The Tattooed Woman Pt. 34

Stepping back, he nodded, "Not bad. A lot of petty injuries, scars and the like, a couple of broken ribs that have healed up well enough. And it's easy to see you've lost a lot of weight. We'll need to feed you back up and give you sufficient exercise to replace the lost muscle, but you still look strong enough."

Garrow blew out a breath, "So I pass muster then?"

The man grinned, "Well now, let's see. Do you fancy a wee bit of exercise, or have ye had enough of my pestering for one day?"

She grinned, "Have at it."

Gesturing towards the racks of weapons he queried, "What tools do you favour Garrow?"

She shrugged, "Whatever's to hand."

"Fair enough, go fetch yourself a decent shortsword if ye will then lass."

"Why a shortsword?"

The man hooked a thumb at Schrade, "Because when it comes to the formal duel, like you might be fighting as champion to Lady Hildegard, then that's the sort of toothpick these dusky pixies favour."

"Fine."

Stomping across to a rack of blades she snatched up the nearest one without a thought and the Swordmistress winced as she hefted it with all the finesse of a butcher's cleaver.

They had moved down the hall to the line of practice dummies with Schrade slinking along behind them, moving like a stray feline hunting a mouse, and Garrow inwardly sighed.

Gauge nodded to a figure, "We'll say that is Lady Hildegard and this," he hooked a thumb at the Dark Elf, "is some scurrilous rogue meaning her harm."

Schrade chuckled, "Type-cast again."

The big man chuckled, "But you play it so well."

"Flattery will get you nowhere... probably."

Turning back to Garrow he nodded, "So, let's see you stop her," he pointed from the Dark Elf to the wooden figure, "from killing her."

Looking bored Garrow shrugged, "As ye will."

Blade in hand she moved closer to the target figure and scratched her head, "So this is Lady Hildegard?"

"Aye."

"And yon lass is an assassin?"

"That's the rub of it."

Garrow hooked a thumb at the next nearest wooden dummy, "So, who's that?"

Guage frowned at the question, "What? That's nobody, look it's simple enou-"

Without warning Garrow dropped her blade, grabbed the wooden caricature, and hauling the whole thing, stand and all, off the ground she hurled it at the Dark Elf with a grunt of effort.

Schrade blinked in shock as the wooden battering ram flew through the air towards her, "Fuck!"

The assassin was quick, Garrow had to give her that. She rolled swiftly under the missile and her hand flicked out. The huge projectile sailed over her head and flattened a weapon rack with a resounding crash. A shadow fell over her and she looked up just as Garrow's foot caught her squarely in the midriff. The woman's breath exploded from her lungs as the kick literally lifted her slight figure from the ground and sent her sprawling almost ten feet away where she curled up in a groaning ball trying desperately to breath.

Gauge sighed, "Um, Garrow?"

"What?"

He pointed at the figure meant to represent Lady Hildegard and she saw the hilt of a throwing knife projecting neatly from her "arm".

Garrow shrugged, "Meh, she'll live."

...

Gorsini had washed the blood from his beard and was working the gore from his mail when he saw Ellén slinking back into the camp. He was a canny enough judge of character and to him the blonde woman seemed to be carrying quite a weight upon her shoulders, and his lips pursed thoughtfully as he watched her.

Turning to eye the woman by his side he nudged her just as she withdrew her head from the keg and her drenched hair fell down over her bare shoulders like a cascade. Like Gorsini she had thrown off her soiled mail hauberk after the fight and stripped off the padded gambeson and tunica she typically wore underneath to wash away the grime and blood of battle. She was more than merely handsome and Gorsini could have happily watcher her bathe all day and likely not got bored once.

She wiped the water from her eyes and sniffed, "What? Speak up man and stop bloody staring at my tits."

He grinned, "Sorry, 'tis ungentlemanly I know, but to be fair they are more than just a little distracting, still," he made a nod towards Ellén, "look yonder."

Magda looked up and drew a breath. Her voice held a note of wonder as she whispered, "'Tis her..."

The red-bearded sellsword nodded and tilted his head as he pondered, "She looks troubled does she not? Mayhap you should speak to her?"

The northern woman snorted, "I couldn't."

"Why not?"

Shaking her head she turned to him, but he could see her eyes never left the lonely figure of Ellén and he could hear the longing in her voice, "My people have told and retold stories and sagas of the great wyrms since... forever. They are creatures of myth and legend to us. She could be a thousand years old for all I know. What the Hell would I say?"

