The Quest (Psionic Pentalogy Book 4)

by Adrian Howell

  Ed Regis replied, “The greatest minds in the world want to know how psionic power works, Adrian. It’s got to be worth something.”

  Dr. Otis had said something similar to me on my first day at the PRC. I frowned, but Ed Regis didn’t see it in the darkness.

  “Besides,” continued Ed Regis, “you’re forgetting why we’re here. Maybe modern weapons have nullified a psionic destroyer’s advantages in combat, but master controllers can rule empires. That’s the power everyone is interested in today.”

  “I’m not interested,” I said stubbornly. “Today or any other day.”

  “Then you’re the exception to the rule. After all, what is the one thing all powerful people want?”

  “More power?”

  “That’s right,” Ed Regis said matter-of-factly.

  “The point is, Major, I never asked for this power, and I don’t like being hunted for it. All I wanted was to live in peace. Is that really so much to ask?”

  Ed Regis remained silent for a moment, and then said apologetically, “You’re right, Adrian. It shouldn’t be.”

  “I wasn’t talking about the Wolves, you know,” I said.

  “I do hope you find your peace.”

  Cindy had said the same thing to me last year, but I never expected to hear it from a Wolf. “It’ll depend on what the Historian tells us,” I said wearily. “But most likely she’s already dead.”

  “Who?”

  Ed Regis’s question threw me for a moment. Then, realizing what I had just said, I let out a frustrated huff. That’s what I get for blabbing.

  “Why are you here?” pressed Ed Regis. “If not to find Randal Divine, then why?”

  “Alright, you got me. King Divine was Terry’s mission, not mine,” I admitted. “I came here looking for Alia’s mother. She was with the Guardian Council when our city was taken. We haven’t seen her since.”

  “Cynthia Gifford, was it?”

  “That’s right.”

  “You came all the way out here hoping that the Historian might tell you where she is?”

  “I know that sounds ridiculous,” I said, sighing. “She’s probably long dead or converted by now. But Cindy was the only real mother Alia ever had, and mine too after my parents died. I have to know what happened to her.”

  “This woman must have been something really special for you to risk your life like this,” said Ed Regis.

  I smiled to myself, remembering the embarrassingly cute clothes Cindy used to buy for me. But I would happily wear those girly outfits for the rest of my life if only I could find her again. “She had her faults, Ed Regis, but yes, she was very special.”

  Ed Regis asked in an incredulous tone, “You have no interest at all in the Angel king?”

  “You sound like Terry,” I said, chuckling. “She once accused me of the same indifference. Of course I care about the king. I don’t want to live in a world ruled by psionics. Especially by Randal Divine. Getting Alia back to Cindy would be pretty meaningless if we’re all going to end up serving the Angels together. I already promised Terry that I’d hunt the Angel master with her as soon as we found out what happened to Cindy. I’ve broken many promises but this one I plan to keep.”

  “You sound pretty serious,” said Ed Regis.

  “I am,” I said forcefully. “And it’s not just about the Angels or Randal Divine, for that matter. I’ve seen enough of this war to know that psionics should never rule the world. I will do anything to make sure that doesn’t happen. Anything at all.”

  “You know, Adrian, sometimes I wonder if the Angels might have a point. Maybe if all countries were united under a single psionic king, there would be less conflict. But I wouldn’t want to live in that world either. People should always be free to govern themselves without fear of psionic influence. That’s what the Wolves are about, more or less.”

  Now that struck a nerve. I replied icily, “Don’t kid yourself, Major. The PRC was never just about researching psionics for defense or peaceful uses. They wanted to create soldiers that could fly and shoot lightning and heal themselves in combat. Everything was about power and control and who gets to have it.”

  Ed Regis mumbled awkwardly, “I wasn’t suggesting that it’s a perfect world.”

  I didn’t want to get into an argument with this man. Drained and dizzy, I didn’t have the energy for it, and there was little point anyway. It was time to change the subject.

  Ed Regis seemed to feel the same way, and asked me, “Just out of curiosity, what does the Historian’s house look like?”

