The Ambition of the Dreadlord Raveres
Part III: Debts to be Paid
Episode Sixteen (Censored)
Sir Tormande was choking the slave girl while he thrust into her wet vagina. He grunted and breathed through his teeth as her face shuddered and her eyelids fluttered. Her eyes were rolling around lazily and her tongue stuck out of her open mouth as she shivered and enjoyed the rough orgasm that the knight was giving her.
Her skin was tanned, like the colour of olives, yet her hair was as white as snow. Her mouth rounded into an 'oh' before she smiled while arching her back, hooking her feet around his bare back she drew the knight closer with her legs and strong thighs as she plied her trade and convinced him that he had won her over…
She wasn't working when she lay with him. No. When he was with her, she enjoyed herself just as much as he did. And the knight dully believed it, even though he felt he was wary to such charms and illusions, in the back of his mind she'd convinced his inner monologue that he was indeed, that good.
Furrowing his brow and letting go of her neck Tormande shivered and shook as his muscles twitched. With an orgasm wracking his body he tentatively held still and prolonged his pleasure as long as he was able… But before he released, he had to feel her ears…
The slave had pointed elf-ears under her white hair, and black makeup thickly lining her eyes. It wasn't exactly like Druchii war-paint but, she'd put up as good of a show as his cock required.
Tormande closed his eyes and ran his fingers up the faux cartilage as he shuddered and grunted. Exhaling in descending tones he let go and planted his arms on either side of her before falling to one side, spent, and satisfied.
She lay under him for several moments before tapping his arm and he allowed her to rise from the bed. Walking to the boudoir the prostitute removed her white wig and placed it onto one of her many holders. Next, she removed the fake ears which she was wearing and placed them into a special box on the wood surface.
Reaching for a cloth near a pitcher and wash basin she began cleaning herself. Tormande rolled onto his back and looked over to see his 'elf' transformed back to her regular appearance. Her short cropped black hair irritated him, but by now he'd seen her in a state of changing so many times he couldn't summon the energy to encourage her to redress her head in a new wig.
"Do you really hate her that much then?" she asked with a smile.
Once she cleaned, she stepped towards Tormande and stooped, picking up a long pipe from a small tray on the floor at the edge of the bed. She drew from the end and inhaled the still-burning embers of opium and exhaled a light smoke before offering it to her knight. He chuckled gruffly and took a long drag of the eastern drug.
"Aye… I'd see her defeated and shamed in battle before reminding her of her sex."
He exhaled and grunted before happily slapping the woman's bare ass with his sword-hand. She shuddered and lost her balance, heady from the drug she let out a pained yelp and slapped her hand against his bare chest as she pressed into his lap.
"Damn it Tormande! I said no slapping, I've got that cut and it's yet to heal you brute!"
Despite their long session the knight couldn't help but perk up at her cry of pain and high-pitched tone. Taking another drag from the pipe he grunted in the affirmative and gripped the back of her head.
"How much time?" he asked while exhaling.
She repositioned herself despite his hand on her head and looked over to her boudoir at a tall sand time-glass as she narrowed her eyes. There was still a small amount in the top part of the item and she replied honestly, she knew him well enough to know just what he wanted now,
"Enough for this."
He chuckled and dropped the pipe off the side of the bed to the tray below.
Visions of flowing white hair began plaguing him and he grit his teeth as he growled.
'That cunt…' he thought.
Looking across the room at the white wig on its stand he shivered and shook his head from side to side.
"You fucking… whore…" he whispered.
Throwing his head back and whispering in Druhir he smirked before calling out in a growl of conquest,
"Sa'an'ishar!"
…
Raveres felt tightness under her, but it was coupled with a sensation of weightlessness. Blinking and furrowing her brow flashes of the great beast went through her mind and she imagined that she must have been held by the large trunks of the creature's tentacles.
Growling groggily and lashing with her hands she began to move and stir, beating at whatever it was that had wrapped her in its perverse embrace. A familiar voice began speaking to her and as her eyes came to focus, she saw what, and who, it was that had her in its grip.
Yurin was protesting and doing his best to hold her in his arms as they were being steadily drawn up from the chasm of the ship's lower decks.
"My lady!" he cried in Druhir.
When she finally recognised and saw his face she shuddered and only minutely relaxed.
"What, what happened?"
Yurin nodded and responded quietly, "You slew Annio…"
She stopped and sat still for a moment, her eyes focusing on his features. Nodding Yurin continued,
"Prince Balik rallied the men and held the deck as we were attacked and you were stolen down below."
She furrowed her brow and breathed heavily as her body's injuries and pulled muscles began to re-register their fatigue and pain.
"After putting the tentacles to flame and sword the prince… he took rope in his hands and dove into the ship after you."
