"When She Commands, the Wise Obey"
"When She Commands, the Wise Obey"
4/6-4/9/1998
I.
Inside the front hall of their headquarters building, Cindy Brunner checked her appearance again in the full length mirror that stood by the coat rack. It was not like her to do this, and she normally skipped make-up but today had applied some blush to lessen her freckles and a little mascara to blonde eyelashes that otherwise were light enough to need some emphasis. Only an inch over five feet tall, trim as any gymnast, the telepath was wearing a cream-colored blouse with a scoop neckline, a snug black skirt and shoes with reasonable heels. She had also added a fine-linked gold chain necklace and stud earrings. Reaching to the rack, she tugged on a short-waisted black jacket and adjusted it.
Standing behind her with arms folded, Jeremy Bane looked the same as he always did. At six feet and one hundred and seventy pounds, he was wiry and lean; the all-black outfit of slacks, turtleneck and sport jacket only emphasized this. In a narrow feral face under short black hair, the Dire Wolf's infamous pale grey eyes stood out as vividly as ever. At the moment, though, those eyes held rare affection and amusement.
"Cin, I've told you before you're naturally beautiful, haven't I?"
"Hhh? Oh, sure, but it's always nice to hear it again." She swung around and grinned at his quizzical expression. "I don't know why I'm fretting like this. I HAVE heard wild gossip about this Miss Ayesha.
She breezed into town from nowhere and immediately rented a penthouse that millionaires can't afford. She seems to travel with two dozen servants, no one knows much about her, and --get this-- she's always veiled. No one knows what she looks like."
Bane made a scoffing noise. "She must have a passport or visa. Otherwise, she couldn't be staying openly in the country."
"Well, yeah. I'm sure some officials have seen her photo. But it's funny how her face is a mystery."
Moving over to lightly place his hands on her narrow shoulders, Bane kissed Cindy on the forehead. "Don't want to smudge your lipstick."
She reached up to squeeze his hands, continuing her train of thought. "And then yesterday, her secretary, a guy named Basim, asked to make an appointment with us. Well, with you."
"Still a couple of minutes before ten," the Dire Wolf said after glancing over at the wall clock. "This could be anything, Cin. Midnight War stuff, a client with criminal trouble for our agency, maybe even some espionage back-stabbing from the Mandate or INTERCEPT. I don't remember a woman named Ayesha."
Before the blonde telepath could respond, the doorbell rang. Bane took a long stride over to the door and pressed a button on a wooden wall panel. The street door opened as he did this, and he said, "Please step into the foyer, we'll be with you in a second."
As Cindy watched from beside him, Bane swung open the panel to reveal a monitor screen and a complex instrument panel. The screen lit up to read off a series of words and numbers in green. Anyone standing in the foyer of that building was scanned by Trom sensors more sophisticated than any CAT scans or MRIs in use.
"No ID from the NYPD or the FBI, nothing from the intelligence agencies identifying him. Normal Human male, forty-eight to fifty years old, North African DNA, blood pressure and heartbeat all within normal range..." she read off.
"No gun, no chemical signature of poisons or explosives," the Dire Wolf continued for her. "But look at that strapped to the small of his back. Steel dagger, blade four and a half inches long. He can reach back under his coat and grab the hilt easily enough."
Cindy shrugged. "I say we let him bring it in. Otherwise we have to explain how we know about it. And we're both on the alert. Not to mention the flexible armor under our clothes."
"Fair enough." Bane closed the door and stepped forward to swing open the inner door. "Good morning, Mr Basim. I'm Jeremy Bane and this is my partner Cindy Brunner."
A short wiry man in a tailored tan suit shook their hands gravely in turn. He had the dark skin, hawklike nose and sunken cheeks of an Egyptian but he looked weary and older than his age would indicate. "I am pleased to meet with you both. The car awaits, if you will join me?"
"Oh, we're going somewhere?" asked Cindy.
"Naturally. Miss Ayesha wishes to receive you. She commands I bring you there."
"She commands...? Well, okay." The little telepath raised an eyebrow at Bane. "We're ready to go visit Miss Ayesha, aren't we?"
"No problem." The Dire Wolf gestured for Basim to step back out onto the concrete steps leading down to the sidewalk, while he and Cindy followed. As the doors closed behind them, buzzes and clicks indicated the security alarms had armed themselves.
Double parked on East 38th Street was a black limousine gleaming as if it had been waxed while they stood there. Basim held the rear door for Bane and Cindy, then climbed into the front passenger seat himself. The car rolled smoothly forward with the silence of a well-tuned motor.
