The Tattooed Woman Pt 45

THE TATTOOED WOMAN - Chapter 45

Hello, I hope you are all very well and having a great day. Welcome to the next chapter of this yarn. Once again, thanks to Avicia (and others) for the editing and input. Their help is really invaluable.

Also, many thanks to all of you who have taken the time to leave some very kind comments. I really do appreciate them, and so often they just make my day.

All the best.

The Tattooed Woman Volume 3 - Chapter 45: Well, that escalated quickly...

The shrieks, screams and sounds of mayhem and battle from outside the chamber had subsided, at least somewhat, though there were still the occasional guttural sounds of agony and slaughter to be heard.

Cassie shivered as a howling cry of anguish echoed from some none too distant alcove. Her imagination painted the gory image of whatever violent scene that had spawned that awful sound in vivid detail for her mind's eye. Heart pounding, her hand shook around the hilt of the dagger she clutched, and she nervously licked her suddenly dry lips.

A hand reached down, and long fingers, tipped with nails as wickedly sharp as adamantine blades, gently tilted her chin so that she found herself looking up into the brilliant blue eyes, and somehow strangely comforting smile, of the entity that had once terrified her so, "Do not fear, Cassie, for did I not say I had made a pact with your sister to protect you. My faults may be beyond legion, but I have always been a creature of my word. As long as I have something to say on the matter no harm shall come to you. So, screw your courage to the sticking place, young human, and do not be daunted."

Garrow was busily heaving a large cabinet towards the door, and, pausing, she looked up with a grin, "Sounds good for her, what about the rest of us, then?"

Shalidar waved her hand in a dismissive gesture and chuckled happily, "Oh, you're probably fucked."

With a philosophical sniff, the half-orc shrugged, "Story of my life," she looked to the younger woman, "do not fret, lass, if the time comes, just spit in the bastards' eyes and go down swinging. I'll be waiting for you on the road, I swear it, for you'll not go afore me."

The chambers allocated to the delegation of House Varro were suitably luxurious, in keeping with the status of their occupants. There was a master-bedchamber for Matriarch Aventine, with a private bathing area, as well as simpler quarters for her body servants. A door led to an attached sleeping area set aside for her handmaiden. There were other bedrooms, almost as sumptuous, that had been set aside for a House Magister, or any other attendant of suitable import, as well as more spartan rooms for bodyguards and the like. A comfortable sitting room served the Matriarch's needs should she desire to entertain, or, more likely, indulge in some clandestine meeting or subterfuge. All of these chambers and rooms were attached or connected by various passageways, or otherwise adjoining to one another, and they occupied a portion of one wing of the tower. However, for the purposes of security, and undoubtably dark elven paranoia, the only portal that led outward from the suite to the labyrinthine interior of the tower itself was a beautifully engraved, and exceedingly sturdy, wooden door. It was solidly made from aged oak, some five inches thick, and was bound with bands of rune-forged iron. It might not have been entirely impervious to axe and thunderbolt, but it was close enough.

When they had taken up occupancy, Cassie had been surprised when Shalidar had shown no interest in claiming a chamber for herself and had instead poured herself a goblet of wine before settling languidly on a couch in the sitting room with one of the tomes from the bookshelf open upon her lap.

As if reading her mind, those sparkling blue eyes flicked to her, and her lips curled in a smile that could only be described as wickedly mischievous. Casually, she gestured to the girl, "Go on then, ask."

"Um, don't you want one of the big chambers for yourself? I thought..."

"Why?"

"What?"

The woman sipped her wine and gave her an enigmatic look, "Why would I need one, Cassie? I will have no requirement to sleep for, well, for some time shall we say, and I have no baggage, or wardrobe to concern myself with. I may indulge in a bath, I suppose, but somehow, I doubt the water is warm enough for my liking."

Looking at the elegant gown the woman was wearing, and the intricate circlet of gold that bound her hair, Cassie frowned, "But, that's not even the same dress you wore earlier today, surely..."

Setting her book aside and rising, Shalidar chuckled as she performed a playful pirouette that displayed both her curves and the shimmering cut of her garb, "Do you like it?"

Reaching out to touch the silken fabric, Cassie gave a wistful sigh, "It's very beautiful."

"Would you like to know a secret, young Cassie?"

The girl's eyes narrowed suspiciously, but her curiosity was such that she couldn't help but bite her lip and nod.

