The Tattooed Woman Pt 25

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The Tattooed Woman Volume 2 - Chapter 11: Eat her Heart!

Demeritus looked at the corpse sprawled at his feet. He was still panting, his heart still pounding furiously in his chest, and his teeth bared in a savage snarl. Instinctively he wiped at the bloody spatters on his face with the back of his hand before realising that all he was doing was smearing his features with the gore that caked his arms as far up as his shoulders and he shook his head in disgust,

"Ash and scale, all is disaster!"

The messenger had delivered the dispatch mere moments ago, and for a fleeting moment, the Dragon wondered if the herald had suspected the lethal reaction his missive would provoke, for upon reading the words Demeritus had flown into a wild rage, beating the harbinger with iron hard fists and unfettered strength, screaming his fury as he kicked, tore and stamped upon the bloody corpse until all that remained was a smashed and broken ruin, little more than a scarlet stain, unrecognisable as the living thing it had been mere moments before.

Guards and servants alike had fled the tent in panic before his temper and he knew that his wild display would have been recounted to his Master already.

Staggering to a nearby table he fetched up a golden jug of wine and hastily drained the thing, careless of the spillage that stained his robes. Crushing the heavy vessel, he carelessly tossed it aside, before kicking over the table with another snarl. He looked again at the bloody debris smeared and splashed upon the carpet and licked his lips, knowing that it was not anger that had provoked his violent outburst, but fear.

He closed his eyes and drew a breath, and as he slowly released it, he made effort to compose himself,

"I must go to him and offer an account of this. It is beyond concealment, and my tantrum will have already been well-reported. Any attempt at obfuscation will only invoke greater anger and risk dire consequences."

He tore the blood and wine-stained garment he wore from him and hastily donned a clean robe over his twisted form before pausing a moment longer to collect his thought.

Striding from the tent he went to report to his Master.

...

The Ravens Nest seemed oddly empty and still without her.

Maggie sniffed and wiped her eyes as the thought went through her mind. She had paused as she stirred the soup, and would have probably watched it burn had Iris not moved alongside and gently taken the spurtle from her hands, "Here, Maggie, why not have a seat? I'll watch the pot for you."

The big woman made a half-hearted protest, but she was nodding even as she did so, and one of the other serving folk, a little Elfin ragamuffin whose name still confounded her guided her back to a chair by the kitchen table while another pressed a mug of hot spiced spirits into her calloused hands.

Iris stirred the soup silently for a bit. She had been hardened by a life of service to Lords and Masters both kind and cruel, but even so, she couldn't help but wipe away a tear as she listened to the cook weeping behind her.

She sniffed and her voice was hoarse, "They'll get her back Maggie, I know it."

The cook looked up, "But, Iris, there was so much blood, and she's such a wee thing."

"I heard the Captain telling Nyx that she knew Cassie was alive, that she'd learned it from some Dark Elven witch."

"Truly?"

The woman turned, "I wouldn't lie to you Maggie, not about this. That's what I heard her say. And I'll say this Maggie, I've lived around hard and cruel men for most of my life, and that's before I ran off and was taken by the Dark Eldar, and I saw the look in their eyes. I would not want them hunting me. Between her sister and that Dark Elf, I think whoever took her is going to get royally fucked, and not in a good way."

"But, what? I mean, you saw the blood. She'll likely be hurt."

"Mayhap we can hire a healer then. I've got a few silvers saved up. I'll chip that in if it's a matter of coin."

One of the other serving women approached and dropped a heavy gold coin on the table, "Use that."

Maggie stared at the thing, "Where the f..."

The woman had begun to shuffle off but paused. Her head hung down, she didn't turn, and her voice was heavy with sadness, "That tall woman, the one who says she's the sister to her that was taken. She gave it to me after she pulled me from that... place. Said she was sorry she couldna save my own wee sister, but maybe it'll help hers. Not like I've got a use for it, not now..."

The cook surged to her feet and wrapped her arms around the woman, "Aww lass, come here," she pulled the girl close and held her, "You're no alone. You've got us, and I know your sister's spirit will be watching over you from the other side. And if I was her, I'd like as not be smiling to see you alive and safe."

The girl shuddered and Maggie felt her shoulders shaking, "Think you so? Will her shade not be angry that I let her down? That I could not sav..."