Leaning back against the elegant beige leather interior, Jeremy Bane said, "Some information telling us what this is all about?"
"We are but humble servants of our great mistress," came the reply from the front. "When She commands, the wise obey."
II.
The Fortunato Hotel complex took up nearly all of a city block in the West 80s by Fifth Avenue. Its garage was two levels below the street, and the four of them rode up in one of a bank of private elevators that were reserved for the most elite guests. The silent ride was not uncomfortable so much as unpromising. With a ding, the doors slid open to reveal a corridor where two huge men in formal wear stood waiting for them.
These were imposing men, big enough to have played pro football, with the deep brown skin and hooked noses of Danarakans. Their ferocious scowls were not feigned, Bane decided, but showed real anger and desire to hurt. When they bowed in greeting, it was a reluctant forward movement that barely inclined their upper bodies an inch and their hostile eyes never left the newcomers.
"You have been expected and will be admitted," said the older of the two, a man easy to identify by the thin white scar running down across him to forehead to exit through his left eyebrow. "It is known that you are armed but our orders are to permit this." He sounded unbearably disgusted at the situation.
"Not for us to question the orders of She who commands our loyalty," grumbled the other. As the driver inclined his head politely and then descended back in the elevator, Basim and the two intimidators down a long hallway air-conditioned to the point of being chilly. They stepped before a pair of elaborately carved ebony doors trimmed with gold asterisks. Basim took the handles of the doors, then hesitated. He glanced at the two guards before saying, "Please. Allow some advice to be offered. I know something of you two, that you are Tel Shai knights and have fought in the Midnight War for years. But tread softly. Speak respectfully. You are placing your heads in the lioness' jaws."
"That will be enough of that, little brother," said the older guard. "Proceed."
Bane and Cindy were led into a high-cielinged room illuminated by huge windows overlooking the treetops of Central Park. Marble counters and solid mahogany furniture, deep plush carpeting of an off-white inlaid with the same asterisks on the doors added to an overwhelming first impression. The air was scented noticeably but not heavily with lilacs. Two matching silver cages hanging from the ceiling held silent African Grey parrots.
But all attention was drawn irresistably to a curtained dais at the far end of the palatial room. An elaborate framework of dark wood supported hanging translucent silk through a form could be dimly discerned stirring within at their approach.
Promptly, the hulking guards and Basim dropped their knees and pressed their foreheads to the carpeting in front of the dais. Bane and Cindy held back, waiting and watching.
The most mellow, refined woman's voice imaginable purred, "Thee may rise, my children. Allow our guests to approach the royal presence."
As the dreadfully nervous men hastened to step aside and Basim retreated into another room, Bane and Cindy moved up to where they had bowed.
"Please forgive our barbarian manners," the little telepath ventured to say. "We mean no disrepect."
"No offense is taken," came that gentle voice. "Man with iron eyes. Thou art the Dire Wolf, slayer of tyrants and bandits, hunter of the children of the night. And you, lass, are one who tells what thoughts run through others' minds. Is this not so?"
"It is," Cindy answered for both of them.
"Know thee that thou standst in the presence of the Queen of Kor. For more than two thousand years have I drawn breath, grown wise and strong and perilous to behold. I am Ayesha, She Who Must Be Obeyed."
III.
A tingling sensation in Bane's head left him the thought that this speech didn't mean anything to Cindy. Her telepathy did not transmit words or complex sequences but rather was based on images, feelings and reactions. Most people who experienced telepathic contact explained it as like remembering something you heard someone say, rather than hearing them say it at the moment.
As for the Dire Wolf, he didn't recall any place called 'Kor,' or anyone named Ayesha. Maybe if he had time to think about it. Obviously, this woman or her backers had vast amounts of money and influence to throw around. And he was certain from their body language and pupil dilations that the serving men were honestly terrified about the concealed woman. Bane decided to go along with the situation for the moment.
"So, what is it you wanted to talk with us about?" he asked, much more tactful than his usual blunt manner would begin a conversation.
"What dost thou know of the Flame of Life, Dire Wolf?"
Bane didn't hesitant. "Never heard of it. Cin?"
"Me neither," his partner said. "Unless it's a metaphor for being alive or for love or something. Literally, 'the Flame of Life?' I don't know."
"That is unexpected," said the pleasant voice. "Seat thyselves on that sofa. I shall emerge to better parley with thee."
Stopping himself before he said something about not having to take orders, Jeremy Bane headed over to a long white sofa covered with soft cotton which was dotted with the same tiny asterisks he was noticing everywhere. Cindy sat herself next to him, crossing her ankles demurely and gave him a wry smile. She seemed more amused at all the mystery than anything else.