  “You know what? I have no idea,” I admitted embarrassedly. “Terry’s been there, of course, but I never asked her. I just assumed that we’d know it when we found it. Honestly, I don’t even know what the Historian looks like.”

  “You don’t?” Ed Regis sounded surprised.

  “Call it a lack of imagination, Ed Regis, but I never really thought about it. Maybe because I was blind when I first heard about him. Why? Do you know what he looks like?”

  “We have some, uh… theories, but I guess not,” said Ed Regis.

  “My old girlfriend once described him as being really cute.”

  “Ha!”

  “It was before we were dating,” I said defensively. “Why? Do your theories not ring well with the Historian being cute?”

  “The database doesn’t classify subjects by cuteness, Adrian.”

  We both laughed. My body really hurt from it, but laughing eased my nerves a lot. So much, in fact, that a moment later I found myself yawning loudly.

  Ed Regis asked, “Are you sure you don’t want to sleep first tonight?”

  “I’m not sure we even need a night watch, Ed Regis,” I said, yawning again. “If they find us, either way they’ll kill us.”

  “You might have a point,” said Ed Regis, yawning also. “I don’t know if I could really stay up half the night and then get through tomorrow. Do you want to just put your trust in fate?”

  “Fine.”

  “Just promise me you won’t die with that belt buckle under your shirt.”

  “No promises, but I’ll probably be okay.”

  “Goodnight, then. Hope to see you alive in the morning.”

  I tried to shift my position a little to get more comfortable, but it didn’t help. I didn’t like sleeping on my back, but it was too painful on my side.

  “Ed Regis, you never told me who you would have died for,” I said, closing my eyes. “Tell me now.”

  “No, Adrian,” whispered Ed Regis. “That’s just for me.”

  If there was more to that conversation, I didn’t remember it in the morning.

  When I woke, I discovered that I wasn’t being drained. My belt was lying on the ground next to me, and I suspected that I must have pulled it out of my shirt during the night. For a second, I wondered if perhaps Ed Regis had done it, but I doubted that.

  The Wolf was still asleep at my side. Turning my head, I looked out the cave entrance and saw that the day was just beginning. The early-dawn light looked cold and uninviting, but I pulled myself out of the hole to stretch my body. Much of the pain had receded, perhaps due to my continued inability to balance my power very well. I felt numb all over, but at least I could walk.

  I felt pretty thirsty, and was about to go back into the cave and wake Ed Regis when I heard a whisper from behind me say, “Hey there.”

  I spun around, but it was too late. It was the Angel telekinetic who had shot Ed Regis off the mountain. He had been hiding his footsteps by levitating a few inches off the ground, and with his left hand he grabbed my neck while pressing the tip of his right index finger painfully against my lower chest. I knew what that meant.

  “Where are your friends?” he hissed.

  His grip on my neck was so strong that I could hardly have answered him even if I wanted to, but I somehow managed to spit in his face in reply.

  The Angel’s grip tightened even more. “Where?!”

  Two rapid gunshots. The Angel re
leased me, and I fell to my knees.

  As I slumped down onto the ground, coughing violently, I dimly saw Ed Regis standing over the fallen Angel, pointing a pistol at his face.

  “Where are your friends, buddy?” asked Ed Regis. “Tell me now and I swear I’ll call out our healer and have her take care of you.”

  “Don’t worry,” croaked the Angel. “They’ll find you soon enough.”

  “Have it your way,” said Ed Regis, double-tapping him in the head.

  Then he turned to me. “Adrian? Are you…” his voice trailed off as he caught sight of the blood trickling out from between the fingers of my right hand pressed hard against my chest.

  “Twice in as many days,” I mumbled feebly. “Alia is going to kill me.”

  I coughed up some blood as Ed Regis helped me lie face up on the ground. The Angel’s focused blast hadn’t gone all the way through me, but it had gone deep enough. He hadn’t been a flight-capable telekinetic for nothing.

  “Oh God, Adrian, I’m sorry!” said Ed Regis, looking down at me frantically. “I should have known he wouldn’t be drained instantly.”