Gorsini nodded, "True enough, still methinks she looks forlorn this day. And Magda, you're a skald. How can you not? When will you ever again have the chance to actually speak to such as her, besides..."

"Besides what?"

The sellsword flushed and muttered a response that was nigh unintelligible and she frowned, "Out with it, man, what happened?"

"Well, back at the inn, when she was playacting at being a human barmaid, I slapped her arse and gave her a wink and a silver coin as tip when she served my drink. She stopped and gave a look, and right now I'm beginning to wonder just what it was that went through her mind. Something incendiary I suspect."

Magda sniggered, "Do you really want to know? I could ask her."

"Maybe not."

The skald watched the Dragon walking for a few moments longer before turning back to Gorsini with a deliberate slowness, and the man swallowed at the look in her eye as she sniffed disdainfully, "Here, just a moment. Mayhap you'd care to explain to me why you were making free with your hands and slapping the arse of some pretty little doxy in a tavern?"

"Fuck."

She grinned, "It's beginning to seem increasingly unlikely. Or at least not until you make it up to me anyway."

"Will grovelling do? I'd try a love sonnet, but I'm distressingly inept at such things."

"Yer quite pish at grovelling as well to be honest."

The man laughed and reaching his arms around the woman he drew her close, "A deficiency no doubt caused by a regrettable lack of practice on my part. I imagine you'll rectify this failure given time.

He waggled his eyebrows comically, "in the interim perhaps you can think of some other way I might make amends for my obvious foolishness?"

She gave an earthly chuckle and made a barely half-hearted play at pushing him off, "Och away with you, ye lecherous old goat!"

The man smiled and drew in her scent as he held her. Peering over her shoulder his grin broadened, and his voice turned mischievous, "Still, on reflection I think you might want to consider what you're going to say to her sooner rather than later."

"Why?"

"Because she's walking over here."

With an indignant cry Magda pushed the man away and fumbled for her tunica, snatching up the sweat-stained garment as she flushed in embarrassment.

Turning she gulped, for the Dragon was standing right there, head tilted slightly, regarding her with those brilliant blue eyes. And for a moment Magda was entirely flustered, unsure whether she should curtsy, bow, or simply throw herself to her knees before this creature that had somehow come walking directly from the dreams and legends of her folk.

The blonde girl gave her a strangely shy smile and spoke, "Please don't."

The skald swallowed, "It's true! She can see my thoughts!"

"I can't but it takes little genius to read your expression and make an educated guess as to what runs through your mind at such a moment. Please, I did not mean to intrude upon you as you washed, but I find myself in need of a, um... favour..."

"A favour, my Lady?"

With a shy blush the creature averted her eyes, looking down at her bare feet and Magda began to notice how tightly she had wrapped her cloak about her, she raised a brow.

"I, um, appear to have... mislaid my clothes, an unfortunate consequence of a hurried transformation. All I have to cover my modesty is this cloak. I see we are of a height, and our proportions not dissimilar. I wondered if perhaps you might do me a kindness and loan me a garment I could wear."

Magda swallowed nervously, "What the fuck do I have that's good enough for a Dragon?"

The blonde woman shook her head with a resigned sigh, "Magda?"

"M-my Lady?"

"Please, it's Ellén. I'm friends with Cassie. We have spoken before, I served your ale," her smile turned impish, "your man here thought to slap my derriere, and I didn't even eat him. I beg you, be at ease."

Gorsini blanched, "Um, about that..."

Ellén turned to him, and her eyes sparkled, "Yes?"

"Uh, actually, I think I'm just going to shut up now."

The skald interrupted him, "All I have is simple soldiers' garb, and the one embroidered tunica I wear when I sing. It's not much," she flushed and stammered, "but... they're clean."

Ellén smiled, "I'll take what I'm given and be grateful for it, Magda."

The Northwoman gestured off towards her bedroll and pack, "Then you're more than welcome to what I have, Ellén. Take what you will."

"I'll pay you back, I promise."

Magda shook her head, "I'd do as much for anyone, there is no debt between us for this."

The Dragon smiled, "Even so, it is grateful I am," she paused, "um, did I hear aright when you said you sang songs?"

"Some folks say I can carry a tune I suppose, but I claim no great talent."

Gorsini coughed, "Horseshit!"

Both women stared at him, "Oh, did I say that out loud? Apologies. In truth the wench sings like an angel," he grinned, "a heavily armed angel, with a bit of fiery temper to be fair, but an angel nonetheless."

