The Quest (Psionic Pentalogy Book 4)

by Adrian Howell

  “Who?” I whispered. “Who was here?”

  Alia just stared forward, mouth open and eyes unfocused.

  “She probably just had a bad dream,” James said sleepily.

  I shook my head. “What did he tell you, Alia? What did he want?”

  “He wanted…” Alia’s telepathic voice trailed off. Then she gulped and said aloud in a shaky voice, “He wanted us to give up. He said that if we gave up now, they wouldn’t kill us.”

  Chapter 15: Predator and Prey

  Over the following days, we gave the Seraphim a wide berth and continued to inch our way northeast toward the Historian’s mountain. Though we remained on the lookout for Merlin, we saw no sign of our lost hider anywhere, and before long, we had all stopped wondering aloud whether he was dead or alive. Merlin’s fate wasn’t our primary concern right now.

  Every night, the Angel dreamweaver sent us grisly warnings to surrender or be destroyed. Alia was the only one who couldn’t block him at all, so she had it much worse than the rest of us. I could tune down the horror factor of these psionically induced nightmares, even block them entirely in my sleep, but my sister frequently woke screaming in the night.

  Why didn’t the Angels simply attack and kill us? First, though the Seraphim were certain to win, an all-out battle could mean losses for them as well. Since we were still many days away from the Historian, it made sense for our pursuers to wait, just like in a siege, until all negotiations had failed. But more than that, they wanted us alive. Or rather, they specifically wanted one of us alive.

  “I’m putting you all in danger,” Alia said miserably. “They wouldn’t be doing this if I wasn’t here.”

  “You’re as dumb as your brother sometimes, Alia,” said Terry. “You’re the one keeping this a stalemate. The only reason they haven’t wiped us out already is because they’re afraid they might accidentally kill you.”

  The twenty-plus team of Seraphim was still trailing us at a distance of one mountain. They had maintained this distance for more than a week now, but the only real question was how much longer they were willing to wait before they attacked – because there was no way we were about to surrender.

  As we trudged forward, ever keeping a watchful eye on our dogged fan club, the dreamweaver’s proposals had become increasingly accommodating. He had first merely promised that we wouldn’t be killed. Then he said that only the psionics need be converted, while the other three could walk free provided they turned back. Now his dreamweaves told us that the Seraphim would let everyone go as long as we gave up the healer.

  “I wish I could answer him,” I said savagely after yet another long night of threats and promises. “If only to tell him that I think he’s full of–”

  “Save your breath,” said Terry. “There’s nothing to negotiate.”

  I glanced at Alia, whose eyes were so red and puffy that I wondered if they would ever look normal again. Years ago, dreamweaving had been the answer to her bad nights, but now she was learning firsthand that that door swung both ways. This was particularly hard on my sister not only because the Angel dreamweaver seemed to take special pleasure in tormenting her with nightmares, but because he had repeatedly promised her that if she alone gave herself up, the rest of us would be spared.

  “Don’t you believe a word of it, Alia,” warned Terry. “They’re not about to let any of us go.”

  “I know,” said Alia, though without any conviction in her voice.

  Terry asked me, “How much farther to the Historian, Adrian?”

  I shook my head. “I can’t be sure. We’re close, though. Alia, what do you think?”

  “I don’t know either,” said Alia. “He’s really strong. Maybe another four or five days.”

  “That feels about right,” I agreed, taking a little comfort in the knowledge that my sister still had some of her wits about her.

  We had managed to replenish our water at another clear river, but our food supplies were getting dangerously low. It was unlikely that they would last more than another three days, but at least we’d be traveling light when the Angels finally charged us.

  “They won’t keep their distance much longer,” Ed Regis said grimly. “No matter how much they want Alia, if they think we’re actually going to reach the Historian, they’ll attack.”

  Terry turned to him. “You do know what we have to do, don’t you?”

  “I’m well aware of what we must do, Terry. I’m just not sure how we’re going to go about doing it.”

  James gave the Wolf a questioning look. “What are you talking about?”

  “There’s only one sure way to stop being hunted,” Ed Regis said quietly.

