The Price of the Banshees

"Good," lady Hebbler said. "I don't mind her exploring as long as Benjamin's is the only cock to seed her womb."

"I am sorry for your tragedy," she added when they had taken a few more steps.

"Thank you. How much have you heard?"

"Little other than that you are cursed and that your family was condemned."

Gideon smiled sadly and said: "I wish I shared your lack of knowledge."

Gideon halted and looked up to the western horizon and noted the declining sun and his face turned cold. "I suggest you have your coachman return you to your manor. The night will be an agitated one."

Lady Hebbler gasped as she understood Gideon's meaning – she backed away and returned to her coach while he stood gravely and listened to groans of the woods as a doorway to another place opened.

@@@@@

Rounder was preparing for his nightly collection of stalwart patrons when Gideon entered the dining hall and sprinted up the staircase to his room. Just as he passed the threshold of his door, the night was upon the town and the rising wail of the banshees blanketed the streets.

The old innkeeper understood their would be no patrons tonight and that the streets would be deserted. Perhaps a city watch would be prowling the alleys in an attempt to thwart the unseen terror, but he also knew such attempts would be in vain. The man upstairs was their only hope.

"Dorothy," Rounder cried. "Gather supplies and go to the cellar."

Dorothy looked at her father and then towards the staircase and her heart seized – she knew that the man called Gideon would face whatever prowled the night and she felt pity for whatever faced him.

@@@@@

Gideon burst into his room and retrieved the tiny box he had opened the night before – it grew to ten times its size when he pulled at the box's corners and he whipped it open. He reached inside and pulled out a piece embroidered leather and slammed the box shut. He then threw off the tricorn hat and his cloak, rummaged in its lining and retrieved the flint lock pistol the cloak concealed.

The wailing of the banshees grew in intensity when Gideon jumped the stairs and burst out of the inn – from across the road, young Hebbler and his companions from the other night carried muskets and swords. They paused when they saw Gideon – one pointed as Gideon took the strip of embroidered leather and placed it over his eyes.

As his sight went black, Gideon recited an invocation and the world around him opened under an invisible light. Hebbler and his cronies appeared as skeletal sketches of humanity while the buildings seemed to vibrate with the memories of all those who had passed before their current occupants. It allowed him to see the wandering souls of the unclaimed as they drifted in and out of this realm. But they were all frozen in place by the wail of the banshees Gideon motioned for Hebbler and his men to return to their abodes before the terror appeared.

But when the wail of the banshees fell silent, all motion stopped in the world of the living while the inhabitants of the spirit world simply skittered and hid. Gideon remained still as the air seemed to grow dark as a shadow spread from the woods – the forest was the only structure that remained identical on both sides of life.

Gideon steadied his breathing and waited as the shadow from the forest coalesced into a solid figure at the edge of the town. He moved slowly and faced the oncoming terror – invisible to those breaking breath, Gideon saw the beast as twice size of a male lion. But its muscular limbs stopped midway and grayish bones formed its legs and tail – the bones were held together by rusted chains lubricated by blood. Its skull was a broken hulk of bone and its jaw was lined by oblique, jagged teeth dripping with oily black saliva and its mane was a bouquet of sharp shards of mirrored glass.

What caught Gideon's focused attention was the beast's pelt – what he thought at first were pulsing boils were clearly now bodies stretched across its oddly muscled form. They were women – beautiful women with firm bosoms and long hair and pleasing hips – women woven into the beast's skin, their mouths shaped in screams of terror, but also of obscene pleasure.

Gideon understood that this beast was the Torathar Sidhe – the Beast of the Mound and predator of the banshees. For each banshee it consumed, it had to replace it with the spirit of an untouched maiden.

The Beast moved silently throughout the paralysed town with a deliberate pace – it paused on occasion and unleashed a long, forked tongue that caressed the ground and the lodgings closest to it. The Torathar also ran its agile tongue around the few frozen bystanders that had not sought shelter when the banshees first wailed. The Beast found Benjamin Hebbler and wrapped its tongue around his head – the young man was helpless as a vortex of cold air wrapped itself around him and he felt all blood rush from his limbs and then an odd tingling caressed the base of his neck. Hebbler could not scream as Gideon witnessed the ethereal Beast peeled away his memories and consume what thoughts the young man was feeling. In the living world, Hebbler felt as though his head would explode as his identity was being ripped apart.