Ellén smiled, "It would please me to hear the song of such a Valkyrie. Cassie and I must leave come morn, for I have been set a task and cannot linger, but mayhap tonight? Would you do me the honour of eating with us, and maybe singing a little perchance? Cassie would take such delight in it I think."

Magda blushed, "Well if you think..."

"I do! And in exchange maybe I can tell you a little of Dragons. Now, let's see if we can find me a shirt that'll fit."

...

"Uh-oh."

Ashunara looked up from the tooth she was admiring at Nyx's off-hand comment, "Huh?"

The veteran was lounging casually on the wall nearby, relaxing with her boots off as she used her knife to deftly slice an apple. She casually pointed down into the camp and mumbled round a mouthful of fruit, "A lovers tiff perhaps?"

Following the line of her finger the Captain spied Lashelle and Azure engaged in conversation near the ruined gate. From the amount of arm-waving and agitated gesticulations it appeared the subject was becoming heated. She sighed, "Looks like," and wearily gestured down towards them, "if you'd be so kind?"

With a wry grin Nyx swallowed the chunk of apple she was eating and placing her fingers in her mouth she emitted a thoroughly ear-piercing whistle that killed the argument as effectively as if she'd used a longbow. The two sellswords wore a sheepish expression as Ashunara crooked a finger in their direction, "How do you do that Nyx? I've never been able to master it, 'tis utterly vexing."

The older woman grinned happily, "I know, I've seen you try often enough; pitiful, hilariously pitiful."

Ashunara's colourful rebuttal was cut short at the approach of her subordinates, both of whom looked flushed and angry.

"Captain, tell her!"

"It needs doing I say."

"She's daft."

"Will you just listen to..."

"Folly says I!"

Nyx chuckled as she turned to the Captain, "Aww, isn't it cute when the wee one's quarrel. It's almost like they're children at play and not real soldiers at all."

With a wry grin Ashunara turned to the two swordswomen, "Sisters, has there not been enough strife to go round that you seek some more? What provokes this squabble?"

Both drew breath to speak but Ashunara held up a hand before the argument could begin again and pointed to Azure, "You first."

"That Drow is still out there; I can sense it. She's out there creeping about, and I think that as sure as a cat's a hairy beast, as soon as we move out, she's going to put another arrow right into Quintus."

The Captain nodded, "Hmm, and I take it you want to go out there after her?"

The scout nodded, "Aye."

Pointing to Lashelle Ashunara pursed her lips, "And it takes no great mental feat to surmise you have an objection?"

"I do! I just fished an arrowhead from this one's leg. She'd snapped the shaft so it wouldn't hinder her movement, so I had to cut the bloody thing out. She's been well dosed with healing draught, and even if that didn't make you drowsy enough, the wound's only half-mended and she's lost enough blood to stagger an ox. She's not in a fit condition to go."

Azure turned angrily but Ashunara held up a hand again, "Is that your medical opinion Lashelle?"

"It is," she looked to Azure and lowered her eyes, "I'm sorry, but it is."

"You wouldn't be hedging your bets a wee bit towards caution because of your feelings perchance, would you?"

Lashelle looked up, "I'd be lying if I claimed complete innocence there, but even so, I stand by my words."

Ashunara cast a careful eye over the scout. That she was engaged in argument at all was sign enough that all was not as it should be with her, but the woman looked pale, and a bead of sweat ran down her temple.

"Azure, your instincts have always served me well, but might it be that at least part of this keenness to run this creature to ground stems from her impaling you with an arrow, almost killing Quintus, and so far escaping you?"

"Captain, I..." the woman sighed, "maybe so, but she's out there! I can feel it."

"I do not doubt it for an instant. If you say she's there, then she's there. But I fear Lashelle has the right of it for now. Your wound prohibits this hunt."

Turning to Lashelle she queried, "What is the absolute soonest before the potion does its work and she's fit enough for the task?"

The woman eyed the scout unhappily, "Dawn, Captain, providing she eats well and gets a good night's sleep that is!"

Ashunara nodded, "Azure, I have no doubt that even hurt as you are you could still sneak past the sentries and abscond from the camp any time you felt like it. And I know it will utterly vex you to be so constrained, so I'll have your word that you'll restrain yourself, until sunrise at least."

"But, Captain..."

Nyx butted in, "Enough! Your word, Azure! Or I'll have her give you a sleeping draught and be done with it."

The scout cast hot glances at the three of them and drew an angry breath, "Fine, 'tis given."

