The Tattooed Woman Pt. 56

THE TATTOOED WOMAN - Chapter 56

The Tattooed Woman Volume 3 - Chapter 56: The Harshest Armour.

Ashunara's eyes blinked for a moment, her brow furrowing as the fog cleared and she came to her senses. Then those eyes lit with a thoroughly murderous gleam as her focus returned, and she moved.

Dullahan's bright smile vanished abruptly as Sura roughly shoved her aside.

The assassin was quick, and she had reacted with cat-like speed, but even so, she almost wasn't quick enough.

Rolling into a wolf-like crouch, Ashunara found her hands bound before her, but that didn't stop her slashing viciously at the drow with the blade that had somehow appeared in her grip.

The knife would have slit unerringly through the woman's throat had her target not been hurled aside, but it still didn't stop the very tip of the blade from drawing a thin beaded line of crimson across her neck.

The drow hissed in pain, but it was Sura who suffered more, as the Captain's backhand blow slashed the woman's forearm from wrist to elbow.

Spinning, Sura kicked out, landing a glancing blow. It barely seemed to register as the furious dark elf slipped past her attack and leapt for her. The assassin rolled desperately, and the dagger meant for her heart, instead sank hilt-deep into a cushion.

Dullahan rose, and quick as a snake, the Captain's fist cracked against her jaw, drawing blood and rocking the drow back on her heels. Partially stunned, she had a horrifyingly clear view of the gleaming blade as the mad-eyed woman went straight for her throat with murderous intent.

A rangy firbolg tackled her, then grunted as the swordswoman instantly pivoted, burying the blade deep into his guts. He crumpled and fell away, dragging the dagger from her hand, but by then she had his sword half-drawn from its scabbard.

Another firbolg tackled her, wrapping his long powerful arms around the much smaller dark elf, lifting her bodily and forcing her back. But his snarl turned suddenly to a cry of pain as her knee slammed hard into his groin even as she bit through his ear and shoved her thumb knuckle-deep into his eye.

He went down screaming, but his greater weight dragged her to the floor as he fell. More guards threw themselves into the fray, and Sura winced as the demented banshee they were fighting lifted her boot and kicked the first full in the face, brutally crushing his nose like an egg.

The woman fought hard, but the odds were not in her favour.

Looking to her companion, she saw Dullahan standing there, still as stone, watching as the uneven struggle unfolded before her, with a dark expression on her face, her lips a thin line, as she listened to the grunts of pain and the sounds of heavy blows landing.

It was clear she was unhappy, but she did not look away, for she was drow; and drow do not pander to weakness.

Eventually, she took a pace forward, lifting her hand, "Enough! She's done."

The guards withdrew, more than a couple limping and nursing their own bruises.

Looking down at the unconscious woman, she sighed, shaking her head slightly.

Sura slid alongside, trying to staunch the bleeding as she nursed the cut to her arm, "Fuck me, she's fast."

Dullahan nodded, and then snorted, "Where did she get that knife? She damned near cut my throat with the fucking thing."

With a bark of laughter, Sura eyed her, "Seriously?"

She pointed down, and Dullahan groaned as she finally noticed the empty scabbard on her belt. Closing her eyes, she heard herself muttering, "Bitch."

"Me, or her?"

"Yes."

Sura smiled sadly, "You do not like this, do you?"

"It's not my way. I'd kill her in a heartbeat at need or happily use her for sport and mayhap keep her for ransom. She bested me in open battle, and I have no great love for her, but to treat her thus seems a grubby revenge."

Reaching her arm around her lover, Sura pulled her close as she murmured, "'Tis necessary though."

The reply was weary, "I know."

Dullahan gestured to the guards, "Pick her up and place her on the divan. Make sure she is bound properly this time, and mind your dirks as you do. For if that bitch filches one, she'll likely have your gizzard out with it before you can blink."

Sura finished tending her own wound, then fetched a bowl and cloth, filling it with water from a pitcher before handing it to Dullahan. The drow packmistress nodded her thanks and perched herself on the edge of the divan with a sigh as she bent to her task, glancing up at her companion as she dabbed the blood and sweat away from the fallen woman's face, "How fared you with the Necromancer?"

"He's deader than a coffin nail. Though the task was made easy enough for me as she'd already taken a goodly piece of him. I caught him crawling up the stairs like a slug, leaving a gory trail in his wake, and cut his throat from ear to ear. Then our dark elven friends helpfully took his head and burned it on a pyre, so I doubt he'll be back to bother us for a while. Though I confess to being a little caught out when the entire place came crashing down around my ears like a pack of cards."

