The Tattooed Woman Pt. 41

Garrow bristled, but Shalidar turned and gave her a bright smile, "Oh, she's not my bodyguard, but even so, I think you do her an injustice. She's one of the more competent monkeys I've encountered in this cesspit, and besides, unlike you, she's actually quite interesting."

There was a burst of harsh laughter, and the man hawked and spat on the floor, "Monkeys! Ha! That's a good one. Is that what ye call the Half-Orcs, then?"

Shalidar's eyes glittered, "In a manner of speaking, I suppose."

"Well, best watch it round here, for there's more than a few lads hereabouts with Orcish blood in them."

"Indeed? They did not strike me as being so valiant, but I shall, indeed, 'watch it' as you say. Still, I do have a question for you, and it is this: If perchance, another mysterious and doubtless equally ill-fated Dark Elf were to appear with a bag full of coin and a scheme in mind to instigate some further shenanigans aimed at this human woman, and, more importantly, perhaps involving the wee lass who was with her, how would you respond?"

"What wee lass? Who gives a fuck about some little tart who gets caught up in something that's none of her business?

"I do."

"What?"

Shalidar sighed, "Never mind, I think I see where this is going. Very well, I have a counter-proposal."

She looked about and nodded to the serving wench, "Garrow, the details of my offer are not for everyone. Would you be so kind as to take yon lass out of here and ward her so she does not eavesdrop?"

Culter sneered, "Have no fear. That cunt knows better than to repeat anything that's said at this table."

"Nevertheless, I shall have my way in this," she smiled, "indulge me if you would. I assure you my offer is not to be sniffed at."

"Fine, do as ye will."

Garrow hesitated and leaned close to whisper, "Look, this bastard can't be trusted. I'm no leaving you in here on your own while I stand outside with my thumb stuck up my arse."

With a chuckle, Shalidar looked at the Half-Orc, "What you do with your thumb is your affair, my dear, but I think I am well capable of appealing to Master Culter's better nature. After all, I'm sure he's a reasonable fellow."

"Are you fucking mad! He's a murderous cunt who'd kill his own ma for a copper groat. I'll no leave you to his tender fucking mercies."

Having clearly heard enough, Culter snarled, "Get the fuck out, bitch. Me and Sugertits have 'business' to discuss."

At his words, Kursk gave a growl and took a pace forward. At the same time, several men at other tables rose.

If they had expected to cow the woman, they failed spectacularly, but Garrow's blade was only half drawn, and her answering snarl half-uttered when Shalidar caught her wrist in a grip of surprising strength, "It's alright, Garrow. I'll be fine, truly. Though I do thank you for the offer to stay at my side, but for now, please do as I say."

Shalidar watched as the Half-Orc all but grabbed the serving wench and withdrew, with obvious reluctance, before turning back to the man seated in front of her with a smile, "I'm starting to quite like her. Now, about my offer..."

The man leered, "Aye, about that. It strikes me this Dark Elf was looking for some well-to-do hostage from House Varro, and lo and behold! There you fucking sit! Selling you, plus collecting the reward for yon greenskin, half-blood convict loitering outside sounds like a good bit o' business for me."

He leaned back in his chair and eyed the woman's curves, "Unless, of course, ye can make me a better offer. What do ye say?"

Shalidar's smile broadened, and her eyes gleamed, "Just this..."

Garrow dragged the serving wench some forty paces from the inn and shoved her into a doorway, "Look, I cannae leave that daft bitch in there," she sniffed and looked back at the tavern, "lass, I might no be able to come back for ye as soon as I'd like. But if Culter's thugs come spilling out that door, just promise me ye'll run away, run as fast as ye can. Um, go to House Varro. Ask for Lady Hildegard and tell her... Fuck it, tell her Garrow sent y-"

The inn exploded.

There was a roaring sound, and the windows and doors blew outwards in a great blast of flame hot enough that Garrow felt her hair singe. Bits of brickwork flew in every direction, and the heavy doorframe careened past the Half-Orc and went bouncing madly down the lane. It was so sudden, there weren't even any screams.

Garrow gaped at the burning ruin in shock before running forward, using her arm to shield her face, but the tremendous heat was like a wall, and the searing pain drove her back, "FUCK!"

A movement from the door caught her attention as Lady Shalidar sauntered out, seemingly unconcerned by the raging inferno around her. Garrow stared, "Gods! She's no even singed."

