The Psychonaut: Book 1 in the Psychonaut Trilogy

by Adams, Tom

  Celestia traveled with Albany and Merrick. Albany didn’t ask permission to drive, which suited Merrick because he wanted to attend to Celestia. Her scalp bled again and he was anxious to get her medical attention before too long. He gave her some stronger painkillers, then encouraged her to get some sleep with her head on his lap.

  “You know which way Mike and Rovach are taking?” he said to Albany.

  “They’re going to cross the border to Switzerland further north than us. We’ll attract less attention if we’re in two different vehicles taking separate routes.”

  “Where will we meet up?”

  “There’s a small village called Friseneit in the region of Bosingen. The Hierophants have an outpost there.”

  “They won’t be expecting us.”

  “That’s right. You need to call Jason, see if he can oil the wheels for us.”

  Merrick did just that. At first, Jason wasn’t too pleased he’d woken him up so early, but on hearing of Farrago’s elimination, his mood lifted somewhat. He assured Merrick he’d alert the Swiss branch of Hierophants to their impending arrival, and warned him to keep a careful lookout—especially at the border.

  “Any developments with the Ukurum at your end?” he asked Jason.

  “They’ve been abroad and active. Shamon may be licking his wounds, but I think our position here is untenable. If we had the strength of numbers we could strike while he’s on the back foot, only there’s no telling what arsenal he’s got down in his catacombs.”

  Merrick finished the call and relayed the information to Albany. Celestia stirred on his lap.

  “How’s sleeping beauty?” he said.

  “I can sense hostile forces,” she replied. Where are we?”

  “Near the border. Are they close?”

  “Up on the road ahead, a mile from the border post.”

  Albany pulled the car over at Merrick’s instruction while he called Mike’s mobile.

  Rovach picked up. “Trouble up ahead for us,” Merrick said. “We’re going to take a detour.” There was a crackle on the phone as Mike took it off Rovach.

  “That bastard Rococo will have set up roadblocks. The group Celestia detected are no doubt a welcome party for us. We’re close to the Swiss border ourselves, so I’m going to send Rovach up ahead to reconnoiter.”

  “That’s gonna take some time.”

  “He’s relieved a cyclist of his means of transport.”

  Merrick groaned. “Is he still in one piece?”

  “The cyclist? He’d nipped off for a Jimmy riddle in the bushes. No blows were exchanged.

  “Thank God for that.”

  Mike gave Merrick his location and they agreed to meet up in half an hour.

  Mike’s car occupied a lay-by on a lonely winding track of a road, halfway up a steep mountain pass. The rain siled down in great sheets so they all piled into Mike’s car to thrash out a plan of action. They didn’t have long to wait for Rovach’s return. He joined them in the car, water running off his coat in miniature rivers.

  “The border’s about two miles away,” he said. I saw one police car heading away from the border post, but apart from that—nothing suspicious.”

  “It might not look suspicious,” Albany said, “but you never know. I take it you were in blend mode?”

  “Of course.”

  “Mike craned his neck round the front headrest. “What do reckon Merrick?”

  “I think we could do with a double-check. Celestia, are you up to a mind-meld?”

  “My head, il martèle. We need to get closer.”

  “Right, let’s do that. Albany, lead the way. We’ll let you know when we’re close enough.”

  They reached the highest point of the pass, then descended the other side. Merrick and Celestia linked minds and indicated for Albany to stop a hundred yards later. They pulled over in a passing place with Mike close up behind. They would have to move on should the traffic build up.

  Merrick had a static-infused picture of the border post, but it lacked the usual resolution of their previous melds. Celestia’s injury had taken its toll and Merrick now knew the extent of the wound’s impact.

  Gradual through-flow of traffic, he sent.

  Oui, and a typical detail of personnel for such a border crossing.

  True. I think ... wait, that figure in front of the barrier. Do you sense his signature?

  Je pense ... Oui—his intent is malign. I didn’t pick it up at first as his shield was up. It’s as if something is bursting to get out, leaking energy into the air. This Ukurum is powerful—and well disguised.