"What of his host?"

Sura smirked, "Crushed."

"Good. Then that's another obstacle removed, and no doubt they'll be blamed for his demise," she snorted, "assuming anyone gives a shit about that unnatural corpsefucker in the first place."

Sura shrugged, "Even so, 'tis well to have a scapegoat. The Master sees much, and I'd prefer he looked elsewhere if he casts his eye about for someone to blame."

On the couch, the dark elf stirred, and Dullahan turned back to her. Her face was a mass of bruises; one eye had already swollen shut and her lips were split and bleeding. But for all that, none of the injuries looked overly serious, and they'd heal quickly enough. Assuming, of course, the mad bitch didn't get herself killed in the meantime.

Her eye flickered open as Dullahan held the cooling cloth to her face, "Easy there, this will help with the swell - Fuck!"

Sura's head whipped round as her companion leapt to her feet, "What?!"

Snarling, Dullahan backhanded the bound woman, "The bitch near bit my fucking thumb off!"

The assassin grinned, "She's a vicious one to be sure. Damned if I'm not starting to like her."

"Well, maybe you should be the one to clean her up."

"No, thanks. I fancy keeping my fingers attached. They're useful for scratching my arse as I watch as you haplessly play at nursemaid. You are so gloriously inept at it."

Looking down at the battered dark elf, Dullahan growled, "Will you fucking behave yourself? I'm trying to help."

Ashunara gave her a mad grin and spat a gobbet of blood on the carpet, "Eat shit."

"God's blood! Look, I was not enthusiastic about the beating, but it had to be done." She gestured. "These bruises are your armour. One day you'll thank me for them."

The dark elf glared at her, lips curling in a malevolent smile, "Oh, trust me, drow. One day I'm going to ' thank' you most thoroughly."

Dullahan sighed, "Damn you, Ashunara, I could just as easily have had you leashed to a post and beaten like a dog. At least I gave you a fair chance to earn those bruises honestly and get a few licks in of your own while you were at it. Given your temper, you should be grateful."

The woman snarled, "Cut me loose then, so I may properly express my gratitude."

"Ha! I don't think so."

The dark elf coughed, spitting more dust and blood on the floor. Sura filled a goblet and moved closer, "Want something to drink?"

The woman scowled up at her.

Crouching down just out of reach, Sura met her eyes, "There is no point in choking out of spite, dark elf. It only weakens you," she shrugged, "drink the wine now, and hate us later. Yes?"

Ashunara eyed the creature coldly for a fulminating moment and then gave a curt nod. With a smile, Sura moved closer, murmuring cheerfully as she did, "Now, please, Captain, don't bite me, or I shall most assuredly punch out several of your teeth."

Wrapping an arm about her, she helped lift the woman's shoulders so she could slurp a few mouthfuls of the soothing liquid, before lowering her back to the divan and using the cloth to gently wipe her bruised lips.

Stepping back, the silver-haired assassin stood, head tilted slightly, as she looked down at her with a mildly expectant look on her face.

Ashunara gritted her teeth, before eventually grumbling, "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

The eyes of the dark elf flicked up to meet those of the assassin, "How did you capture me?"

Sura grinned back at her and shook her head, "That wasn't me. I ne'er laid a hand on you."

"Then how...?"

"Mayhap you'll see soon enough."

Ashunara frowned, then and her lips curled wickedly, "You know, Azure says she misses you, and that she thinks of you often. She looks forward to the day your paths cross again."

The slender drow looked puzzled a moment, then her face lit in a brilliant smile, "Your sly little scout? Ohh, but she was a wondrous opponent, and we never did finish our match, did we?"

Ashunara shook her head with a sigh as the madwoman, entirely unfazed, chuckled quite happily at the memory, "I tell you this, good Captain, she did not miss me entirely, nor I her, methinks, and doubtless we both have the scars to prove it."

Drawing a familiar blade from her belt, she sobered, musing for a moment, as she admired the dark glinting of the deadly steel, idly moving it this way and that in her hand as she felt its balance, "This is a truly extraordinary piece, Captain. The only similar blade I've seen was filched from a drow tomb a long, long time ago. Might I ask how you came by it?"

Eyes on her lost sword, Ashunara heard herself whisper, "It was my grandmother's."