The Druchii leaned back in Yurin's arms, unable to hold herself up any longer. They were just coming out of the deck's hatch and the light of torches and lanterns greeted them. The deck was awash with blood and mangled corpses, both from the pirates earlier during their boarding, and also from the more recent battle with the ship's tentacles. Arabyans laid here and there, arms and hands strewn about like cuttings on an abattoir's floor.
Raveres furrowed her brow and looked back at her retainer, "Why… you?" she asked weakly.
Yurin's pale face and sickened features nodded, and he laughed uncomfortably,
"I… well, after the knight was felled and the squire brought him back over to the dhow, I had to. I had to follow you."
Arabyan crewmates began to untie them from the rigging and help take Raveres into their arms,
"I couldn't go back unless I tried something, the prince led down the decks first, and…"
He gulped nervously as he finished with a nod, "And I followed."
The ship was groaning and crackling from the damage that the beast's death throes had caused, but the she-elf was far too out of it to focus or take stock of anything as her mind raced.
"The prince?"
She said in disbelief, and let out a groan of pain as her bewildered features repeated, "and, you?"
Raveres shook and the Arabyans looked at her with both fear and awe as they carried her. Yurin issued some orders and the men nodded as they brought her down. They'd fashioned a stretcher and were carefully laying Raveres atop it as she lost consciousness again.
"We'll be away soon my lady… and fear not we shall do as you bid."
Her arms limply fell at her sides and her brow furrowed as she was hoisted up by a team and carried towards the rail. Before she was carried off the ship she groaned and brought her left hand towards her neck, scratching futility at her chest through the neck-hole of her cuirass.
"I need… I need to…"
Yurin furrowed his grimy brow in concern, "My lady?"
She growled and snapped her head up as she looked at the Arabyans.
"I must walk upon my own!"
Yurin's face was utterly dumbfounded, "M-my lady! You've lost so much blood… When the Prince found you, he said he thought you were dead!"
The Arabyans holding her up looked tensely from lady to translator as she began to curl and fight against the stretcher and their grip, obviously trying to escape them.
"Sile-silence! She hissed.
Becoming more aware and awake she blinked and looked at the men. Fearfully they began to comply and lower her down. Yurin shook his head and pointed at them and they began raising her back up. Swearing and protesting Raveres began wasting the energy she had left on her impotent anger.
Pleading with her Yurin cried,
"My lady! Please, look at yourself, you're nearly dead! There's nothing more for you to prove, you've earned each one of these men's respect. But…"
He exhaled wearily, "If you struggle much more you'll die!"
The pain in her body felt localised in a few severe places, and as soon as he said she should look upon her wounds there were several burning pains along her torso. Looking down at her cuirass she saw several puncture marks and deep divots created from the creature's teeth.
But three of the blood-stained holes stole her attention. Protruding from these red wounds in the steel were broken pieces of teeth. At the sight of them Raveres froze and she shivered with pain.
Biting her lip as she held back a groan and an immediate fear came through her mind. Something that she didn't think she'd ever consider something worth thinking of at the moment. Lying back on the stretcher she let out a low moan of pain and reached her hand out towards Yurin as she said his name.
"How quickly can we make it to Al Daouk?" she asked.
Appearing at her side Yurin asked the question of the nearest Arabyan, and translated, "A day, maybe less if we also row."
She let out a high-pitched groan and looked down again, delirium now beginning to dig its evil fingers into her mind.
"I need… I need a surgeon and healers… and apothecary…"
Yurin nodded and his face became tense.
"I… cannot…"
She huffed in pain and the men began bringing her across the small span between the ships. Raveres couldn't bring herself to speak it aloud, yet a fear began to cloud her mind greater than dying herself, instead she thought about the death of her future…
"Fear naught my lady, there's a surgeon aboard our ship, you shall live…"
He smirked and looked at the crewmen before adding, "The men see you as a hero you know."
She felt her skin burn and her wounds ache from where the ichor and disgusting grime of battle had touched her. But a swell of pride came as soon as Yurin told her she was an object of adoration.
'A… hero?' she repeated weakly. Chuckling painfully, she lay back on the stretcher as the men carried her.
…
After bringing Raveres back aboard the dhow the men took her below as soon as possible. The whole while Yurin was at her side, and as soon as they were in the surgeon's cabin the small, almost dwarfish, medical man bellowed the crewmen to leave. Yurin however refused.
The surgeon's assistants went from injured man to injured man, doing their best to aid the wailing and dying, before moving on to those who had better chances of survival. Triage was a nasty business and the large room smelt of rot and filth. Dead bodies were moved off the tables or out of hammocks and into a pile at the fore of the cabin.
Coppery blood tinged the air and Raveres' hand gripped at Yurin's tunic tightly as she gritted her teeth and held her eyes closed.