The curtains over the dais swept apart by some silent mechanism. A tall figure wrapped in a winding robe of white linen which covered her from neck to floor emerged. Ayesha was nearly six feet tall, regal and substantial rather than svelte, with solid breasts and hips. Her face was completely hidden behind an opaque white veil suspended from a golden tiara. Even her hands were within gloves. Not a bit of skin could be seen. She lowered herself with dignity onto a high backed chair that became a throne by her presence.
"I was informed that you two Americans were knowledgeable about the occult, that thee ken much of the secret history of this world. Yet thy faces betray that my name and the name of Kor mean nothing to you. How is this?"
"There's a lot of area to cover in the Midnight War," Bane answered.
"We don't mean to offend," Cindy quickly interjected. "No one knows everything of value. Will you enlighten us?"
"It is naught, it is naught. When this Western continent still groaned under glaciers a mile deep, Kor was a thriving empire in Eastern Africa, below where Kenya stands today. Its people drew vitality and stamina from a manifestation of the very force which animates the Earth... the Blue Flame of Life. They dared not approach it too closely, merely being in its vicinity was enough to grant them greater strength and resolve than common Humans might know."
As Ayesha paused and waited for their reactions, Cindy took it upon herself to be the diplomatic member of the team. "We would hear more, if you wish to tell us."
A low throaty chuckle came from beneath the veil. "I myself was born in Egypt, three hundred years before the time of the one thee call The Christ. I was the only daughter of a wizard and an oracle. Seeking the deepest wisdom, I made my way to Kor and became the disciple of the ancient sorcerer who stood meditating before the Flame of Life. When he had no more to teach me, I slew him using his own art and dared to bathe in the Blue Flame as no mortal had ever done."
"You killed your own teacher?" Bane asked.
"Is that reproach in thine voice? Better that thee do not seek to judge one such as myself. I became immortal, immune to disease or weariness, and I established myself as the Queen of Kor and ruled well. One of my first acts was to have my subjects carve an eighty foot sculpture on the side of a basalt mountain on the edge of my domain... the scowling face of a bearded black man, to warn away intruders."
"I never heard of any of this," interrupted the Dire Wolf. "Is that giant stone head still there? Does Kor still exist?"
"Thou are not given leave to ask me questions," retorted Ayesha, with an edge sharpening her former tone. "Hold thy tongue and listen with reverence."
"Go ahead, let's hear it."
"Shall you tell me when to speak, now?" The hidden woman rose angrily to her feet, holding up open hands with the fingers clawed. "Men have been skinned for less."
"Forgive us, we do not know your ways..." Cindy began.
Ayesha thrust out an open hand, palm forward. No visible blast was emitted. Cindy sighed and slid off the couch, and Bane caught her before she reached the floor. Instantly, his fingers pressed against her wrist and found a strong steady pulse. He saw her chest rise with a normal breath.
"She need not die," Ayesha said.
Jeremy Bane let Cindy stretch out on the floor. He straightened up and swung around to face their hostess. Something in his low even voice was more menacing than the growl of a real wolf, "What did you do to her?"
"I will daze thee in the same manner with but a look."
"You can try!" The Dire Wolf crossed his arms in front of himself and straightened them out. From the sheaths under his sleeves, he had drawn the silver bladed daggers. Their blades gleamed with a cold clear light in the presence of hostile magick. "I don't make threats."
"Umhair, Sharif, attend me," Ayesha called.
Coldly furious as he had seldom allowed himself to be, Bane allowed the two massive guards to approach him. When the nearer one came within range, Bane feinted by flicking one dagger to the side and then exploded a high side kick up under the man's chin that broke his neck instantly. Before that body hit the carpet, the Dire Wolf lunged like a fencer, swinging his arms inward to drive both blades into the man's sides, rupturing the kidneys. It took the second guard a few seconds of agony to expire.
Swerving back toward the motionless Ayesha, Bane said, "You're dealing with the real thing now."
She threw that malevolent gesture at him but it produced no effect on this enemy. Those knives' blades were of silver which had been ensorcelled by the Eldarin themselves ages ago. Few spells would not be disrupted by them, few creatures of the night could survive their edges. Ayesha may not have known this, but she saw her blast did no harm to the ominous warrior who was edging toward her.
Still not raising his voice, Bane moved closer. "I want you to revive Cindy."
"Stay thy hand and stand thy ground," Ayesha ordered. "The mind-reader need not die by my ill-will. Her slumber is but to ensure thou will lead me where I wish to go."
"Make it clear already, what do you want?"
