The Tattooed Woman Pt. 58

THE TATTOOED WOMAN - Chapter 58

The Tattooed Woman Volume 3 - Chapter 58: "Iron and Blood".

The corpse of the vampire-lord crumpled like a puppet with its strings rudely cut. And even as its severed head still rolled upon the blood-stained carpets, corruption set in and it began to rot.

A fetid stench, foul beyond description, filled the air as the cadaver started to bloat and dissolve. Like a thief, the monster had prolonged its unnatural existence through the long centuries with stolen life and stolen blood, and now, as was inevitable, the final bill had come due.

Dullahan's shoulder burned and throbbed, and sweat beaded her forehead as her vision swam. Who knew what corruption and rot lurked beneath the fingernails of so blighted a creature, but she could feel her flesh already festering around the gouges it had inflicted.

She needed a torch, and quickly, to cauterise the wound before the creeping touch of gangrene spread and she lost her arm.

Her mouth felt dry and she swallowed, "Sura..."

The fist that smashed into her face all but took her head off. Her legs would have folded instantly beneath her had not a hard hand grasped the front of her mail and wrenched her forward. With head ringing abominably and vision spinning, she stumbled. But apparently the cold edge of a razor-sharp blade coming up under her chin was a most efficacious remedy, for it brought the world back into focus with truly remarkable speed.

Face twisted in a vicious snarl, teeth bared and eyes blazing, the madwoman who held her jerked her closer yet, and she could feel her blood trickling down her neck.

Through those bared teeth a voice hissed near enough in her ear, "Was it true?"

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Sura edging closer, and she gestured for her to stay back. The assassin was fast, blindingly so, but it was unlikely even she would be quick enough to intercede before the enraged dark elf cut her throat from ear to ear.

She swallowed, feeling the blade bite just that little bit deeper as she did, "W-what?"

"WAS IT TRUE?!"

She had known the dark elf was dangerous, she had seen that a hot temper had lurked just beneath that sly exterior, held in check, for the most part at least, by discipline and ruthless cunning. And sometimes, in her dreams and fantasies, she may even have wondered at what passions might be unleashed if only the shell of that cool façade could be but cracked a little.

Well, now she knew, and it was not a pretty sight.

Her eyes flicked across the tent, taking in the mangled, barely recognisable, body of the Prince, lying butchered in a pool of his own gore and entrails and a tiny mocking whisper pricked the back of her mind, "Be careful what you wish for."

Biting her bloodied lip, she met the woman's eyes, and saw no shred of pity, and precious little reason in that burning gaze, "Your mother...?"

The deranged dark elf only snarled, her nostrils flaring at the words.

Sensing the woman's grip flexing ominously upon the hilt of her sword, Dullahan chose to keep her eyes firmly fixed on those of the Captain. Like when faced with some wild and deadly creature about to pounce, she knew that to break that gaze would likely be the end of her. Slowly, and with great care she moved her hands away from the hilts of her dagger and sword, and spoke as soothingly as she could, "I do not know - truly. The story of how the old Prince was killed by a concubine is well known. But the story of the dark elven Princess who died fighting, sword in hand and spitting defiance, rather than be taken by drow, is also well told. But I was but a bairn back then and there is no way for me to discern which tale is true, and which is a fable told by the slaves in their cages."

She swallowed, "What I do know is that the Prince," she nodded very carefully towards the ruined corpse, "was a thoroughly vile bastard who supped upon the misery of others. His words might have held some truth, but they could just as easily have been nothing more than another one of his petty torments conjured forth simply to hurt you..."

Ashunara's wild, unblinking stare bored into her, and for a just moment the woman's hand trembled as she fought to master herself.

Then she drew a breath, deep and ragged, and as she released it, she pushed the drow roughly away from her.

Sura lunged forward to catch Dullahan as she crumpled to the floor, angry eyes glaring up at the dark elf, "You bitch! If you'd hurt her, I'd have..."

The woman didn't so much as blink, "Shut up."

The dark elf cast her gaze about the scene of chaos within the tent, and in particular at the fire beginning to engulf the far wall, and when she looked back, the drow could see that the beast had been put back in its cage - for now.

She sniffed, "We should leave before that spreads."