"I will not go into the afterlife devoid of a servant Yurin…"
Tensing and breathing through her teeth she took hold of his arm and looked up at him with red-blood shot eyes. He raised an eyebrow incredulously,
'Surely she's not serious! It's the… the battle-fatigue! It must be!'
The surgeon pointed to her armour and ordered it off.
"You must let go my lady! I, I-I've to help the surgeon!" He said with a near-whine.
Shivering and lowering her head back down onto the table she gruffly snarled, "You shall not let me die alone Yurin…"
He nodded and her breathing decreased in volume as Yurin began for the clasps of the cuirass.
"You're not to die my lady! You're not to die…"
With a grunt Yurin brought the front of the cuirass up and off her torso. The teeth hadn't been driven into her flesh as deeply as she had feared and once the Druchii plate was away Raveres let out a great sigh of relief to see that each puncture which had a tooth lodged in it, remained in the steel of the armour and the longest of them was maybe two inches.
Closing her eyes and allowing herself to relax she finally passed out as the surgeon began directing Yurin and going about his work.
…
"Sir Jean?" Jacque asked lowly.
The knight groaned and came to, blinking fiercely as he awoke. Upon seeing his master wake the young boy let out a heavy breath and smiled.
"Sir Jean!" he cried.
The elder Breton coughed and wheezed as he spoke, "We won my boy?"
The squire nodded, "We did indeed… The… beast was slaughtered by Raveres. And…" he laughed and shook his head in disbelief. "The prince rallied the men…"
Sir Jean furrowed his brow as he processed the information. He groaned in pain before letting out a chuckle and coughing,
"The prince rallied them? By the gods The Lady hasn't deserted us yet."
Jacque nodded emphatically, "We're away and sailing now, 'full to' and 'all sheet's a blowing'"
He smiled, "At least that's what Yurin said the men were saying…"
Sir Jean nodded weakly as he eyed his surroundings. He was de-armoured and lying in his hammock. His chest bound with white cloth, poultice aromatically wafting up to his face. While Jacque sat on the floor beside him, his legs folded like an Empire pretzel.
Sir Jean grumbled and sat up somewhat in his bedding, "And the Druchii?"
He shook his head in irritation, "Did she find her gold?"
Jacque pursed his lips,
"The men tore the ship apart, Prince Balik took some maps and charts, but… The corruption of the ship had consumed most of what else was aboard."
Sir Jean huffed and took a breath painfully. Wincing he spoke again,
"How many dead?"
Jacque looked down, "I… I don't know sir…"
Grumbling and extending his arms for balance Sir Jean trying to raise himself from the hammock, immediately the boy stood and tried to dissuade his master,
"Please Sir Jean! The surgeon said you're lucky to still live; many of your ribs were broken!"
He shook his head and held his hands out to barre the knight's advance, "You must rest! We're sailing back to port now."
"But…" The knight groaned as he lay back down, privately regretting that his tired old frame was not as robust as it once was.
"The Druchii is surely to be mad with anger at the loss of her prize."
Jacque nodded before a small smile came across his lips, "She and Yurin are pouring over the charts that Balik stole away."
He looked towards the door to their cabin.
"After putting to port we're returning to sea…" he seemed somewhat unsure, "Or, perhaps it shall be just her, Yurin, and Balik… But, master, they discovered the pirate's hoard!"
Sir Jean huffed and looked upwards, "Did they? Did they indeed…"
He coughed again and winced. Jacque's face was pained and he blinked uneasily.
"Is there anything I may get you master?"
Sir Jean looked towards their cabin's small window. He ignored his squire's question as he saw the natural light,
"Is it daybreak?"
Jacque looked to the porthole and nodded, "Aye… It's nearing afternoon…"
"Have you not slept my boy?" Jean asked in surprise.
Jacque's smile faded and his body visibly shuddered. He shook his head nervously before blinking his eyes,
"No… I c-"
He looked away and bit his tongue, "Not yet master."
Sir Jean furrowed his brow, and beckoned his squire forwards. Extending his hand and touching Jacque's shoulder the knight sternly eyed his boy.
"You did nothing wrong, and you have done everything I expected of you. You saved my life my boy."
Jacque nodded, before letting out a weary breath, "I can't…" his face contorted and the young squire squirmed under the paternal watch of his master. He looked down and let out a whimper.
"I can't stop seeing those… things…"
Sir Jean nodded knowingly, and at once felt the pain of his failure. He failed to protect the boy from the horrors of chaos… He failed to adequately prepare him… He should have…
His thoughts faltered, 'I should have what? Predicted that they'd have fallen prey to a chaos prince? To a daemon's touch?' Jean looked at Jacque and saw tears fall slowly down the young squire's face.
"They're gone my boy."
