The Tattooed Woman

THE TATTOOED WOMAN - Chapter 51

The Tattooed Woman Volume 3 - Chapter 51: The Hot Gates

Kalis Mal, retired Mistress of the Academy of Swords and now reluctant Warmaiden of the besieged city of Miosgan Meadhba, took in the battlefield before her and spat in disgust,

"What a fucking mess."

Around her, the warriors and knights of her bodyguard gathered. They stood in easy ranks, some adjusting the straps on their armour, others fixing their shields or readying their weapons. A couple cracked ribald jokes or made casual wagers, a few gripped the arms or met the eyes of comrades they had known for centuries, or friends they had made but days ago. For these were the hardest most stubborn and ill-tempered bastards Kalis could find, and there was no give in any of them. Most were sellswords, maybe a few were bandits, a couple may have been assassins, but she did not care if they were ruthless killers one and all, or what murderous deeds they could lay claim to. She only cared that they would stand and fight to the last without taking a backward step. That, and they would take a lot of killing before they went down, and they would not be alone when they finally set foot along the road of the dead.

The gatehouse and barbican that protected what was once the main entrance to the city had been obliterated, and now only broken ruins and blasted masonry remained. Atop the shattered fortifications had stood a dwarvish golem, a war machine of the old world, and along with those defenders that were simply too stubborn or thrawn to give way, it had held their foes at bay for days. But strong as it was, it was not invulnerable, and battered and mauled, it too had finally fallen to the terrible blows of a cadre of giants.

Now, the enemy host was pouring in. The bridge across the moat funneled significantly, but from what she could see their numbers were all but endless, and they came on like a vicious screaming tide.

In the meantime, the dwarves, who had held the ruins for so long, had not been idle, and Kalis grinned, for any enemy worth its salt knew better than to give such industrious folk time to dig in. It was a lesson she herself had learned the hard way years ago fighting the hardy wee bastards and she gave a snort,

"Ah well, some poor bastard's about to have a bad day - what a fucking shame; my heart bleeds for the cunts."

Set back a ways from the charred ruins, the dwarves had dug a trench about a hundred paces long and some ten feet deep. They had used the excavated dirt to build an earthwork dyke just behind it and then their crossbowmen had fixed their pavise shields along its crest and readied themselves. The area before the ditch had been lined with a forest of sharpened stakes and the ground liberally sewn all around with wickedly barbed caltrops.

In a clear area amongst these stakes and spikes the dwarves had drawn up what few infantry they had in a solid, heavily armoured phalanx, locking shields, and with their warhammers and battleaxes in hand. And there they stood, singing their dirge-like warsongs as they prepared for the end.

No doubt as anticipated, the enemy, seeing them there, had charged straight for them, screaming and howling with unruly bloodlust. The caltrops stopped and slowed many, crippling more than a few, while the barbed stakes further hindered their advance, and all the time the scorpions and repeating crossbows of the dwarves mowed them down in droves. The heavy bolts slammed into the enemy ranks, punching through armour and shield alike with equal impunity and cutting them down by the score. But still they came, and they threw themselves on the dwarves like a ravening mob.

The sheer weight of the charge drove the phalanx back one pace, and then another, but dwarves are a hardy folk, full of grit and stubborn as stone. With a defiant bellow they dug in their heels and would give no more. Firbolg and goblin raved at them in a demented frenzy stabbing and hacking wildly, but the shields of the dwarves were broad, and their thick armour mostly shrugged off such blows. And all the while their hammers and axes rose and fell like the steel blades of a threshing machine, crushing skulls, cleaving limbs, and soaking the ground with blood. Still, quantity had a quality all of its own, and Kalis knew that against such numbers they could not last.

She turned to her second, an intemperate veteran who she knew to be a bloody-handed butcher when riled. The woman was a thoroughly murderous drunkard, merrily inclined to violence and capable of picking a fight with a boulder if it vexed her, but she had only a barely passing knowledge of fear and was utterly dependable when sober, and today she was sober, well, probably.

"Dorma, take your cutthroats and try to hold the flanks as best you can, I'll advance with the rest to support the dwarves. What say you?"

The gnarled mercenary looked at the oncoming horde and grunted, "What say I? I say we're royally fucked, that what I say. But if by some mad act of the Gods I somehow survive this shit show I'm going to get drunker than a fiddler's bitch at a whore's wedding on the all the coin you'll owe me. So don't you go getting yourself killed til I've been fucking paid, you bilking bitch."