***

The more Nyx was forced to listen to this posturing fuckwit, the more the idea of stabbing her grew in appeal. For one thing, her hangover was giving her a bastard headache, which was bad, and for another it appeared Elsadore, who had drunk as much - if not more, was suffering from neither hangover nor headache and was despicably cheerful, and that was fucking worse .

Also, it was a disgustingly bright morning, the birds were singing, and this bloody woman just wouldn't shut up .

The Knight Marischal had arrived with the dawn, bringing a junior provost and a cluster of men-at-arms with her, and almost immediately had set about haranguing the sentries for not offering proper salute or some other dumb shit. Then, in that same annoyingly loud and braying voice, she'd started going on about how a handful of sweaty sellswords had been thoroughly drubbed in a brawl while reducing a tavern nigh to ruin as they accomplished this dubious feat. Gods, it was almost as if she expected her to give a shit .

Scratching her arse, Nyx stifled a yawn and began to look about her, as if seeking either some escape from the woman's blather, or, more likely, some serviceable bludgeon to club her with - if only to stop her endless prattling.

Then she paused and squinted at the woman, "Wait, what did you say?"

The Marischal frowned, "I said that if you are incapable of holding this... menagerie to proper discipline then it shall fall to me to make pointed example. A dozen lashes or so, well laid on, to a couple of your ruffians should see the job done methinks. After all," she favoured Nyx with a distinctly patronising smile, "soldiers will be soldiers, and such things are bound to occur from time to time, so I suppose we should not make too much of it."

For a moment the veteran looked almost perplexed, as if the woman had declared that the sky was tartan, or something equally ludicrous, then she turned to Kasa-Dur, who was standing in the background and obviously struggling to bite her tongue, "Is she taking the piss?"

The young Captain clearly didn't quite trust herself to speak and could only shake her head in reply.

"Oh," Nyx looked bemused for an instant, before turning her attention back to the Marischal, "nah, I don't think so. Look, we're about to have breakfast, if you fancy some."

The woman blinked, eyes widening as the words registered, "What? But... but those were my orders. You cannot simply say, "No."

"I just did - you sure you don't fancy some breakfast? Lashelle over there managed to filch some damned fine bacon and she's a dab hand with a skillet."

When no reply came, the veteran gave an uncaring shrug, "Suit yourself."

She turned to walk away, only to halt as the woman reached out to grab her by the arm, "Stand fast there, you insolent wretch! I'll thank you not to turn your back on me!"

Elsadore winced, "Oh shit."

Stopping dead in her tracks, Nyx paused, head tilting slightly to one side as she considered the moment and then, with something of a weary sigh, she slowly turned back, glancing almost mildly at the woman's offending hand as she did, "You know, I'm beginning to think that you and I are about to have a bit of a disagreement..."

Kasa Dur took a quick step forward, "Uh, Marischal, perhaps this matter should be reconsidered. It is but a trivial brawl after all and are there not matters of greater import demanding your attention this day?"

Despite the obvious common sense of the suggestion, it appeared the woman was not for being mollified and she snapped, "Mind your place! Or Captain or no, I'll hang you by the heels next to this wretched cur, for I'll not see my station disrespected. Does she not know who I am? I speak with the Matriarch's voice by damn!"

The orc standing behind the young Captain shifted his stance a little at the woman's belligerent tone, lambent eyes gleamed as his brow furrowed and the grip on his battleaxe may have tightened ever so slightly.

Nyx began to smile.

Kasa Dur pursed her lips and sniffed, "Fair enough, it's your funeral."

The woman blinked, "What?"

The young Captain moved close enough to whisper, "I don't know if she knows who you are, but I definitely know who she is. That's Anyxia Mal, first-born to our very own War Mistress and though she denies it hotly, everyone with a lick of sense knows she is the true First Sword of House Varro and has killed more people in battle and duel than the plague. Further, that," she nodded to a knife-slender dark elf standing not far off, watching the altercation with a distinctly keen interest, "that is Valair, First Sword of House Fel, and I've personally seen her skill upon the sands. Now, I'm almost certain the woman you are busy berating could kill you before any of your guards, including me, could even blink, BUT, on the off chance she couldn't I'm fucking certain Valair could. Are you sure you want to press this matter?"

Whether it was to her credit or not, or perhaps she was really just that stupid, Kasa Dur could not be entirely certain, but the Marischal did not immediately back down. Instead, she licked her lips nervously as she murmured her reply, "I am the Knight Marischal... I cannot lose face."

