Chapter 5
Madness
The Hand of Mercy tethered three mounts at Augusta’s military stable.
Sorana was again dressed in traditional vardal female armor.
Visor wore the male version, the primary difference being that the lustrous symphonic metal plates were absent in favor of stronger melodic metal plates. Melodic metal was essentially a higher quality version of human steel. He wore a cloak over a backpack to obscure his human physique.
They passed the ogre guards at WaterCrescent’s main gatehouse with little harassment and took the concealed temple path down to the market level. They surveyed the streets.
Visor signed, AciesMagus ramp or Stockades?
Sorana touched his forearm in pattern, communicating in vardal-somatic. Stockades.
Vardal-somatic was slow to use and difficult to learn. It required processing of information on pressure, spatial orientation, and context. But it was good to practice because they would likely be in situations where they would need to remain silent while in the dark. Practicing Vardal-somatic forced her to touch him. With time, she had become somewhat less disgusted by the physical contact.
The Hand skirted around the busier sections of the market level, making their way to the stockades. They took a concealed tunnel from the stockades up to the war room of the surface keep. The keep was the processing center for human captives. It was also housing for the skilled laborers.
The Hand surreptitiously made their way to the keep’s small conference room. A small closet concealed a passage leading all the way down to a storage locker of the AciesMagus Proper. That is where the captive sirens resided, along with their vardal tormentors, and at least some vampires. Some reports suggested Lord Nazaire stayed there on occasion.
Sorana left the storage locker, taking the lead.
The lighting was dim for a human. He had to stay close to her or risk losing her in the dark.
They avoided a vardal trio and passed a single, loitering male vampire. Even without studying their hands, you could differentiate vampire from vardal by their wardrobe and other cues. The vardal favored military style outfits and plain metal jewelry. Vampires liked robes and gemstones. Visor signed a greeting that was returned. Vardal moved more sharply and spoke with a different accent.
The Hand reached the tailor room, where sirens and humans were being held. The fitting rooms were repurposed as cells.
In the first cell, Visor found a Marigold, one of the common strains of siren. Her medium brown hair was disheveled and her skin smudged with dirt, yet she was still gorgeous. The Marigolds had the fullest lips and highest cheek bones of the siren strains. With the softest eyes and longest eye lashes, they were perhaps the most classically beautiful of sirens. Their skin was a light tan, and their silky hair screamed health and sensuality. The Marigold recoiled from his attention, reminding him that he was in a vardal outfit.
A vardal man emerged from behind a mannequin. He signed to Sorana, who replied. He was trying to move a glove rack. “Little help?”
Sorana waved him off dismissively.
The vardal studied them. “Who are you?”
Sorana hesitated. In frustration, she fired a bolt from a launcher that was integrated with her armguard. The bolt penetrated deep into the vardal's skull. She flicked her wrist, causing a dagger to protrude from the armguard. It was sharpened on both edges—one of them serrated.
The vardal fell over the glove rack.
“Velsignet!” Mercy's voice came from somewhere behind them.
Sorana pressed her free hand to her forehead. “I'm sorry. I just ....” She signed, I'm just tired.
The AciesMagus tailor room faded, replaced by the weapon racks and training dummies of Mercy’s training room. There was a passing moment of confusion, a discontinuity in reality, while Visor’s body readjusted to a sudden shift in spatial orientation.
Mercy appeared. “I apologize for the holographic emergence. If you prefer, we can use the map room’s screen-based holograms. They do not induce the emergence effect.”
“No, this is more accurate. I’ll be fine.”
Mercy put her arm around Sorana’s waist. “I'm sorry, Visor. We’ll need a break. I will find you when we are ready to resume.”
***************
Back down in the reception area, Visor perused the library's tomes. There were a number of intriguing titles—Conjoin Races of Esselin, Dragon Subspecies, Vardal Exterran, The Aurora Bridge, Tree of Eternity, Mana Interface, and Nymph Fracture among others.