Kalis grinned, "That's fair. Now get thee hence you insubordinate curmudgeon, and if I find you've went and been murdered by that worthless rabble then fuck ye! You'd not be worth the money and I'll be keeping your gold to spend in the brothel myself. But lass," she sniffed, "should we find ourselves crouching on the coals on the other side, then I'd not begrudge sharing a cup with you."

The woman laughed before raising her warsword in salute and turning towards the fray.

Watching her go, Kalis shook her head, knowing the odds were overwhelming that she'd just sent the woman to her death. With a bitter curse she turned back to the business at hand,

"Needs must."

Thankfully her morbid train of thought was rudely derailed as another Company approached, jogging from the gloom and loping towards her. They were the typical mishmash of orcish warriors and dark elven bravoes, and from the gore that already marred their gear, and the wounds more than a few carried they had already seen some use. They were led by...

Kalis frowned as the woman approached, and her eyes narrowed, "I know you do I not? You're that mad bitch from Kouni. The one who cut her own sisters' tits off and killed a dragon," she squinted at the swordswoman for a moment longer as she searched her memory, and then grunted, "Kasa..? Kasa Dur. Aye, I remember you."

The woman gave a derisive snort and made an offhand and barely recognisable attempt at a salute even as she snarled her reply, "It was her fucking nose. And not only did the sour-faced bitch deserve it, but her looks were only improved by my blade, and as for the dragon," she sniffed and hooked a thumb at the orc at her side. He was a grizzled wolf-like creature, all covered in scars. An old warrior for sure, but his lambent yellow eyes still burned bright enough, "that was him."

"He'll be the one that punched Commander Sharra of House Bruíon then? Broke her jaw he did, and the twit spat her teeth all over my damned desk when she came to make her complaint of assault. Wanted the bastard flayed if I recall."

If Kasa Dur had any regrets, she did not show them now. Instead, she gave the War Maiden an irritated look, "Well, what the fuck did she expect? She all but called him a liar to his face, questioned his courage right there in front of his kin. I'm surprised he's no wearing her head for a fucking hat."

The orc sniffed, "Too small, too ugly."

She sighed, "Not helping."

The creature shrugged.

"Anyway, you tell that mumbling bitch the next time she crosses my path she best walk soft, or I'll cut her fucking throat myself."

The general gave a snort of laughter, "Well, aren't you quite the murderous wee fucker. Oh, you're going to fit right in," she sobered, "now, what have you brought me?"

Turning, the younger dark elf gestured to the warriors who had followed her, "The order came down that the defenders were to fall back right quick, but that any who were close enough to the gate were to come and lend needed support. My Company were nearest, so I brought them. Due to hard fighting there's only a half century of us left, but I gathered up what warriors I could on the way. All told I've brought maybe two hundred or so," she shook her head, "sorry I could not gather more, but there was just no time."

If she expected derision or criticism for her efforts, she was proven wrong, for instead of anger, the War Maiden grunted and slapped her on the shoulder, "You did well enough lass, and you're a welcome sight, damned welcome, you and your mad orc. Now, to get the best use of you."

She pointed, "Draw your archers up here in a line and rain fire down on them. If your volleys can thin them out even a little it might ease pressure on the dwarves."

"Our arrows won't last long."

The general nodded, "It is what it is, just do what you can."

"And the rest?"

With a grunt Kalis Mal gestured to the ongoing carnage, "We need to hold until our companies have retired to the safety of the inner wall. Once that's done, and assuming any of us are still alive," she saw the look in the younger dark elf's face and snorted, "aye, I know, but I'm ever the fucking optimist."

"Oh, you look it."

She grinned, "Behave. Anyway, if any of us are still alive that's when we can withdraw," she pointed back to the citadel, "more help should be coming and they will cover us as we flee, but if the enemy get in behind us, they'll have us trapped, and then we're buggered. I want you to stop that happening. Hold our rear, so when the time comes at least some of us have a chance to get the fuck out of this mess, understand?"

The younger Captain nodded, "We'll hold."

"I don't doubt it," the old veteran fixed her helm in place but hesitated a moment before lowering the visor. Looking at the orc she gave the creature a ferocious grin, "killed a dragon, eh? Gods, I wish I'd seen it."