Slowly Jacque looked up, his face red and ashamed, but Jean nodded, "There's nothing to fear in your tears…"
Jacque furrowed his brow and tried to hold back his emotions.
"I just… I feel so selfish! And I… I can't stop them from banging onto my mind! I shut my eyes and I hear it… I close my mind and I can feel them looking at me… Breathing, lunging forwards…"
The squire stifled a cry and Sir Jean extended his other arm as he tried to console him. Memories flashed through his mind. The cries… the thousand cries… The screams…
…
"Jean Le Tours!"
The future knight had slept uneasily and was being yelled at by his first master. Sir Charles Artois kicked his squire,
"Shall I dress myself?" he asked rhetorically.
Shaking his head and standing up Jean quickly apologised, "N-no my lord!"
The knight grunted and nodded, "Good, now come with me."
They were in the war camp of Duke Girard Dupuis. The Duke had made war on his neighbour Duke Meroux due to a series of perceived insults and obscure pieces of law. Suffice it to say, the lines were eventually drawn; the casus belli made sound, and the levies were called in.
The small war had been neck, and neck, so far, but Lord Girard thought himself a worthy heir to Gilles Le Breton, and had draughted a master plan. Setting light to several key towns within his enemy's demesne he'd been able to lure Duke Meroux's forces into a low sloping field. The topography of which he erroneously assumed to be in his favour…
Jean Le Tours was a humble squire, tending to his lord Sir Charles Artois and when the letters came that their liege had summoned his men to war the eager young Jean was quite emphatic to test his mettle and to wet his blade in true honourable combat.
He didn't understand the war's meaning. He didn't follow the politicking. But at the time, the truth was; he didn't care. He was brash. He was stupid, and he wanted to kill to earn his battle spurs. Like many times before he helped to dress his lord in his armour, yet this was no tourney, and his master's lance was not a blunted tip. It was a full steel spear atop it.
The men in the camp were rowdy, the peasant bowmen uneasy, the assorted bill-men and foot soldiers ravenous. If he had of thought for once about what was to come, he might have realised it.
But he often thought that, that was merely wishful thinking on a penitent old man's part.
Jean was on foot, not enough horses had been raised or 'requisitioned' from peasant farms to fully outfit a mounted arm of yeomen or light cavalry, and so the few knights that Duke Dupuis had, he kept near himself, acting as both his body guard and heavy shock cavalry.
They began their battle around midday. The enemy took to the field first. They'd made token entrenchments and spikes, but appeared quite ready to move should the need arise. When the line of Dupuis' infantry rounded down the slope and his cavalry led the left flank, he realised only too late that he'd been the one ensnared.
On either side of the field Duke Meroux had hidden his own cavalry and auxiliary archers. What commenced after his infantry feinted and made a false retreat was the whole-sale destruction of Duke Dupuis' forces. Enveloping and trapping his army in the middle of the sloped field Duke Meroux easily began to whittle down and erode his enemy's number.
Nearer the vanguard Jean was trapped, along with many of the other squires, and was fighting tooth and nail against their opponents. The noise of the arrows, hundreds of them raining down upon his fellows, the wet smacking sound they made when they embedded in a horses' flank. The grotesque crying of the beasts and men rose in an awful chorus.
It smelt worse, and the sound haunted his dreams every night after, for years. He was one of the few who'd survived the initial onslaught, and only through the mercy of Duke Meroux did the young Jean survive.
Duke Dupuis died in the hail of arrows; his horse was felled under him and he flew from the saddle. Crumpling into an armoured heap, never to rise again. Around his standard his knights fell, either to pike and sword, or to the consistent rain of arrows.
The survivors were rounded together and when shown the mass of men still living under Meroux's command, they quickly surrendered. Among those men was Jean Le Tours.
Given leave by his captors to find his master among the fallen, the young squire came to see that Sir Charles Artois had been impaled via lance. The tip of the long weapon was lodged through him, aimed at the right of his tabard it ruined his colours and had stained the lightly dyed banner dark red with his dried blood.
To see his knightly master dead… to know that the battle was folly, and that the war had been proven pointless and undone in such quick succession, Jean received a blow which laid him low for the next decade of his life.
Duke Meroux absorbed the former demesne of Duke Dupuis and petitioned the King to see Dupuis' issue stripped of all titles and additional lands. Citing the brutality of Dupuis' actions during the brief war, and using ancient cases as precedent Meroux succeeded.
He became sole ruler of the region, Dupuis' family fled Bretonnia in shame, and those former knights and servants pledged fealty to Meroux. Among those to do such a pledge was Jean… on his knees in the mud of the bloody battlefield, he swore to obey the man who had killed his master, and his liege.
Rightly or wrongly, it was a truth which he had never been able to divorce from the recesses of his mind, and now, over thirty years later its scents, its noise, still haunted and could be heard by the knight.
