As irritating as it was, the Myrmidons were the only people that seemed to have some of the answers. Did he trust them? Absolutely not. He loathed being their little testing rat.
He had no intentions of telling them a damn thing. Yet…they might be able to tell him some things—if he played his cards right. After all, they had been meeting with Noel, and they were—at least amateur—archaeologists. Information on either topic was better than what he was working with now.
‘Ah, so you came back,’ a woman’s voice said behind him.
Andrew turned round and watched as one of the Myrmidons—he didn’t know her name—slipped forward. She was younger than the others, with black hair and a scarred face which distorted her features. He’d noticed her at the meetings, sitting silently in the back, watching, listening, rarely talking.
He turned his eyes back to the heavy curtain. She must have caught the reluctance in his eyes.
‘This tires you, doesn’t it?’
Andrew raised his brows. ‘What?’
‘Being used as a scientific instrument.’
He studied her for a moment, trying to catch her meaning. She almost seemed empathetic. He didn’t want that. Before he could offer a terse reply, she leant in closer.
‘Be patient. You will learn things from them you would otherwise not know. You can have your own motives; motives that differ from theirs. Just keep your eyes and ears open.’
He tilted his head, not letting his surprise show. ‘You want me to manipulate your own group?’
A smile pulled at her. ‘Well, that’s what you’ve been doing, hasn’t it? That’s what you’re good at. Just know that you’re not the only one.’
She gave him a wink and then swept past him, into the room beyond.
Andrew watched her go, his confusion sprouting a frown. Did he have an ally? Someone else with ulterior motives? It gave him the push he’d needed. With a breath he followed after her, more confident now.
An almost deferential silence fell as Andrew stepped inside; all regarding him with something close to awe. The satisfying smugness that filled him felt wonderful. His ego was going to get him into trouble one of these days. He knew that full well.
Ramses approached Andrew slowly warily, reverently.
‘Traveller, you have come! I was beginning to worry—’
Andrew rolled his eyes, letting his impatience show as dramatically as possible. ‘Yes, I am here. Yet if you continue fawning in such a manner, Ramses, I will turn right around and leave. I cannot tolerate it.’
Ramses backed up at that, nearly tripping over his robe. ‘A thousand apologies.’
Andrew sent a quick glance across the room and met eyes with his new acquaintance. She was smirking. He raised his brows a degree before swinging his gaze back to the man before him. ‘Well?’
Ramses’s mouth twisted up. It was an oily, snake-like smile that Andrew didn’t at all like. The man might be shy, but there was something menacing about him, hidden just beneath the surface. ‘Ah, yes. Please, sit down!’
Andrew did a covert scan of the room, not taking his eyes from Ramses, storing away what he could see from the corners of this vision. He was surrounded. The moment he sat at the table, his vulnerability was going to shoot up dramatically.
He didn’t have much of a choice, however. Ramses was being friendly enough, but his entire posture suggested something else entirely.
Andrew gave him a defiant glower, trying to exude as much control as possible. He could be intimidating when he wanted and if he could convince this lot of that now, he may have an advantage. Ramses avoided Andrew’s eyes, looking slightly ashamed.
Andrew sat down with an air of impatience. ‘Why am I here?’
Ramses nodded and two men went about the room, dousing the lights till only two candles remained.
‘You are here, Traveller, because we are on the verge of one of the greatest discoveries of all time. And it is you who will take us there.’
Andrew tilted his head to one side. ‘How?’
Ramses reached into his robe, and then with some dramatics, dropped something onto the table between the two of them.
A pipe full of spores.
The room went silent
‘By opening your incredible mind. You are the key. You are the only one who can break through the veil.’
Andrew stared at the pipe, struggling to fight the sudden twitch in his fingers; his desperation to reach for the pipe and inhale as much as he could hungrily take in before it was torn from his grasp. He hadn’t taken the stoneflower seeds which broke the addiction to the spores. He hadn’t wanted to—though if Reginald had done his job and distributed it into the water, he wouldn’t have the addiction for much longer.
