Mortal Banshee, Page 2

  A sixty foot stone tower was hidden within.

  The half-vardal pulled up to double doors at the base level. She spoke as if to someone standing adjacent to her. “Mother.”

  There was a buzzing sound. A latch shifted and clicked. The doors opened, revealing a human woman. She was probably in her late thirties. She wore a pink rose to hold back her medium-length brown hair on the right side. Her ivory sundress had a coral and peach floral print. Her hair was healthy, her skin flawless, and her movements graceful. Yet she somehow lacked comeliness.

  She curtsied. “I am Mercy Singrin. I've been waiting for you. Please come in.” A scent of floral perfume wafted over him.

  The vardal girl rode her mount into the tower, ducking to clear the door frame.

  Visor followed her inside. A section of the first floor was walled off as a stable. Small windows, little more than arrow slits, encircled most of the first floor. Most of the lighting was provided by a sizeable and lavish crystalline chandelier. It held at least a hundred candles whose light were reflected and magnified in countless facets of the chandelier’s crystals.

  Mercy watched him remove the bridle. “You are an accomplished equestrian and stable hand.”

  “My job requires that I know a little about a lot of things.” Visor patted the horse’s neck. “I suppose you will know all of that soon enough.”

  “You make reference to the vampiric interrogation ruse. I apologize. It was imperative that I speak with you right away.”

  “Then there will be speaking?”

  “There must be. I am not a telepath.”

  “Nor a vampire.”

  “Forgive the deception. It was the easiest cover story. Excuse me.” Mercy turned to the half-vardal, “Min Velsignet—”

  The girl strode past, spitting out something in vardal.

  Mercy called after her. “Velsignet!”

  The girl vigorously signed and stomped up the stairs, leaving Visor with the unarmed human women.

  Mercy sighed. “I apologize. My daughter is going through an awkward phase.”

  “And I thought it was just me.”

  “Oh, no, she likes you.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Your legs are not broken.” Mercy headed for the stairs, beckoning Visor to follow.

  “That would be your daughter, 'Velsignet'?”

  “Her proper name is ‘Sorana’. I would make introductions after you and she have had a chance to recover, if that would be agreeable.”

  “That would be fine.”

  She showed him up to the tower’s second level, which included a well-maintained garden, library and kitchen. Three large, stained glass windows were above the garden. “This is the reception level. I will meet you here when you are ready.”

  “The servants are quiet.”

  She continued up the central spiral stairs. “There are no servants.”

  He followed. “So it is just you, Sorana, and …?”

  “It is just two of us. My husband succumbed to madness some years ago.” Mercy led him up to the next level and to an impressive sleeping chamber. It included a hand-carved bed, a full wardrobe, a personal bath, and another crystal chandelier. “The Archon Suite is yours for your stay. I will have a meal prepared in the dining area, unless you would like to rest first.”

  “I could eat. That would be nice.”

  “You may call me if you need anything.” Mercy left him alone.

  The bath had hot water plumbing and was large enough to lie back in. It was situated so that one could admire an impressive stained glass window while bathing. The wardrobe had a variety of clothing styles and sizes. He selected an outfit that suited him.

  He heard Sorana arguing with someone. He felt a wave of disorientation and light-headedness. A door’s slamming pulled him back to his senses. Maybe he needed to rest first. No, he was eager to find out why he was abducted. He got dressed and went downstairs.

  Mercy waited for him in the garden, inspecting some pruning work. Soft moonlight shown through the thick, stained glass windows, illuminating the flower petals and imparting color to Mercy’s fair skin. “Did you find everything you needed?”

  “I did. Thank you.”

  Mercy led him into a formal dining room. A chandelier hung over a hand carved, finely-detailed table. It was held a selection of wines, cheeses and fruit. She indicated for him to sit. “Red, white, or brandy?”

  “Whatever you suggest.” Visor held his cup and she poured.

  With their glasses filled, Mercy took a seat across from Visor. “Shall you start or shall I?”

  Chapter 4

  The Tower of Mercy

  He was definitely an intellectual, as research had indicated he would be. That was in addition to being patient and quite fine. His dark brown hair hung past his shoulders. He had enough facial hair to be masculine but little enough to be neat and to show his smooth, mid-twenties skin. His ocean-blue eyes were something a woman could get lost in. His build was average, but he carried himself with a comfortable confidence. Somehow, he was so much more intense in person than she had imagined.

  Visor said, “Please go ahead. You called the meeting.”

  Mercy said, “You were abducted because I have need for your services. Interrogation was the easiest cover story for my daughter to use.”

  “The ogres would assume she is vampiric since they can’t tell the difference between vampires and vardal.”

  “Indeed. As well, a vampire woman’s being alone would not arouse suspicion, whereas a vardal woman’s might.”

  “Of course.” Visor ate a purple grape. “Why me?”

  “You are an oracle.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Extensive research dictates this to be the case.”

  “I haven’t made any predictions of note.”

  “Being an oracle is not predicated upon a series of notable predictions.”

  “It has been years since I have received anything. I had a couple of precognitions growing up, but nothing since.”