…
Watching Jacque tear up and fail to hold himself steady made Sir Jean nearly divulge his greatest secret. And as he opened his mouth a flutter of doubt came across his heart and he paused.
'It would not do what you wish it would…' he pursed his lips and let go of Jacque's shoulders. 'You can't teach him everything, you can't save everyone.'
"Jacque, my boy."
The squire tensed and held his quivering jaw closed tightly.
"It's okay to feel as you do. You were so strong…" he nodded and smiled painfully. "The Lady has you close in her heart."
Jacque shook his head and looked away, before asking meekly, "Truly?"
The knight, his father, nodded, with pride and guilt swelling in his chest, "Truly."
…
In the captain's cabin Raveres stood beside Yurin as she, Prince Balik, Asada's first mate Dahi, and the ship's lieutenant Samahd. Raveres demanded to stand as soon as her wounds were cleaned, stitched, and poultices applied.
Yurin tried to encourage her to remain if not in the surgery, then at least in her cabin but she replied caustically,
"I've wasted more than enough time convalescing, give me something to dull the pain and help me up!"
Nodding at her order Yurin spoke with the surgeon and they resolved to give her a small dose of poppy-oil. The pain-killing narcotic was better administered via smoke, but liquid was just as potent. And once the foul phial emptied onto her tongue, she immediately felt the effects of the opiate, and could move under her own steam. Though she had needed Yurin's help to rise off the surgeon's table.
Exiting the bloody infirmary, Raveres staggered into the captain's cabin and, to the surprise of the officers, demanded that they begin their planning. Her blouse had been ruined from blood, sweat, and the tears in it. To properly address her most grievous wounds, the surgeon had the shirt cut off.
Thankfully she was unconscious for the procedure. But Yurin made efforts to conserve her dignity. And though the other men in the surgery tried to steal a view of her nude body, the freckles of blood, and overall tenseness of the situation helped to mitigate any licentious interest the men would have otherwise had in the she-elf.
Yurin held the rags of her ruined shirt across her breast, and was doing his best to follow the dwarfish surgeon's clinical example. Once it was clear she was not to die, and her wounds were not about to kill her, the healer nodded to Yurin and explained what he was to do;
"You shall follow my assistant's instruction and wrap her body in these bandages."
The translator laid the ruined shirt across her breast as best as possible and freed his hands.
"She's been exposed to foulness and corruption. Lest it set into her wounds and begin a rot you must make sure that these are bound tightly to her flesh."
The assistant brought forwards a pot of sweet-smelling liquid and a box of cloth lengths. Turning to his other patients the dwarfish healer pointed to her covered bosom,
"She's cuts and wounds there too."
He looked at Yurin and smirked, "I think you'd have more to fear from her if your negligence led to their loss, than if you maintained decorum."
Yurin's eyes widened and he exclaimed in Arabyan, "They can rot off?!"
The surgeon began examining the cauterised stump of Balik's horrifically wounded retainer and nodded,
"They can indeed. And where I was you, I'd begin applying those now."
Pulling away the shirt Yurin gulped and thought only of ensuring the security of his master's person. Disregarding any other thoughts, he followed the assistant's instruction scrupulously. Starting from under her arms, across her breasts, and ending at the base of her abdomen and waist her torso became covered by cloth bandages.
As the poultice began to air-dry her chest became encased in a hard, plain-cloth, faux bodice. Now standing in the captain's cabin reeking of ointment and sickness Raveres gripped the edge of the table and swayed in tune with the waves.
"And this shoal," she grunted and shook her head and corrected, "This archipelago, by our current heading here, how far off are we?"
Yurin repeated the words and the gruff sailors nodded as they plied over the stolen pirate's charts. Samahd brought Asada's last charted map onto the table and indicated the similarities in their last plotted position and the possible routes to the hoard. Then Yurin explained,
"Samahd says that we're a quarter of a day off, maybe less…"
Pointing forwards with her left index finger, she touched the papyrus map and immediately hissed in pain. The men looked at her uneasily as she withdrew the hand and bit her tongue. Raveres' left hand was wrapped expertly at each fingertip, but the loss of her nails would be an irritant she'd not get used to for a while yet.
"Yurin… ask them if we've the men to make to and reach the hoard."
The officers spoke amongst one another and Prince Balik raised a brow and hid a pained expression as he watched the Druchii occasionally shiver in pain. The acting captain Dahi eventually shook his head as he looked at Raveres. Yurin took a breath before speaking in Druhir,
"He says that we're too torn and injured; we must put to port as soon as possible. Nearly half the crew was devastated from the great beast."
Looking down at the map the she-elf let out a grumble as her abdomen burned. Yurin continued to repeat Dahi's words,
"Only a quarter of our men are unmarred from the krakens' wroth."
