The Tattooed Woman Pt 18

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.

The Tattooed Woman Volume 2 - Chapter 4:

The slave-castle of the Dark Elven city of Emain was a fearful place, with high walls, barred doors, whipping posts, chains, and many cells holding those taken in the border reaving into Human lands. The prisoners huddled in those cells were for the most part a fearful and motley collection of scared and terrified peasants and tradesfolk snatched from the fortified villages and towns nearest the border. These included a few angry sellswords who had been taken in battle and swarthy bandits captured in pursuit of their own mischief, but also among them were a few of those most strange and eclectic of all creatures, the so-called 'adventurers'. That rare and peculiar brand of dangerous malcontent who, with a disregard for risk that others often found bordered on the insane, would seek out the most perilous of escapades in pursuit of riches, strange secrets and hidden lore. Capturing such dangerous game came with its own risks, and more than one band of slavers had met with a bloody, violent and often quite spectacular end when making the attempt.

But Dark Elves were both cunning and inventive, and had, over many long years of experience developed the means and wherewithal to deal even with such perilous folk, with enchanted locks and wardings to defy arcane spells and cunning rogues alike, manacles that drained mana and rendered even quite powerful wizards impotent, and worst of all, alert and watchful guardians and overseers, all vigilant to attempts at escape and intolerant of defiance.

Deep within this edifice, Overseer Falsara-Kur sat in her chambers staring at her dinner without any great appetite. She had been testy and waspish all day and had eventually taken herself away from the auction blocks, where a recent batch of workers was being sold, lest her intemperate demeanour spill over, to the cost of some hapless fool who had probably done little to deserve her anger.

She looked to the practice blade lying where she had discarded it and frowned. It was daft for a woman of her age and notorious temperament to be mooning over some silly wee bint of a girl, but she couldn't help but miss the little fool. Falsara chuckled at the memories of repeatedly dumping the daft bugger on her arse while training, but she shook her head in wry amusement as she recalled how the woman just wouldn't stay down, for the stubborn wee bitch simply did not know when to quit! In fact, the only time she got her to halt her trying was when she more or less accidentally-on-purpose knocked the idiot out cold.

Falsara sighed morosely and poured herself another drink. The truth was she was habitually bored these days, probably a sign of the creeping ennui of old age she thought, and trying to teach the annoyingly recalcitrant little tart which end of a sword to hold had been a far better distraction than she had anticipated,

"The little shit was cute too, in the way that puppies, kittens and small children were cute... well, maybe not small children, for the smelly little bastards are usually as annoying as fuck."

A clatter on the door of her chamber drew her from her reverie and she looked up, "Come!"

The door opened a little and one of her senior guards popped his head in and Falsara's eyes narrowed, for the man had a distinctly suspicious grin on his face as he addressed her, "Hey boss, got something here that might cheer you up."

She grinned, "Not more of your wife's pastries, is it? I mean, she's pretty enough, but dear Gods she can't cook for shit, er...no offence."

The man chuckled, "None taken, I didn't marry her for her domestic skills after all," he held both his hands well out in front of his chest as though measuring a pair of rather prodigious breasts, "more for her other... um,

attributes

you might say. But no, it's not that. See what I found."

With that, he nudged the door open with the toe of his boot.

Falsara stared at the Dark Elf standing in the doorway and had to look away for a moment to stifle her grin before she growled at the wench, "So, Muriah, what have you done to annoy your Mistress so much that she sends you back to us then I wonder?"

As she spoke, she peered out the door beyond the woman before turning her eyes to the guard, "Here, where's her escort?"

"Didn't have one boss, she just wandered up to the front gate all on her lonesome."

She looked back at the young Dark Elf with a puzzled expression, "What price this Muriah?"

The Dark Elf grinned and shrugged, "I asked the Captain if she would let me stay here."

"Why the fu... er, what for?"

Muriah scratched the tip of one of her pointed ears, "Ashunara leads her Company to the war in the north in a week or so and she made the offer that instead of awaiting ransom here I could go with them and serve. If I did, she promised to free me without obligation upon our return, assuming we survive. And so, I accepted the offer."