"Oh? Was she a graverobber then? Perhaps one of those demented 'adventurers'?

She grinned, "Truly, I can see you in the role. Stalking through haunted ruin, sword in hand and brave companions at your side, as you dare monsters in your search for treasure and renown. I wonder if there would be room in your band for me?"

She leaned close, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she murmured, "I would make myself useful... in sooo many ways."

"Fuck you."

With a musical chuckle, she stood, sliding the sword back into its scabbard as she did, "When you die, might I keep this blade? I assure you, I would put it to very good use."

Ashunara promptly told her exactly what use she should put it to.

Still chuckling, she shook her head happily, "I'll take that as a definitive 'maybe'.

Looking down again at the bound woman, she smiled once more, "When next you see Azure, good Captain, I'd take it as a kindness if you told her I'd happily meet for a drink." Her eyes glittered brightly as she leaned close again, her voice a soft and sibilant whisper, "or for whatever else takes her fancy."

The dark elf met her gaze evenly, her own smile no less sinister, "You should be careful what you wish for, Sura."

Beaming, the woman leaned back, one hand going to her heart, "You know my name! I cannot help but be touched."

Rolling her eyes, Ashunara cast her gaze about the tent as she made a wary assessment of her circumstances. All in all, she thought bitterly, they could have been better...

She was lying on her side on a divan, hogtied hand and foot, with yet more leather cords binding her knees, so that the only movement available to her was to squirm and wriggle like a clumsy worm. The restraints had been cunningly applied, and no amount of struggle would see her free. From experience, she knew those knots well enough, as they were commonly used among slavers and the like. With a skilled hand they could perhaps be undone, but at best, it would take considerable time and effort to unpick them.

Still, at least they hadn't followed the common practice of slipping a loop about her neck and securing it to choke the breath from her if she writhed overmuch. So that was something.

But there was still something distinctly amiss. She could feel it. For, while she had been thoroughly searched and her weapons confiscated, they had not stripped her of her mail. In fact, it was the reason she had come through her one-sided fight so unscathed. Her face may have taken a significant battering from the hard fists of the firbolg, but she had barely been winded by their brutal kicks and so remained uninjured to any great extent. Mind you, it still fucking hurt.

Of course, like the mistake of initially binding her hands before her, it could all be a matter of a simple oversight, or incompetence. But somehow it felt strangely deliberate, and the mystery declined to be dismissed. Instead, it pricked at her senses with an irritating persistence that set her teeth on edge.

The tent was spacious, and luxuriously appointed, in a strangely familiar, yet entirely foreign fashion, with richly woven rugs on the floor and many cushions for sitting arranged around small tables.

But she was more concerned with the guards, and there was a good half-dozen of them, spaced evenly around the perimeter, half hidden in the shadows, wary and alert. She could see their eyes glittering in the witchlight, watching her every movement with murderous intent.

Sitting on one of the cushions, Dullahan chuckled as she followed the woman's eyes, "There's two more pikemen just beyond the entrance, and a few more stationed about the outside, just in case someone gets the idea of slithering free of her bonds, slitting the fabric of my tent, and stealing away in the night."

She shrugged, "Besides, you're in the middle of my camp, and surrounded by my pack. The hounds would be upon you before you got fifty paces, and that would be such a waste."

Looking back at the drow, Ashunara shook her head, "Why am I not dead?"

Dullahan sipped her wine before answering, "Obviously, I have a use in mind for you."

"What use?"

Pursing her lips, the drow eyed her, expression carefully hooded, crimson eyes unblinking as she stared. And from where she lay, Ashunara could practically hear the wheels turning.

"Did you know," the woman eventually said, "that my defeat at your hands cost me greatly? I lost much favour. My Prince was greatly displeased with me, and he took his time in making his displeasure known."

The words were spoken without inflection, but Ashunara could well imagine the consequences of incurring the displeasure of a drow Prince, and she suppressed the desire to shudder.

Eyes now strangely blank, Dullahan continued, "Then, after the failure of yet another scheme, one in which I had no part in planning I might add, and in which Sura and I served as but disposable distraction, he decided we were somehow yet again to blame. Albeit our fault this time was in no more than surviving."

Ashunara grimaced, "I'm sorry."

The drow glowered, "Spare me your pretense at sympathy, dark elf. I have no use for it. Besides, why would you care? We are enemies and always have been."

"Maybe so, but if I'd had the chance, I'd have killed you quick, not indulged in petty torments."