Now the burning desire for them flared maddeningly inside of him.
‘Have you ever experienced spores before?’ Ramses asked in a dark purr.
Andrew paused for a moment, debating his answer. His few experiences with spores had been, for lack of a better word, intriguing. Yes, the aftermath wreaked havoc on his body, mind and mood, but that wasn’t what concerned him. There had been something beneath it all; there was that pull, that strange tug he’d never sensed till his first taste. He felt it always now, just below the surface of his consciousness. It was like a river, something he couldn’t quite tap into but could vaguely sense. When he was under the influence of the spores, however, he could dive into that river. He could see it with a clarity that was only alluded to when his head was clear. And it fascinated him more than anything he’d ever experienced.
The temptation to discover more of it, to show off to these people, to show his power, was too much for him to resist.
He very quickly locked eyes with the woman. Her expression was unreadable—unusual for him. This was his choice. He doubted she’d come to his aid, blow her cover, do anything to hint at why she was here. He could appreciate that. He’d do the same if he were in her position.
‘Yes, I’ve experienced them,’ he said at last, seeing no reason to lie.
Ramses smiled. ‘Good. Did you know it’s a proven fact that these spores amplify psychic abilities?’
Andrew took a deep breath, struggling to keep his expression a blank mask.
The memory still ate at him. Yet he found he didn’t give a damn about the unsettling after effects. The attraction was surprisingly strong. Yet, he was, deep down, slightly afraid of what might happen if he did explore it any further; if he overplayed his hand this quickly, in a drugged state, no less.
‘So I’ve been told. However, I’m not sure if I believe that claim. Being under the influence of anything automatically makes your results less credible. What one experiences under the drug could be discounted as simply hallucinations.’
Ramses laughed darkly and leant forward. ‘Said like a true sceptic. But even you—after all this time we’ve spent together debating this—cannot discount what you have seen. The séances, the discussions, the…apparitions we’ve all seen and taken part in. It’s all been true, has it not? And it has all centred round you.’
Andrew shut his eyes, irritable. ‘I cannot confirm any of it. It is all circumstantial.’
Ramses laughed again. ‘I think after tonight, Traveller, you will disagree with that statement. You do not realise how truly remarkable you are! Just think of what you could accomplish if you simply allow yourself to believe.’
‘And what if I don’t want to?’ he growled. He lifted his eyes from the pipe challengingly. ‘What if I’ve tired of being your little experiment? I’ve been compliant; I’ve gone along with these little tricks of yours because I didn’t see much harm. But I’m tired now. I’m not your little toy for you to wind up any time you wish. I believe you’ve had enough fun for now. It’s time for you to find someone else for your tests. I have appreciated our intellectual discussions, but I am not interested in being your lab rat any longer.’
Andrew began to feel an uncomfortable prickling at the back of his neck. He caught
the almost imperceptible shift in the atmosphere. The hostile turn the room had taken. He was vaguely aware this must be what a cornered animal felt like. It was a completely alien sensation. He stiffened slightly, ready for a fight, if one should come.
‘Oh, Traveller,’ Ramses purred quietly, ‘you don’t really mean that.’
Andrew debated. His chances of standing against all of them were not exactly good. Yes, Andrew could fight, and he was rather enjoyed it; yet he was not exactly in the best of condition these days, and the odds weren’t good. Shouting for help didn’t cross his mind, of course. The very thought was repulsive. And, despite it all, his curiosity was growing. That was always a dangerous thing.
‘So what mad plan do you have in mind?’
Ramses hovered over him, eyes glinting with that hunger for the unknown. Andrew knew it well. No doubt his own eyes matched it, even as he did his best to keep his expression indifferent.
‘Open your mind. Unleash your potential.’
He could tell by the amount of spores before him, if he took them he would overdose. What would that do to him? Would it be fatal? Would it cause significant harm, enough to be permanent? Or, would it maximise the experience?
When he looked back to Ramses’s, he understood. That’s why they wanted him. To do what they were too afraid to do. Be, perhaps, the final experiment. See what would happen when their psychic took too much.