The Dragon's eyes met hers and for a moment they seemed to sparkle all the more as she leaned forward to whisper, "I'm not actually wearing a dress," she winked, "or anything else for that matter."

Cassie stared at the gown the woman had on right before her eyes, and the Dragon's lips curled at the girl's perplexed expression, "Confused?"

Running her fingers through the silken garment, Cassie shook her head, "But, I can see it plain as day, I can feel it," she looked up, "is it a magical glamour of some kind?"

Looking down at herself, Shalidar shook her head, "Not exactly. 'Tis true that when we first met, I was covered in such an illusion, but that was more to conceal the nature of my dusken companion than for my own sake. What you see now is but a shape I wear. From the tip of my nose, to the very toes on my feet it is but a pleasing form that I don, much like you might put on a coat. The gown, my jewelry, the band in my hair," she laughed, "even the very hair itself, is part of that shape, Cassie. After all, you should well know this, for have you not seen my true form? Am I not a Dragon?"

She looked at the girl's fingers, still touching the gown, and grinned, "And by the way, that tickles."

Blushing, Cassie snatched her hand back, "Sorry."

Looking up at the Dragon, Cassie found herself in a quandary, "But... I've, um, I've seen Ellén undress..."

Shalidar's eyes glittered, "So I've heard."

The young woman's answering blush was truly a spectacular thing that set the Dragon to chuckling, and she stammered in obvious embarrassment, "Wh-what I mean is, well, she was definitely wearing a dress. To start with that is... I, uh..."

The blue eyes were unwavering, "Yes?"

"But... I saw it on the floor, I mean, she dropped it right there, and..."

"So, she didn't even hang it up? My, she must have been most eager."

"What?!"

With another laugh, the tall woman looked down at her ward, "I am but teasing, girl. The truth of it is that Ellén is still young, and there are some skills she has yet to master in full. So, yes, at present, she wears clothing when in human form; well," she raised a brow, "most of the time, at least."

Cassie looked down at her hands, "You, um, you don't mind, do you?"

"Mind?"

"About me and Ellén? I mean, it's not like we planned it. I was just scared, and she was..."

"She was as lonely as you were, I fear. 'Tis my fault as much as any, for it was I who placed you in her care. I should have considered what effect hiding her away and starving her of company for so long would have upon her. And no, Cassie, I do not mind. If I did, I would have eaten you and been done. In truth, the only thing I regret is the hurt you will one day do her, but that cannot be avoided now."

Cassie looked up in alarm, "But, I'd never hurt her! I promise, I'd die first."

Shalidar looked away, and her voice was a sad whisper, "Correct."

"But I..."

"Enough. With luck, it will be long afore that time comes. Now tell me, little human, is there no sentiment you would care to express to my daughter when next you meet? Inexplicably, I seem to be in a giving mood this day, so if you wish it, I will teach you how to speak such a thing in her own tongue, so you do not jabber at her like an inelegant monkey."

Cassie swallowed, "But, you know what I'd say."

"I do indeed. Come, girl, sit by me and let us see if we can perhaps improve your eloquence to a civilised level."

That had been only this morning, when the most vexing thing, other than her studies, that had troubled her day was when Abria had tried to teach her some fiendishly complicated board game that the dark elves apparently favoured. The octagonal gameboard was a beautifully crafted and lacquered thing decorated with images of monsters and sword-wielding heroes of old all doing battle around a golden crown for a prize.

The servant had set the pieces, each a splendid work of art on its own, upon the board, explaining as she did, "So, these are the spearmen, the weakest of pieces, yet most numerous. They can advance only and can only slay a knight when that piece is flanked by another spearman. These are the archers, and should be guarded, for they can be driven from the board or killed by both spearmen and knights. This is the spy; they can usurp or bribe an opponent's pieces and cannot be slain save by the assassin, but here's the rub, the spy can always see the assassin, and can set any friendly units upon the murderous scallywag. Thus, even a lowly spearman can set upon the assassin if a spy is lurking nearby, see?"

Rapidly losing track, Cassie groaned, "And that one; it looks distinctly ominous."

"Oh, that is the Magister, a powerful piece indeed, for if it can reach the mage's tower, that's this space here, then they can summon a mighty Dragon onto the board."

Cassie looked on, already at least two-thirds bewildered, "What can a Dragon do?"