Dullahan's voice was flat, "They were not so petty."

After a moment, the drow drew a breath and continued, "Anyway, as I was saying. It so happens that in your absence from home, there was something of a thinning of the herd you might say, and your sister has gone and elevated herself to Grand High Poobah of all the dark elves, or whatever it is you call it. And that makes you a hostage of truly significant value."

Sura interjected, "Not that you weren't worth a pretty ransom even before that."

Dullahan nodded, "True, but if I can hand the only sister to the Grand Matriarch of Emain to my Prince, to do with as he pleases, then perhaps all my sins might be forgotten. I would be redeemed in his eyes, and my faction restored to prominence. What do you think? Worth a try?"

A stirring at the tent flap interrupted them as Sura moved to exchange words with a messenger. After a moment, she returned, a hard look in her eyes, "It's time."

"So soon? I had not expected to be received so quickly."

The assassin shrugged unhappily, and for once her insouciant smile was distinctly absent, "He is keen to play with his new pet."

Dullahan sighed heavily, "So be it."

She nodded to the surrounding guards and gestured to the captive, "Get her up."

Firbolg closed in, Ashunara felt the cord securing wrists to ankles cut and she was hauled to her feet and held steady by rough hands.

Dullahan watched the process, then held up a hand with a small vial held between finger and thumb, "You're going to need your wits about you this day, woman. This is a healing tincture. It tastes like shite, but it will ease your hurts, and like as not, by this time tomorrow, your bruises will be gone. Well, the ones you already have; though at this rate new ones may have replaced them by then. Will you take it unaided, or must I force it down your throat?"

Fetching her a grin, Ashunara bared her teeth, "Go ahead and try, drow. We can have a friendly wager on how many of your fingers I can bite off."

To one side, Sura gave a musical laugh as she turned to her companion, "It matters not, my love. I anticipated her recalcitrance and already slipped some into the wine she drank."

Ashunara hissed, "Tricksy bitch!"

The woman responded with a gracefully mocking bow, "Fine praise, from you."

Sliding the vial back into her pouch, Dullahan nodded, and then grunted, "Gag her."

With a mischievous smile and a merry flourish, the assassin produced a leather bit-like object from behind her back and moved in. Gritting her teeth, Ashunara recoiled, struggling and writhing in the grip of the firbolg as she jerked her head away from the woman; tucking her chin in and then snapping at her hand as it drew close.

Sura made an exasperated sound as she whipped her fingers clear just in time, "Stubborn witch."

Like lightning, she slammed a well-aimed fist into the bound woman's kidneys. The mail absorbed the worst of the blow, but it was still hard enough to make her gasp, and that was enough.

With two strong warriors holding her, and bound as she was, no amount of biting and wild thrashing could prevent the gag from being thrust between her teeth and securely tied in place. Though, by the time it was accomplished, all four of them were once again in a tangle of limbs on the floor.

With a laugh, Sura nimbly rolled free, playfully tweaking the enraged woman's nose before getting to her feet. Ashunara made muffled noises, but the blazing fury in her eyes promised bloody murder if she ever got free.

Unperturbed, the assassin blew out a breath and wiped the sweat from her brow as she ran her fingers through her hair, now disheveled from her exertions, "Phew, 'twas a task and no mistake, but it's done."

Dullahan snorted, "I think you enjoyed that far too much."

Sura grinned, "Who doesn't like a roll in the hay with a pretty maiden now and again?"

"I see no hay, and from what I've heard she's definitely no maiden."

"Semantics."

Stepping forward, Dullahan waited until Ashunara had once again been hauled to her feet and held before her. Reaching out suddenly, she grasped the woman's hair, pulling her head up as she moved closer, "We go to an audience with my Prince. That gag is to prohibit you saying something predictably intemperate and getting yourself uselessly maimed or killed before I get what I'm owed."

She snorted, "Like the bruises, one day you may thank me for it. Now, will you walk, or would you rather be dragged? Nod, if you'd prefer to stand on your own two feet."

Glaring, enraged, bruised and gagged, with hands bound helplessly behind her, Ashunara snarled mutely as she finally nodded.

Fingers still wrapped in her hair, Dullahan met her gaze, her own eyes seemingly coldly indifferent to the woman's fury. Somehow satisfied by what she saw there, she finally released her grip with a last word of warning, "Bear in mind, dark elf. no matter how bad things may seem to you now, there is still so much more room for them to worsen."

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