Raveres nodded reluctantly. Flashes of loss came across her mind and she shivered at the thought of the waters claiming the trove.
"Then we must double our efforts, we've to make port as soon as possible…"
Looking up from the map Raveres furrowed her brow. The men were looking at her with a strange expression. Even Prince Balik had a reserved visage. Dahi looked from Samahd to prince Balik, before speaking, his voice was quiet. And Yurin only translated after he finished,
"They…" he paused and cleared his throat, "They're thanking you my lady."
Raveres looked at her translator uneasily before looking at the men.
"Dahi and Samahd say that if it were not for you diving below and slaying the foul daemon captain, the whole crew would have been pulled under the waves."
She opened her mouth and then stopped. 'Do they not know what happened?' her mind became hazy as she tried to picture the events of the night. 'Do I even remember what had happened?'
Prince Balik bowed his head and tapped his blade; Yurin quickly repeated his words,
"The prince says that if not for your example he wouldn't have had the courage to fight as hard as he did."
Looking at the three men the Druchii began to feel a strange sensation. It was pride and ego, as well as something new.
'The knight' she thought suddenly. She looked at the men and bowed her head at the neck, somewhat uncomfortably,
"Tell them I only had vengeance on my mind. Their praise is unwarranted."
Turning and pushing off the table Raveres ducked slightly as she stepped through the door. Yurin furrowed his brow in surprise, as did the three other men. As she limped down the corridor she called,
"Just, get us back to the city…"
Passing crewmen who stood on either side of the cabin's door she whispered, "I must see to… I..."
With a grumble she passed the men and headed to her own cabin. Several tense minutes passed, and she looked down over her marred body. Scrapes, bruises, and deep cuts adorned her arms. Some bled through the bandages; others leaked a putrid liquid which turned the previously clean cloth yellow.
Her left hand burned and she looked at the thick padded fingers with a grimace.
'How long before they grow back?' she wondered selfishly.
She looked at her torso and brought her bruised and rough right hand to tentatively touch the hardening cloth binding her breasts. Hanging around her neck remained her amulet.
'It's still there, mother.' she thought with a scoff. 'How much has this trinket helped I wonder?'
Looking at the ominous dark metal she shuddered and lowered into a squat.
"It hurts…" she whispered.
Darting her eyes to the door Raveres began a low groan as she tried to count the cuts and marks upon her flesh that she could see. Almost as if in reply to her complaint her memories reminded her,
'Pain is the sweetest reminder of life, my daughter.'
Shutting her eyes, she began to picture her home, the jubilant return and glory which awaited her. Yet it didn't seem as bright when she had daydreamt about it before. In an embarrassing flash she began to think about when she had touched herself and grew mad with excitement at the thoughts of what she'd do in revenge to Annio's body.
Burning him… Scourging him, flaying, gutting All manner of pleasures which never were to be. Rather than a painful and retributive execution she had inadvertently provided mercy to the bastard. She shook with revulsion and pictured his rotted and feted face, the blue lighting around them, and the pleading voice which cried out to her;
'Kill the beast… we are bound to its fate…'
"Accursed and tainted." she remarked.
The strong masculine features of his face had melted to horror. The dashing confidence, the skill, the finesse, the entirety of the man's life became a howling ruin. Devoid of reason, of Humanity, of anything.
'A powerful reminder' she eventually thought.
Shivering in disgust as she pictured his twisted and rotten body Raveres stood and ran her right hand through her hair. Her face and hair were slick with oil and grime. Though Yurin had endeavoured to clean off her skin she could still feel as if the blood and ichor of the beast was upon her.
The memory of Annio's discarded face slapping her own in the darkness made her gag and lash out in discomfort.
"Gah!"
Rubbing at her cheeks with both her hands she began scratching and madly wiping, driving so hard as to purge the memory of it happening from her mind. Spitting and letting out a bottled-up scream Raveres stepped towards a water skin hanging near her hammock.
Pouring it into her right hand she began to splash her face ritualistically. She continued until the whole of the skin was empty. Covering her eyes, she began to descend to her knees and wipe her brow.
'He's dead…' she thought, 'It's over… I, I won. It is done'
She let out a breathy laugh of exhaustion and disbelief, "He's dead…"
She sat on the floor for several minutes before rising.
"The knight… He was struck hard." She nodded, and whispered "I ought to see to him."
…
The door to Sir Jean and Jacque's cabin opened with a low knock. Raveres stepped through and into the room, her face flush and her eyes red. The squire leapt up and rubbed at his running nose with the sleeve of his shirt under his chainmail. She smiled politely at the young Human before looking at the laying knight.
"They told me I would find you here."