The Captain sighed in exasperation, "Oh for fu-", she shook her head, "milady, if you provoke her, this woman will end you, and for what? There is a host of enemies gathered outside our very gates slavering to do just that, and the only reason they have not attacked today, is they are busy moving their siege engines into range of the walls - and as soon as they're done, all Hell is going to break out and most of us are going to die. Is there no better thing we could be doing rather than worrying about this pish?"

The woman blinked, "But..."

Kasa Dur looked to Nyx and spoke up, "See to it that your share of the damages is paid for, perhaps with a little something extra for the innkeeper's troubles and we shall call this matter concluded. What say you?"

The veteran's eyes flicked briefly back and forth between her and the feral old Orc standing behind her, before focusing back on the Marischal. With a wry snort, she slipped the wicked little punch-dagger that had somehow appeared in her hand back into its hidden sheath and gave the younger woman a nod, "Seems fair."

***

To Cassie's eyes the great library was a vast chamber, lined as it was by towering shelves - all filled with books and tomes of every description. Huge windows opened onto a wide balcony and gave splendid views of the magnificent gardens outside, with their ponds and flower beds, their trees and statues; and if she looked closely enough, she could even glimpse the peak of the ornate gazebo hidden away in the depths of the maze.

It was still Winter, and so most of the flowers were closed, with silver frost decorating the leaves and hanging from the branches, but she wondered at what a riot of colour the place must be in Spring.

Sighing, she returned to her studies, flexing the stiffness from her shoulders as she did. After a morning spent in "dancing class" by which she meant being thoroughly pummelled and thrown about by her bodyguard as she learned the not-so-delicate art of using her so-called 'ladies blade' to disembowel and defenestrate any would-be rapscallions intent on doing her harm, she had descended into the magisters lair in the bowels of the house to be taught the secrets of magic.

At first, she had been equal parts terrified and excited by the very thought of such tuition, as she imagined learning occult spells and mysterious words of power. For a certainty, the lair of the magus was suitably terrifying, being sporadically lit by flickering witchlamp and filled with artefacts both bizarre and troubling.

But the reality of the lessons was not remotely as she thought, for in truth they were just a bit... boring. She suppressed a yawn, "Boring and somehow really tiring."

She had watched as the ancient magister had manipulated the flow of magic within a crystal, first making it glow and darken, and then, eyes narrowing, compelling it to quiver and crack until the thing had eventually sundered, shattering into a thousand pieces. She had not spoken any spell, nor even waved her hands in some suitably arcane manner. Instead, she had simply stared silently at the object until it bent to her will. For an excited young girl expecting a display of sorcerous pyrotechnics, it was all rather disappointing to be honest.

With a disdainful sniff, the woman raised her eyes from the shards and looked to Cassie, "Did you see?"

The girl licked her lips nervously, "I saw it break."

The woman's lips curled in an expression only a lunatic would have called a smile, "Good enough."

Casually sweeping the debris aside, she set up another crystal, this one slightly larger, before looking back at the girl, "I shall use the magic to break this crystal. It is your task to stop me."

Cassie blinked, "Uh, how?"

The dark elf barely glanced at her, "With your will, of course - begin."

Five seconds later the crystal all but exploded.

With a grunt, Fiamma Vor, shook her head, "This may take a while."

Reaching under her desk she produced a sizeable basket. To Cassie's dismay it was filled to brimming with crystals.

Cassie yawned again as she tried to fucus on the book before her. She could not believe how tired she was. All she had done all afternoon was stare at a seemingly endless succession of boring rocks, and at the ever-growing pile of shattered bits and pieces that eventually littered both the table and the floor around it, and yet she was utterly exhausted.

The witchlamps about the chamber flickered, the curtains stirred, and the hair on the back of her neck prickled as something, some slight tickling sensation, caused her to turn.

The woman watching her from across the room regarded her silently. Behind her, the balcony doors had been closed to keep out the chill, and they were still closed. But Cassie doubted it would have made any difference if they had been shuttered and barred.

She stood, and Shalidar was once again surprised by the smile of genuine warmth that spread across the girl's face. She gave a little snort, "Humans are such daft little things. They can be terrified of the dark, and yet here I am, a very monster of old, standing within easy reach and right in front of her, and she just smiles at me like I'm her favourite aunt. I don't know if I should be insulted or not."

