The Tattooed Woman Pt. 39

"Good lass."

After a few more minutes, Muriah yelped as the veteran slapped her posterior gently and announced, "Right, that's me done. You should be able to wear your mail on the morrow, but go easy if you can or a couple of those scars might split and set to bleeding again. I suspect you'll need more oil rubbed in tomorrow evening, but I think that by suppertime the day after, the healing draught will have done much of its work, and the scarring will be all but gone."

"Thank you, Elsie."

"Think nothing of it," she grinned, "'twas a pleasure to be sure."

"Elsie?"

"Aye?"

Muriah sniffed, and her voice was forlorn, "What am I going to do?"

"What do you mean, lass?"

"I killed my own sister; I can never go back now."

Elsadore snorted, "Well, that's shite if ever I heard it, you did no such thing."

"Caspia's alive?"

"Oh fuck no. You gutted her good and proper. She's as dead as a doornail, and good riddance to her says I."

"But, I don't underst-"

The old veteran took hold of Muriah's chin and turned her face towards her, "That bitch wasn't your sister. Your sisters are all about you, girl, Lashelle, Varoona, Nyx, and the rest, even the Captain."

"Even you?"

"Aye, for we've fought together, shed blood together. We're sisters of the sword, Muriah, not by the whims of chance but by deed, and that's no small thing."

"The Captain offered to fight for me."

"We all did."

"I'll never be worthy of that."

"Oh, horseshit! Where do you youngsters get these daft ideas? Every time you stand shoulder to shoulder with your sisters, you prove your worth, girl! There's no great trick to it, no magic spells, no holy quests or any such crap, just guts and fidelity. You put up your blade, and you stand! Trust me, nobody could ask for more. Now stop moping and waving your arse in the air, or you'll be giving some of those reprobate's ideas."

"Reprobates like you?"

Giving her a wink, the veteran stood, "Well, now, I admit nothing."

"Nyx says you never do."

"Och, but she's an officer now, and ye can't be trusting a word she says. Now, get some rest. I'll get Varoona to bring you something to eat soon enough."

....

Across the encampment, all was bustle and business as the sellswords and Orcs prepared for the oncoming affray. Weapons were sharpened, repairs carried out, bundles of arrows and other ammunition distributed, and all other gear made ready.

Off to one side, Varoona sat on the log somewhat upwind of her companion as she finished oiling her bow. She tested the pull with a grunt of effort before setting the weapon to one side and pausing to regard Adair.

The woman was stripped to her waist with her hair tied back as she dug out the latrine. Moving like some untiring golem, she shovelled shit like a champion without any sign of weariness or even ire at being handed such a menial task. Varoona watched her move and shook her head in amazement, for she made even emptying a midden look like a dance, graceful, always balanced, always poised, muscles moving visibly under her skin even as her serpentine tattoos coiled about her, sometimes shifting hither and yon as she worked. Their movements were subtle, but they drew the eye and were more than just a little hypnotic.

"Why are you doing that?"

"Nyx handed me a shovel and told me 'twas the Captain's order."

"But they can't make you..."

Adair chuckled, "Can she not?"

"But..."

The woman paused in her toil, and the Dark Elf passed her a flask. After taking a swig, she grinned, "That's what she said, "We can't make you, Adair, 'tis up to you. You're either one of us or no." Then the bitch handed me a shovel and pointed me in this direction. I tell you, Varoona, for a little mortal with the lifespan of a flea, she reads me too well."

"Is this for what happened the other night?"

"Aye, in my tantrum, I destroyed a significant portion of our supplies. In truth, the punishment is well earned, and I have no just cause for complaint."

The Dark Elf shook her head, "But what's the point? I mean, it's not like it appears to bother you so much as a jot."

"The latrines need dug, and someone has to do it. Am I above such labour? Besides, 'tis a matter of nature."

"Nature?"

"Aye, the Captain has to be the Captain, and I must be Adair. 'Tis our nature."

"I don't understand."

"Give it a millennia or so, you will."

Varoona stared at the creature before her and bit her lip, "Adair?"

"Aye?"

"How... How old are you?"

The entity paused and pursed her lips in thought, "'Tis difficult to say, for in my early years I was immortal, and for my folk time is oft measured strangely."

"You don't know?"

Turning to the Dark Elf, Adair shrugged, "My mother is as old as the stars, they say. She has lived for as long as there have been dreams. I am... younger. I was brought into this world to serve her purpose, I think. I remember The Morrigan's War, though I did not take up arms and fight, and I have no measure of how long I had been in this world before that."