  “Which is?”

  Ed Regis didn’t immediately reply, so Terry answered for him, “Become the hunter, James.”

  “Whoa!” exclaimed James, his expression even more incredulous than when we had told him that we’d have to break through the riflemen. “We’re outnumbered what, at least four to one, right? Maybe even five to one.”

  “Maybe,” Terry said evenly. “But if we don’t make a stand, they’ll run us down on their own terms, and we won’t have a chance.”

  “Adrian?” said James, possibly hoping to get my support against this suicidal tactic.

  I shook my head. “Terry and Ed Regis are right. We’ll have to fight them.”

  We didn’t fight them that day, though. Despite our new rifles and the formidable combat expertise that our team was blessed with, James had a point too. This just wasn’t a fight that we could win.

  That evening, we stopped near the top of yet another slope spanning two high peaks. At the lowest point between the peaks, which was where we were headed, it was very rocky but the slope itself relatively gentle. We always tried to end our hikes on a place like this so that we had a good view of the Angels following us.

  “Any day now,” said Ed Regis, looking out toward the specks of Seraphim on the mountain behind us.

  “Hope they got my message,” I muttered. Against better judgment, I had left a rude two-word reply in the dirt for the Seraphim to find.

  That night, the Angel dreamweaver finally issued us an ultimatum. Each of us dreamt it one after another, and while the form of the nightmares varied, the message was the same: another step toward the Historian and the deal was off.

  Comforting a trembling Alia in the dim, early-morning light, I looked around at the other three who were sitting silently, wide awake, all wondering the same thing.

  “Is this really a good idea?” whispered James.

  “Probably not,” replied Ed Regis, “but it’ll be better than being shot in the back while trying to escape.”

  Catching my eye, Ed Regis hastily put his hands up in defense. “I didn’t mean it that way, Adrian. It’s just true.”

  I laughed and shook my head. “I wasn’t thinking of that, Ed Regis. Actually, I was thinking that maybe there’s a way to even the odds just a bit.”

  “Are you suggesting a plan?” asked Terry. “I hope it’s saner than your last one.”

  “No promises,” I said. Chances were that this would be the worst one to date. “They want Alia and me alive, right? Well, maybe Alia more than me, but they want us both alive.”

  “So?”

  “So we give them what they want.”

  “Don’t start talking like Alia,” said Terry, rolling her eyes. “They won’t let us go just because you sacrifice yourself.”

  I grinned at her. “Who said anything about sacrifice? I thought it was your job to keep us alive, bodyguard.”

  A look of understanding slowly spread over Terry’s face, and then she smiled slyly. “A calculated risk?”

  “A lack of options,” I countered dryly.

  Terry nodded. “You’re right, Adrian. It’ll even the odds a bit. Maybe a lot. But are you sure you’re up to it?”

  I shrugged. “Better than being shot in the back.”

  By the time the sun had risen high enough to warm our horribly gr
imy faces, the Seraphim looking out at us through their binoculars saw Alia and me sitting with our backs against a large, semi-comfortable boulder. And attached to the top of the boulder was James’s undershirt, which served as our white flag of surrender.

  I sat silently with Alia all morning, occasionally nibbling on the last of our beef jerky as we watched the specks approach and finally start climbing our slope. Alia seemed dazed but in decent control of her emotions. She knew the plan and what we were up against. She knew she might die today. I only wished that I could feel as calm about it as she behaved.

  About a quarter of a mile down the slope, the Angels, which I counted to be twenty-three in number, stopped once and looked up at us. I raised my right hand and gave them a little wave.

  But then something happened that we hadn’t planned for: The group split into two. Twelve men started climbing toward us as the rest stayed put, keeping their distance. I wasn’t yet sure if this was a blessing or a curse, but there was no turning back now.

  As the men slowly approached, I looked over their gear. Three of them were carrying assault rifles while two had regular hunting rifles with scopes. The others weren’t armed as far as I could tell. We knew that at least one of them was a hider, another a dreamweaver. They were still too far away for me to sense any of their powers under their hiding protection, but the rest of the Seraphim were no doubt destroyers and non-psionics, with possibly a controller or two mixed in.