  Merrick’s mobile buzzed. He allowed their minds to retreat. It was Mike.

  “Is it safe to proceed?”

  “There’s an Ukurum up ahead,” Merrick said.

  “Only one? We can handle him, surely?”

  “I don’t know. He’s dressed as a guard and armed. If we put up resistance, his comrades are going to back him up. Plus, he’s got a psychic signature the size of a Zeppelin.”

  “I don’t know exactly what you mean but it doesn’t sound good. Look, we’re going to have to make a decision. We could keep trying different crossing points and still encounter a problem at least this size. I’ve been listening to the radio and our raid on Farrago’s offices has made national news. The police have even issued pictures of you and me, Merrick. If we don’t cross the border soon they’re going to close in. Even with Rovach’s disguises and your face changed, I don’t fancy our chances—we look too suspicious.

  “I say we risk it, then,” Merrick said. “We need to get Celestia medical help, ASAP.”

  Mike spoke briefly to Albany and they came to an agreed attack plan. Ten minutes later, they were edging towards the border post in a short line of traffic. Merrick could see the Ukurum standing with a machine gun at the ready. He looked nondescript, wearing the usual Guardia police uniform, but he scanned each car as it drew close, ducking down to cast his eye over every occupant. Sweat dripped down from Merrick’s armpits.

  “Kill the heating on the windows,” he instructed.

  “I can hardly see out as it is,” Albany replied. “The system in this car is piss-poor.”

  “Do it anyway. If we can’t see out then maybe he can’t see in.”

  “Okay, but with Celestia out of action, my psychic energy must be like a beacon. I can’t throw up a shield like you can.”

  Merrick looked over at Celestia. Her eyes were closed and her breathing shallow. The sight of her vulnerable like this strengthened his determination.

  There was only one car in front now, and Merrick was close enough to the Ukurum to read his thoughts—even through the glass of the window. It wasn’t a pleasant experience. Whatever churned in the depths of the Ukurum’s brain was like psychic sewage. Merrick shrugged off his revulsion and pushed a little harder, careful not to signal his probing.

  Through the window’s condensation he could see the man raising his weapon, detect his raised cortisol and adrenaline. “Shit, he’s clocked us.”

  Before either he or Albany could react, he saw the blurred outline of the Ukurum double over and his weapon drop. Rovach had come good again. They had traded off illusory disguises in favour of Rovach using his energy on camouflaged stealth. He couldn’t do both but it had been a good call.

  They’d let the car ahead through, distracting the other two guards from the tussle behind.

  “Give it some gas, Albany. We need to make a break for it.”

  Tyres shrieked as Albany floored the accelerator and the Fiat leaped forward. It clipped the bumper of the car in front as he swerved round it. Merrick looked back but the dense condensation on the rear screen obscured his vision. He rubbed away at it furiously with his sleeve, then took another look. It was hard to make out, but the barrier was down and Mike wasn’t following.

  “Pull up,” he shouted. “They haven’t made it through.”

  He burst out of the car and sprinted back towards the guard station. He saw the tw
o border guards coming to the aid of the Ukurum who struggled with a now visible Rovach. As Merrick closed in, Mike appeared from the passenger side of the car. He leaped on to the bonnet and threw himself into the melee, disarming one of the guards.

  Merrick vaulted the barrier and catapulted himself at the nearest guard. They both hit the ground hard but Merrick landed on top. His combat skills were barely above those of a novice, but he delivered two effective head-blows to the shocked man, dazing him long enough to wrest the machine gun from his weakened grip.

  While Mike subdued his opponent, Rovach wasn’t faring as well against the Ukurum. The man had the strength of a bull elephant and, as Merrick watched, he saw the guard’s clothes begin to smoulder, as if a fire kindled within.

  Merrick raised the machine gun but couldn’t figure out how to operate it. He cursed himself that he hadn’t taken some simple firearms training from Mike. Instead, he raised the butt of the weapon and brought it down on the Ukurum’s head, which now turnede orange and black from the heat generated within the thing’s body.