He raised his chin slightly, defiantly. And then, not taking his eyes from Ramses, swiped up the pipe with a snarl. ‘Well, don’t any of you have a match?’
There was some fumbling. Andrew kept his steely gaze on Ramses. Someone held out a shaking hand with a lit match and Andrew tilted the pipe till it caught. The aroma of spores drifted up and he had to fight to keep from savouring them with each breath.
‘You had better hope,’ he said slowly, lifting the pipe to his lips, ‘that when I come off of these I’m either dead or unconscious.’
Ramses blinked. Once. And then nodded.
Andrew leant back in his cushions and closed his eyes. The pipe touched his lips and he inhaled deeply, letting the sweet, infused smoke pour into his lungs. It was strong.
Almost immediately his head began to swim. He could be floating. Or spinning. Perhaps both. All of his muscles, which had been so tight just moments ago, went slack, despite the new wave of excited energy that was now pounding through him. He could either sleep or run for ever right now, he wasn’t quite sure which way the scale would tip.
And then it hit him, like a knife had sliced through his mind and exposed the deeper senses underneath that he never really recognised till high. The massive, rolling river. The voices: the sense of hundreds of sentient beings, all panicked and lost and, rippling through it all, that hungry shadow; which for reasons he couldn’t understand, sent an animal fear down his spine.
A doorway opened in his mind; he could see it in flashes, as if in a forest, struggling towards it but lost in the trees: a gaping, black maw. On its other side? That dark wash.
He concentrated on it, feeling a mad pull from within that he didn’t want to ignore. Perhaps it wasn’t a door through the forest, perhaps it was a whirlwind, sucking him in. He focused on the opening; let it grow in his mind.
He was through.
His vision went black. The room left him. He no longer felt his surroundings. He was simply gone.
Andrew, stumbling to a halt, found himself standing on the edge of the river; the river made of voices and…what, fear?
He breathed hard, mind whirling. With just a few steps more his feet would touch the oily water. What would happen then? Nothing felt real. His physical body in no danger. Yet he wasn’t entirely sure if that was an illusion.
He stepped hesitantly across the dark sand. Around him, there was nothing to see other than black shapes; nothing to hear but the quiet ripple of the water, thick like ink.
The air was heavy, hot, stuffy. He didn’t like much care for it. Didn’t like the creeping fear that wrapped its way round his spine.
One thing was certain: there still persisted that sense of something crouching, ready to launch itself. He hadn’t shaken it though he’d left the palace. And now he knew he wasn’t supposed to be here, yet he wasn’t sure he knew how to leave.
‘H—hello?’ A timid, female voice called.
Andrew nearly jumped as a slight shade of a girl drifted towards him from the blackness. Her eyes were wide with terror but as she saw him, they softened.
Andrew offered her as warm a smile as he could muster. ‘Hello, it’s all right, I won’t harm you.’ His head was swimming.
He held out his hand to the girl and she took it, though Andrew had his doubts she could—she was not made of flesh. Yet their contact was real and he could feel her: afraid and cold yet still very there.
‘Who are you?’ the girl stammered, gazing at him with the eyes of a wounded deer.
Andrew analysed their fingers touching, amazed. ‘I’m Andrew O’Neill. And who are you?’
‘Cordellia. Please sir, can you help me?’
Andrew sank down so he was level with her. ‘How can I help you?’ He found himself actually wanting to.
She shivered. ‘I cannot find the Light. And if I do not, then the Darkness will find me soon and take me away!’
Andrew scanned the bleak landscape round him. Just at the edges of the horizon he thought he could make out a red glow, so faint it almost did not register. ‘What kind of light?’
‘The Light! It is gold and beautiful and warm and comforting and it will take me away from here. Away from this tormented place.’
Andrew took a deep breath. Light? Hadn’t the ghost at the stair said something about that? Yet he knew nothing about light, and he was starting to attract the attention of other ghosts as well. They were shuffling from the darkness, hands outstretched to him in longing. Some moaning, some crying, some laughing in relief. The woman from the stairs was there, too, watching him more warily than the others. It was enough to send chills racing down his spine, but Andrew ignored the urge to bolt. He kept his hand clamped in that of the child’s.