He picked up Dragon Subspecies and skimmed through sections of it. A passage was critical of the dragon's genetic viability. Too much of their physiology was committed to lifting a scaled creature off the ground and in generating and compressing flammable gasses that were often unused. They had to eat and sleep considerably more than humans and took a long time to mature. According to the tome, dragon wings were integrated with their front legs, like a bat. They were weaker and less agile than a land animal of the same proportions, with muscle mass devoted to flight and a fused skeletal structure. Dragons were the first sentient race to become extinct, at the hands of the alfanar.
Visor fell asleep and startled himself back awake. He switched out Dragon Subspecies for History of Humans and took a seat in the garden. He flipped to random pages. There were sections on the founding of Raykez, the sirenic alliance, oracles and telepaths, and buway-human wars. Within the Raykez chapter, there was a subsection on the Mortal Banshee. With a perverse anticipation, he read the first few words.
“She fell back asleep.” Mercy was suddenly right behind him.
Visor’s heart jolted. He flipped some pages as if he were still perusing the tome.
“I'm sorry. I know this is urgent for you.”
Visor said, “It's okay. We have to get this right. Getting in there sooner and getting killed or captured doesn't help anyone.” As Visor closed the heavy tome, it slid from his lap and he caught it awkwardly, stressing a shoulder that was already strained.
“You're hurt?”
“Not really, just a little sore. I think I got it during the cavern climbing.”
Mercy moved close and massaged his shoulder. It felt immediately better. Then it felt even better than normal. She pressed her chest against the back of his head and rubbed his temples.
Visor said, “Mercy ....”
“Don't be alarmed. I'm not seducing you. This physical therapy is designed to increase your mobility and thought processes. I’m applying a magnetic aura to enhance the effect. It is not for you—not just for you, rather. I need you to perform well.” She sighed, deliberately. “This situation is delicate for me. I have been hesitant to share something with you because of its deeply personal nature, but I need to tell you now. I hope and trust you will treat this knowledge with reverence, as you would if it pertained to someone you loved dearly.
“Sorana's malady—the 'stress' she feels—is the same madness that infected her father before he died. The salt mixture subdues recent stresses and rebalances her psyche. If she is away from this tower for too long a time, she may start to lapse. She will be prone to fits of personality divergence and perhaps even violence. I have included some of the salt on your mount’s pack. However, you will have to be careful with your administration of the salts. You will also need to supervise her, as she carries her own supply. While soothing, it impairs her higher cognitive functions for a period, leaving her vulnerable to deception, among other dangers. In the tower, I can protect her. But once you take her out in the field, she will be at risk. You are bright and resourceful … compassionate and loyal. She is instructed to follow you. I trust you. Please bring my child home.”
Visor said, “That’s the agreement.”
Chapter 6
The Hand of Mercy
Visor slowed his mount as WaterCrescent came into view. Though da
maged, the fortress was still beautiful, positioned on a cliff above Keening Lake. Racheal, a massive statue of a Marigold siren, stood atop WaterCrescent’s central keep. She greeted approaching vessels to the Port of Augusta.
The surrounding town of Augusta displayed more enemy flags than last time he’d seen it. There was also some new construction. “That's housing for at least another division of ogres.” He stopped.
Sorana pulled up beside him and clipped her veil in place. “Stupid, lazy creatures.”
“They're preparing to push on. Alafos would be their next stop, on the way to Raykez.”
Sorana glared at fortress ahead.
Visor turned his mount to face Sorana and pulled adjacent to her. He gripped her shoulder with one hand and his saddle tightly with the other. “Well it doesn't change anything. We can't wait.” He nodded.
Sorana twisted her left wrist to release the serrated switch blade. She cut into Visor’s leg and dragged the blade downward, leaving a nasty, bleeding wound several inches long. Blood soaked into his leggings, blending with the swine blood that already stained a portion of them. He touched the pooling blood and wiped some along his neck.