Falsara laughed and shook her head, "So instead of safety and reasonable luxury here you choose to risk your life campaigning in the north? You know, somehow, I am not surprised. But why are you here lass?"

Muriah laughed, "Well, funnily enough, I'd quite like to not die in the first battle for lack of skill, and... well I was hoping to train with you some more in what little time I have. Besides, I don't want to live in the woman's house, it's vexing enough that I'm bound to her like this."

"Is she hard on you?"

Muriah sighed, "No, but that just makes it worse. The woman utterly vexes me, and I don't understand her. When I was given to her as a slave, she terrified me with threats of abuse and humiliation, then when I made a complete fool of myself with my outbursts, she refused to even beat or punish me. She would chain me like a dog outside her tent, and then give me her own fucking blanket for the cold!"

The young woman looked up and Falsara saw the confusion in her eyes, "Then she saved me, and I don't know why. My own kin would not have risked it."

"What happened?"

"We were attacked by... demons, I think, and one came straight for me. I froze in terror, but she came to my defence and pushed me from its path before killing the thing. I tell you I want so badly to hate her, but in truth, she's not entirely unkind to me. There are no insults or mockery, and it makes me feel like a petulant child that I'm so angry with her," she grinned, "which of course just makes me want to hate her all the more. Plus, there's another thing..."

Falsara had waved the guard away with a nod of thanks, "Oh? Do tell," she pointed towards a chair at the table, "sit, have you had supper?"

"No, I've not eaten today."

"Do they starve you or somesuch? A punishment of some kind?"

The younger woman laughed, "Er, no, but me and this Sunkissed lass got into a drinking contest at dinner last night and I got absolutely shitfaced. I had the most awful bloody hangover when I woke up and spent the morning with my head over a bucket. I mean who would have thought a skinny runt like her could drink like a damned fish? But then she's an adventurer and they're all fucking mental anyway."

The overseer shook her head with a wry chuckle, "Well, we've all been there I suppose, but what's this 'other thing' you speak of?"

Muriah blushed, "Well when I was first taken, I challenged the Captain and made a complete tit of myself."

Falsara stared incredulously and then burst out laughing, "You

challenged

Captain Ashunara? To a fight? With

swords

? Oh, fuck me! That's the funniest thing I've heard in months! What happened?"

"Yes, well, I sometimes get angry, and it gets the better of me, and some have said I become...

unreasonable

."

"No shit."

"She didn't do much, to be honest, I managed to make an arse of myself pretty much all on my own. But here's the thing, afterwards she put me to training with a pet swordsman they had in their camp, and she said she might give me a chance to fight her again for my freedom one day, and..."

"And?"

"And well, I want to beat the shit out of her!"

Falsara frowned, "You want to kill her?"

"Fuck no! Well, I don't think so. In truth, I don't know, but I wouldn't mind kicking her arse a bit. I mean she beat me, easily, in fact not just easily, like it was fucking effortless, and I was a joke. And..."

"It hurt your pride, did it?"

Muriah looked down, "They laughed at me."

"I bet the Captain didn't."

"Well, no, but..."

The overseer paused and frowned, "Wait, you're going campaigning, yes?"

"That's what she said."

"Do you have any gear, like, at all?"

Muriah gave the woman a lop-sided grin, "I have the clothes on my back, a badly made wooden sword, a cantrip for summoning knives, a bag of coins the Captain gave me to pay you for my keep, and apparently a bit of a quick temper, that's the sum of all my worldly goods. It'll make packing for the journey easy I suppose."

Falsara blew out an exasperated breath, "You've never fought in armour have you?"

When Muriah shook her head, the older woman chuckled darkly and groaned, "Ohhh, fuck."

The overseer strode to the door, looked out and bellowed. Moments later the same guard appeared, "Clamach, after her supper you take this woman down to the quartermaster and get her kitted out with mail, gambeson and helm, and fetch me a couple of decent practice blades and a pair of serviceable spears."

Muriah looked startled, "Spears?"

"Well aye, look fucking about with a blade is all very pretty and I'm sure the romance sonnets are full of bonny swordswomen prevailing against all odds, but sadly that's basically total shite! If you want to duel all civilised like then fine, but in a battle, your enemies will be wearing armour and you need real skill to find the gaps in good armour with a sword, as most blades just won't bite through chain. So, needs must you use something to puncture mail or break bone even if the bastards are fully kitted out, and that means a good mace, a warhammer or the pointy end of a decent spear, and it'll be easier to train you with a spear in the time we've got."