  I moaned in pain when Ed Regis pulled my hand away from my chest. After using a small knife to quickly cut my shirt off, Ed Regis poured some water over the wound to clean it.

  “He was just a scout,” I breathed. “Because he could fly. The rest are still far behind. They would have heard your gunshots, though. You have to get going.”

  “We will,” said Ed Regis, “as soon as I plug the hole.”

  Ed Regis began fashioning my torn shirt into a bandage as he said, “It missed your heart, but it’s pretty close. Still, at least it’s a straight line. A blast doesn’t churn you up inside like a bullet does.”

  “Doesn’t make a difference,” I panted. “I’m not going to make it like this.”

  Even if I wasn’t being drained by my blood, I doubted I could even stand up, let alone walk. Alia wouldn’t get the chance to scold me for my stupidity this time. Ed Regis needed to get moving before the rest of the Seraphim caught up with us.

  Ed Regis pressed the cleanest part of my shirt against the wound and carefully wrapped it around my body. He had to lift my back a little to get the makeshift bandage around me, and I screamed in agony.

  “Stop it, Ed Regis!” I pleaded. “Just stop! There’s no way. If you want to do me a favor, give me your gun.”

  “I can’t do that, Adrian.”

  “Then go! Stop wasting your time.” I coughed up more blood. “What makes you think I’d want to die in your company?!”

  “You don’t have a choice. I’m taking you with me.” I felt his arms under my back and legs, and then Ed Regis lifted me up as he said, “You’re my guide, remember?”

  I didn’t need this. Not from a Wolf! Not from anybody when it was clear as day that we wouldn’t make it over another mountain together. Ed Regis couldn’t even carry his own backpack. How could he possibly escape the Angels carrying me?

  “You already know the way,” I said, groaning as my blood soaked through the bandage. “Don’t pretend like you don’t. I didn’t jump off that cliff with you so you could throw away your life for nothing.”

  But Ed Regis refused to put me down. “Not for nothing, Adrian. Never for nothing.”

  “What’s your malfunction, soldier?!” I growled through clenched teeth, desperately hoping I wouldn’t pass out before I could talk some sense into him. “Mission first, Major Edward Regis! Professionals put the goddamn mission first!”

  Ed Regis looked down at me with eyes that, for the briefest of instances, reminded me just a little of Mark Parnell, and of Alia, and of Cindy. As I closed my eyes, I heard him say gruffly, “What the hell makes you think I’m a professional?”

  From there, I faded in and out of consciousness. Sometimes I saw the deep blue sky above me as I lay on the ground next to Ed Regis. Sometimes I woke on his back. Once, I heard several gunshots, but I couldn’t be sure if they were real or part of a dream or hallucination. I didn’t even have the strength left to care. I remember Ed Regis asking me how much farther it was to the Historian. I don’t remember answering. I had found myself a private little world beyond pain or thought or emotion, and I tried my best to stay there. My whole life didn’t flash before my eyes. That doesn’t happen in real life. But I did see bits of it. For the most part, the better bits of it.

  My clearest waking memory was at night, after how many hours or days I couldn’t tell, but there was Ed Regis crouching behind a boulder. I was on his back, my arms wrapped loosely around his neck. Voice trembling, Ed Regis said, “I don’t know if you’re still alive, Adrian, but if you can hear me, know that I’m sorry. I really thought we’d make it.”

  There were more gunshots. I was pretty sure they were real, but I still didn’t care. As far as I was concerned, we were already dead, and I had no desire to go back through the pain it had taken to get here.

  Ed Regis was carrying me, this time in his arms, running. I saw the star-filled infinity above us. It reminded me of sitting in a car with Cindy, Alia sleeping in the back.

  I fell onto the ground. It didn’t hurt. Ed Regis was shouting something. There were several other voices too.

  But there was only one voice that I could actually hear and understand. It was a clear, calm voice, strong yet gentle. It made me think of autumn leaves. The voice echoed through my head, and as it did, I knew that everyone on the mountain had heard it at the same time. It said simply, “Some of you are here without reason.”