"Somewhere in your land burns the other Blue Flame of Life. My own Source in Kor has flickered and grown dim. Bring me to the second Flame and your woman will awaken as though she only napped peacefully."
IV.
For the longest twenty seconds of his life, Jeremy Bane locked eyes with the barely visible features of the woman who stood before him. Then, sudden as a light switch being flipped, he thought he understood. Still holding the silver bladed daggers, he knelt beside Cindy and was reassured to see her breathing. Even as he watched, she stirred slightly and her left knee drew up to a more stable position without her conscious mind guiding it.
"I will have thine answer now," commanded Ayesha, still holding up her gloved hand in a threatening way.
"Oh, you'll have more answers than you like," Bane replied. "I need to give you some information. In the past two years, my partner and I have tangled with seven legendary figures. Achilles. Gilgamesh. Prospero from THE TEMPEST, along with his stooges Ariel and Caliban. Aladdin. Beowulf."
For the first time since being defied, Ayesha's imperious tone weakened noticeably. "I am well versed in the classics, of course. I have read Homer in the original Greek. What has all this to do with me?"
Rising but staying protectively over the oblivious Cindy, the Dire Wolf said, "That's one half of the puzzle. Your Highness, if you like to be called that. The other part is a mystic cult called the Preincarnators. I've been fighting them for more than ten years. Their leader is a sorcerer named Leopold Vidimar. He mastered an old Darthan spell which transforms a person into a replica of an ancestor of theirs, but it leaves most of the modern cult member's mind intact. They've been an incredible nuisance to deal with."
Ayesha lowered herself back to her seat, less majestic than before. She dropped her hands into her lap, but did not speak.
"Starting to stir some memories, huh?" snapped Bane. "It gets worse, believe me. Recently, Vidimar extended the Preincarnation spell. Don't ask me how, I'm no warlock, but now he can turn his followers into a sort of idealized form of a person they believe in. This doesn't have to be anyone who actually existed, just someone who is clear in the modern cultist's mind. Is this starting to sink in, She Who Must Be Obeyed?"
"This is mere folly thee speak," Ayesha whispered. "I will hear no more."
"You wish," Bane snorted. He brought the silver blades closer to each other, the metal surfaces shining as if reflecting spotlights. "I think you're beginning to understand. There never was a real Achilles or Gilgamesh, they're legends. Shakespeare created Prospero when he wrote THE TEMPEST. The Preincarnation spell still works on them. And now I remember a few details I only heard once. There was a writer called Haggard, H Rider Haggard I think, back in the 1800s. He wrote adventure stories. One of them was titled SHE, it was about an immortal witch who ruled an African kingdom."
"Stop, thou hast spoken what is forbidden."
The Dire Wolf had a predatory smile on his face, his mouth turning up while his eyes remained cold and angry. "All coming back to you, huh? A few times, I heard someone refer to his wife as 'she who must be obeyed,' and when I asked him what it meant, that's what he told me. I never read the book. That doesn't matter. You're not the real Ayesha, there was no such person. You're a Preincarnator who only thinks she's Ayesha. Get it? Admit it to yourself!"
One slim hand faltered as it reached up to touch the veil. "If I but lift this and reveal my visage, my beauty is so great that thou will be forever my love thrall and grovel at my feet."
"Oh, is that in the book too? I wouldn't know. Go ahead, Your Highness, I don't think it'll work." He was almost within reach of the hidden figure who sat before him. "Now, I want you to try and take in the whole charade. A recording is not the orchestra. A photograph isn't the object it shows. And you are not Ayesha!"
"Stop, oh stop I bid thee!" The woman's voice broke. Bane swept in toward her and his arms flashed in and then back out. Blood from the two dead bodyguards was left smeared across Ayesha's robe from the daggers but the material was not slit and she was not physically harmed. As the ensorcelled blades slid mystically through her body, gralic force shimmered like a heat wave. She gasped and fell back, arms dropping to her sides and her head drooping forward.
"Yeah, I thought so." Bane callously cleaned his blades on her robe before sheathing them. The Preincarnators never brought the police in on anything, but if they did this time, let her explain why she had two corpses in her suite and their blood all over her. He saw that Ayesha had shrunk down considerably in height and had thickened around the middle. The Dire Wolf tugged out the golden tiara and yanked the veil away to reveal a middle-aged woman with wavy dark hair and saturnine features, deeply unconscious.
Behind him, he heard Cindy moan and then her voice grumbling, "Now what? What am I doing on the floor?" He whirled and helped her up to her feet, hugging her more tightly than necessary.