"Gods no lass! Bad folk done that to you both, and there was nought you could do to prevent their evil. And I think that while your sister might have gotten some comfort from you being with her at the end, she would like as not be far happier to see that you lived."

"But I miss her so."

Maggie drew a deep breath, "That's always the way of it. Those of us that are left behind have the worst of it I think, with only our memories, and our guilt."

"Guilt?"

"Aye lass, for all the things we think we shouldn't have said and done but did, or all them things we should have, and didn't," she peered into the eyes of the younger woman and smiled, "but t'is a trap is all, brought on by grief and sadness Your sister loved ye, I'm sure of it, and she would know what was in yer heart lass, I'm tellin ye, she would know! And she would be glad to see you thrive, so I'll no have you disappointing her."

She squared her shoulders, and with a sad grin, she used a corner of her apron to wipe the girl's eyes, "So, tell me lass, do you know anything about making soup, or do I have to start teachin ye from scratch?"

...

The lamp and fire in Narissa's room had both been allowed to burn low and the chamber was filled with shadow, and more than a little gloom thought Maggie as she bustled in a while later holding a tray bearing a hefty mug of steaming soup and a chunk of buttered loaf.

"Here ye go lass, a mug of soup to warm yer bones and make you feel better. Nothing like a mug of soup to set things right when you're feeling a bit low, or so my ma used to say anyhow."

The curled lump under the bedcovers barely moved, and the muffled voice held more than just a little misery, "Leave me be..."

"Och, now don't be like that. I made this special for ye, and the girls helped too."

The Dark Elf stirred slightly and sniffed, "I should be up anyway I suppose. I should be tending bar and cleaning up the... blood... and...," she tried to rise and hissed in pain as her muscles protested, "help me up."

Maggie put the tray down and moved to her side, seemingly in obedience to her command, but the Dark Elf frowned when after several moments of the cook's fussing, she somehow found herself back in bed, sitting up with pillows supporting her while the Human fed her spoonfuls of soup. She shook her head in bemusement, it was like a magic trick.

"But...?"

The cook smiled at her as she lifted another spoonful to her lips, "Isn't too hot, is it?"

"I need to get up Maggie."

"Ah well, fair enough, but it's raining."

Narissa frowned in confusion, "Raining? What's that got to do wi-"

"Well, you see what with it being such a dreich and miserable night if you get out of bed now you might just catch your death... again."

The Dark Elf stared incredulously at the woman, "Was that a... joke?"

Maggie gasped, "Me Miss? Joke? Why, I'd not dare. Now, eat yer soup."

Narissa grumbled, "Thought you were supposed to be doing what I told you, not the other way round..."

"And I will Miss, I promise... eventually."

"What?"

"Hmm? Oh, nothing."

"You said, "Eventually."

Maggie smiled, "Did I now? Ach, the truth of it is that yer ma told me to look after you, and no offence, but she's a

lot

scarier than you. So, until she says otherwise, you'll just have to put up with being pampered for a bit. Besides, all the cleaning and such has been done, and Iris is looking after the bar well enough."

Narissa grumbled, "That buxom tippler will drink the house dry."

A broad smile appeared on Maggie's face, and she chuckled, "Well, she's not done so yet, and funnily enough she keeps asking after you, so I think her heart is in the right place at least."

"T'is more her liver I worry about."

Narissa sat in the bed as Maggie spoon-fed her from the mug. She looked utterly miserable and barely met the woman's gaze until the cook put down the mug with an exasperated sigh, "What ails ye lass, you've got a face on ye that could curdle milk. I'd think you would be a wee bit happier, what with ye not being dead and all."

The Dark Elf looked down at the sheets and her fingers tangled in the blankets as she mumbled, "Don't you hate me, Maggie?"

"And why would I be doing such a spiteful thing?"

"Because I lost her."

The cook threw up her hands, "Oh, Hell's teeth! And here was me thinking all you pointy-eared leprechauns were so clever and wise, wi yer long lives and yer fancy magic. But yer just as daft as everyone else! I've a good mind to box your ear for you, ye silly wee bugger!"

"Wha...?"

"You fought for her, ye bled for her, in fact, you fucking died for her! T'is me that should be ashamed not you!"

Narissa shook her head, "What do you have to feel shame about Maggie?"