"But that's thousands of years ago!"

"As you say."

The confused and boggled expression on Varoona's face provoked an earthy chuckle in the creature, "Do I not look good for my age?"

"You do at that, and better than just "good". But... I mean, we found you on the road. Right in our path, as it were. That can't be a coincidence."

"I suspect not. After my fight with the Dragons, I lost my will to go on, and I just... fell. I do not know how far or for how long, but I suspect I was not entirely... um, here, during my fall."

"So, that battle could have been long ago? But... I saw the fires in the sky that night with mine own eyes. I swear it."

Adair shook her head, "Aye, but if you're asking me for explanations and reason, I suspect you will be disappointed. Doubtless, another hand played its part," she sighed, "and I can well suspect whose hand it was."

Varoona swallowed and toyed with the dagger in her hand, "Um, Adair?"

"Aye?"

"Are you um... glad? To be here, I mean?"

The creature smiled, "More than I ever thought I would be again. My mother taught me many things Varoona, gave me many wyrd powers, but strangely, I find it is mortal companionship that feeds my desire for life," she reached up, "now if it's not too much trouble lend a hand to help me get out of this shithole."

"Gods, no! I'm not touching any part of you till you've bathed."

"Oh, fussy sprite."

...

Captain Ashunara gave an exasperated snort as she looked out over her burgeoning command. Turning to Nyx, she complained, "What the fuck am I going to do with eighty Dwarves? They may be hardy enough, but it makes a total mockery of us being scouts, for they make as much noise on the march as a travelling blacksmith's shop."

Centurion Garok-Kral and his Company had arrived in the early hours after a hard forced march, and the Dark Elf had watched in bemusement as they set about constructing a stockade around their encampment with typical Dwarven efficiency. While that feverish business had been ongoing, the Centurion and his Optio had strode up to her and saluted, "Morning Captain, my Company and I stand ready to serve."

"Serve?"

The Dwarf grinned at her confusion and hooked a thumb over his shoulder, "Aye, a little bird whispered in my ear that there was a bit of a brawl in the offing hereabout and me and the lads thought we might stick our oars in. So, we've signed on."

Ashunara shook her head, "Signed on? With House Varro?"

"Oh, fuck no! My fathers of old would dig their way out of their barrows and kick the shite out of me if I pledged loyalty to such a shower of nefarious pixies. I'd be black affronted, so I would. No, but let's just say that a human lass of our mutual acquaintance might have asked me to lend a hand and pointed me in this direction. Well, we got to drinking as I mulled it over, and funnily enough, the more we drank, the more the idea appealed to me, and so here I be."

"And you'll fight with us?"

"That's what I'm saying. If ye'll have us."

Casting an eye over the Dwarves, the Captain nodded at the rapidly appearing fortification, "I didn't know your Company was so numerous?"

The Dwarf laughed, "Oh, brave Captain, 'tis not, I assure you. I barely know who half of those lads are. Yon lass of yours went round the Dwarf bars and bent the ear of every hardcase that would listen, telling them tales of treasure and glory, and shortly after a whole mob of them came to me and signed on. To be fair, there were a bunch more, but I only took the veterans."

"But why?"

The Dwarf shrugged, "Truthfully? I think the homicidal bastards just fancy a fight, but some of them likely have kin battling in Miosgan Meadhba. Anyway, I'm offering to stand with you. What say you?"

At his side, his Optio grinned, "We have brandy."

Nyx's pointed ears lifted immediately, "Fuck it, I'm in."

Ashunara rolled her eyes and gave a long-suffering sigh before extending her hand to the Centurion, "Well, on that note, welcome aboard, Master Dwarf. May your axes bite deep."

The Dwarf grinned as his leathery paw all but enveloped her slender fingers, "And may The Smith guide our blows and lend strength to our arms."

Now, the Captain looked out at her Company and snorted, "Do you remember when there were like seven of us, with a dozen Orcish dog-soldiers running about making mischief on the borders? Now look at us; we have our Company, two score Orcs, a handful of mad adventurers, a trio of assorted sellswords, a wizard, one refugee from an enemy House, and now eighty bloody Dwarves. 'Tis ridiculous."

"Not to mention a random demi-god that you've set to shovelling shit."

"She deserved it."

"Not arguing, but what would you have done if she laughed in your face or turned you into a newt?"

