The Psychonaut: Book 1 in the Psychonaut Trilogy

by Adams, Tom

  With only four days to go, Merrick found himself with an hour to spare while waiting to re-admit another party of gateway travellers. When he wasn’t accompanying them, these were tense passages of time. As yet, their covert missions were not detected, but there was always the chance of a slip-up with so many personnel involved. To take his mind off matters he arranged to meet up with Arun in the gym while Celestia honed her projectile weaponry skills on the outside range. It struck him that he had almost zero combat ability. Perhaps he could learn something useful, even if it was rudimentary.

  The Vietnamese had regained his strength and stamina. An unexpected bonus was his remission from alcoholism. The enforced stay in the medical wing had removed temptation from his grasp and, with the help of Destain, he had successfully applied an abstinence regime. This wasn’t good news for everyone. Mike thought he’d regained a drinking partner, but when he turned up at Arun’s room with a bottle of vodka, he was met with a stern and resolute rebuttal. From then on, Mike referred to him as that bloody teetotaller.

  Merrick had changed into a loose-fitting, judo-style suit. After a quick warm-up he was facing Arun on the mat.

  “Let’s see what you’re made of,” Arun said. “Come at me as if you mean it.”

  He circled the Vietnamese, fainting in one direction, then following it with an erratic kick at Arun’s mid-section. Next thing he knew, he was on his back, winded and looking up at a spinning ceiling.

  Arun extended his prosthetic hand and helped him up. “You signal your attacks like a claxon,” he said. Here, your stance is all wrong too, let me show you.” Arun helped him adopt a traditional Vovinam posture and led him through two basic manoeuvres. After half an hour, Merrick was losing patience with his own inept attempts.

  “Come at me again,” said Arun, standing in a relaxed but defensive posture. This time, Merrick resolved to do the unexpected. He sliced the air with his hand and disappeared through the temporary gateway he created. The gateway closed again leaving Arun circling on the balls of his feet, trying to anticipate what he knew must follow.

  Ten seconds later, there was a crackle of energy and the smell of ozone in the air. Merrick dived at him through a virgin gateway formed behind his opponent. It was an impressive display, but Arun caught him mid-air, swung him head over tail then slammed him down on the floor with his knee pinning Merrick down.

  “Aaarghk!” was all Merrick could say as Arun pressed on his windpipe.

  “Sorry,” Arun said. “I was a bit over-zealous.” He released his hold on the Psychonaut. “Then again, it was you who pulled the fast one.”

  Merrick adjusted his tousled suit. “I thought I’d caught you napping,” he said, the disappointment on his face clear to see.

  Arun flexed his prosthetic arm. “You’ve improved the speed at which you create your gateways,” he said, “but I’ve seen faster reflexes on a sloth.”

  Merrick put his hands to his head. “It’s just no fucking use. I can’t learn martial arts in a couple of days, and with my hard Psychonautics a no-go zone, I’m as much use as tits on a fish.”

  Arun placed his hand on Merrick’s shoulder. “Not everyone is born to be a warrior,” he said, “but every man is capable of courage and greatness. “Refine your psychonautic skills. Make them count. Remember, no one in living memory can do what you do, and I’ve seen you demonstrate the bravery of a lion.”

  Merrick tried to take heart in Arun’s words but decided instead to sit on a bench and watch him instruct a mercenary in the art of the nun-chuk. Merrick watched the other groups practicing their skills in the training hall. As well as combat, he saw illusionists of various proficiencies weaving their mirages and disguises, thaumaturgists sending shock-waves to incapacitate opponents and others conjure fireballs and Mage-winds to great effect.

  After some time, Destain appeared at his side and sat down. “It seems our strength and effectiveness grows by the day,” he said.

  Merrick nodded. “Makes me glad we’re on this side of the conflict. I wouldn’t like to be on the receiving end of the punishment these guys are dolling out.”

  Destain wore a pensive frown. “And yet, the outcome of the battle ahead rests on more than military might or offensive magick charms.”

  “You’ve been having visions again?” Merrick asked.

  “Yes, I’m not getting much sleep.”

  “Tell me about them.”