  Mercy said, “Predictions are not always understood as such by the oracle himself. To yourself and others, you simply appear to be making good guesses—you seem to be intelligent. Are you considered particularly perceptive by your social circle?”

  “There are other oracles. Why me?”

  “There are not many. You are young, healthy and well educated. You were accessible, nearby in WaterCrescent. You are intellectual enough to be a lord's advisor and shrewd enough to succeed in politics. You have the authority and background to pass proper judgment. You have sufficient survival training, extensive social training and experience, and good standing with high-born society. You are moral enough to have a bound siren. Overall, you were the best fit to profile.”

  “Profile for what?”

  “For retrieving the Catalyst. The Catalyst is a device that may only be operated by select classes of people, including oracles. It can be used to enhance a target with bio-mechanical implants, making them cyborgs.”

  “How enhanced are we talking?”

  “When confronting one, you should have several experienced soldiers with you. The presence of one of my wardens would be preferable. I will provide you sufficient protection.”

  “Well, thank you.”

  “The greater function of the Catalyst is to form and maintain a link between the user’s brain and the brains of the cyborgs it creates. This link is unlike conventional links formed by telepaths. Whereas telepaths can form links only while in physical contact, the Catalytic link, once created, is maintained without direct contact. It connects the cyborgs anywhere in Esselin.”

  “That sounds useful.”

  “Further, the Catalytic link provides the possibility of control. The Catalyst master may transfer his consciousness to any cyborg.”

  “Someone could control diplomats or generals.” <
br />
  “This was done at least once before. An oracle named Maciate possessed and used the Catalyst. One of Maciate’s targets was Thyestes, a deputy of Vozvul. In Thyestes’ body, Maciate proceeded to perform acts so vile as to be inappropriate to recount at this time. As fate would have it, Thyestes’ brother Liesen was a warden of mine. With planning and good fortune, Liesen was able to steal and escape with the Catalyst, disrupting Maciate’s plot. Liesen succumbed to the corrupting influence of the Catalyst. I have lost contact with him. The brothers’ whereabouts are unknown, but it is certain that Maciate works to regain the Catalyst, and that he intends to use it for ill. I need you to retrieve the Catalyst, use it to destroy Maciate, then destroy the Catalyst or return it to me.”

  “Maciate can only be destroyed with the Catalyst?”

  “It is the most efficient means I see. Maciate may be linked to any number of cyborgs, and he could freely transfer his consciousness between any of them.”

  “Without it, we’d have to kill all of the cyborgs. And just finding them would be difficult.”

  You grasp concepts quickly. “The Catalyst functionality allows a new master to break links formed by previous masters. Thus, you could isolate Maciate from his cyborgs, and then find and destroy him.”

  “Why wouldn’t Liesen still have it? And what if someone else has it and their ownership is recognized by local authorities?”

  “I would still need you to retrieve the Catalyst. I’ll provide you sufficient funds for purchase. If you must resort to theft, rest assured that it would be the lesser of evils. The corrupting influence exerted by the Catalyst is difficult to resist. Only those fitting the profile should be in possession of it.”

  “What if the legal owner also happens to be a really good guy—you know, ‘fits the profile’?”

  “If you could collect sufficient evidence to determine that the owner is a fit to profile, and has the ability and will to keep the Catalyst secure, it would be acceptable to leave it with him. That is a scenario of remote likelihood.”

  “What will you do with the Catalyst after we bring it back?”

  “I would destroy it, unless you want it.”

  “You would trust me with it?”

  “Of course. You fit the profile. The Catalyst could be a weapon for you in the struggle against Nazaire and Khatagin. You could end the war without bloodshed. It is useless to me.”

  “Why?”

  “The Catalyst may only be used by telepaths, oracles and shaman.”

  “You are not a telepath?”

  “I am not.” I already told you that.

  “Yet you have such detailed information about me.”

  “I have performed extensive research.” You question my honesty, as have others.

  “You live in the tower alone with your daughter, yet every room is immaculate. Your plumbing is perfectly sealed and uncorroded. The garden is manicured and healthy. This feast is fit for a wedding reception.” Visor gestured at the chandelier. “No candles are burned down.”

  “This tower provides automated functions that streamline maintenance and food preparation. I have control of them, though I don’t understand the mechanism of control.”

  “You can’t research that?”

  “My library does not include that information. I do know that because of the nature of the control interface, I cannot leave the tower.”

  “Ah, thus the whole abduction thing.”

  “Correct, and that is also why I require you to act as my hand.”

  “Why? I mean why can’t you leave the tower?”

  “I understand that my brain is integrated with the tower in such a way that if I left the confines, I would die. I will answer detailed questions in time, but I have urgency to strike an agreement in principal. Burke Donovan Mourning, I wish to employ you to retrieve the Catalyst and destroy Maciate. What consideration would be required to induce your agreement?”

  Visor asked, “What are the options?”

  “I have gems. I can make sophisticated jewelry and fine clothing. I have a library with numerous detailed and unique tomes. I believe you value knowledge. The services of my tower are at your disposal—meals, shelter, protection and the like. I can create weapons and armor of high quality fit for your specific skills.”