"I guess I missed the excitement?" she ventured.
6/25/2020
4/6-4/9/1998
I.
Inside the front hall of their headquarters building, Cindy Brunner checked her appearance again in the full length mirror that stood by the coat rack. It was not like her to do this, and she normally skipped make-up but today had applied some blush to lessen her freckles and a little mascara to blonde eyelashes that otherwise were light enough to need some emphasis. Only an inch over five feet tall, trim as any gymnast, the telepath was wearing a cream-colored blouse with a scoop neckline, a snug black skirt and shoes with reasonable heels. She had also added a fine-linked gold chain necklace and stud earrings. Reaching to the rack, she tugged on a short-waisted black jacket and adjusted it.
Standing behind her with arms folded, Jeremy Bane looked the same as he always did. At six feet and one hundred and seventy pounds, he was wiry and lean; the all-black outfit of slacks, turtleneck and sport jacket only emphasized this. In a narrow feral face under short black hair, the Dire Wolf's infamous pale grey eyes stood out as vividly as ever. At the moment, though, those eyes held rare affection and amusement.
"Cin, I've told you before you're naturally beautiful, haven't I?"
"Hhh? Oh, sure, but it's always nice to hear it again." She swung around and grinned at his quizzical expression. "I don't know why I'm fretting like this. I HAVE heard wild gossip about this Miss Ayesha.
She breezed into town from nowhere and immediately rented a penthouse that millionaires can't afford. She seems to travel with two dozen servants, no one knows much about her, and --get this-- she's always veiled. No one knows what she looks like."
Bane made a scoffing noise. "She must have a passport or visa. Otherwise, she couldn't be staying openly in the country."
"Well, yeah. I'm sure some officials have seen her photo. But it's funny how her face is a mystery."
Moving over to lightly place his hands on her narrow shoulders, Bane kissed Cindy on the forehead. "Don't want to smudge your lipstick."
She reached up to squeeze his hands, continuing her train of thought. "And then yesterday, her secretary, a guy named Basim, asked to make an appointment with us. Well, with you."
"Still a couple of minutes before ten," the Dire Wolf said after glancing over at the wall clock. "This could be anything, Cin. Midnight War stuff, a client with criminal trouble for our agency, maybe even some espionage back-stabbing from the Mandate or INTERCEPT. I don't remember a woman named Ayesha."
Before the blonde telepath could respond, the doorbell rang. Bane took a long stride over to the door and pressed a button on a wooden wall panel. The street door opened as he did this, and he said, "Please step into the foyer, we'll be with you in a second."
As Cindy watched from beside him, Bane swung open the panel to reveal a monitor screen and a complex instrument panel. The screen lit up to read off a series of words and numbers in green. Anyone standing in the foyer of that building was scanned by Trom sensors more sophisticated than any CAT scans or MRIs in use.
"No ID from the NYPD or the FBI, nothing from the intelligence agencies identifying him. Normal Human male, forty-eight to fifty years old, North African DNA, blood pressure and heartbeat all within normal range..." she read off.
"No gun, no chemical signature of poisons or explosives," the Dire Wolf continued for her. "But look at that strapped to the small of his back. Steel dagger, blade four and a half inches long. He can reach back under his coat and grab the hilt easily enough."
Cindy shrugged. "I say we let him bring it in. Otherwise we have to explain how we know about it. And we're both on the alert. Not to mention the flexible armor under our clothes."
"Fair enough." Bane closed the door and stepped forward to swing open the inner door. "Good morning, Mr Basim. I'm Jeremy Bane and this is my partner Cindy Brunner."
A short wiry man in a tailored tan suit shook their hands gravely in turn. He had the dark skin, hawklike nose and sunken cheeks of an Egyptian but he looked weary and older than his age would indicate. "I am pleased to meet with you both. The car awaits, if you will join me?"
"Oh, we're going somewhere?" asked Cindy.
"Naturally. Miss Ayesha wishes to receive you. She commands I bring you there."
"She commands...? Well, okay." The little telepath raised an eyebrow at Bane. "We're ready to go visit Miss Ayesha, aren't we?"
"No problem." The Dire Wolf gestured for Basim to step back out onto the concrete steps leading down to the sidewalk, while he and Cindy followed. As the doors closed behind them, buzzes and clicks indicated the security alarms had armed themselves.
Double parked on East 38th Street was a black limousine gleaming as if it had been waxed while they stood there. Basim held the rear door for Bane and Cindy, then climbed into the front passenger seat himself. The car rolled smoothly forward with the silence of a well-tuned motor.
Leaning back against the elegant beige leather interior, Jeremy Bane said, "Some information telling us what this is all about?"