She then thrust the dagger into her shoulder, grunting and wincing in pain.
The Hand of Mercy rode to the gate house.
Three vardal and an ogre guarded it.
As they approached, Sorana signed, My guardian is badly wounded. “Do you have sirens here? We need to see them.”
A male vardal answered. “We do, but they are suppressed. The researchers are busy with them.”
A female vardal guard said, “We have medics in the keep.”
Sorana said, “We need sirens. We can pay.”
The guard signed, How did this happen?
Sorana signed, We were ambushed—a patrol led by a Godiva.
The female guard stepped up. “Naiad Rangers.” She asked Visor, “What unit are you?”
Visor signed, DeGeneris mixed infantry. We are the only survivors. He moaned weakly and lifted his full faced helm slightly to show some blood and serious bruising around his dust-covered neck.
The male guard pointed at the third vardal guard. “You go with them. Make sure the Jortal don't harass them.”
Sorana signed, We will be fine. She set Mystique to a trot without waiting for a response.
Visor followed. There were both ogres and vardal at the entrance to the ramp to the market. The couple veered their mounts toward the slightly built vardal infantry, who stepped out of the horses' paths. As he passed, Visor signed, Stand down. She's wounded.
Once in the underground market, the Hand rode to an isolated barber shop. Sorana was lookout while Visor set it on fire. Then they rode to the ramp leading down to the AciesMagus.
The market bell rang, warning of the fire. Humans were running through the streets, calling for friends and family.
Vardal guards tried to keep order.
A closed portcullis blocked the entrance to the AciesMagus ramp. It was guarded by three vardal. A side gate was open, but it was too small for the horses. Visor turned his mount so that the guards would see his leg wound.
Sorana said, “Hurry! He can't walk. Open the gate!”
Visor signed, She’s bleeding internally.
One guard signed to another, who opened the portcullis.
The Hand of Mercy directed their mounts down the tunnel to the AciesMagus.
The passage opened into a huge cavern. The AciesMagus Proper was an underground fortress set against the back of the cavern. A gatehouse and stone towers guarded a small courtyard. Most of the complex was chiseled out of the stone behind the courtyard.
In front of the AciesMagus Proper were several service structures—stables, dormitories, a retention pond, and a number of snake hatchery pits among them. They dismounted at the stables.
Visor almost tumbled to the ground. His leg hurt worse than he’d expected.
The dormitory was adjacent to the stables. The Hand of Mercy made their way to the dormitory’s upper level, passing the room where Rapture often awaited Visor for vardal-supervised visits. From the second floor balcony, they crossed a bridge to the courtyard wall. They traversed the wall, avoiding vardal patrols below. It ended in the rock face, where Visor opened a concealed door. He pointed out the alarmed trap to Sorana as they entered. She knew the layout, but hadn’t been here before.
They entered the tailor’s room and searched. Sorana signed, empty.
Visor signed, Chapel or lab next?
Sorana didn’t offer an opinion.
Visor said, “Lab.” They passed a storage room.
A single vardal was working inside. He ignored the Hand.
The Hand passed the AciesMagus central hall, a multi-purpose room with a domed ceiling. Several vardal were inside, engrossed in discussion.
The Hand entered the lab. It had been completely rearranged. The tables of vials, liquids and orbs had been moved to the perimeter.
A female vardal in a lab coat provided an electrical current to an assembly that heated a vial, boiling the content.
Central in the room were two sets of shackles attached to a chain that anchored in the ceiling. In front of those were two sturdy chairs that were outfitted with restraints.
A male sat at a desk near the restraint chairs, writing in a journal.
The female noticed Visor and Sorana. “May I help you?”
Visor signed, We are badly wounded. Can you help us? We heard you had sirens.
The female grabbed a cane off the wall. “Who are you?”
The male stood up.
Sorana stumbled toward the female, holding her wounded shoulder awkwardly. “We need help.”
