar and spice, and shite apparently, or so I was told."

"I believe it."

"It's effective; I made it myself."

"It stinks."

"Stop your girning and take your medicine, young lady, or I'll put ye over my knee."

"You wouldn't dare!"

The Crone threw back her head and laughed. Strangely it did not sound like a cackle, but it was a rich sound, deep and full of mirth. After a moment, she wiped a tear from her eye and sighed happily, "Oh, young one, you would be quite amazed by what I would dare. Best you do not test me."

Ellén was about to offer a peevish rebuttal, but one look into the endless depths of those gleaming black eyes gave her pause enough, and instead, she swallowed her words.

The Crone grinned, "Wise."

After a few more moments of fussing, the old woman seemed satisfied by her efforts and put aside her pot of unguent, "There now, good as new, or near enough. It should suffice to spare me a scolding from wee Cassie at least, eh?"

Ellén sat with head downcast, staring at the still waters of the pond, and a tear trickled down her cheek.

Shaking her head, the Morrigan sighed, "What ails you, girl? I swear I've had cheerier company at a wake."

"Cassie."

"What about her?"

"Was she hurt?"

"Och, she's fine. She'll have a few bumps and bruises to boast about and show off, but otherwise, her hurts are mended, and I've no doubt that she'll be well enough to dance a jig by noon at the latest. Doubtless, she's already pestering Adair to come find ye. Like the mischievous wee buggers you are, I suspect you'll be wrapped up in a bedroll comparing scars and stories come nightfall."

"I-I can't go back."

"Whyever not?"

The younger woman looked up, and her expression was one of guilt and misery, "When I heard that monster's cry. It was like an insanity took me. A fiery madness that drove everything from my mind except the desire to fight. I near enough killed Cassie, and I never gave it a second thought. What if it happens again? I-I could... hurt her."

"Your first battle?"

The Dragon nodded and looked down at the ground at her feet.

Ellén felt a strong hand cupping her chin and gently pulling her head up until she was looking into those dark eyes, "It was not your fault, girl; each of us must act in accordance with our nature. If there is any blame to be had, it should fairly be laid at the feet of the one who made you thus."

"My mother had no part to..."

The Morrigan smiled, "That's not what I meant."

The ancient creature pursed her lips and looked about for a moment before pointing up, "There! Do you see yon bold fellow?"

"The Sun?"

"Aye, Lugus. He's long been betrothed to my sister and chases her about the sky like a love-struck fool. Well, he's not spoken to me in an age, and..."

"Why?"

"What?"

"Why won't he speak to you?"

The Morrigan grinned impishly, "Ah, well, you see, I might have, um, vexed him somewhat."

Fascinated, the Dragon could not help but ask, "What did you do?"

"Well, I... borrowed his spear."

"Borrowed?"

"For sure! I'm no thief, mostly; I fully intend to return it... um, eventually. Well, as soon as I get it back, that is... probably."

"So, you filched his spear. Is that why he won't speak to you?"

"Ah, no."

"No?"

Ellén had never seen such a creature try so hard to look innocent yet fail so dismally. The effect was so comical that she could not help but giggle, "So, what else did you do?"

"I may have, um, pinched a fragment of his fire. Would you care to hazard a guess as to what I did with it?"

Ellén stared in wide-eyed realisation, "You gave it to the Dragons, didn't you?"

"A bit."

"But that's..."

"Och, you should have seen the wee things! Flapping about and hiccupping these brilliant little clouds of flame, it was wonderful!" She sniffed, "I got into a wee bit of trouble over that, but it was so pretty."

"You're jesting."

The creature grinned and favoured the Dragon with a mischievous shrug, "Am I?

"But..."

"Ellén, I wish it were not so, but you needed to experience this thing. Now you will recognise it for what it is, and you will not be so easily swayed when the time comes again. You are the stronger for it. Further, the creature I contest with will have heard that a Dragon stands against him. He will ponder this, and uncertainty will gnaw at him. For in his mind, there is only one way whereby such a slave could muster strength enough to refuse him. And he will fear."

"Are you really Cassie's stepmother?"

The Morrigan rolled her eyes with an exasperated sigh, "That artful pixie of a Dark Elf uttered those words, not knowing who she spoke to or what she was saying. Then Adair declared it before the moon and stars that Cassie was her sister, and so I am bound by that promise. I could only break faith with Cassie by breaking faith with my daughter, and this I'll never do. Thus, I am hoisted by a petard, not of my making. So, yes, little Dragon. Now and forever, she is mine."

Ellén giggled, "That's pretty funny, really. How such a few words, spoken so carelessly, could command such an effect."

The Morrigan eyed her; it was a sobering experience, "You think so?"

The Dragon swallowed.

"Hmm, tell me then, young lady, now that you've had your wicked way with my stepdaughter, I take it you'll be making an honest woman of her, or were your intentions thoroughly dishonourable?"

"What?"

"Oh yes, it should be quite the wedding. One but has to wonder at the guest list if nothing else."

Ellén stared, "What!?"

The Crone chuckled and muttered, "It's alright, dear; I wouldn't want me as a mother-in-law either."

...

Seated upon a slab of crumbling granite, Ashunara stared out upon the battlefield and shook her head with a sigh. The ruination caused by the battle was prodigious. The meadow had been churned into a quagmire of ruptured barrows and toppled cromlechs, littered with cadavers that had been pierced by arrows and then crushed to bursting by the violence of monsters.

The ground around the tower's crumbling walls was littered with dozens of bodies, hewn by axe or punctured by a spear, and spilt carelessly in sodden heaps upon the blood-soaked soil. Here and there, a wounded figure moaned until it drew the attention of the nearby Orcs, who silenced it with typically brutal efficiency.

Sensing the nearby presence, she spoke without turning, "What's the butcher's bill this time, then?"

Nyx slumped down on the rock beside her with a grunt, passing a flask and a chunk of bread and cheese, "Drink that, eat this, and I'll tell ye."

Eyeing the panorama of carnage before her, the Captain sighed, "Somehow, my appetite is not what it should be this morning, Nyx."

"No doubt, but you're a soldier, so get over it and eat; you know the work is not yet done, and you'll need your strength."

Ashunara took the proffered vittles, and taking a bite, she mechanically began to chew, washing down the rough breakfast with a swig from the flask. Between mouthfuls, she nodded to the veteran, "Report."

Nyx sniffed, "Five of the Orcs are dead, half the remainder are wounded, and almost everyone else has taken at least some minor scrape or battering. Tallis lost a finger, Varoona took a cut to the face that sliced her eye, and Dana took a crossbow bolt to the gut, but with suitable healing draughts, these injuries will be mended in a day or so, and at need, they could travel by tonight. Oh, and Azure took an arrow to the thigh while she was playing cat and mouse with that Drow snipe and boy! She's a grumpy cow when she's hurt."