  He took a deep breath in. “It’s the first vision I ever had when I became cognisant, about ten years ago. Since then, one vision has added to another, but the understanding has become, if anything, more clouded. My dreams, whether waking or asleep, reveal a great conflict between a dragon and a creature with nine heads.”

  “Sounds like something from the book of Revelation—sorry, I’m interrupting.”

  “The comparison is apt, although St. John alluded to a different time and a long-forgotten world order. I understand the man’s torment however. This Great War takes place in another land and between races unknown to mankind. My vision shows the denizens of earth going about their daily business wearing blindfolds, oblivious to the battle in another dimension.”

  “Do you know the outcome?”

  “As is my gift’s wont, it presents me with alternatives. They appear as three scrolls.” He pulled out a bottle of water, took a sip but kept his sightless gaze fixed on another horizon. “The first scroll shows the many-headed creature losing one of its heads. The remainder then bow before the dragon and swear fealty to it. There follows an age of darkness spanning many millennia.”

  “Mmm, cheery,” Merrick said. “Is the next scroll more optimistic?”

  Destain’s mouth curled into a faint smile. “More heartening, but also, more confusing. The dragon bites off three of the creature’s heads while a further head turns on another and devours it. However, the creature grows in strength and dwarfs the dragon.”

  “And the dragon is defeated?”

  “Not by the creature. The dragon has a pack of wolves that follow in its shadow. One of them strikes the dragon a mortal blow while the creature kills the others. The scroll finally tells of the dragon broken to pieces under the creature’s feet.”

  Merrick listened with greater attention now. He detected truth in what Destain revealed. But was it a truth that the seer had convinced himself of, or one that had credence beyond the man’s tortured mind?

  “The final scroll is the most fell of the three. The creature raises its heads to the sky and receives sustenance from the dark. It becomes all powerful, growing three more heads and overthrows the dragon. Once again the dragon is rent asunder, but it’s essence is absorbed by the creature to join with the darkness it has already received. The beast that rises up from that dreadful union becomes more fierce and hungry than the dragon ever was.” Rivulets of sweat fell from Destain’s face as he finished his prophecy. He drained the rest of the bottle’s contents and leaned back against the wall, spent.

  Merrick grasped him by the shoulders. “Are you okay?” he asked.

  After a moment or two, Destain became himself again. “I don’t think I’ll be truly at peace until one of the scroll’s portents comes to pass. Only the gods know if it will be the repose of the blessed or the damned.”

  “You see these visions often?”

  “Several times a day. The hour is near when these things will reach their fulfillment.”

  Merrick’s brow creased in thought. “Is it too obvious to suggest the identities of the dragon and the creature?”

  “They say that a child could understand the meaning of the prophecy, but it must be an enlightened child. I sometimes wished I’d never chosen the way of the blind man. If I’d known the price I’d have to pay ...”

  Albany approached. He took one look at his brother and saw the fear written on his face. “You’ve had the visions again?”

  “There is only one I see now. You must excuse me, both of you. I think I could do with some fresh air.”

  “I
’ll see you in the garden shortly,” Albany said and crouched next to Merrick.

  “He’s told you what he sees?” Merrick asked.

  “Yeah. To be honest I’m worried about his mental health. Locked up in Shamon’s lair for as long as he has would begin to twist anyone’s mind.”

  “Then you don’t think there’s any substance to his predictions?”

  “I have my doubts. But then Shamon seemed to take him seriously—otherwise he wouldn’t have kept him alive. Anyhow, I better go check on him.”

  “One thing before you go,” Merrick said. “He talked about choosing the way of the blind man. What did he mean?”

  Albany swallowed, then looked away. “Destain hasn’t been blind from birth. He received his gift—or curse, depending on which way you look at it—at the cost of his eyes.”

  “What? Someone took them out?”