"We are but humble servants of our great mistress," came the reply from the front. "When She commands, the wise obey."
II.
The Fortunato Hotel complex took up nearly all of a city block in the West 80s by Fifth Avenue. Its garage was two levels below the street, and the four of them rode up in one of a bank of private elevators that were reserved for the most elite guests. The silent ride was not uncomfortable so much as unpromising. With a ding, the doors slid open to reveal a corridor where two huge men in formal wear stood waiting for them.
These were imposing men, big enough to have played pro football, with the deep brown skin and hooked noses of Danarakans. Their ferocious scowls were not feigned, Bane decided, but showed real anger and desire to hurt. When they bowed in greeting, it was a reluctant forward movement that barely inclined their upper bodies an inch and their hostile eyes never left the newcomers.
"You have been expected and will be admitted," said the older of the two, a man easy to identify by the thin white scar running down across him to forehead to exit through his left eyebrow. "It is known that you are armed but our orders are to permit this." He sounded unbearably disgusted at the situation.
"Not for us to question the orders of She who commands our loyalty," grumbled the other. As the driver inclined his head politely and then descended back in the elevator, Basim and the two intimidators down a long hallway air-conditioned to the point of being chilly. They stepped before a pair of elaborately carved ebony doors trimmed with gold asterisks. Basim took the handles of the doors, then hesitated. He glanced at the two guards before saying, "Please. Allow some advice to be offered. I know something of you two, that you are Tel Shai knights and have fought in the Midnight War for years. But tread softly. Speak respectfully. You are placing your heads in the lioness' jaws."
"That will be enough of that, little brother," said the older guard. "Proceed."
Bane and Cindy were led into a high-cielinged room illuminated by huge windows overlooking the treetops of Central Park. Marble counters and solid mahogany furniture, deep plush carpeting of an off-white inlaid with the same asterisks on the doors added to an overwhelming first impression. The air was scented noticeably but not heavily with lilacs. Two matching silver cages hanging from the ceiling held silent African Grey parrots.
But all attention was drawn irresistably to a curtained dais at the far end of the palatial room. An elaborate framework of dark wood supported hanging translucent silk through a form could be dimly discerned stirring within at their approach.
Promptly, the hulking guards and Basim dropped their knees and pressed their foreheads to the carpeting in front of the dais. Bane and Cindy held back, waiting and watching.
The most mellow, refined woman's voice imaginable purred, "Thee may rise, my children. Allow our guests to approach the royal presence."
As the dreadfully nervous men hastened to step aside and Basim retreated into another room, Bane and Cindy moved up to where they had bowed.
"Please forgive our barbarian manners," the little telepath ventured to say. "We mean no disrepect."
"No offense is taken," came that gentle voice. "Man with iron eyes. Thou art the Dire Wolf, slayer of tyrants and bandits, hunter of the children of the night. And you, lass, are one who tells what thoughts run through others' minds. Is this not so?"
"It is," Cindy answered for both of them.
"Know thee that thou standst in the presence of the Queen of Kor. For more than two thousand years have I drawn breath, grown wise and strong and perilous to behold. I am Ayesha, She Who Must Be Obeyed."
III.
A tingling sensation in Bane's head left him the thought that this speech didn't mean anything to Cindy. Her telepathy did not transmit words or complex sequences but rather was based on images, feelings and reactions. Most people who experienced telepathic contact explained it as like remembering something you heard someone say, rather than hearing them say it at the moment.
As for the Dire Wolf, he didn't recall any place called 'Kor,' or anyone named Ayesha. Maybe if he had time to think about it. Obviously, this woman or her backers had vast amounts of money and influence to throw around. And he was certain from their body language and pupil dilations that the serving men were honestly terrified about the concealed woman. Bane decided to go along with the situation for the moment.
"So, what is it you wanted to talk with us about?" he asked, much more tactful than his usual blunt manner would begin a conversation.
"What dost thou know of the Flame of Life, Dire Wolf?"
Bane didn't hesitant. "Never heard of it. Cin?"
"Me neither," his partner said. "Unless it's a metaphor for being alive or for love or something. Literally, 'the Flame of Life?' I don't know."
"That is unexpected," said the pleasant voice. "Seat thyselves on that sofa. I shall emerge to better parley with thee."
Stopping himself before he said something about not having to take orders, Jeremy Bane headed over to a long white sofa covered with soft cotton which was dotted with the same tiny asterisks he was noticing everywhere. Cindy sat herself next to him, crossing her ankles demurely and gave him a wry smile. She seemed more amused at all the mystery than anything else.