  Visor ate a square of cheese. “Well, the first thing I need to do—have to do—is free Rap. Until that, nothing else matters.”

  “Natalia, Godiva strain siren, known as ‘Raptured’ in WaterCrescent.”

  “She prefers ‘Rapture’. The Dee was a script error on her transfer papers and they never bothered to fix it.”

  “Rapture, then.”

  “She is bound to me.”

  “I know.”

  Visor swirled the wine in his glass. “I have to get to her.”

  Mercy said, “So be it. I will send Sorana with you to retrieve Her Grace. What else would you require?”

  “I need to have the option of staying here as needed—and for Rapture to stay without me. I don’t know if I can get her back to Xandria. I need somewhere secure to keep her. Besides being my bound siren, with Lord Morning killed, she is the default sovereign of WaterCrescent.”

  Mercy said, “I would be happy to have her.”

  “Beyond that, a little operating cash would be helpful.”

  “Done.”

  “The Catalyst shall be mine to use, after all business with Maciate is complete.”

  Mercy said, “As you wish.”

  Visor raised his cup.

  She raised her glass of red wine. “It sounds as if we have an understanding. Let us drink to the contract.” They drank at the same time. She motioned toward a plate of fruit. “Help yourself.”

  “Thank you.” Visor ate a slice of freshly cut apple. “This contract is void, of course, if I find out something later that changes the intent of the terms. I’m not going to kill an innocent man just because of some agreement I made without all the facts.”

  “If you would do such a thing, I would not be hiring you. I wish and expect you to use balanced deliberation in all judgments. I intend no deception. It is agreed that significant misrepresentation shall void the contract.”

  “Do we have to kill him? I always hear of bounties as ‘dead or alive’. What if things worked out so that we could just bring him here?”

  “Indeed, the preferable resolution would be Maciate’s capture and return. Were he inside this tower without the ability to escape, justice could run its course. Redemption would be conceivable. However, the task would be exceedingly difficult and the risk extreme. Were Maciate, or the current master of the Catalyst, able to discover the location of this tower and then escape, all would be lost.”

  “He could lead us to believe that we destroyed the Catalyst, by letting us find a fake device for example, then upon seeing the tower, jump to a cyborg.”

  You are an excellent fit to profile. “That is one of many scenarios. Regardless of the strategy used, once free with knowledge of our location, he could destroy us. The destruction of this tower would mean the death of many innocents and the suffering of great numbers into perpetuity. The risk far outweighs the possible benefit of trial. For this reason, no warden or hireling has ever been tasked with capture.” Her daughter was nearing. Mercy stood and gestured at the spiral staircase. “Visor, may I present to you Sorana Singrin?”

  His face changed, a cool temperament giving way to awe.

  Sorana wore a blue evening gown. It fit to show off her young, athletic figure. Several cut outs revealed youthful skin. Her long, silky hair was brushed out to one side. She wore a smile as warm as joy and as pretty as innocence.

  Visor stood up clumsily, almost knocking over his chair.

  “Min Velsignet, you are simply radiant. Please have a seat.” Mercy headed to the kitchen.

  Visor seated Sorana. He was unique.

  Sorana was going to fa
ll in love with him.

  And he was going to break her heart.

  Yet, he was the last, best chance to end the deeper nightmare.

  ***************

  Mercy’s meal was exceptional. They spoke throughout. More specifically, Visor and Mercy spoke while Sorana mostly ate and stared off. Mercy traded with local human and alfanar hermits of Skarholt Forest, exchanging finely crafted jewelry and clothing for raw materials. She had a remarkable forge and an equally impressive loom. Within the tower, she was able to emulate talents of the sentient races of Esselin. She could heal like a siren, generate electric charges like a vardal, refract light like a pixie, and manipulate plants like an alfanar.

  The tower had defenses. An electro-magnetic field disoriented uninvited people wandering too near the tower. Automated weapons were mounted on the battlements. Electrified gratings protected the tower’s portals. Mercy employed forest wardens, agents that were trained to detect and combat cyborgs. She also employed field wardens for more distant assignments.

  They worked together to clean up.

  Mercy invited Visor to the reception area for further discussion.

  Visor settled into the garden’s couch. “Sorana seems a bit more pleasant.”

  “We applied a therapy that helps her relax. She had been under some stress recently. Her last assignment took longer than planned.”

  “Some association exercises?”

  “Therapy primarily involves a bath and salt, along with electrical stimulation.”

  “Does she know about the salt?”

  “It is not a secret, but she might not be acutely aware of the exact nature by—” Mercy abruptly cut off as Sorana neared.

  Visor asked, “When will we be getting Rapture?”

  Mercy beamed at Visor. “As soon as you are ready. But we need to plan and practice the mission. And you need to rest.” Mercy exchanged hand signals with Sorana while seamlessly continuing her verbal conversation with Visor. “I have a basic map of WaterCrescent. If you wish to start tonight, we could begin by reviewing that. I’m sure you can add detail. I understand if you are exhausted.”

  “I am pretty tired, but I don't think I can sleep right now.”

  “My training room is upstairs.”