"That's why I sent you with the shovel, Nyx."

"Oh, well fuck you very much, Captain."

Ashunara passed the woman a flask, "Here, have a swig of this."

"Dwarf Brandy?"

The Captain grinned, "Actually, no, tis a gift from Hildegard. Though the Centurion carried it here for her."

Nyx sniffed the concoction before taking a draught. Her eyes widened, and her brows shot up, "Ohh, Gods, that's good stuff."

"Not bad, isn't it? Oh, she sent two. That one's yours."

"You know, I'm starting to like that human. She's no bad to look at, either. What's she like between the sheets?"

"Never you mind, you lecherous oaf. Now, tell me how best to use these Dwarves, for their clattering will advertise our presence to any foe within half a mile of us."

Producing an apple and drawing her dagger, Nyx shrugged, "The tin-plated wee bastards are good in a fight, though, and they're hardier than a coffin nail. That, and what those crossbows lack in range, they make up for in punch, even if they're a tad slow on the reload. They might come in handy enough on the morrow. I'd be inclined to stick them out front and hide behind 'em."

"This is my sister's fault."

With an impish grin, Nyx deftly peeled off a slice of fruit, pinned it on the tip of her blade and waved it at Ashunara, "Well, truth be told, from what I hear, 'tis more the doing of yon strumpet you favour, bless her wee heart."

"You leave Hildegard out of this."

"Well, I would, but she sent me booze."

...

Aventine smiled her wolf's smile and nodded her thanks as she accepted the chalice of wine from Hildegard. The handmaiden poured out several more and moved about the study, setting them before the others. The servant girl, Abria, had made to protest at this reversal of roles, but the Matriarch simply waved her into a seat and pointed at the drink placed before her. The human meekly nodded her thanks and quietly sipped the libation as the others found places in the study.

The Dark Elf chuckled as she lounged in her high-backed chair, "Well, that was all terribly dramatic, was it not? Tell me, young Cassie, what made you of yon pantomime? Surely you must have a question or two, or has Hildegard been exaggerating the level of your wit to me?"

Cassie was staring in wonder at the intricately carved silver goblet that had been pushed into her hand and blinked in surprise at the question.

To one side, Shalidar and the sinister Dark Elf that followed her like a shadow sat side by side, while the other tall Dökkálfar from the high table had taken up a post standing silently near the Matriarch, and Cassie was beginning to think she was more than merely some kind of servant, or trusted advisor.

Aventine caught her glance and grinned, "Forgive my manners, my dear, for I neglected to make proper introduction. She gestured around the room, "You know Mistress Hildegard, of course, and Lady Shalidar as well, it seems, but here is my faithful servant Abria, without whose attention and patience I would be forever lost. Standing there, so sombre and attentive, is my Seneschal, Matron Livia, while yonder, sitting in such wary proximity to your friend Lady Shalidar, is Fiamma Vor, dread Magister of House Varro, and let me tell you this young Cassie."

She leaned close. Her dark eyes glittering with such wary cunning that the girl shivered, "that she pays such close and careful attention to your 'protector' speaks volumes and lends me to think that this Lady Shalidar is perhaps a more perilous entity than simply some allied human sorceress from beyond The Veil, as I was first led to believe."

Shalidar smiled lazily, "Well now, 'tis true I have been known to cast a spell or two in my time, but I made no claim on being a sorceress."

"But you did claim to be an ally."

"True enough, as far as it goes."

Aventine's eyes hardened, "You're not going to explain yourself to me, are you?"

The Dragon's eyes glittered as she shook her head., "I'm not really one for... explanations. But I will say that our interests align, for now, and I have agreed to aid your House at this time. If, however, you find my presence an inconvenience, I can always withdraw."

Aventine grunted and turned to her Magister, "What say you, Fiamma Vor, can she be trusted?"

The Magister snorted, "Gods, no! Well, I mean, her word can be, of that I'm certain, and we have a pact, she and I, and, as you say, she is puissant."

To one side, the Dragon raised her goblet in acknowledgement of the compliment.

Cassie looked up, "Um, Shalidar?"

"Yes?"

"How did you come to be my protector? I mean, is it because of Ellén?"

"No, though I am glad she has found such an agreeable pet to play with."

"Pet!?"

The Dragon grinned, "Forgive me, I misspoke. I should have said such an agreeable companion, obviously. But no, 'tis the doing of your sister."

"Adair?"