Tears trickled down the woman's ruddy face, "Because I wanted to help, but I was frightened! I'm just a fat old cook, I don't know nothing about fighting! I wanted to hide in the kitchen so badly that by the time I mastered myself, it was all but too late. And then Iris and a few of them new scullery maids jumped on me and held me down so I couldn't come to help my wee Cassie, and then... and then she was.... gone. And I did NOTHING!"

With a cry of rage, she snatched up the mug and hurled it across the room so that it smashed to pieces against the fireplace.

Narissa took the woman's calloused hand in her own and gently squeezed it, "Then they did the right thing, Maggie, that bastard would have murdered you, and then I'd have to explain to Cassie that I got the only mother she ever knew killed."

"But... Oh lass! There was so much blood, and ye were just lying there, and..."

With only a slight groan of pain, Narissa pulled the older woman into an embrace and held her tight, "Hush now Maggie, it's all done, I'm well, just a bit sore is all and that will fade in time as the healing draught does its work. They

will

get her back, and I promise those that took her will get what's coming to them, that's a fucking certainty!"

"But... How can you be so sure?"

Narissa chuckled darkly, "I know my ma."

...

Nyx smiled as she hefted the Captain's dark blade. Keeping a wary eye on the Drow before her she leaned down and gently tapped the point of the weapon against the stone flooring. The note the sword produced rang clear, like a chime.

The Dark Elf glanced at Ashunara and sighed, "I fucking love that sound."

Straightening she drew her own shortsword with her offhand and casually twirled both blades, as though settling them in her grip. Stalking to and fro she pointed a sword at the smirking creature before her, "You'd be the bold lad who hurt my wee girl then?"

The Drow sniffed dismissively, "I've hurt quite a few "wee girls" in my time

sídhe,

you'll need to be a little more specific."

"Easily enough, she'd be the lass who gave you that pretty smile. She sends her regards by the way."

"From the spirit world?"

Nyx frowned and tilted her head, "No, from the pub."

The Drow snarled, "I killed that harpy!"

"True enough, but she's feeling much better. I'll tell her you were asking after her if you like."

"That's not poss-"

There was no warning, no change of expression, no threats, nothing. One second, she appeared to be chuckling at the Drow's expression, and the next she had darted in, quick as a wraith, and her swords rapped a rhythm against the creature's hasty parries. She ducked under a wicked riposte and slashed at his thigh, but her opponent danced swiftly backwards out of reach.

Nyx grinned as she circled, "Not bad footwork there Drow. That's good to see, for as an, um, '

acquaintance'

of mine is oft saying, "They always forget about the footwork. Still..."

She slid forward again, moving left and cutting right, swords licking out to tap against the creature's blade. The Drow matched her stroke for stroke before lunging towards her face. Nyx slipped to one side and with a neat little backhand move whipped the edge of her offhand blade across the armour under the creature's extended arm, but its mail turned the blow, and she was obliged to flip neatly backwards to avoid his return stroke.

She nodded, "That's good mail. Narissa mentioned how you relied on it."

Twice more they came together, blades clashing in a whirlwind of sound and sparks before breaking apart to resume their stalking.

Tallis watched the exchanges and the blinding speed of the swords with awe, "Fuuuck, they're fast."

Ashunara gave the girl a wry chuckle and turned to Elsadore, "What do you think then Elsie?"

The big veteran pursed her lips, "Hmm, difficult to say..." she grinned, "I'll go four gold, two and six."

Varoona turned, "I'll match that bet! three and five."

Elsadore blew out an exasperated breath, "Yer daft."

Tallis looked at the Captain with confusion, "What? Are we placing wagers on this? You cannot be serious!"

"Bets are always serious, girl."

The young Dark Elf flustered, "But we can't wager against Nyx! That would be bad luck... or something."

The Captain grinned, "We didn't."

"Huh?"

"Elsadore bet four gold that Nyx will draw first blood in two more exchanges and will kill that annoying bastard in six. Varoona has a wee bit more faith in your old Sergeant, saying she'll draw blood in three, but end it in five."

She turned to Elsadore with a truly evil smile, "Nah, she has his measure now. She'll bleed him on the next pass, but he hurt Narissa! He'll not be getting off easy, "I'll go five gold, one and ten."