Gideon leaped across the muddy road and Hebbler eyes widened when Gideon's sword slashed seemingly empty air. But Gideon's sword had an effect and a black, moist, leathery appendage materialized and fell to the ground before Hebbler's feet. In the ethereal world, the Beast recoiled from Gideon's strike and snarled silently at the man, its mouth spewing thick, black ichor and the beautiful women in its flesh flushing red with excitement. Gideon reached for his flintlock pistol but before he could cock it, the Beast launched itself at him and struck him like a bull, its oblique teeth tearing deep gashes in Gideon's upper chest and shoulder. Gideon soundlessly grunted as he flew in the air and crashed into the doors of the Rounder's Inn. The heavy oak doors splintered on impact and Gideon lay stunned and bloodied. All this happened silently before the eyes of a terrified Hebbler.

Gideon was already regaining his bearings when the Beast rushed the inn, forcing Gideon to roll to one side to avoid a trampling – he scrambled to his feet and retrieved the flintlock pistol that had landed a few feet from him. He cocked it but the Beast had torn the floorboards of the inn apart and, acting on the memories it had syphoned from Hebbler, it found a cringing Dorothy Vance-Altham and galloped towards Gideon, the young woman frozen in its jaws. He fell backwards as the Beast lept over him but managed to press the stalk of the pistol against the bleeding gashes in his chest – his blood flowed into grooved designs carved into the pistol's body and he pulled the trigger. The lead slug shot through the Beast and tore a hole through the figure of the woman wrapped around its spine, a geyser of ichor gushing visibly in the living world but the Beast was not halted until it reached the edge of the woods. It turned to face Gideon as he held his flintlock and the slug flew back into the muzzle; Dorothy's face was streaked with horrified tears and the Beast slowly dissipated into a dark, smoky shadows while the women in its flesh reached out to him in despair and disappeared into the forest to the renewed wail of the banshees.

When the wails subsided, the village of Dowster returned to life while Gideon fell to one knee – across from him Hebbler was curled into a foetal position and rocked from side to side. His cronies had fled the street after witnessing the battle between Gideon and the terror who left its traces in the form of inky black blood and the destruction of Rounder's Inn. Fires had erupted from toppled oil lamps and cast meandering shadows on the muddy paths intersecting before the inn. Gideon growled and struggled to his feet and ripped the leather binding from his eyes when Rounder Vance-Altham emerged from the broken floor of the crumbling inn.

"Dorothy!!" Rounder screamed as he staggered onto the ashen street. Gideon was running back towards the inn when Rounder grabbed his arm as they crossed paths.

"Graveloch! The thing took her ..." Rounder sobbed.

"I know," Gideon said.

"Bring her back to me," Rounder pleaded.

Gideon put his hands on the old inn keep's shoulders and said: "I'll find her."

Present

The forest was dank and dark – the encroaching canopy of leaves blotted any star that might have otherwise caressed the forest floor with it timeless echo of starlight. Within the shadows between the trees, a lone figure was pressed against the mossy earth. He was covered with the detritus of the early fall season and his face was caked sombrely with coal black dirt. Insects and vermin crawled across his hands and nose but he remained silent – his scent was buried beneath the blanket of forest he had worn for the past day. He awaited the Torathar Sidhe.

Gideon had tracked the Beast to an elevated, moss covered mound that intersected with a meridional ley line so the barriers between the various dominions were weakest. He carried the flintlock pistol that had failed him for the first time – blood was always the needed primer to charge the weapon but his blood had been insufficient. He had a thought about what was needed, but he hoped his epiphany was mistaken.

The sun was slowly setting and as the moon replaced it, elements around the mound began to glow. Fires erupted around the base of the mound and as they flared and burned out, a slender figure replaced the flames and a woman would stand silently in vigil. He counted five of them, and each was dressed in a simple gown that draped over their various sensual shapes – these were the Women of the Sidhe, the banshees. But as Gideon observed them, he recognized that they were in truth the women taken from Dowster. Roots protruded from the ground and pierced the fine skin of their feet, pooling blood where they stood. But the fifth woman was different – her eyes were closed but there was no blood where she stood and her feet extended into the ground as roots. On her head was a crown of leather and leaves. She was of the banshee.