Sir Jean grunted and chuckled hollowly,
"You know she-elf… I've a bone or two to pick with you."
She looked down and avoided the knight's gaze.
"But since you came, I think you knew that already…"
She slowly looked back up and met the knight's eyes. Grimacing in pain Jean sighed heavily,
"No matter, as I said to you before I was a fool to think I could change your nature, and I was a fool to try and take a bone from the wolf's mouth."
Raveres pursed her lips and entered the room proper. Jacque pointed to her torso and exclaimed as his face grew in concern. Sir Jean repeated his question,
"He wonders how badly the beast had marred you…"
She looked down and shook her head, "I shall live. But you, knight?"
Sir Jean nodded,
"Aye… I too shall live. Only broken ribs, I've broken them before… But this was the first time I didn't see the blow coming."
Raveres knew he had meant to remind her of her part in his injury, and she was going to be lenient to him for the time being, 'But my patience for ownership of his condition does have its limits…'
Rising in his hammock as best he could into a seated position Sir Jean huffed wearily and changed his tone. Altering the atmosphere of the room,
"So… your quarry… did you find him?"
Raveres nodded, and Sir Jean pursed his lips and they shared a knowing glance.
"And?"
Raveres shut her eyes and held her breath a moment, "I killed him."
The knight looked at Jacque and then back at the she-elf.
"So, your vengeance, has it been satisfied?"
Exhaling unhappily, she nodded, "Yes."
"And your men? They're still dead, correct?"
Raveres raised a brow and moved uncomfortably, somewhat surprised, "What?"
Sir Jean narrowed his brow and raised a finger,
"The Druchii you sailed with. Are their ghosts satisfied? Are you done now?"
Unable to understand what he was getting at the knight continued and his voice became heated, periodically he would glance at Jacque, and his words would rise with more emphasis,
"You never wanted to become my student, did you? You wanted my blade, which was all. You made use of me, and now that I am broken you've come to see us off."
Raveres felt a twinge of pain in her chest and her body felt cool.
"I knew as soon as you were taken with madness on the deck. I shouldn't have stayed so long with you, after the embassy I should have known."
He spoke to Jacque in Bretonnian and the boy reluctantly left the room. Turning back to her his face rose in contempt as he spoke,
"You are a creature of malice, and I have done my duty as far as I had sworn. Yet even if I hadn't, I see what I am to you."
Raveres felt her words choke in her throat and the rawness of everything surprised her to the point of muteness.
"Your crew, myself, these Arabyans, Yurin" he laughed sarcastically, "Even Prince Balik…"
He gripped his side tightly and groaned in pain,
"We're just to be used by you and discarded. Captain Asada… when he died you didn't bat a lash, why-" he struggled to catch his breath, "Why I wager you probably relished his death."
Raveres grit her teeth and avoided the knight's eyes. As the Breton caught his shallow breaths, she finally found her tongue and began lowly, her mind racing and trying to articulate some form of response before he continued berating her.
"I was prepared to make myself humble and express regret at your wounds, as well as my own folly."
She looked up and her lip snarled, "But I have been a fool."
Her eyes appeared hurt, and her heart felt something more painful than everything so far as she spoke,
"I was a fool to think that an old, broken Human had anything to offer me. And I am gladdened!"
Her voice rose, "Gladdened that I must maintain the act no longer!"
Raveres gave a false smile and she tried to mock his tone,
"I am free of your hand, and you are right, you were but a sword."
She nodded, "A tool and you played your part well enough."
Her voice faltered and for a moment Sir Jean thought he saw something through her reddened cheeks.
"I shall use those around me until I see myself satisfied. We will put into port and dump you as well as the other useless offal aboard on the docks and recover my fortune."
Her hand shook and her face tightened, "I… pah!"
Sir Jean maintained a stern expression, and she faltered for a moment before leaving. Nearly knocking Jacque over, she stormed out of the room and towards her own cabin.
…
Closing the door with a heavy slam Raveres looked down at her ruined hands and wounded body again. Her lips quivered and she felt a new wound forming in her. Betrayal…
The Human had cut her worse than Annio's kiss had; she'd been gored more than the monster ever could have done to her, shame, guilt, fear. Quiet tears fell down her cheeks and she looked at her red and brutalised right palm.
"Can I change?" she whispered.
'He was right…'
Her acting, her lies, desires, everything. It was paradoxical; she had used him and in a way, she had thought of the others as the knight described but, there was truth there too. Not everything had been an act. She touched her neck and remembered the knight's dagger to her flesh.
"I cannot!" she wailed, "And I shall not!"
She exhaled, 'I will not be made a fool again. I will not be treated thus, myself.'
With a bite of her lip, she turned and leaned her back against the door of the cabin. Raveres was so tired and hurt that tears stopped flowing and she had no energy to weep or to let out anything but a steady breath.