"Well, it can topple your opponent's castles and pretty much kill any other piece in play, but, only once it has defeated the enemy Dragon."

The younger woman frowned, "But what if the enemy Dragon hasn't yet been summoned, what then?"

"Well, it sits there preening and looking smug, I suppose."

Across the room, Shalidar looked up from her book, and grinned.

Yes, that had been this morning, before the entire tower had apparently fallen to bloody mayhem, and the halls rang with the gruesome sounds of battle and slaughter.

Now, the Dragon looked down at her and ruffled her hair with a smile, "Do not worry, girl, if need be, I can use the balcony to fly us both to safety."

The Grand Matriarch looked up, "A flight spell? That is potent magic indeed, but even so, I fear it would not work for the wards around the tower would dispel such an enchantment the instant you crossed the threshold, and you would instead plummet to your doom."

With a snort, Shalidar rolled her eyes, and her voice was dry, "That's not quite what I have in mind."

Across the chamber, Garrow gave a grunt, "Excuse me, ladies, but maybe, if it's not too much fucking bother, could one of you perchance lend me a hand to shove this armoire in front of the door? You know, if you can spare a minute, that is."

With a frown, the Grand Matriarch turned to Aventine, "Your slave has a disrespectful tongue. have you considered having it removed?"

Garrow frowned, but Aventine was quick enough to answer before she said something utterly disastrous, "Forgive her, Grand Matriarch, it's probably just the prospect of her imminent murder that makes her so testy."

"Hmm, I suppose. I shall make allowances, for now."

Garrow's angry mutter was thankfully unintelligibly.

"Hold off there a moment, if you please, Garrow."

The half-orc looked up from her labours as Shalidar crossed the room to the door. She paused for a brief moment, as if listening, and then reached out to draw back the heavy bolt.

The gallery immediately outside the door was a scene of gore-spattered carnage. The Grand Matriarch had not picked the myrmidons of her personal bodyguard at random, and even taken unawares they had not fallen easily. The four members of the Matriarch's Guard, who had been her escort, lay among the hewn bodies of easily a dozen foes, for they had fought hard, and to the end not one had turned their back on the enemy.

Shalidar stood in the doorway and looked about. Lifting her head she sniffed the air, and her eyes narrowed. Spinning, she suddenly bent and grasped one of the fallen guards before unceremoniously dragging the woman back inside, "This one yet lives. Garrow, bar the door while we see if we can prolong this fortuitous state of affairs."

The half-orc did as she was bid and the heavy bolt slid home with a thump as the Dragon began unlacing the woman's armour, only to become vexed by the assorted bindings. Hissing in irritation, she swiftly lost patience and inserted a talon into the steel collar of the mail. A moment later there was a strange sound as she peeled it apart as effortlessly as a razor sliced silk. Beneath the now dissected hauberk and gambeson, blood seeped from a dozen wounds, and the guardswoman groaned.

For once, Shalidar looked hesitant, "Ahhh, that looks rather... soggy. I suspect all that leaking is a bad sign, yes?"

Garrow moved to assist but was surprised when it was Aventine who knelt by the woman, seemingly heedless of the blood that stained her gown as she called to her servant, "Abria, bring dressings and a healing salve, as well as needle and thread; move quickly now."

"Yes, Mistress!"

Shalidar tilted her head and gave the woman a look of curiosity, "You know wounds?"

"You don't?"

"The damage I inflict tends to be somewhat more...

dramatic

than this. I fear I would leave you little to work with. Besides, I do not have the temperament for such foolishness. 'Tis Ellén who is the healer, not I."

Aventine snorted, "Well, one does not have a sister like Ashunara and not learn right quickly how to sew a cut or staunch a bloody nose."

"I would have thought the apothecaries at your House would have done the necessary for you swiftly enough."

With a sniff, Aventine began to work on the woman's injuries, deft fingers binding cuts and padding wounds as she spoke, "Ash was what you might call an "intemperate" youth. There was barely a week when she did not crawl home from some debauch or tavern brawl without some cut or abrasion or having mauled someone. I once had to pull a six-inch-long hair pin from her thigh and a carving fork from her back, and on another occasion, she had a set-to with a pair of bravoes over some wager or other and stumbled home in quite the state. If she had called upon the House healers then word would have swiftly travelled to our mother's ears, and so, instead, she would come to me."