The curtains over the dais swept apart by some silent mechanism. A tall figure wrapped in a winding robe of white linen which covered her from neck to floor emerged. Ayesha was nearly six feet tall, regal and substantial rather than svelte, with solid breasts and hips. Her face was completely hidden behind an opaque white veil suspended from a golden tiara. Even her hands were within gloves. Not a bit of skin could be seen. She lowered herself with dignity onto a high backed chair that became a throne by her presence.
"I was informed that you two Americans were knowledgeable about the occult, that thee ken much of the secret history of this world. Yet thy faces betray that my name and the name of Kor mean nothing to you. How is this?"
"There's a lot of area to cover in the Midnight War," Bane answered.
"We don't mean to offend," Cindy quickly interjected. "No one knows everything of value. Will you enlighten us?"
"It is naught, it is naught. When this Western continent still groaned under glaciers a mile deep, Kor was a thriving empire in Eastern Africa, below where Kenya stands today. Its people drew vitality and stamina from a manifestation of the very force which animates the Earth... the Blue Flame of Life. They dared not approach it too closely, merely being in its vicinity was enough to grant them greater strength and resolve than common Humans might know."
As Ayesha paused and waited for their reactions, Cindy took it upon herself to be the diplomatic member of the team. "We would hear more, if you wish to tell us."
A low throaty chuckle came from beneath the veil. "I myself was born in Egypt, three hundred years before the time of the one thee call The Christ. I was the only daughter of a wizard and an oracle. Seeking the deepest wisdom, I made my way to Kor and became the disciple of the ancient sorcerer who stood meditating before the Flame of Life. When he had no more to teach me, I slew him using his own art and dared to bathe in the Blue Flame as no mortal had ever done."
"You killed your own teacher?" Bane asked.
"Is that reproach in thine voice? Better that thee do not seek to judge one such as myself. I became immortal, immune to disease or weariness, and I established myself as the Queen of Kor and ruled well. One of my first acts was to have my subjects carve an eighty foot sculpture on the side of a basalt mountain on the edge of my domain... the scowling face of a bearded black man, to warn away intruders."
"I never heard of any of this," interrupted the Dire Wolf. "Is that giant stone head still there? Does Kor still exist?"
"Thou are not given leave to ask me questions," retorted Ayesha, with an edge sharpening her former tone. "Hold thy tongue and listen with reverence."
"Go ahead, let's hear it."
"Shall you tell me when to speak, now?" The hidden woman rose angrily to her feet, holding up open hands with the fingers clawed. "Men have been skinned for less."
"Forgive us, we do not know your ways..." Cindy began.
Ayesha thrust out an open hand, palm forward. No visible blast was emitted. Cindy sighed and slid off the couch, and Bane caught her before she reached the floor. Instantly, his fingers pressed against her wrist and found a strong steady pulse. He saw her chest rise with a normal breath.
"She need not die," Ayesha said.
Jeremy Bane let Cindy stretch out on the floor. He straightened up and swung around to face their hostess. Something in his low even voice was more menacing than the growl of a real wolf, "What did you do to her?"
"I will daze thee in the same manner with but a look."
"You can try!" The Dire Wolf crossed his arms in front of himself and straightened them out. From the sheaths under his sleeves, he had drawn the silver bladed daggers. Their blades gleamed with a cold clear light in the presence of hostile magick. "I don't make threats."
"Umhair, Sharif, attend me," Ayesha called.
Coldly furious as he had seldom allowed himself to be, Bane allowed the two massive guards to approach him. When the nearer one came within range, Bane feinted by flicking one dagger to the side and then exploded a high side kick up under the man's chin that broke his neck instantly. Before that body hit the carpet, the Dire Wolf lunged like a fencer, swinging his arms inward to drive both blades into the man's sides, rupturing the kidneys. It took the second guard a few seconds of agony to expire.
Swerving back toward the motionless Ayesha, Bane said, "You're dealing with the real thing now."
She threw that malevolent gesture at him but it produced no effect on this enemy. Those knives' blades were of silver which had been ensorcelled by the Eldarin themselves ages ago. Few spells would not be disrupted by them, few creatures of the night could survive their edges. Ayesha may not have known this, but she saw her blast did no harm to the ominous warrior who was edging toward her.
Still not raising his voice, Bane moved closer. "I want you to revive Cindy."
"Stay thy hand and stand thy ground," Ayesha ordered. "The mind-reader need not die by my ill-will. Her slumber is but to ensure thou will lead me where I wish to go."
"Make it clear already, what do you want?"