  “No, he gouged them out himself.”

  ~~~

  Chapter 39

  Lock up the wolves

  Next morning, Merrick engaged in the most dangerous part of their preparations. He met with Celestia, Jason and a team of five others in the gateway cavern.

  Merrick looked at the cages the Hierophants had constructed. There were four in all, ten feet high and made of the same alloy used in Arun’s prosthetic arm.

  Jason was his usual stand-offish self. “Are you ready for this, Merrick?”

  “Yes and no,” he replied. “Are you sure we need more Simiata?”

  “It’s like I told you, they’re strong as bull-elephants and very teachable.”

  “That may be true, but we’ve only four days until the battle. There’s no time to make them compliant.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong. Our labs have perfected an electronic collar that provides a direct link to the master’s mind and will. Early tests on the Simiata we already captured have proved most effective.”

  Merrick shrugged and left Jason to his preparations. Besides Celestia and himself, the team consisted of Aislynn, Arun and Johnny, together with two other mercenaries. Johnny told them to gather round and gave a final briefing.

  “The command structure is this: Jason’s in charge of the whole operation and I’m acting as deputy. For those of you without a military background, that means you follow orders—to the letter. No exceptions.” He looked at Merrick, who nodded back at him. He continued. “Merrick and Celestia are playing a non-combat role. Their job is to locate the Simiata and warn us of danger. Based on previous experience, that shouldn’t be hard as the Simiata tend to home in on gifted individuals anyway. So, we need to protect Merrick and Celestia at all costs. The good news? Our firearms work on the other side. I know, because Merrick and I tested them. The bad news is we need to capture them alive.”

  Johnny handed over to Jason who outlined tactics for trapping the Simiata. In principle, it sounded foolproof. But, as Merrick had once read, nothing is foolproof to a sufficiently talented fool—and Jason fitted the bill. Merrick swallowed his opinion and made ready to access the gateway. The smell of sweat and anxiety permeated the air as he and Celestia walked towards the gateway. He had grown familiar with its oily, beckoning surface, but nothing would ever get him used to the sensations he felt as first his hand, then his arm and the rest of his whole body immersed itself in the vertical pool.

  On the other side, he led Celestia away from the building’s edge and held the gateway open for the rest to follow. Once assembled, Merrick and Celestia sent out a mental probe while the rest waited.

  After only a minute, they picked up the now familiar savage signature of the Simiata. “They’re coming,” Merrick said.

  Jason looked over the side of the building. “I can’t see anything yet, how many?”

  “Two,” Celestia said.

  “Excellent,” he replied. “Not too many at once. Take up your stations, and remember the drill.”

  Merrick could see through the mind-meld, a sight he’d hoped would never appear again in his lifetime. The Simiata, one with black fur and one with red, approached at great speed. They were at the bottom of the skyscraper within seconds. From the top of the building, Merrick, now occupying his body, watched as the two of them looked up and roared in anger.

  What do you think the story is behind these motherfuckers? he sent to Celestia.

  Jason said they’re sentinels. But what exactly they’re protecting, no one knows.

  The thought crossed Merrick’s mind that their presence here was putting the citizens lives in danger, but there wasn’t time to consider this now.

  “Get ready,” Jason said as they watched the duo climb and bound their way up the building. The mercenaries each had rifles raised while Jason carried a pole ending in a claw that gripped a large metal collar. Four more collars hung from his belt.

  “Mon Dieu,” Celestia said, “they are even larger than the one in the museum.”

  There wasn’t time for fear to take hold as the Simiata bounded over the roof edge and stood upright, bellowing and dripping saliva in a display of bestial fury.

  “Hold fire until I give the word,” Jason said. “Just a little closer and you’ll have a clear shot at their groin area—that’s where they’re vulnerable.

  Merrick, standing with Celestia behind the soldiers, contained the urge to release a mind bolt. He felt the power surge within, then quelled it, relieved to know he could still control its release. Once he turned on the tap, there was no way of shutting it off.

  “Fire,” Jason ordered. The crack of the mercenaries rifles sounded across the rooftop. Each fired three times then paused to assess the effect. Hypodermic darts hung from the creature’s pelts. Some had not found their target and bounced off the inch-thick skin, but most fired true. The red Simiata fell to its knees, the eyes glazing over, but the larger, black beast continued to lumber forward. The drug pumping through its arteries had only served to slow it down.

  “Fire again, you fools,” Jason shouted. “Give it everything you’ve got.”

  Johnny had a clear shot at the beast and fired another dart, but the other two shooters had to weave this way and that, to gain a line of sight.

  Merrick watched in horror as it staggered closer to Jason, who stood his ground with the pole held out in front of him. With a turn of speed that defied the beast’s drugged condition, it swung its arm, swatting Jason’s pole aside. It reached out with its other hand and picked him up, struggling and shouting out his ineffectual commands.

  “Oh fuck,” Merrick said, snapping out of his deja vu and moving forward. He grabbed a dart from Johnny’s belt and opened a crackling hole in the air. This caused the beast to pause and sniff, curious and wary. Merrick threw himself through the gap in reality and closed the gateway behind.

  With the beast distracted, Johnny and the mercenaries managed to loose two more darts that found their mark, yet the beast was still standing. It raised its head to the skies and uttered a cry loud enough to wake the dead, then fixed its eyes back on Jason. The Thaumaturgist had passed out, which would have been a small mercy if the Simiata had time to deliver the killing stroke. But it was then that another tear in reality appeared at the beast’s shoulder. Merrick appeared through it, landing on the ape-thing. He scrabbled for purchase, grabbing a handful of its fur while his other hand brought down the dart. He jammed it into the soft tissue of its mouth—an action that caused the Simiata to roar with pain again. Merrick was thrown to the ground as the beast writhed in torment. Then, as if someone had thrown a switch, it dropped the unconscious Jason, toppled forward onto the ground and lay still.