The woman was dragging the body of Culter behind her like some child's toy. She casually flicked her wrist, and Garrow watched as the man was hurled through the air to bounce with a sodden grunt ten paces past her.

Shalidar wandered up to the barely breathing and still smouldering figure, "Well, I do hope that clarifies my feelings on this matter. Now please do mind what I said. Should anyone else suggest offering harm to that girl, you might be best served turning about and running away as if your very life depended upon it," she looked down at him, and her smile was bright, merry and entirely uncaring, "because I assure you, if I come back here, I will not be so forgiving again. Good day."

Looking to Garrow, she gestured down the lane, past the burning potholes and smouldering craters and grinned, "Shall we?"

...

The screaming from the tent had been going on for a while. High-pitched shrieks of agony descending into low moans of pain and misery, interspaced by malevolent giggling so replete with malice that the very sound chilled the blood. The guards surrounding the tent glanced fearfully at each other and shifted uneasily as they stood their watch, and more than a few found themselves unconsciously edging away from the dreadful noises.

One, standing by the flaps of that dreadful pavilion, shivered, and his companion eyed him, "You alright?"

The creature nodded, eyeing his companion even as he swallowed and looked about fearfully, "'Tis naught, just felt like something walked over my grave is all."

Within, Ellén slumped, gasping in relief of a moment's respite as her demonic tormentor withdrew her hand at last and the dreadful pain receded. She was a Dragon! No mere flame could harm her flesh, but the merest touch of these... monsters burned and seared her like a white-hot branding iron.

The creature stared down at her with slitted unblinking eyes that burned with a venomous incandescence, and her smile held nothing but joyous malice, "Aw, you poor thing! Does my touch displease you so? Please, take a moment to compose yourself."

"B-bitch..."

The demonic thing leaned down and oh so gently traced the tip of one black talon across her cheek. Ellén hissed as a wisp of smoke rose from that searing touch and the creature chuckled, "Now, now, let us not descend into unpleasantness. Here," she reached out, "I offer you my hand, merely kiss it in friendship and beg for my mercy, and it shall be given."

The other demons leaned close, and their expressions were hungry as they watched the tableaux.

With a snarl of defiance, Ellén spat upon the proffered limb, "Keep your mercy, fiend! I am a Dragon and one day I will pick my teeth with your fucking bones!"

The creature's eyes narrowed, and quicker than the eye could follow, her talons were wrapped around Ellén's throat. Over the sizzling sound of charring flesh and the whimpers of pain, the fiend exulted, "Prideful worm! We are creatures of fire and shadow, immortal and undying. As the Drow are cousins to the Dark Elves, so are we cousins to the Danu. We are impervious to mortal harm, so even unfettered your great strength would avail you nothing! And as for your fearsome Dragons breath? We were born in a fire far hotter than even you could imagine."

A second fiend edged closer and giggled abominably, "And you do not have the sorcerous might to summon or bind us, let alone dispel us from this plane. You have not hatred enough to fuel such magics. You are a healer! And weak!"

The third hissed, "Your mother now? Oh, now she is a bird of a quite different feather, to be sure," she licked her lips and grinned, "There is no shortage of hatred there. After so many years of slavery, she burns with it! Like as not she would have us dancing to a different tune quickly enough. But you! You are noth-

The spearpoint burst through the front of her chest in a brilliant gout of spilt flame accompanied by a sizzling sound, like so many eggs being cracked onto a hot skillet. The vorpal blade gleamed in the dim light, and droplets of fire dripped from it like blood.

Adair's snarl was filled with a dreadful burning cold, "You talk too much!"

The stricken creature gazed down at the wound in horror-spawned disbelief as fire dribbled from her lips, "T-that's imposs-"

With a warcry that would have shamed any Orc, Adair whipped the spearpoint round in a violent arc that hurled the shrieking thing across the pavilion. Even as it flew through the air, its fire guttered and died until all that impacted against the far side was nothing but ash and cinders.

The demons were quick to recover. With snake-like speed, one spun away while the other cartwheeled backwards out of reach, as nimble as any cat. It looked on their foe, and those burning eyes widened, "Danu!"

Shadows gathered about the edge of the tent, and the flames shrouding their bodies burned brighter as fiery swords appeared in their hands. Crouching, the two demons moved apart and began to circle, tails whipping from side to side as they gathered themselves.

Eyeing them both, Adair widened her stance and held her spear ready.

As they moved, one spoke, its voice a low sibilant sound, "Sisster... We need not quarrel. Join uss... The Master would look kindly upon you. Oh, how he would ... favour you..."