  The blow didn’t even slow the Ukurum down. Both he and Mike pummelled their opponent time and again, but the Ukurum’s wall of heat drove them back.

  “Fucking hell,” cried Merrick, “what is this?”

  Rovach had his arm round the creature’s neck but his sleeves and collar were afire.

  He must be in agony, Merrick thought.

  He heard the screech of breaks and glimpsed the Fiat again.

  “Get out of here,” Rovach said in a pain-wracked voice. We cannot defeat the Pyronaut ... fly before it consumes us all.”

  Merrick stood, paralysed with indecision as the smell of burning flesh filled the air and Rovach screamed with a voice that would haunt Merrick the rest of his days.

  “Get in the car,” Albany shouted.

  Mike grabbed Merrick and dragged him towards the open rear door.

  “We can’t leave him,” Merrick said.

  Mike pulled him all the harder. “It’s too late. Rovach’s buying us time. Let’s use it.”

  The decision was sealed when they looked back and saw Rovach and the Ukurum swallowed in a plume of violet and orange flame.

  They bundled into the car as Albany gunned the engine, wheels spinning before they gained purchase on the tarmac.

  Merrick looked out the rear window and saw a wall of fire heading towards them. He uttered an involuntary cry and ducked down. The screen shattered as a tongue of white hot flame sucked the air out of the car. He tried to breathe in, but the extreme heat scorched his lungs.

  He saw diagonal stripes cross his vision, and knew unconsciousness or worse was to follow. Then, as suddenly as it had assaulted the car, the flame drew back. Air rushed in to fill the vacuum and Merrick drew its sweet coolness into his parched lungs.

  He’d covered Celestia’s body with his own and hoped it was enough to protect her from the Ukurum’s flare. As he pulled her up, he noticed she was completely unconscious, her dressing soaked with blood again. Mike patted his head to extinguish a patch of smouldering hair, but otherwise he looked in good shape.

  “What the fuck did we just see?” Mike said.

  “Fuck knows. But I think we escaped within an inch of our lives.”

  “All except Rovach,” Albany said.

  At the mention of his name, the illusionist’s sacrifice hit Merrick like a steam train. He didn’t know if he could bare the loss of any more companions, and now Celestia’s life looked like it was hanging in the balance.

  Mike leaned over and checked Celestia’s pulse. “She’s still with us, mate.”

  Merrick’s face must have looked bereft of all emotion because his friend turned Merrick’s head towards him. “Look at me,” he said. “We’re a man down, but we’re still alive. Rovach gave us the time we needed to get away. Now, we need to put it behind us and press on. His death won’t mean anything unless we take the battle back to the Ukurum. Once we’ve crushed their faces in the dust, we’ll see it was a price worth paying.”

  Merrick looked back, his face stony. “I’m not sure I believe that anymore.”

  Chapter 31

  Mystery

  Merrick opened his eyes to disorienting darkness, complete except for a thin sliver of light shafting through a gap in the curtains of his room. It took a few seconds to recall where he was. Paraganet House. Recent events tumbled to the front of his memory in a random order—Celestia wounded ... Rovach dead ... the border post ... Farrago eliminated ... a headlong flight across Italy and Switzerland ... sanctuary at Friseneit ... a clandestine journey through the Hierophant corridor.

  He sat up, rubbed his eyes and coughed, freeing his throat of more than the usual morning phlegm. He reeked of smoke and sweat.

  Last time he’d lain in this bed, Lotus had been with him. Her defection still burrowed an ever widening wormhole in his soul.

  Have I given up on her too easily?

  Without his psychonautic talent, he might have carried the illusion of her possible return a little longer. But he had seen inside her mind, tasted the irrevocable blackness she had embraced. She was lost, and would ultimately face the consequences of her decisions. He hoped he would not be the one to deliver those consequences.

  He swung his aching limbs out of bed and made his way to the shower room, checking his watch on the way. It was 6 am. Already he heard stirrings in the house; footsteps in the passage beyond his door, boots crunching gravel outside the house, the sound of antiquated central heating as it pumped water through the pipes.