  I turned to my sister and whispered, “Alia, are you still with me?”

  Alia gazed back at me, her eyes finally betraying her show of bravery.

  “I’m a little scared too,” I said gently.

  Putting her arms around my neck, Alia said shakily, “I don’t know about this, Addy.”

  I didn’t either. I had pretty much conscripted Alia into my insane plan, much like Mr. Baker had once done, forcing her to help us do the one thing she hated most. I had no excuse for my hypocrisy.

  Holding her tight, I whispered into her ear, “Whatever happens, stay close to me. Trust in Terry, Alia. And James and Ed Regis. We’ll be okay.” Releasing her, I gripped her shoulders and looked into her nervous eyes. “Steady now.”

  Alia swallowed hard, and then nodded. “I’m right here, Addy. Whatever happens.”

  Once the welcoming committee was only about fifty yards away, I slowly stood up and pulled Alia to her feet, standing her in front of me. Then I quickly drew my two pistols from my belt, pressing the one in my left hand up against the bottom of my own chin as I touched the barrel of my right against Alia’s head. Alia didn’t flinch.

  “That’s far enough!” I called down to the men. “One false move and I’ll kill the healer and myself.”

  The men stopped and stared up at us. I half expected them to laugh at me, but they didn’t. One of them, who I assumed was their leader, took a slow step forward and asked, “What’s your name, kid?”

  “Adrian Howell,” I replied. “And don’t you think for a second that I won’t pull these triggers.”

  “I’ve heard of you, Adrian Howell,” the leader said evenly. “Where are the others?”

  “They’re on the other side of this mountain,” I said, my voice surprisingly steady despite my fear. “Not far, and not going any farther. You honor your promise to let them go free, and they will turn back and you can have this healer and me alive.”

  “Put down the guns and willingly accept your fate, and I promise that you won’t be harmed.”

  “First promise me the safety of my friends,” I demanded.

  The leader didn’t reply, but instead slowly started walking up toward us, followed by two others behind him. The other eight stood watching.

  “Stay back!” I ordered, keeping my pistols firmly on Alia and me. I pulled both hammers back. “I swear to God I’ll blow us both away if you come any closer!”

  I felt Alia tense up, her breathing fast and uneven. I could hardly blame her. This wasn’t entirely an act, after all. The guns were loaded, and I was quite ready to put a bullet through Alia’s head, and my own, if that was what it took to keep us from being taken by the Angels. But not just yet.

  The three stopped once, and the leader said calmingly, “Put the guns down, kid. You don’t want to die here.”

  “You still haven’t promised me my friends,” I said. “You will let them leave these mountains.”

  “You have my word,” replied the leader. “Now give yourself up and we can all go home.”

  The three started approaching again. Contrary to my threat, this was exactly what I wanted. I wanted them as close to Alia and me as possible, and I knew that as long as my only threat was suicide, the Angels wouldn’t be too afraid of me despite the fact that I had two drawn pistols in plain view. In a few seconds, I would spring the trap.

  Come closer, I thought to myself. Just a little closer. It was fortunate for me that the Seraphim didn’t have a delver who could read my mind from this distance.

  But something was wrong. Three approaching, eight waiting, eleven far away. Only twenty-two Seraphim.

  I sensed motion to my left. Turning my head, I found myself staring into a pair of floating eyeballs not more than three yards away. I almost pulled both triggers in surprise as the phantom turned visible. Then I felt my limbs suddenly become rigid as this phantom, who I realized was also a puppeteer, took control of my body.

  I thought the phantom puppeteer would force me to hand over my pistols, but he didn’t. Instead, maintaining the distance between us, he just kept my arms locked in place so I couldn’t shoot anyone. I quickly discovered why.

  Meanwhile, the leader and his two minions quickened their pace, smiling in victory.

  “Good work,” the leader called up to the phantom puppeteer. Then he turned his head and shouted down to the rest of his team, “Come on, let’s go! We still have three more to bag.”