"I am no sister to the likes of thee."

"Cousin then! For are we not kin? Are we not the same? Immortal spirits, bound into forms of flesh."

The other began to edge closer, eyes fixed on the dreadful spear, "Lay down your arms, cousin. We should be as one.... We could take such pleasure in this world," it licked its lips nervously even as it slipped closer, "our revels could be... endless."

Outside, the sounds of bedlam erupted in the camp. And that's when the trouble started.

Adair moved. Spinning the spear about her in a blazing arc, she surged forward. The creature leapt back and threw up its sword in a parry, but the Morrigan's spear sheared through the burning blade as if it were nought but smoke and plunged deep into its chest. The monster gave a horrific shriek as it was... extinguished.

The last creature leapt to attack and drove her sword deep into Adair's side, cleaving the Elven chain she wore like butter. Adair grunted and backhanded the thing hard enough to send it reeling. Quick as lightning, she stabbed at the fiend, but it was just as swift, and it slipped backwards with a mocking laugh.

Eyeing the blood sizzling upon its blade and the smoking wound in Adair's side, its eyes blazed as it exulted, "You bleed! You are mortal! Ohh, how I have waited for this day! The day I can finally see one of your arrogant kind brought low. See you driven to your very knees!"

Adair hurled the spear with a grunt, but the monster cackled as it contemptuously batted it aside.

Looking back at its enemy, its eyes widened as it realised its mistake.

The tattoed creature had lunged forward with a wild snarl of frenzied rage, leaping upon its foe as a tiger pounced on its prey. Though no tiger, however bright it burned, could have matched such fury. The demon raised its sword, but it was far too slow. Adair grabbed it by the head with both hands in an unbreakable grip, and her long, wicked talons pierced its burning flesh. The creature writhed and struggled, but the thing that had grappled it drew it inexorably close with irresistible strength, and its eyes burned!

"Is THIS sorcery enough for you?"

The tattoos engraved on the thing ignited! Glowing and writhing about her body like living things, the demon shrieked as it felt its flame, its very spirit being drained. It began to struggle; desperation and terror gave it strength, but there was no escape from that dreadful grip or those terrible eyes. As its dark fire dimmed, those terrible tattoos glowed all the brighter, and sobbing, it began to beg, "P-please.... I'm sorry, please... don't..."

The thing killing it only laughed.

As it guttered out, the demon whimpered, "I... I'm cold."

Adair pulled it into a dreadful embrace, and her voice was a fel whisper, "I know."

...

Despite her glib words, Ashunara had a plan of sorts or the barest bones of one at least.

"Right, Adair will go ahead by stealth as much as she can. We'll give her a few moments to clear the gate, and then I shall lead my sword-sisters and the Orcs through. On the other side, we shall go on the rampage, killing and burning as we go and sewing as much confusion and chaos as possible."

Nyx laughed, "Well, if I know one thing, we're good at chaos."

"Quite so. We shall fire the camp and, with luck, draw as many as possible after us in wild pursuit. Garok, you shall lead your Company through behind us and form up on the far side of the gate, defending it against all challengers..."

The formidable Dwarf grinned, "Playing to our strengths then, Captain? Fear not! My lads' n' me will not be moved; we'll hold!"

Ashunara gave him a look of mock indignation, "Fear? With a Company of Dwarves at my back? Dinnae be daft, man. My only fear is that you'll garner the greater share of glory as you massacre our foes in droves."

"'Tis to be a contest then?"

She smiled, "Mayhap even worthy of a wager, would you say?"

Nyx groaned.

The Captain grinned, "We'll sort out the terms later, for time is against us now."

She turned to the wizard and pointed at the portal, "Quintus! You will keep that fucking thing open, no matter what, understand?"

"I'll not let you down, Captain."

"Never thought you would, lad. Gorsini! Your Company is to protect the wizard. Once the enemy realises what he's doing, he will doubtless come under heavy attack, so you'll have your work cut out for you. You up for it?"

The veteran mercenary drew his formidable longsword with a grin, "Let them come, but, Captain, lets no linger overlong if we can avoid it, eh?"

Cliomh took a pace forward and gestured towards Nyx, "Um, Captain, by your leave, I'd prefer to..."

"No. You'll defend the wizard, as I say. If he falls and we get trapped on the far side of yon portal, we're all fucked."

"But..."