“Who directed you here?” The male moved to intercept Sorana. “This is a restricted area.”
The female said, “Who are you!” She signed, Stand down!
In a smooth, casual motion, Sorana fired a bolt from her dart launcher, piercing the male in the forehead. He fell heavily.
The female shrieked and swung the cane.
Sorana easily dodged the cane, stepped in and efficiently disabled the female.
Visor signed, Your shoulder?
Sorana ignored him.
Visor inspected the chairs. There were fingernail marks in the wooden handles. Clothing that would be typical of sirens and human women were in a nearby foot locker. The heavy door to the adjoining sample storage room was cracked open. Visor beckoned Sorana over and went in. The only light for the storage room trickled in from the main lab.
They had found the sirens.
Half walls that previously sectioned off the storage room had been supplemented with floor-to-ceiling iron bars. Skins and tapestries covered the bars to effectively separate the cells. There was one female inside each makeshift cell.
In the first cage, a woman prisoner lay sleeping, facing the back wall.
In the next cage lay a Xandrian siren, awake and watching, but not reacting. Xandrians were the most slender and petite of the common sirenic strains. Her blond hair sparkled like gold in the bit of light that filtered in. Though her face had been beaten, she was still stunningly beautiful. Full, blue eyes were highlighted with azure-tainted skin and delicate features. She wore thick fur leggings. Her white cloak hung open to reveal a maroon silk cloth around her waist. Her scent was alluring ... overwhelming.
Sorana bumped Visor’s wounded leg.
Pain helped Visor refocus. He continued deeper into the sample room. The next cage held a vardal female! She had the same injuries as the Xandrian. “What the hell?” He looked at Sorana.
Sorana shushed him and moved on.
The next cage was especially darkened as extra tapestries blocked the light. Visor said, “I can't see.”
Sorana slid a hand up under his chain shirt and stroked his back in complex patterns.
Visor said, “Sorry, I don
't understand somatic that well yet.”
Sorana said, “Vardal female. She has been tortured—chest and shoulders, at least.”
Pressure welled up behind his eyes as a familiar scent rolled over him. Rapture was in the next cage. Light reflected off a mirror so that he could see her red hair fall in gentle waves over her shoulders. Subdued freckles dotted her cheeks and nose under green eyes. The Godivas were the most curvaceous of common sirenic strains. That was easy to see now, even with a cloak loosely wrapped around her. He took off his helmet and dropped to his knees before her cage. “Mi Ardore!”
The sweetest of voices responded. “Don?”
Chapter 7
Rapture
Rapture was confused. “What are you ... how—”
Don, her bound human and only love she’d ever known, was near. Her body trembled with anticipation.
“Gah!” Don jerked his arm back.
“Rapture said, “The lock is trapped.”
“Thanks.”
“I didn’t know you were going to touch it.”
“Well, I was planning to get you out.”
“You know I can’t see in here.”
“I think it’s a magnetic lock.” There was some shuffling as Don dug through a bag.
Another figure moved around behind Don.
There was a mechanical click.
Then Don was next to Rapture, holding her. She stood, with his help. She was weak, yet relaxed in his arms. His scent was intoxicating. There was also a faint floral scent. “You smell like jasmine.”
Don inspected her. “Oh, Mi Ardore, what did they do to you?”
“They ... suppressed us. We couldn't heal.” It was hard to speak.
The person with Don adjusted a mirror. It reflected more light into Rapture’s cell. “She's drugged.”
Rapture looked the woman up and down. “Who is she?”
Don said, “My escort—captor. She abducted me. Sorana.”
Rapture said, “Mm-hmm. What happened to your leg?”
“Sorana cut me.”
“Did you deserve it?”
“You want me to leave you here?”
“Go ahead.”
They struggled out of the cell to better lighting. She tried to heal him, but her healing was still suppressed.
Mortal Banshee Page 3