On the top of the mound, a great bonfire blazed and from its core emerged the Torathar Sidhe – it dragged a chain with its hideous maw and Dorothy was pulled forward unceremoniously. The chain left reddish grooves in her delicate skin and her dress was torn, exposing her womanhood to the harsh elements.

A mist arose from the woods and seemed to dance around the motionless Women of the Mound while the Torathar opened its maw and unleashed a thunderous howl that shook the very fabric of the forest. Gideon trembled slightly as a cold, powerful wind was raised in the living world as evidence of the Beast's fury. The blood magic he needed to destroy this creature would demand a greater sacrifice than he could offer alone.

With that knowledge, Gideon emerged from the forest floor – at once, the eyes of the bound women snapped open while the Beast ruffled its mane of glass shards. Its regrown forked tongue tasted the air and the Beast snarled; the banshees laced into its pelt sighed and gasped while trying to touch their privates; the last true Banshee kept her eyes closed while her blood red lips trembled.

The Beast growled as Gideon drew his broadsword and approached the line of detained women from Dowster as they strained against the roots shackling their feet – the Beast moved lazily down the mound, dragging Dorothy in its wake until it stood only a few feet from Gideon. His eyes locked with the obsidian orbs of the Torathar before meeting Dorothy's. Her eyes were slung heavy with a stupor born from a dire spell the Beast had cast, but Gideon could detect a measure of recognition deep beyond her awkwardness.

But before he could act, the crowned Banshee opened her eyes and turned towards Gideon with eyes are black as the Beast's and she began to sob softly.

"My sisters," Gideon heard in his head. The voice was like a melody he had suddenly remembered from a far away youth – familiar but strange. "I must be allowed to join them."

His eyes met the banshee's while at the periphery of his vision, the Beast was charging him. "I must destroy it," Gideon thought. "I can free them – and the women it stole. But an innocent will perish."

The Torathar's open, salivating jaw was inches from Gideon's head. "I will lament for them," the Banshee promised.

Before Gideon could enquire about them, a figure crashed into him and knocked him away from the Beast's snapping teeth at the last, impossible moment.

Gideon thudded against the ground and rolled roughly over pointed rocks that shredded his shirt and dug deep into his flesh, spilling rivulets of blood on the ground. To his left, Benjamin Hebbler was groaning as he fought to return to his feet. The Torathar roared in anger and turned towards Hebbler, determined to tear the man's heart from his bleeding carcass.

Hebbler stood and slowly staggered away from the pouncing Beast – Gideon had retrieved his broadsword and threw himself between Hebbler and his predator. His caught the beast by the throat and even as its front claws lacerated his back, Gideon jammed his sword through the beast's jaw till his blade splintered its skull. The Beast snarled and wrenched the sword from Gideon's hand.

As the Torathar struggled with the sword, Gideon withdrew a dagger and attacked the chain binding Dorothy to the Beast's flesh. Gideon struggled but the links were strong – he then jabbed the dagger into the ground and carved a symbol resembling an ankh. He then touched the blade to his bloodied shoulder, coating it crimson and he then spat on the knife twice and stabbed the symbol. Citing an incantation, the symbol glowed intensely before disappearing. He only had a few moments before the spell dissipated but he managed to carve through the chain and pull a dazed Dorothy away from the battle an into the cover of the woods.

It was then that all banshees wailed their sorrowful lament.

@@@@@

The Torathar had fallen upon Benjamin Hebbler and its trenchant claws dug scarlet grooves into his flesh. His breathing was harsh and laboured as he felt his last gasp approaching. He had failed Dorothy.

But before the Torathar could deliver its final blow, Gideon had thrown his still enchanted dagger with deadly accuracy and the blade struck deep in the Beast's eye, popping the obsidian orb in a puff of foul smoke. The banshees lined in its skin moaned a growing lament while the women of Dowster – still rooted to the mound – wailed.

The Torathar howled in pain and anger and backed away from the wounded Hebbler boy, the chains that surrounded its lower limbs clanged sharply.

Gideon ran to the bloodied youth and lifted head to cradle it.

"Fool," Gideon spat angrily. "Should never have followed me."

"It was for her," Hebbler said, punctuating his words with coughing blood. Gideon looked down at Hebbler's chest and could see past his bloodied ribs and witness the struggle of his pink lungs. "I had to do something – but I always knew she'd be the death of me."