She sniffed, "Good luck to you both."

Then she slammed the visor in place, and, with a wave of her mace, she turned and led her troops into battle.

Kasa immediately began bellowing necessary orders, but the orc remained still for a moment, feral eyes unreadable and his face a mask as he watched her go.

...

Cassie's face was a very picture of confusion as she stared at the glowing lamp. While, for its own part, the offending flame responded by giving her an impudent flicker and seeming to blaze all the brighter under her scrutiny, "I... I don't understand."

Shalidar eyed the girl and kept the smile from her lips, "Truly, do you not?"

Looking at the lamp again, Cassie swallowed uncertainly, "Uhh, I... I don't think so?"

"You do not sound entirely convinced."

Stepping closer, the enigmatic creature held out her hand towards the offending lantern, it flickered, but did not otherwise react to her approach, and after a moment she nodded, her sapphire-bright eyes glittering with distinctly foxlike amusement and lips curled in a sly smile that to Cassie was as mischievous as it was so obviously misplaced, as she gestured at the thing, "Hmm, it gives off both light and heat, and yet it does not consume the lamp. 'Tis feeding on raw magic I think."

Moving across the bedroom she sat herself down upon a divan, primly smoothing the lines of her gown before folding her hands neatly on her lap and calmly looking back at the perplexed girl, "So, what are you going to do about it?"

Baffled, Cassie shook her head, "What are you talking about? I didn't light the bloody thing."

Shalidar nodded, "No, 'tis true, you did not, for in a sense it lit itself," she pointed, "because that, my dear, is not simple witchflame, but a fire spirit that you've seemingly conjured," she looked about the room and grinned again, "And that's despite the many wardings and magical defences that positively festoon this place. 'Tis passing curious, no?"

"What?"

The woman chuckled, "Oh, trust me, I am a Dragon after all, and if anyone can recognise a spirit of fire it is I, and what's more, you'd best do something about it right quick, or breakfast is like to be somewhat... delayed."

"Huh? Why?"

"Oh, on account of the building burning down."

Cassie gave a horrified squeak, "What!?"

"Well, if we proceed to our repast and leave this little efrit unattended, then it will either attempt to follow you about like an incendiary little lamb, or it will simply get bored and dance about the chamber, merrily setting everything it touches aflame, and then it will proceed to innocently wonder why everyone is running about screaming and grabbing at buckets of water."

The girl boggled, "What!?"

Shalidar sighed, "You keep using that word. I wish you'd desist; it makes you sound terribly dense."

Gesturing helplessly at the lamp, Cassie protested, "But I didn't light it! I couldn't have; I have no magic."

The Dragon raised an arched brow, "No? Step nearer to it then, but not too close, or in its careless enthusiasm it might leap on you, and your hair is like to get singed," she sniffed, "well, that plus it would probably set your nightshirt aflame, and I'm told humans dislike that sort of thing."

Rather gingerly, Cassie did as she was bid, and for the rest of her days she would never be sure if the feeling she felt when the tiny flame blazed brightly at her proximity, was one of exhilaration, or of terror.

"Now, move away, but slowly and not too far mind, or it is like to try and follow you, and the tabletop appears regrettably combustible."

She took a half step away from the bedside cabinet, immediately the lamp dimmed, and for just the briefest of moments, Cassie imagined she felt a tiny flicker of sadness and loss from the little sprite. With a gasp she turned to her companion, "It's alive!"

The girl's wide-eyed expression of wonder was hardly lost on Shalidar, who had to look away to smother the chuckle that threatened her composure so. Instead, she drew a quiet breath and nodded, "Indeed it is, and no, you cannot keep it."

"But..."

"No."

The pleading petulant look that Cassie gave her was simply beyond ridiculous, and Shalidar felt herself give an unconscious snort of laughter even as she tried to be firm, "It is a supernatural entity, child, albeit a minor one, not a kitten."

Cassie was staring at the thing, eyes bright, "I've never had a kitten."

"Not quite the point I was making."

The girl was barely paying attention, fascinated as she was by the tiny sparkling ember shining before her, "Huh?"

Shaking her head, the Dragon sighed again, "Well, if you are intent on making it a pet, then you will require to bind it."

"Bind it?"

"Aye, trap it in an object, or compel it to some endless chore, otherwise it will run free, with entirely predictable results."