‘Find the Light, sir!’
He shook his head, about to protest, yet then he felt something else. Something curious. Something was…sensing him. Tugging at him, investigating him with a growing, inquisitive urgency. And as Andrew focused on it, he found the feeling increasing. Whatever this was, it wanted some interaction, for it grew at his recognition. Andrew acknowledged that need.
‘What are you?’ he enquired silently.
He received no words, yet had a response. The Gatherer of Lost Souls.
‘Are you the Light?’
No response came. But it wanted him to…help it. Help it find the souls.
Andrew tuned out the spirits and focused on the ungraspable presence, wanting to understand what it wanted, needing to connect, somehow. He reached for it with his mind. And he pushed too hard; he underestimated how powerful this new entity was.
The thing burst from the river, rising up like some black, solid cloud. And it kept growing. Its force hit in a wave, throwing him back.
A numb horror clamped like jaws across his mind. His stomach dropped to his feet. What was this? This creature that he had somehow summoned out of the dark?
It continued to expand and the ghosts around Andrew fell back, cries of fear rising like a tide. He stared at them in confusion.
What?
Too quickly the Darkness whipped forward and wrapped itself round the young girl before Andrew could process what he’d done.
‘HELP!’
The girl shrieked, gave Andrew one gut-wrenching look of betrayal, and then was gone, dragged into the blackness.
All went still for a breath before huge black tentacles exploded from the water, snaking past him blindingly fast, picking off ghosts in the crowd, roaring like a beast. The lady of the stairs did not run like the others, only stared at him in something near anger.
‘I’m sorry!’
he stammered, baffled.
He wasn’t so sure he heard, for the thing ripped her away as well, leaving his words hanging dumbly.
And then it turned its attention on him. Andrew froze. His instincts screamed. Run you fool, run! But he couldn’t. Didn’t. He wasn’t sure which. He simply stood there, staring up at the blackness just finishing its feasting on those souls who had moments before surrounded him.
It was with teasing slowness the cloud began descended, wrapping thick around him. He closed his eyes to the feeling; groaned as he felt the creeping tentacles slide over his body. It was firm and cold and strong and…strangely comforting. At its very centre he could feel the thing’s will, and it was powerful.
Andrew distantly wondered if he could possibly subdue it; somehow beat it back, yet he found he didn’t want to. Sinking into the blackness felt good. Would it really matter if he was swallowed up on this dark shoreline? There was no pain, and it didn’t seem so bad to have the thing’s coils squeeze tighter about him. It did not crush his life, however, but gave him a push.
Andrew went stumbling, jarred; his attention completely shattered as he fell away from the beach, feet slipping on nothing.
Jolted by the suddenness of it, he was back to reality.
He was aware immediately he going to be sick. Andrew felt it rising within him like a hand forcing out of his throat. And then it was.
Andrew went ridged as the dark cloud burst from his mouth. It writhed up of his throat, parting his teeth. He couldn’t hold it back as it went pumping from somewhere inside of him. The beach; he was bringing it from the beach!
He gagged, groaned; couldn’t stop coughing more of it up.
Ramses had stumbled back, the whole room had. Andrew only remotely noticed them. There wasn’t much space in his mind for anything other than fighting with the will of the thing which was forcing its way out of him. His eyes burned; throat threatening to explode.
The blackness fought back, flailing like some wounded animal.
Through it all he was aware of words coming from him, yet not his. It was the thing’s, coming out in a rough howl. ‘You have been given a great gift! Our own, our loyal. One sent to you from a prison beyond the stars. This form we cannot sustain. It fights us even now!’ That was him, Andrew was fairly certain. ‘Help us and we shall help you. Find the door! Find the key! There are those who know! The Traveller knows the key. Speak the words of the cavern to the one sent to you. He must obey! Use what you have been given! You will pull us through. The sands of time shall be broken!’
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