Gorsini barked at him, "You heard the order! Stand to and fall to command!"

For a moment, the man looked on the verge of rebellion, but, with a sigh, he nodded, but not before he pointed his blade at Nyx, "There is still the question of who's the better sword between us, girl, and I'll take it ill if you leave it unanswered, hear?"

The Dark Elf rolled her eyes, "Humans! So sentimental. Hey, Captain, if I die, do me a favour and bury that fucker in the barrow with me. He's a twat, but he's no bad company for all that."

"Will do. Um, does it matter if he's not dead?"

"Nah! I'm no fussy, and it'd serve him right."

"Fair enough. Right! Let's do this: SWORDS!"

There came the unmistakable sound as steel was bared, and the Captain favoured her Company with a Dark Elf's wolflike smile of wicked delight, "Cry Havok! ADVANCE!"

Then, they were gone.

The Centurion turned to his Company, "Raise the standard!"

Lifting his axe, he bellowed, "Nani! Aeterna Vici!"

The answering roar was deafening! And with their dirge-like warsong sounding, they marched steadily through the gate, and not a one so much as glanced back.

Gorsini shook his head, "Bloody Dwarves."

Turning to his small contingent, he grinned, and if his words were less heroic, they were of no less import, "Don't fucking die!"

Turning towards the gate, they moved forward.

Moments later, a strange and eerie silence fell upon the now deserted encampment, as only the crows were left to watch.

...

Ellén barely stirred as Adair grabbed the chain that fettered her and heaved! Yet, for all her great strength, the stake securing those manacles refused to budge. After a long moment, the demigod dropped the shackling metal and sniffed in disgust, "Right!"

Raising her head, Ellén could only muster the weakest of whispers, "Adair?... Y-you must go...L-leave me."

"Oh, I think not. What would Cassie say?"

"T-tell her, I lo-"

"Be still, lass! Save your strength and your words. For I'll be damned before I leave you!"

Lifting her terrible spear, she gave a cry and stabbed the blade down between the heavy chain links! The sound as it cleaved deep into the metal was more a high-pitched shriek of inhuman pain than anything else, and Adair began to work the haft back and forth.

Sweat dripped from her brow, and the stain around her wound darkened as she worked the metal, and Ellén swallowed, "Y-your hurt..."

Adair's response was curt enough to make the Dragon blink, "No time for such nonsense, girl! Remind me when we're out of here, and I'll bleed later!"

"B-but..."

"Quiet! Oh, fuck this!"

Gripping her spear in both hands, she wrenched it viciously as she put her foot on the chain. Her face was a grimace of effort, and the very haft of the Morrigan's spear creaked with strain.

With a long, dreadful, agonising groan, the links of the chain first bent and then broke!

Adair panted as she leaned on her spear, "Fuck..."

The sounds of battle from outside grew all the more frenzied. Suddenly, the canvas wall of the pavilion was ripped aside, revealing a scene of fire and madness beyond. Standing there, an armoured ogre peered at the two women and roared.

In one hand, it hefted a polearm, longer and heavier than a full-grown man. Snarling, the beast raised that dreadful cleaver and charged.

Adair was clearly in no mood for such petty distractions. Whipping her spear around, she cleaved the thing's leg off below the knee and then stabbed it through the throat as it collapsed.

Turning, she offered her hand to Ellén, "Come on, girl! Get up! We must be away from here."

"I can't."

"What?!"

The tormented woman sobbed, "The collar, I cannot bear the weight... There is s-such sorcery. It is a terrible thing... I-I'm sorry."

Hefting the metal band, Adair took the measure of its heft and swore, shite! I doubt even I could carry you wearing such a thing. You must be free of it afore we can make good our escape."

"Y-you can't break it. It is too strong. He said it was forged to hold a God..."

"My mother?"

Ellén nodded, and Adair snorted, "Aye? Well, if that's his plan, best of luck to him. Anyone trying to put such a fetter around Her neck is going to have quite a day, methinks. Now, look away, lass."

Placing the spearpoint against the clasp, she tried to lever it open, knowing full well that the slightest error would see the blade cutting the girl's throat in an instant. Sparks flew, and Ellén screamed in agony, "It burns! It freezes!"

Another Ogre burst into the tent! Adair spun, grabbed the polearm dropped by the first and sent it spinning into the monster's face. It hit with such force the thing flew backwards in a spray of hot blood, and outside, the battle raged all the more furious and Adair all but screamed in frustration, "FUCK! I've no time!"