"Lady Shalidar! I didn't hear you come in."

"I expect not. But you knew I was there nonetheless... Interesting."

"Eh?"

The Dragon stepped forward, reaching out to lift the girls chin and peer down at her as she considered, "Hmm, tell me, Cassie, how fared your lessons with the magister this day?"

Cassie chuckled, "I think she's going to run out of crystals a lot sooner than she thinks."

"Is that so?"

The young woman made an exasperated sound, "I don't know what I'm doing. I spent half a day watching a bunch of stones detonating with ever increasing violence, until the last all but sent bits of shrapnel bouncing off the ceiling.

Shalidar paused as she poured herself a goblet of wine, mulling over what had been said, "Indeed?"

Turning, she regarded the girl, her expression thoughtful, "And how fares your ability to 'see' the magic around you? Does it remain tenuous?"

Almost instinctively, Cassie looked about, and the fingers of one hand drifted unconsciously towards the little amulet that hung on the silver cord about her neck. In its depths the tiny bound sprite flickered eagerly at her touch, "I... think so. I mean, I'm not sure, but when I look hard, I can see... something. And sometimes... sometimes I see things moving out of the corner of my eye when I know there is nothing there."

She looked away, her voice dropping to a whisper, "And I have such strange dreams of late."

"Dreams of fire?"

Blinking in surprise, the girl lifted her head, "How did you know?"

The Dragon smirked, "Lucky guess?"

With a dismissive snort, Cassie shook her head, "You don't guess."

With languid grace, the ancient creature poured a second goblet and offered it to her, eyes gleaming brightly as she did, as though reflecting the golden lustre of the bejewelled cups in her hand, and her lips curled in a sly expression as she murmured, "Know me so well do you, mortal girl?"

Without waiting a reply, the Dragon stretched, "I have flown far this night, Cassie. Do you know where I've been?"

The reply was almost petulant, "How could I?"

"How indeed? Well, I shall tell you. I grew tired of the confines of this place, so filled with little things and little squabbles, and thus I flew to the north, where I fed, and fed well."

She moved closer, sipping from her chalice as she did, and her eyes burned ever brighter, "I flew swiftly indeed, over ice, and over mountain. I dived in the cold ocean, and in those murky depths I swam with the sea serpents, watching as they coiled and fought, and mated, and I was envious, for I was alone..."

"I'm sorry."

With a fickle laugh, Shalidar spun about playfully, "Oh, don't be! Sea serpents might be pretty enough in their way, but their scales are no match for mine, and they are such dullards. I swear, they concern themselves more with fish than flirtation. And if any had dared even consider ensnaring me in their coils, I would have broiled them where they paddled."

Throwing back the drink, the golden-haired woman drained her cup in a single swallow, before eying the empty goblet carefully and drawing a soft breath as she murmured, "Dwarven gold, nothing smells or tastes quite like it," she looked up, "well, almost nothing..."

Cassie watched the woman closely, "Are you alright?"

"Hmm? My dreams of late have also been troubled, Cassie, but it is a small thing."

She turned to gaze at the girl, "Anyway, as I was saying. After stretching my wings, I turned for home, and as I did, I passed over a tower; a ruined tower with signs of battle all about it. You know the place?"

Swallowing as memories flooded back, Cassie nodded, "It's where..."

Shalidar suddenly leaned closer, her voice a sibilant and mischievous whisper, "Where you ravished my daughter? Is that what you were about to say?"

"What! No... I mean, yes, but I was... we were... I didn't..."

The Dragon watched the flustered girl babbling incoherently for a moment, lips curling in a toothsome smile as she mused, "I never knew they could bloom such a vibrant colour or give off such tempting heat. So much more enticing than all those boring screams..."

Eventually she took mercy on the mortified creature, "Oh, be still girl, from what I heard I doubt she resisted overmuch."

Cassie's eyes grew even wider, her hand flying to her mouth in horror, "Heard? Sh-she told you?"

Shalidar snorted, "Are you jesting? Oh, sweet girl, my gentle daughter may have been in human form, but she is Dragon for all that. Her passions probably shook the tower to its foundations and likely woke the dead. Everyone heard."

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