"Seriously?"

"Muriah, we've been training with shortswords, which are well and good in a brawl or a duel, or if you can get up close and work it under the armpits, into the face or groin, but even with a good thrust the chances are it won't penetrate even low-quality mail, and as for a slashing blow, you may as well hit them with a fucking twig. If you were to half-hand a longsword you might just manage to inflict some damage, but you're slim enough that there's not much weight there to put behind such a blow so maybe not even then."

The younger woman frowned, "Mail is that much of a problem?"

"Think on it like this lass, it's hot, heavy and uncomfortable so if it didn't work, we wouldn't wear the bloody stuff."

"Shit."

The older woman looked at Muriah and her eyes narrowed, "You sure you want to do this? It'll be hard, and war is a filthy business, I know."

The younger Dark Elf tilted her chin and gave her a defiant look, "Yes, at least this way I gain some mastery over my own fate and won't feel like a damned victim!"

Falsara grinned wolfishly, "You wait till you've trained a few days, and the only thing you'll be feeling is like you got run over by a horse," she shook her head and chuckled as she gazed at the younger woman, "right, why don't you eat your supper and relax while you can, because tomorrow is going to be truly awful."

Muriah swallowed nervously, and then looked up at the scarred woman, "Falsara."

"What?"

"Thank you."

The overseer shook her head wryly, "Look, don't kid yourself, ten days is not enough time. Even with hard training you'll still be as green as grass and there's a very,

very

good chance you're going to get fucking killed up there, but," she grinned cheerfully and poured a drink for the horrified woman, "on the off-chance and unlikely event you actually survive you can come back and thank me then."

"What about fighting the Captain?"

"Ha! That's a good one."

The young Dark Elf sighed miserably, "You don't think I can do it either..."

"Not a hope in Hell, she would eat you for breakfast and pick her teeth with the bones" the overseer laughed and slapped the younger woman on the back, "but, maybe, just maybe, we can at least make it so the bitch knows she's been in a fight this time. Will that do?"

Muriah knocked back the drink the woman had poured for her and grinned.

...

Hildegard was stunned when she opened the chamber door to find Matriarch Varro standing before her. As usual, the Dark Elf was dressed immaculately, garbed as she was in a floor-length gown of dark green silk with a woven shawl draped across her shoulders. The peplos she wore was gorgeous and daringly slit from the embroidered hem to her upper thigh. Her silver hair was intricately braided and held by long golden pins whose tips were beautifully engraved to resemble a serpentine form with tiny sparkling rubies for eyes.

The woman was more than striking, and the ensemble had obviously been carefully selected to highlight her aquiline features and delicately arched brows. She stood in the doorway, poised and graceful, with her hands folded before her, concealed in the wide sleeves of the gown and Hildegard could see the deadly-looking stiletto, a twin of the one so often worn by Ashunara that was tucked into the broad girdle she wore around her slender waist. The Matriarch's smile was bright but her eyes, so disquietingly similar to her sister's, were as cold, dark and unfathomable as always.

Behind her stood a hulking Half-Orc bodyguard armoured in mail, and beyond him were a pair of pretty young maids wearing short tunics.

"Good evening, Hildegard. It is my intention to bathe and as I knew Ashunara would be abroad about her business for much of this day I wondered if you would care to join me?"

The Human swallowed nervously, "I... er, wouldn't want to be a bother."

Aventine's chuckle was a light, musical sound, "It's no bother my dear, my maids will be the ones bathing us, it's not as if I'm offering to do the job myself," she grinned mischievously, "as delightfully entertaining a prospect as that might be."

Hildegard hesitated but the Dark Elf reached for her hand, "Please, I'd be honoured if you would join me, besides, there is a matter I wish to discuss with you, for I think I need your help."

"My help?"

"Oh yes, very much so, but let us first retire to the baths before I broach the subject, as it is perhaps a little delicate, I think."