Staring at her sword and damaged armour at the corner of the room she maintained her rhythmic breathing. Her eyes were dry and streaks of her black war paint had bled down her face. Her chest ached and every wound burned dully as if the painkiller wasn't doing anything at all.
The door rapped and she barely registered the noise.
"My lady?" Yurin called.
She continued to stare aimlessly at the corner of the room. Utterly drained and weary from it all she remained silent.
"My lady, are you inside?"
He remained outside the door, fear and decorum ensuring he wasn't going to open it yet. She leaned her head and looked up at the ceiling of the low roofed cabin as Yurin knocked again,
"My lady…"
She shut her eyes and held her right hand to her amulet, thinking of home.
'He'll be there until I say otherwise… you know it…'
Clearing her throat, she finally responded to his knocks and words,
"Go away."
On the other side the retainer furrowed his brow, and asked "My lady?" in confusion.
Tilting her head back down weakly she let out a low whimper of pain as he eventually complied and walked back down the corridor. Noiselessly Raveres slid onto her side and lay on the floor. Clutching at her amulet she held her eyes tightly shut and began to pray.
Yet it wasn't a directed prayer to any god specifically. It wasn't for further vengeance, it wasn't for spite, it wasn't to reclaim her gold. Quietly her mental prayer came through and her voice whispered aloud her deepest desire, what it was she wanted more than anything else,
"I want to go home"
She didn't know how many times she repeated it, but eventually, to the sound of the water against the hull and the calm swaying of the ship she fell asleep whispering the prayer, 'I want to go home'
…
When they reached port, it was near evening. Raveres had draped the porthole of her cabin with a dark cloth and was laying in the darkness of her hammock as Yurin stood at attention near the open door. The light panels of the small cabin's portal were covered with Arabyan glyphs and words of adoration.
Several of the men, who had seen her fight, and those who she'd inadvertently saved during her blood-craze, eagerly let her know of their affection with prayers or praises made by their knives. Little did they know each time a man, or two, were carving into her door she heard it and it stirred her from her sweat filled nightmares.
After she'd prayed and let out her pain on the floor of the cabin, she called for Yurin and made use of him as her mouth piece to the officers. He was currently finishing his report to her and his voice fluttered with a little measure of excitement.
"We've seen the harbour light and the crew's cheered to be home."
A low and caustic voice responded in the gloom,
"I've been listening to their singing"
If she could have sounded more unimpressed the retainer didn't think it was possible. Yurin swallowed. His mistress' voice was cold and in an even tone. But it was absolutely clear she was barely holding back something. He thought it best to avoid rousing that something and instead relayed the acting captain's latest concern,
"Dahi wonders… are we to take anything aboard while we are stopped?"
Though he knew she was lying in the hammock, she must have been, the whole while they'd been talking, he couldn't see her. Only her disembodied voice seemed present in the room.
"Yurin? Must I beat my orders into him as a code? Perhaps I could carve it into his arm so he doesn't forget!"
As a force of habit Yurin averted his eyes and stared down at his boots.
"N-no my lady,"
He heard a hiss and a quiet wince before a heavy breath. Looking up in concern he tried to spot any form of his master. Her voice changed and she sounded weary with each syllable.
"Unload the dead and the dying, then turn to and put to that trove… Emir's writ or no it is mine to dispense with as I desire."
She nodded and Yurin finally saw a glimmer of her elven eyes in the darkness.
'Was she keeping her eyes closed this whole while?' he wondered.
"Make necessary overtures and promises of wealth to them. Mention whores…"
She chuckled and grunted in pain, immediately regretting the laugh.
"If these Arabyan sailors are anything like Druchii ones the mere mention of soft sweet-meat ought to be enough to encourage them."
"Yes my lady…"
Yurin turned and was about to leave when he risked another question,
"The Bretons, they're currently on deck and by all accounts they intend to be the first away…"
He saw a flash of her shimmering violet eyes reflect some torchlight from the doorway.
"What of it?" she hissed coldly.
Yurin bowed his head at the shadowy face and made a non-verbal apology, he lowered his voice and asked,
"Is there any message for them that I might deliver?"
Expecting a caustic or venomous remark Raveres instead let out a sigh.
"Tell the knight he was adequate…" she paused for several moments, and blinked as she thought.
"I shall call on them upon my return, if they remain in the city."
Yurin nodded, though she sounded pained and somewhat angry she was far more conciliatory than he thought she was going to be.
"Tell the boy…"
The retainer's eyebrow rose.
"From what I saw he fought well… He'll make a decent knight."
Yurin smirked and nodded.
"I will my lady."
Closing the door, she added, "And Yurin?"
"Yes, my lady?"
"If another sailor carves into my cabin's door, I'll whip him."
…