  I felt myself pulled sharply backwards, as if someone had grabbed me around the waist and yanked hard. For an instant, my whole body felt as if it had frozen solid. It was a sharp, stinging pain, and I wondered if this was perhaps a normal part of dying.

  Chapter 17: The Price of a History

  When I opened my eyes, they snapped into focus so quickly that I wondered if I had been asleep at all. I was lying on a soft mattress, under a comfortably heavy blanket, the back of my head resting on a large, slightly overstuffed pillow. My hazy memory of the last few days felt more like a fading daydream than reality.

  I had been cleaned up and dressed in a thin blue robe much like a hospital gown. I carefully felt around for the blast wound on my chest, not entirely sure that I ever even had one. My fingers found some light scarring there. Yes, it had been real.

  Alia, wearing a simple light brown shirt and matching cotton pants, was sitting on the far corner of my bed. Noticing me moving, she looked over at me with a slightly dazed expression and said quietly into my mind, “Hey, Addy. Welcome back.”

  “Am I where I think I am?” I asked slowly.

  Alia didn’t reply.

  “Depends on where you think you are,” said a voice to my left. It was Terry, also dressed in a plain cloth shirt, and without her left arm attachment. “No, you’re not dead.”

  I let out a quiet sigh. “This is…”

  “The Historian’s home,” confirmed Terry. “Or rather, his guest house.”

  “Where are…”

  “James and Major Regis?” Terry smiled. “They’re in the common room, just outside.”

  I turned my head, slowly taking in the bedroom. It looked like something out of a strange dream. The walls were each a different color: red, yellow, blue and green. The carpet was deep purple with wavy white stripes across it. The furniture was an awkward combination of leather couches, white marble chairs, a folding plastic picnic table, mahogany bookshelves along one wall, and a modern metal office desk in one corner. A large oil painting of a tiger attacking a mammoth hung above the desk, its frame tilting slightly to the left. The room’s lighting was provided by a tiny chandelier hanging from the ceiling and several colorful electric lamps mounted on the walls.

  “What is this?” I asked, bewildered by the utter lack of congruity.

  “It’s all like this,” said Terry. “I told you the Historian was eccentric.”

  “How did I get here?”

  “Major Regis carr
ied you to the mountain, and the Historian let you in,” Terry replied simply. “From what I heard, the Historian didn’t take too kindly with your fans, though. He doesn’t allow anyone without official business on his doorstep.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The Seraphim accidentally followed you too far, past the boundary set by the Historian. Tough luck for them.”

  There was still so much to take in that I didn’t particularly care what fate had befallen the Angels. It was enough that they were no longer following us, and that we were safe.

  Wondering if it was day or night, I looked again around the room, but not only were there no clocks, there weren’t any windows to see if the sun was up.

  “Is this some kind of basement?” I asked.

  “You could say that,” replied Terry. “We’re inside the mountain, Adrian. Pretty deep, too. That’s how the Historian keeps unwanted visitors out. He only allows you in if you have official business with him.”

  “Then how did we…” I began, but then I understood. “He teleported us into the mountain.”

  “That’s right. That’s really the only way in or out of this place.”

  I had heard of psionic teleporters, and it made sense that the Historian would be one, but I had never expected to experience teleportation firsthand. I stared up at the ceiling for a moment, wondering how far it was to the surface.

  Looking again at Alia, I realized that she hadn’t spoken at all. She was still sitting motionless on the far corner of my bed and staring emptily off into space.

  I said to Terry, “Could I have a moment alone with Alia?”

  “Sure. I’ll be in the common room,” said Terry, and quietly let herself out.

  My sister looked a little older than I remembered, and she had definitely lost some weight during our journey, making her even skinnier than she usually was. Aside from that, however, she was the same old Alia. Her unicorn pendant, hanging from its leather cord around her neck, rested lightly on her chest.

  Using my telekinesis to give her pendant a gentle tug, I said quietly, “I’m sorry I got shot again.”