The two fighters clashed again, but this time Nyx seemed to repeat a parry just once too often, and the Drow grinned as he brought his sword around in a vicious arc. His smile vanished however when instead of matching his blade as predicted she slid nimbly aside, and her offhand sword sliced in. The creature snorted and turned so that rather than dodging and thus being pushed into presenting a more vulnerable stance his mail would take the blow.

At the last instant, Nyx altered her move and with blinding speed brought the Captain's sword into play. The dark metal of its ancient edge sliced neatly through the mail rings of the Drow's sleeve and peeled the armour apart like a hot knife through butter, scoring a neat fillet along his wrist.

Blood dripped to the floor as the Dark Elf danced back. She glanced at the crimson staining her blade and grinned.

Elsadore snorted and the big veteran nodded sagely, "Oh damn, I should have thought of that."

Varoona grinned, "That's why she's the Captain."

"Well, if it was based on looks and not brains, I could have been Capt..."

The fighters came together again and sparks flew in a clash of whirling blades.

Tallis was riveted by the display, but her attention wavered slightly when she saw Ashunara leaning casually against a tall pillar seemingly humming or muttering softly to herself.

"Captain?"

The Dark Elf stirred herself and nodded towards the fight, "Nyx will try and anger him now. The cut to his wrist will have started to sting, and do you notice how she's altered her attacks, making him flex the wrist more when parrying?" Ashunara grinned, "She's a crafty one."

Nyx danced backwards, the blades in her hands rotating in a deceptively lazy pattern. She nodded towards the blood dripping onto the floor, "That looks sore," she gave the creature a cheerful grin, "bet it doesn't hurt as much as that jagged smile you have there though."

Her comment provoked a snarl from the Drow and she chuckled, "Seems a shame, to spoil your pretty looks with such mutilation. I'd wager you were quite popular with the ladies before," she shrugged, "don't fret though, for but a few coins the whores will still call you handsome, I'm sure."

The Drow lunged but the Dark Elf skipped neatly aside, and her return stroke was wickedly quick, opening his mail at the shoulder and drawing blood. He leapt back, but not before she moved in and scored another shallow cut to his forearm.

"Temper, temper."

The Dark Elf stalked back and forth as she eyed her victim. Nodding towards his wounds she spoke in an almost conversational tone, "You know, I'm just going to keep whittling away at that arm, sooner or later, it will falter," her eyes turned bleak, and her voice would have frozen a lake, "and when you drop your blade, I'm going to cut you to fucking pieces."

She moved in, blades whirling, slashing this way and that, ducking under his blows or sliding his sword deftly aside as she pushed his defence, driving the creature backwards step by step. Desperately the Drow locked blades and slammed his armoured shoulder against her but she turned so he slid past, carried by his own momentum and her sword scored across his back before he could move beyond reach.

He whirled and threw the dagger he had deftly palmed from her belt as they passed back at her face.

Surprised Nyx batted the thing out of the air, but not before the Drow slid in and his sword scored a shallow cut across her thigh.

He grinned, "You talk too much."

...

The battlefield stank. Bloated bodies lay in careless heaps, pierced by arrows and javelins, or bolts from Dwarven repeating crossbows. The stone bridge that spanned the river and reached to the fortified main gate of Miosgan Meadhba's inner city was so clogged with corpses that between each assault companies of Fir Bolg had to lumber forward bearing heavy shields to protect them from the murderous hail of projectiles so that the way could be cleared for the next attack. Every so often a heavy scorpion or ballista emplaced upon the battlements would make itself known by punching a bolt directly through the ephemeral protection of said shields, with calamitous effect upon the ranks cowering behind it.

The defenders had watched as innumerable Svartálfar had appeared from the enemy ranks. The cunning Deep Gnomes, or

Goblins

as they were sometimes called by the Orc were twisted cousins to the Dwarves and like their distant kin, they were industrious and clever folk, being canny miners, engineers and sappers. They had begun the work of entrenchment and were busily constructing and emplacing their own mangonels to support the siege. Those that had already been situated had begun a bombardment, launching boulders, barrels of burning pitch and logs filled with smouldering charcoal at the walls, producing great clouds of thick and foul-smelling black smoke.

The defenders replied with incendiary arrows and despite the placement of their defensive pavise by the besiegers the powerful Orcish war bows reaped a red harvest among the attackers.