The Dark Elf strolled unhurriedly and with languid grace through the dusky passageways of the great house and down several stone staircases. Hildegard followed somewhat nervously, looking about as the Matriarch led on. Occasionally Aventine would glance sideways at the tall human woman, taking in her skittish demeanour and her inhuman eyes glittered with wry amusement as she chuckled, "You look fearful Hildegard, do you suspect I lead you into the depths with some mischievous intent perhaps?"

Hildegard swallowed, "Well... I was a little upset over what happened at dinner, and I may have said a few... erm,

unkind

things about you to Ashunara."

Aventine giggled, and it was strange to hear the note of genuine humour in her voice, "Ah yes, my sister may have repeated one or two of your pithy descriptives to me. I particularly liked "wicked harpy", that showed real flair and is such an improvement over the usual dross people say."

The human flushed in horrified embarrassment, "She... told you I said that?"

"Oh, do not fear, it was not like that. She was not telling tales on you. No, she was thoroughly vexed and let slip a few things as she bellowed at me is all, "She said you were a wicked harpy and she's right! How dare you use her in such a way you insufferable bitch," et cetera, et cetera."

Hildegard's eyes went wide for her impersonation of her sister's voice was flawless, "I'm... sorry."

"Oh, please. No, you're not, and neither you should be, in your place, I would be just as incensed I'm sure," her smile brightened, "ah, here we are."

The chamber Aventine led her into was for all the world like a small grotto, with several gently bubbling pools, each large enough for bathers, surrounding a much larger basin of luminous water that looked deep enough to swim in. The surface of the pools was writhed with wisps of steam and the chamber was comfortably warm. Several braziers had been placed about the edge of the grotto and witchlamps were set into small alcoves carved in the walls. At a simple gesture by Aventine, the coals and lamps ignited, illuminating the place with an almost unearthly glow and Hildegard drew a breath as her eyes were drawn upwards towards the ceiling where crystals glittered like so many stars in the night sky.

Aventine smiled at the reaction, "As you see, there are hot springs beneath the manse and we have several bathing rooms, but this is by far the oldest, and my favourite, though it is perhaps less pleasing when we must ascend all those stairs we came down once we are done, but the exercise is good for one's figure, or so I'm told."

The Dark Elf gestured at the water invitingly, "Please, be my guest."

The maids slid forward to assist the women to undress and carefully placed their garments upon cunningly wrought shelves cut into the rock. Soon enough Hildegard found herself luxuriating in the warm waters of the large pool while the maids, who had swiftly slipped off their own tunics to enter the water naked save for the metal collars that decorated their necks, washed and rinsed their hair with scented soaps. Hildegard almost groaned at the pleasant sensations as the smiling young woman who was tending her skilfully massaged her scalp.

Aventine sat in the warm waters nearby and sighed as the other maid worked on her back and shoulders, "Pleasant is it not?"

Noting the collars the maids wore and thinking of the one around her own neck Hildegard was prompted to ask the one who was tending her, "How long have you been enslaved Miss."

The woman giggled, "But I'm no slave, Mistress, nor have I ever been one."

Aventine turned her head and sighed, "They are indentured to my House, Hildegard, not slaves."

"There's a difference?"

"Oh yes, very much so. A slave, crass as it is to say, is considered the property of their owners, to do with as their owners see fit, with but a few restrictions. While indenture is more of a contract. It is voluntary, the terms of the contract are agreed upon beforehand by both parties. These girls are both freeborn."

"I thought they were also held in bondage," muttered Hildegard.

"Gods no. That would be such a nuisance, no the indenture generally specifies a period of service and details duties, working conditions and remuneration, that sort of thing. Of course, once agreed upon we consider it binding, only to be broken or altered upon the agreement of both parties. So, if someone is indentured into my Household they may not leave my service until the contract expires, but in all other aspects they are entirely free."

Aventine tilted her head to the young woman working on her shoulders, "Abria, how long have you been indentured in my household now may I ask?"

"The woman considered, "Oh, near enough seven years of my latest term Mistress, I have three years left to serve."

"And what will you do when that time expires?"

The girl blushed, "Same as before, I would humbly ask for another term Mistress."

Aventine smiled and reached up to pat the girl's hand, "I'm glad you enjoy it here, tell me, what will you be doing this evening?"