Gideon looked over at the woods where he had hidden Dorothy Vance-Altham."I can save you – save you both," Gideon promised.

"No!" Hebbler screamed while grabbing Gideon's collar with his bloodied hand. "Save Dorothy. Only her. Let this be my one ... unselfish act."

Gideon nodded and released his flint-lock pistol he had strung to his back. "Innocent blood can destroy this Beast. But I will have to destroy you."

"For her ... do what you must."

"Divine blood of this dying unsullied," Gideon said as he placed the pistol on Hebbler's chest. "Fuel the shell and replenish the faith of those yet to fall."

The Blood in Hebbler's wounds defied nature and reached like tendrils towards the grooves in the carved brass and walnut of the pistol. Once the wounds were emptied, blood flowed into the weapon from Hebbler's mouth, nose and eyes, as well as from the shredded flesh of his chest.

Gideon watched as Hebbler emptied himself of what was left of his blood, his cracked lips forming Dorothy's name until his last gasp escaped his collapsed lungs.

"I'm sorry." Gideon whispered as he kissed the young man's forehead, understanding Hebbler's fear and frustration and the longing unrequited love could fester.

Gideon Graveloch stood to his full height and turned to face the Torathar – the Beast had worked his dagger from its eye and had found Dorothy; it was carrying her limp form back towards the mound. Her blood dripped along the creature's jaw where its teeth had pierced her skin.

Gideon sprinted ahead of the leisurely paced Beast until he stood next to the crowned Banshee. She struggled with the roots that extended from her feet and into the earth, tears rolling down her cheeks while her brethren pleasured themselves in the hide of the Torathar. Gideon understood the Beast meant to consume the banshee and replenish its hide with her set Dorothy as the new Banrion of the Women of the Mound. The Torathar would do what ever it did until it needed a new hide and found another mound and more banshees to consume and replace.

Gideon cocked the pistol and aimed at the Beast's skull – it seemed to snicker until Gideon pulled the trigger. The flint struck the primer and a large burst of flame erupted from the weapon as well as a rain of steaming blood that showered Gideon and the crowned Banshee.

The shell tore from the pistol and streaked towards the Torathar – it had dropped Dorothy and reared up on its hind legs until the shell ripped through its hide. The force of the shot knocked the Beast to the ground, black ichor spraying from its wound. Before the Torathar could recover, the shell drew a sharp arc in the air and slammed back into the Beast. The shell pierced the hide of the Torathar again, throwing gallons of its blood and chunks of its flesh into the air and onto the ground.

Within minutes, as the shell completed its choreography of destruction, the carcass of the Torathar was stripped of its cursed flesh until its bones bathed in a pink and red and grey cloud of moist meat. The crowned Banshee sobbed while Gideon held his pistol outstretched and the shell, complete in its mission, returned to its home. As the gory mist settled to the ground, the crowned Banshee ceased to cry – the bones of the Torathar rattled as four nude women emerged the Beast's wreckage. Blood and gore dripped between their bountiful bosoms and down the creases between their hips as as they approached their sister banshee.

Gideon stepped aside as the banshee sisters embraced -- he heard a cracking sound and he turned to see that the roots binding the women of Dowster were breaking. The young women joined together in a circle born of fear and modesty as their torn clothing exposed them to the night's chill.

Through the tumult of the liberation of the Banshees, Gideon heard a moan and he rushed to Dorothy's side – she sported a half dozen oozing puncture wounds around her back and stomach where the Torathar had held her in its maw. Gideon touched her forehead and felt a steadily rising fever while noticing a blackening web spreading slowly from her wounds. She had been cursed.

"No," he whispered . Gideon had only seconds to work against the Beast's final, posthumous assault – he quickly found the small pouch on his belt and extracted a small piece of white wood that he began to chew. It was a piece of the rod of Ascelpius, given to him by the Nephelim agent that outfitted him for his ordeal. He spat the chewed morsel into his palm and then rubbed it into the rendered flesh of Dorothy's stomach. The power of the rod coursed through her veins and she screamed as she embattled against the curse.

After a few convulsions, Dorothy had steadied and her wounds had already begun to heal. Gideon lifted her off the ground and carried her to the huddled women of Dowster and said: "Take her. There's a path just beyond the edge of the woods – it will take you home."