"Indeed! We had words, and to my surprise, instead of coming to blows, we came to an accommodation. In exchange for a somewhat reciprocal service on her part, I agreed to take on the burden of acting as your, ah, guardian in her absence. And I'm told all well-bred young Princesses should have a guardian. Doubtless to teach them... deportment, and the like," her eyes sparkled with mischief, and she nodded at Aventine, "so, once I've finished utterly slaughtering this one's enemies and laying waste to whoever stands against her, we can proceed to dance lessons and other such mindless dross. Truly, the very thought of finally discerning which fork I should be using to eat mussels simply fills me with eager anticipation."

Aventine stared as the Magister choked again, and she heard the woman mutter, "I swear, you're going to give me a fucking heart attack by week's end."

Cassie flushed, "Guardian? Princess? What the Hell are you talking about, Shalidar? I'm no Princ-," she paused as the words sank in, and her smile widened abruptly, "Adair promised to protect Ellén, didn't she?!"

"Clever girl, and you most certainly are a Princess."

"Oh, bollocks!"

The Dragon lifted her head and raised an arched brow, "Is your stepmother not a Queen then? Would you deny Her royal station? Truly, I would not recommend such insolence. In truth, your adopted line far surpasses that of all here, myself included."

"But that's just daft... isn't it?"

"If you say so."

Aventine's fingers drummed against the side of her goblet, "Well, enlightening as this isn't, time is pressing. We each of us have our errands to attend to," she gestured to the Magister, "You and Lady Shalidar must be away on that business we discussed. Are you sure there is no further aid I can offer? For 'tis a dread task you have taken on."

The Magister smiled, and Cassie flinched as the rod in her hand crackled perilously, "We shall suffice, I should think."

"Good. Now, off with you, for I would have words with Cassie, and I'm sure she has questions and perhaps grievances to present to me. You too, Hildegard, go find something for that idiot Dwarf to do."

The woman hesitated and cast a worried glance at Cassie, "But..."

"Away with you. I promise I'll not keep her overlong, for I suspect she is keen to visit her friends."

Despite her worried expression, Hildegard curtsied, "Yes, Matriarch."

After she had gone, Cassie found herself sitting alone with the Dark Elven Matriarch of House Varro, who simply sat still and regarded her with an intensity the girl found distinctly unnerving, for it was, she thought, much the same look a hungry cat might give to a mouse, "Um... About Shali-"

"She's a Dragon."

"You knew!"

"Of course I know, and if what they tell me about such things is true, she certainly knows that I know, so that begs the question: why the deception? Still, that's for another day. I'm told you were borne here on Dragon wings yourself, Cassie. Is this so?"

"Aye, that was Ellén."

"I thought as much; Shalidar's daughter, yes?"

"Aye."

"And this Dragon has affection for you, and you for her?"

The girl nodded.

"Amazing."

"She's nice!"

"She's a Dragon. They are perilous in the extreme."

"Well, she helped me save Captain Ashunara from monsters!"

Aventine tilted her head, and her dark eyes narrowed, "Did she now?"

"Aye!"

"And why would a Dragon save any kin of mine, I wonder?"

Cassie blushed, and her voice was small, "I... um, asked her to."

Aventine smiled thoughtfully, "You must have used the magic word then."

"What, 'please'?"

"If you say so."

The girl sniffed, "Why did you throw my friends in the dungeon?"

Aventine refilled her glass and considered a moment before pouring a smaller measure for the girl, "Careful with that now, 'tis enchanted. And I didn't, well, not entirely."

"But..."

"I wanted them to stay here as guests. I had very pleasant chambers all prepared and ready for them. But this Narissa Thule, or Narissa Mal, depending on which side of her family you favour, well, she is most aggravatingly stubborn. I swear she could give my sister a run for her money, and I assure you, that's quite an achievement. She kept trying to escape and became quite intransigent about the whole thing. Several of my guards ended up thoroughly dishevelled by the time I lost my patience and locked her up. It was your friends who insisted on accompanying her to the dungeon, which was a strange decision methinks. It was all thoroughly vexing."

"Dishevelled?"

"Oh, you know, punched, clubbed, beaten, lightly stabbed, that sort of thing. Several were rather battered by the end of it. One was pushed from the walls as she rushed past him and took quite the plummet, but he should be fine. Another was strangled a bit. Did you know she could pick locks? Apparently, my guards didn't, nor did they have any clue as to quite how many blades the woman had concealed about her person."