"Somewhere in your land burns the other Blue Flame of Life. My own Source in Kor has flickered and grown dim. Bring me to the second Flame and your woman will awaken as though she only napped peacefully."
IV.
For the longest twenty seconds of his life, Jeremy Bane locked eyes with the barely visible features of the woman who stood before him. Then, sudden as a light switch being flipped, he thought he understood. Still holding the silver bladed daggers, he knelt beside Cindy and was reassured to see her breathing. Even as he watched, she stirred slightly and her left knee drew up to a more stable position without her conscious mind guiding it.
"I will have thine answer now," commanded Ayesha, still holding up her gloved hand in a threatening way.
"Oh, you'll have more answers than you like," Bane replied. "I need to give you some information. In the past two years, my partner and I have tangled with seven legendary figures. Achilles. Gilgamesh. Prospero from THE TEMPEST, along with his stooges Ariel and Caliban. Aladdin. Beowulf."
For the first time since being defied, Ayesha's imperious tone weakened noticeably. "I am well versed in the classics, of course. I have read Homer in the original Greek. What has all this to do with me?"
Rising but staying protectively over the oblivious Cindy, the Dire Wolf said, "That's one half of the puzzle. Your Highness, if you like to be called that. The other part is a mystic cult called the Preincarnators. I've been fighting them for more than ten years. Their leader is a sorcerer named Leopold Vidimar. He mastered an old Darthan spell which transforms a person into a replica of an ancestor of theirs, but it leaves most of the modern cult member's mind intact. They've been an incredible nuisance to deal with."
Ayesha lowered herself back to her seat, less majestic than before. She dropped her hands into her lap, but did not speak.
"Starting to stir some memories, huh?" snapped Bane. "It gets worse, believe me. Recently, Vidimar extended the Preincarnation spell. Don't ask me how, I'm no warlock, but now he can turn his followers into a sort of idealized form of a person they believe in. This doesn't have to be anyone who actually existed, just someone who is clear in the modern cultist's mind. Is this starting to sink in, She Who Must Be Obeyed?"
"This is mere folly thee speak," Ayesha whispered. "I will hear no more."
"You wish," Bane snorted. He brought the silver blades closer to each other, the metal surfaces shining as if reflecting spotlights. "I think you're beginning to understand. There never was a real Achilles or Gilgamesh, they're legends. Shakespeare created Prospero when he wrote THE TEMPEST. The Preincarnation spell still works on them. And now I remember a few details I only heard once. There was a writer called Haggard, H Rider Haggard I think, back in the 1800s. He wrote adventure stories. One of them was titled SHE, it was about an immortal witch who ruled an African kingdom."
"Stop, thou hast spoken what is forbidden."
The Dire Wolf had a predatory smile on his face, his mouth turning up while his eyes remained cold and angry. "All coming back to you, huh? A few times, I heard someone refer to his wife as 'she who must be obeyed,' and when I asked him what it meant, that's what he told me. I never read the book. That doesn't matter. You're not the real Ayesha, there was no such person. You're a Preincarnator who only thinks she's Ayesha. Get it? Admit it to yourself!"
One slim hand faltered as it reached up to touch the veil. "If I but lift this and reveal my visage, my beauty is so great that thou will be forever my love thrall and grovel at my feet."
"Oh, is that in the book too? I wouldn't know. Go ahead, Your Highness, I don't think it'll work." He was almost within reach of the hidden figure who sat before him. "Now, I want you to try and take in the whole charade. A recording is not the orchestra. A photograph isn't the object it shows. And you are not Ayesha!"
"Stop, oh stop I bid thee!" The woman's voice broke. Bane swept in toward her and his arms flashed in and then back out. Blood from the two dead bodyguards was left smeared across Ayesha's robe from the daggers but the material was not slit and she was not physically harmed. As the ensorcelled blades slid mystically through her body, gralic force shimmered like a heat wave. She gasped and fell back, arms dropping to her sides and her head drooping forward.
"Yeah, I thought so." Bane callously cleaned his blades on her robe before sheathing them. The Preincarnators never brought the police in on anything, but if they did this time, let her explain why she had two corpses in her suite and their blood all over her. He saw that Ayesha had shrunk down considerably in height and had thickened around the middle. The Dire Wolf tugged out the golden tiara and yanked the veil away to reveal a middle-aged woman with wavy dark hair and saturnine features, deeply unconscious.
Behind him, he heard Cindy moan and then her voice grumbling, "Now what? What am I doing on the floor?" He whirled and helped her up to her feet, hugging her more tightly than necessary.
"I guess I missed the excitement?" she ventured.
6/25/2020