  He showered quickly, put on spare clothes and went looking for Karapetian. He’d not had the energy or presence of mind to cope with an audience the previous night, and besides, the Hierophant leader was in a war council meeting. But now, he was impatient to meet with him. There was much to discuss.

  As he passed Celestia’s room, he opened his third eye. She was closed off from him, not actively. She slept, that was all. This put his mind at ease. The Hierophants’ medical and magickal skill had identified a hairline crack in her skull and a severe concussion. They’d done a good job.

  Upon reaching the end of the passage, a door opened and Albany poked his head out. “I thought I heard someone. Are you meeting with Karapetian?”

  “If I can find him.”

  “Mind if I tag along?”

  On the way through the Central Hall they passed a variety of adepts. Some meditated, some practiced combat, while others exercised a range of skills from telekinesis to the formation of complex illusions. Merrick scanned the unguarded minds of those closest to him, and from these he sensed they knew who he was. There was even a modicum of respect given off like the delicate aroma of incense. He thought for a moment on the parallel with ancient rituals. It was easy to see how a god, if such existed, might thrive on this kind of devotion. Such vanity was a distraction—especially for a god who’s power was now constrained.

  “Karapetian used to take an early breakfast in the sun room,” Albany said. My guess is we’ll find him there.

  Albany’s instincts were accurate. Outside the door to the sun room, two Hierophants stood guard, each armed with a handgun on display.

  “Security’s tightened up since I was last here,” Merrick said.

  “An escalated state of alert,” Albany replied.

  They weren’t challenged by the guards. The more senior of the two told them they were expected and opened the door.

  Karapetian sat at a round, walnut table with Jason and two other unknown figures. The head Hierophant wiped his mouth with a napkin and stood to greet them, as did the two strangers. Jason, predictably, remained seated.

  “Merrick, Albany. Welcome back. Won’t you join us for breakfast?”

  Merrick put on his best smile. “It’s nice of you to offer, Lazlo. Don’t mind if I do. We’ve not eaten for days.”

  Albany kept silent, but his hooded expression left no doubt how welcome he felt in the presence of these men.

  As Merrick took a
seat he sent out a surreptitious probe to the four. He wasn’t surprised to find their minds closed. One of the strangers darted a look at him—not a coincidence.

  Karapetian ordered coffee and a full English breakfast for Merrick and Albany. An attendant noted the order and disappeared without a word.

  Karapetian placed his hands flat on the table. “Thank you for joining us gentlemen, I trust you’ve caught up on a little sleep. I’d like to start by offering an apology for your previous treatment. Albany, it appears we got it wrong about you and your allegiance. In hindsight we made a hasty judgement, and all I can say is—I’m sorry.”

  Albany played with his fork, turning it over a couple of times. “That’s very big of you, Lazlo. It would be small-minded of me not to accept your apology. It would also be foolish of me to forget.”

  Karapetian tilted his head and nodded, mouth down-turned. “I suppose that’s a reasonable stance to take. Needless to say, I’m heartened that your brother is free. He’s been an asset to us since your return—at least in some ways.”

  The attendant returned with a fresh pot of coffee and some toast. Albany helped himself to both.

  “Merrick, my apologies to you also. The British Museum incident took us all by surprise. I understand that you feel we betrayed your trust. All the harder to bear knowing that our Ms Hughes has thrown in her lot with the enemy. It must feel worse than a bereavement.”

  “Thanks for your sympathies, Lazlo” Merrick said. “Like Albany, I accept your apology—I think there’s more to unite us than to divide. We’ve got a common foe, and need to be as transparent as possible if we’re to remove Shamon’s threat.”

  All parties looked at each other. There was the sense of a fragile truce, of caveats unsaid; but Merrick only had his natural senses to go on. They would have to suffice.

  “Very good,” Karapetian said at last. “I better introduce you all to each other.” He opened his hand to the man on his left. “This is Blazej, Grand Master of the Black Hand. They are a Slavic order who recently formed a pact with ourselves. He has been instrumental in coordinating the amalgamation of personnel in the orders that have rallied to our cause.”