  ~~~

  Merrick watched the three, caged Simiata from his vantage point in the animal house. It had taken a team of twenty Hierophants and considerable application of magickal lore to move them from what was now called Sim-City, to Paraganet House. Destain tended to Merrick and Jason’s wounds while the Thaumaturgist practiced control techniques via the collars that circled the Simiatas’ necks.

  “You’re lucky there�
�s no internal damage,” Destain said to Jason.

  “Lucky? I feel like a tube of toothpaste that’s been squeezed once too often.”

  Once he’d finished with Jason, Destain smeared salve on Merrick’s bruises and put an ice pack on a twisted ankle he’d sustained in the melee.

  Merrick watched as Jason exerted his will over the larger of the red beasts. “Diablo looks like he’s coming round to your way of thinking,” he said.

  “Wish I could say the same for Ebony,” Jason replied. As if to prove a point, he switched the modules on a control pad wrapped round his wrist. The black Simiata’s muscles immediately tensed but there was no resultant movement, it remained seated in the corner of its cage. “It’s like breaking in a wild stallion, this one’s going to resist my coercive training to the uttermost.”

  “Why don’t you rest up for a while?” Merrick said, “you took quite a beating back there.”

  Jason switched off the control pad and looked at him. “Maybe you’re right. I’ll come back to it later.”

  Merrick rose and tried to put weight on his ankle. “This injury’s buggered me up for a day or two. Wish I knew how to fall properly like Arun. Anyway, mustn’t grumble. I’ve got another reconnaissance party to ship through to Celebrai.” He made to leave, but Jason stopped him.

  “Merrick,” he said. “What you did back there ... I owe you one.”

  Merrick waved a dismissive hand, “Think nothing of it. Let’s just say maybe it makes up for my cock-up that first time I returned with Lucy following on my heels.”

  Jason gave him a rare smile. “Lucy? Now there’s a name to strike fear into the Ukurum.”

  “What’s this, Jason developing a sense of humour? Now I know this world is completely fucked up.”

  ~~~

  It was exactly thirty six hours before the battle that the allies’ armies and Mage-warriors began their passage to Celebrai. Merrick had stocked up on elixir, and was now prepared for the twelve hour haul Karapetian had estimated it would take to complete the transferral. Advance parties scouted ahead to the battle area and secured their side of the field. They reported minimal movement of Ukurum troops on the opposite side of the valley and, though Merrick knew the conditions of the Mage-lock were binding, he breathed a sigh of relief once the first thousand warriors arrived in safety at the allied encampment. When Paraganet House had all but emptied, he and Celestia realm-hopped to Eastern Europe where they enabled the transit of The Vril contingent of troops and warlocks. As they watched the strangely-garbed Vrils pass, Merrick’s thoughts turned back to Destain’s vision.