  As his men started up the slope, I shouted at the leader furiously, “You promised you’d let my friends go!”

  The leader, now less than five yards away from me, merely laughed. “Once you’re properly converted, you’ll want your friends to be with you. On our side.”

  I turned my head back to the puppeteer. “Let go of me!”

  The puppeteer shook his head. “It’s for your own safety, kid.”

  He should have been more worried about his own.

  Merlin had taught me well. The phantom puppeteer thought he had my arms and legs good and tight. He thought I was a child who hadn’t yet learned how to block a controller’s song. But he was the one who was untrained. This amateur puppeteer’s song was uneven, cluttered, nothing like Merlin’s. The cracks were so obvious I almost felt sorry for him.

  Reaching out to take the pistols from my hands, the Seraph leader said pleasantly, “Welcome to the Angels, Adrian Howell.”

  I put a bullet between his eyes with my right-hand pistol. Then, quickly shifting my aim, I fired two more rounds: one for each of his two pals. The phantom puppeteer was busy turning invisible again, but when a pair of bullets from my left-hand pistol entered his chest, he quickly reappeared on his back, twitching.

  From there, it was controlled chaos.

  Alia knew to hit the ground when the first shots were fired. I had actually missed my third headshot from my right-hand pistol, failing to kill the leader’s second minion, but that was only because the man suddenly staggered sideways, having caught a round from Terry’s rifle. As the Seraph fell to his knees, I put a few extra bullets into his upper body, and he collapsed backwards.

  Well before the sun had risen, Ed Regis and Terry had carefully crawled just over fifty yards to my left and right, while James had taken position above and behind me. The remaining eight members of the Seraph advance team, now less than thirty yards from Alia and me, opened up with automatic rifles, telekinetic blasts, spark electric charges, and everything else they had. But they hadn’t expected to be fired upon from three different directions.

  I dropped to the ground bes
ide Alia as a powerful electric surge shot over my head, singeing my hair. I saw the spark preparing another thunderbolt in his left hand, but then the right side of his head blew apart. I guessed that round had come from Ed Regis.

  What felt like an unfocused telekinetic blast smacked into my forehead, but I wasn’t injured. At this distance, the blast wasn’t half as painful as being hit by Terry in the dojo. Stretching my arms forward, I emptied both of my pistols into the group of Angels, but I couldn’t tell if I actually hit them. Some of the Seraph leader’s blood had spattered onto my face, draining me, but I was too far away to effectively use my telekinetic blasts anyway. Once I was out of bullets, I turned my eyes away from the carnage as Terry, Ed Regis and James used their rifles to quickly dispatch the remaining Seraphim. It was over in seconds.

  Using my sleeve to wipe the blood off of my face, I turned to my sister and asked, “Alive?”

  Alia’s eyes were wide and frantic, but at least she didn’t appear to have any holes in her. She tried to stand up but I grabbed her and pulled her back down. There were still eleven Seraphim approaching from below, already within rifle range.

  Ed Regis called out, “You kids okay?”

  “We’re good!” I yelled back. “Run or fight?”

  “Run!” shouted Ed Regis. “Up to James! We’ll cover you!”

  We didn’t need telling twice. As our rifle team fired several rounds in the direction of the approaching second wave, Alia and I scrambled up the slope toward James’s cover. Ducking behind his boulder, I heard the unmistakable sound of bullets ricocheting off the rocks.

  Terry and Ed Regis joined us there.

  “What have you got?” Terry asked James.

  “I’m empty,” said James, breathing heavily.

  “Two rounds,” reported Ed Regis.

  “I have one left,” said Terry.

  “Nice shooting,” I panted. “Good thing they split up.”

  “Not good,” said Terry. “Only three rounds left and they won’t fall for that again.”

  Terry was referring specifically to our rifle ammunition. Our original plan had included Terry, James and Ed Regis charging out with their pistols once their rifles were dry. But without the element of surprise, our pistols would be of little use against the remaining Seraphim, who could pick us off one by one from a safe distance. Nor was there enough cover below us to retrieve the weapons the first-wave Seraphim had dropped when we killed them.