The girl frowned, clearly unhappy at the idea, "But it's so small. I mean, what harm could it do? Surely..."

There was a wry chuckle, "Cassie, it is a bit of living fire, and it would like nothing more than to make you happy by setting the whole world alight. It is not evil, but it has neither conscience nor any notion of consequence."

"Truly?"

The Dragon shrugged, "It is a fire spirit, it's what they do."

"But... how did it get here? I mean, how did I..." she shrugged helplessly, utterly lost for any words that would make sense of what had seemingly transpired.

Shalidar pursed her lips in consideration, "Now that is an interesting question, and I have some thoughts on the matter if you would care to hear the-", her eyes flicked to the lamp, where the sprite was beginning to stealthily crawl down the side of the lantern. It froze under her scrutiny but apparently had some difficulty in pretending innocence.

She gave an exasperated sigh and pointed, "You. Behave."

Cassie blinked as the thing skulked back into the lamp to sulk, "How did you..?"

The Dragon gave her a look, "Well, for some inexplicable reason, you might say I have a way with fire."

The girl blushed, "Sorry."

"No matter. Now, as I was saying. Do you recall when we first met? You were hurt, and being no great healer, I gave you into the care of my daughter?"

The girl paled at the memory, and looked down at the table, "I remember."

For just a moment Shalidar's lips thinned and her smile may have wavered, "Indeed... Thankfully, Ellén has significantly greater knowledge of the healing arts than I, but even so, your wound was dire, and it taxed even her craft significantly. She later told me that she was obliged to use her own spirit to "shepherd" yours, in a sense, to keep it from prematurely departing this world, while her ministrations repaired your physical form. I think that initial intimate contact is perhaps one of the reasons you both bonded together so quickly as you recovered."

She saw the expression on Cassie's face and quietly added, "One of, perhaps, but certainly not the only reason, girl."

After a moment she cleared her throat and continued, "Then, later, you were wounded again, this time in your battle with the undead Dragon."

"How did you know about that?"

"Ellén came to me. She was utterly devastated, thinking she had all but killed you in her madness, and then flown off to pursue her bloodlust without even a second thought, leaving you lying crushed and broken on the ground in her wake."

"It wasn't her fault!"

"Oh, I know that, and in her heart so does she I suppose, but Dragons are not meant for guilt, so it wracked her all the more just the same, but there you have it, she is such a sentimental child. Anyway, the one who mended you that time was Adair, and she has all the healing ability of a rusty battleaxe."

The Dragon grinned at the thought, "'Tis gratifying that the aggravating bitch is incompetent at something at least."

Cassie rolled her eyes, "That's just petty."

"I'm a Dragon. I can be petty if I like, and she vexes me."

"You're prettier than her."

Shalidar's head snapped up, her eyes, burning bright, suddenly gleamed with serpentine intensity as they transfixed her, "Truly?"

Swallowing nervously, the girl nodded, "Yes."

The Dragon stared at her for a moment longer, and then surprised her with a soft chuckle, "Is it perhaps because of my resemblance to fair Ellén that you compliment me so, little Cassie? Methinks there may be some small measure of bias in your proclamation."

"Doesn't make it any less true."

With another snort the Dragon looked away, but Cassie could see the smile that the creature tried so hard to hide, "Anyway, lacking proper art or healing craft, Adair relied instead on raw power, of which she has in no small quantity, and transferred some tiny fragment of her life-force into you. It is a thing she once saw a human wizard do to aid a fallen dark elf, and she had no great skill at it, but it was all she could think to attempt at the time, for once again you had carelessly managed to mangle yourself near to the point of death."

The girl rolled her eyes, "It was hardly deliberate!"

Looking back at her, Shalidar frowned, "Some say that third time is the charm. So, if I catch you doing it again, I shall become sorely vexed with you, Cassie, and I will make my displeasure well known, I assure you."

The flat, reflective stare of an irritated Dragon is no small thing, and Cassie shivered. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, as she recalled how her previous Mistress, Narissa Thule had said something all too similar, while simultaneously using her belt to vigorously punctuate her point.

She blushed, "Yes, ma'am."

"'Tis not that I care, mind, obviously, but I'm sure Ellén would be distressed if your ill-conceived japes got you killed in some ridiculously gruesome fashion."