Hildegard gave her a smile, "And you didn't tell on her? That was kind."

"Such nonsense; do not foist some sentimental motive upon me, girl. I was being practical is all. Had I spoken of it then our mothers' punishment would have been swift, and doubtless well deserved, but I do not think it would have made Ashunara change her ways for an instant. And, thereafter, she would have avoided me and instead gone to some drunken backstreet healer, who would like as not have sewn her nose on backwards, or something equally ludicrous. Besides, it is a useful skill. You never know when someone might do you harm after all and have no-one trustworthy nearby to render aid."

"What happened to the bravoes?"

Aventine hesitated before speaking, "We had words."

"Ha! I knew it."

Dark eyes glittering, Aventine looked up with a glower, "She's my baby sister. Nobody gets to torment her but me. Now, enough of this pitiful stuff; tilt this woman's head back and get that healing draught in her. Garrow, heat an iron. This wound in her side is too deep to staunch, I'll need to sear it closed afore she bleeds out."

"Allow me."

Running a finger across the puncture, Shalidar's brow furrowed slightly and for just the briefest of instants her eyes took on a somewhat more serpentine mien, and there was the sizzle and smell of cauterized flesh. The wounded guardswoman cried out, her body arching like a bow, forcing Aventine, Hildegard and Cassie to all hold her down as best they could. Thankfully, after a moment, she subsided with a moan and her eyes flickered open, "Wha...?"

Moving closer, the Grand Matriarch peered down and raised a brow, "Will she live?"

Aventine gave a sigh, and her voice held a distinct note of exasperation, "It's debatable. I would say she has as much chance as the rest of us. So, the way things are going? Probably not."

"Oh, very droll."

The swordswoman struggled to sit up, but Aventine placed a hand upon her chest, "Stay still, I have stitched and bound your wounds as best I can, but I'm no seamstress. Let the potion do its work."

Looking about blearily, she groaned, "I must join my sisters..."

"You are in no condition to fight."

With a hiss of pain, the woman made a feeble effort to push the restraining hand away even as she mumbled a barely lucid protest, "My duty..."

Shaking her head, Aventine swore, "Oh fuck, not another one. Look, your sisters have been scattered and if any are fortunate enough to yet still live, they will have to do without you for now. If you try to rise, your wounds will open, and you'll certainly die."

"I can walk."

Garrow shook her head, "You couldn't walk to the latrines, lass."

The woman mumbled as her hand reached about blindly for her sword, "I must try..."

"Oh, enough! You're as bad as she is. Garrow! If this idiot so much as moves, you have my leave to beat her unconscious."

The half orc grinned, "I doubt I'd need to bother. In her state, I'd lay odds that even Cassie could pummel her easily enough."

"Hey!"

Standing, Aventine peered down at her now bloodstained garb, shaking her head in obvious annoyance, before looking to the door, "Shalidar, did you see anything of the happenings outside?"

"It is more what I heard that concerns me. The battle in the halls diminishes and falls away, but I could hear the enemy beating hard at the doors of other chambers on this and other floors, presumably those of the other Matriarch's. From the clamour, and the stench of bowels and blood, they have clearly gained entry to some and done their grisly work, but others still hold," she nodded towards the mutilated corpse of the High Magister, "doubtless, it was expected that yon fool had strength enough to deal with us and they did not consider his failure likely. But I doubt it will take them long to wonder at his absence and turn their attention back to this company. So, be assured, sooner, or later they will come knocking at our door."

Aventine swore again, and her voice was flat, "We need them."

"What?"

"If those villains succeed in slaughtering the Matriarchs, then all will fall into utter chaos as their successors bicker and backstab, setting aside the immediate peril of our situation in their murderous enthusiasm. It will be a ruinous boondoggle that could cost us everything."

Clearly anticipating something of what was to come, Shalidar gave a sigh of resignation, "So?"

"You must save them."

"You have got to be joking."

Lips curling in a wry smile, Aventine snorted, "Oh, if only."

"Saving people is hardly my forte, and our foes will not give up easily. I doubt that even I can succor them all in time, and even if I could, who will protect this chamber in my absence?"

"Needs mus-"

Aventine paused as her attention was drawn to where Octavia Vane, Grand Matriarch of the Dark Elves, was looking distinctly uncomfortable, and her brow furrowed as she caught the woman glancing at a rather ubiquitous-looking section of one particular wall.