THE TATTOOED WOMAN - Chapter 24
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The Tattooed Woman Volume 2 - Chapter 10: Evil is as evil does.
The bitter rain hissed against the cobbles, driven by an angry squall that compelled most sensible folks to seek what shelter they could, and so the three figures walked almost alone along the poor streets, through gloomy close and down darkened lane as they made their way towards unknown rendezvous. Here and there a shadow would move as the most desperate doxie or poorest urchin huddled into doorways and alcoves looking to escape the chill as they searched for custom or begged for coin.
At times here and there, furtive figures, oft with dagger in hand and larcenous intent in heart, would spy them as they made their way, but something about the trio gave them pause, some sense that there would be no profit in making an attempt of robbery, no coin to be filched, only death, cold, certain and bloody would be their reward, and so they stayed their hand and melted back into the shadows, seeking softer, less hazardous prey.
The two rogues led the way but for all intents and purposes Adair may as well have walked alone, for scant attention did she pay to them, walking in their shadows but otherwise seemingly lost in thought. Silent as the dead she was yet her anger did not go unnoticed, dogs howled in distant lanes, cats squealed, and even rats scurried from their path while overhead ravens and crows hopped and jostled from perch to perch as they watched with dark anticipatory glee.
The more furtive of her escorts, a weasel-faced lout of a man, prattled on with wheedling excuses of "It's nothing personal," and other irksome platitudes, little knowing that each word he spoke only made the woman's desire to splatter his body all about her and cavort in his blood burn the brighter.
Her long dark hair was soaked by the rain and hung about her face like a funeral veil, but even so, the larger of the two men still glimpsed the burning feral gleam of her eyes as she looked up from under furrowed brows and with a shiver, he surreptitiously gripped the sleeve of his companion and muttered, "Shut. The fuck. Up."
They passed under the unfurled cloth bolts hanging on the street of dyemaker's and were approaching the entrance to an alley that ran between a lewd brothel and the rear of a glassblower's workshop when Adair stopped in her tracks. Her eyes flicked to either side as she looked into the gloom and she tilted her head slightly, listening to the raucous cries and grunts emanating from the shuttered windows of the bawdy house, and the hiss and hammering from the glassblowers.
With their heads down to shelter from the drizzle the two ruffians had walked on a pace or two before noticing their charge had halted and they looked back at her quizzically. The smaller of the men snarled, "Come on for fuck's sake, I'm already soaked, and I don't want to be out here all fucking night."
Her eyes flicked to the man, "I fear you may be out here longer than that," she indicated forward with a jerk of her head, "your fairweather friends lurk yonder."
At her words four figures emerged from the gloom, slipping from the murk and shadows almost like chameleons or wraiths, and the rogues made to grip the hilts of their blades.
They were lean and swarthy men, wearing dark hooded cloaks that protected them both from the elements and the scrutiny of prying eyes and they slinked forward with all the guile of stray cats stalking a rat.
Adair eyed the new figures and nodded, "Drow," she sniffed the air, "but not the one I seek it seems."
One of the quartet tilted his head as he approached and his hate-filled eyes fell on the woman. He hissed malevolently, "You can pierce our glamours then?"
Adair shrugged, "What glamours? You are Drow, cursed and pitiful creatures, born in pain, weaned in hate," she sighed sadly, "if I had the power to rescue you from your own evil I would."
The figure snarled as he moved closer and brandished a pair of heavy manacles, "We do not need your
rescue
you insipid bitch! Save your pity for yourself! By the time we are done with you, we will have harvested every one of your tears with glee."
She eyed the creature and remained silent as he slipped the restraints over her wrists and secured them fast. Looking down at the shackles one of her brows raised appreciatively, "Dwarven adamant, and runes of suppression," she chuckled "no expense has been spared it seems, perhaps I should thank you for the compliment."
The Drow grinned, "Aye, I see you no longer wear a collar but here are slave shackles to remind you of your place. See these runes? They can reduce the most powerful witch to whining impotence, and the metal is strong enough to restrain an enraged giant. They should serve as fetters well enough," he lifted his cudgel threateningly, "now be silent you recalcitrant slut, or you will feel my wrath."
He turned to one of his compatriots and commanded, "Search her!"
The larger of the rogues interrupted by stepping forward, "Here now, we've delivered the mark as directed, so before you start with your shenanigans, I'd like my pay."
The hooded figure smiled, "Indeed, you've done a man's job Sir, so here is our measure of your worth," with that he slammed the blade of the dagger he had stealthily palmed into the man's gut and in one vicious move tore it upwards.
The ruffian gasped breathlessly, collapsing to his knees, and the high-pitched sounds he made as he tried desperately to halt his entrails from spilling out over the ground were barely recognisable as human and shrill enough to grate on the ears.
The smaller of the rogues turned to flee, pursued by two of the Drow, and a skilfully thrown dagger took him in the back of the leg. The man crumpled and whimpered as he tried desperately to crawl away while the grinning pursuers sauntered slowly towards him. Long daggers appeared in their hands and his screams, mingled with their cruel laughter, sounded about the alley for more than a minute as they slashed and stabbed the writhing figure viciously until his ripped, blood-soaked body slumped lifelessly. One of the figures licked the blood from his blade and the other giggled at the spectacle as they moved back towards their companions.
Adair turned to the Drow, "No honour among rascals I see."
For once the creature's voice was almost conversational as he shrugged, "Greedy fools. I wouldn't waste my pity on them. They were happy enough to convey you into bondage and torment for a handful of coins. They got their just deserts."
He turned to his companion, "I said to search her."
The Drow he had commanded moved closer and his face twisted with a hungry leer as he tore open her shirt and ran his hands roughly over her breasts. Grinning he slid a hand down into her trous to grope at her, and his voice was filled with petty malice as he whispered, "Once we're done with you, we're to reinforce those guarding your little pet. Mayhap I'll search her thus," he smiled unpleasantly, "after all, who knows what contraband she might be concealing in her secret places."
The headbutt was swift enough to make a striking cobra envious and it crushed the front of the creature's face like an egg. He crumpled soundlessly in a spray of blood.
With a cry of rage, the nearest Drow whipped his cudgel around in a vicious arc and smashed it across the woman's back hard enough for the wood to break with a sharp "crack". Yet for all the effect it had, he may as well have blown her a kiss.
Adair casually lifted her foot and stamped down, crushing the head of the fallen figure and bursting it open like a bag of guts. Blood and bits of bone splattered in all directions, and she paused a moment to look down at the gory ruin at her feet.
As one the surviving Drow went for their blades.
"Do it."
Slowly she turned her head to look at them and the black gleam of her eyes and cold contempt in her voice gave them pause.
"Do it, I give you leave. Draw your blades and see what follows."
She turned on her heel and took a step, moving like some hungry beast, as she stalked towards them, "I am in a fel mood this night so I will warn you only once. For the sake of my sister, I am willing to play your games, but only so far and no further. The next one of you who makes a threat against her will not fare so well as yon fool lying there, for his death was a swift one and I will not be so merciful again."