"Very well. Come morning we'll make a show of preparing to decamp. I'll have a travois made ready for Quintus and put him on it. If he is truly her prey, then perhaps we can draw her in."

Lashelle eyed her with concern, "You'd use him as bait?"

Ashunara shrugged, "If she's as good as we fear then she'll get a shot at him anyway when we're on the move, best to lure her into making the attempt on our terms. We'll wrap him in a second layer of mail, with luck it will turn the quarrel."

"What if she shoots him in the face!?"

"Then he dies. Regrettable, but a chance we all must take from time to time for our business is a mortal one. In the end we needs must do what we can with what we have, for we cannot stay here overlong, and this offers the best chance for his survival, and our success at bringing this troublesome Drow to heel."

"That's cold, Captain."

Ashunara turned her dark eyes on the woman, "Do not forget that we are Dark Elves, Lashelle. I like the man, truly, but sentiment is not our way."

She turned her back on the three of them and when she spoke her tone made it clear the decision was made, "That is to be our plan, see to the preparations. Azure, to supper and bed with you, for you have work to do come morning. Those are my orders."

"Fine!"

The scout turned on her heel and stomped off. Lashelle reached out a hand, but the woman brushed past her leaving her looking stricken.

Nyx moved close and rested an arm on her shoulder, "Think nothing of it Lashelle. She is angry is all and feels responsible for Quintus getting shot in the first place. Like as not she's already feeling the first pangs of guilt and within the hour, I'd wager she'll be looking for some way to gently apologise to you, and trust me," the woman grinned, "make-up sex is the best!"

Ashunara chuckled, "And she should know Lashelle, given how abrasive she is. If you need proof ask her man, Claíomh over there, I'm sure he'd provide copious and abundant corroboration."

"Hey!"

"Serves you right for saying I can't whistle."

In the distance there came the sound of a low, ominous rumbling, and Ashunara shivered.

Nyx eyed her, "What is it?"

"I don't know, but for a moment there it felt like someone walking over my grave."

...

Dressed in borrowed garb Ellén licked her lips nervously as she slowly made her way towards the nook where she had been told Cassie was resting. Adair had selected a space well back against the walls and beyond the gruesome sight of the many bodies that still lay either scattered or piled upon the field.

The walls that shielded it from the wind and the overhang that gave shelter from the rain meant the cranny would likely have been engulfed in shadow, but a witchfire had been set and the flickering eldritch flames dispelled any gloom, lending a warm glow to the little campsite. Ellén could see the small lithe form of Cassie crouched before the flames with her head bent as she examined some token that she held in her hand, carefully turning it this way and that as she muttered, "Strange, strange, oh! So that's what..."

Ellén felt the guilt gnawing at her insides and her mouth was dry as she heard herself whisper, "Cassie, I'm so sor...UMPH!"

The wind was all but driven out of her as Cassie's head whipped up and with a cry she launched herself at the Dragon.

"Ellén! Gods I was so worried! Oh, how I missed you, it's been such a strange day, and everything is so... odd, and, and... Ooh, by the Gods you smell WONDERFUL!"

The woman literally engulfed Ellén. Wrapping her arms and legs around her in a bone crushing embrace that left the Dragon nearly breathless.

Looking down at the girl Ellén saw that her eyes were wild and dark, and her smile was as wide, as hungry and as feral as any she had ever seen. Her long hair stood on end, looking as untamed as a bushfire, or as if the woman had literally been touched by lightning.

Cassie drew a breath, "Oh! I can see you!"

"What? Of course, you can s..."

"No! I can see you! Under there, in there, I don't know! Oh, your aura! It burns so brightly, it's sooo pretty..."

Ellén shook her head, "What the...?"

"Look! Look, see that," she pointed at the witchfire, "I did that. I woke up, and it was dark, and I was scared and, and... it just ignited," she paused, "and I have no idea how to put it out."

Ellén looked at it more closely, and concentrated. The flames, for their part, ignored her utterly and simply continued to burn merrily. The Dragon grinned, "Well, that's beyond me. It's probably going to burn for the next thousand years or so. Bet it scares the Hell out of the locals."

Cassie held up the scrap of rusted metal she had been poring over, "See this? It's a spoon!"

"What?"

"It's a spoon I found it just there, it belonged to man with dark hair, and a beard. I think his name was Ciaran, He liked honey and he was so sad, because his wife had died of fever. He had killed three men in his life, including his wife's brother, which shamed him. I... think he had a son, but I'm not sure."