The Psychonaut_Book 1

by Tom G. H. Adams

  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 co-ordinating the amalgamation of personnel in the orders that have rallied to our cause.”

  Blazej didn’t have the sort of features Merrick would have expected for the leader of a group with such a dramatic name. Like Karapetian, he wore a three piece suit, but unlike the Hierophant it hung from his twig-like frame as if draped over a clothes horse. His face told the story of a man who had known hard times. The pain of torture, both physical and mental, seemed to inhabit every line of his pale skin. His round-frame glasses did little to soften the effect. He nodded politely after Lazlo finished his introduction, then continued to stare at Merrick. He’d been the one who flinched when Merrick attempted to pierce his mind defence.

  “And this is Naomi Kaonev,” Karapetian continued. “She is Queen of the Vril.” Merrick caught Albany smirking out of the corner of his eye. Indeed, the woman’s appearance would have invited ridicule in another setting, even if her pretentious title hadn’t. She looked to be in her late fifties, judging from the wrinkles around her mouth, yet her long wavy hair hanging to her waist hadn’t the slightest hint of grey.

  “I extend to you the warmest of greetings from my people,” she said in an accent that Merrick couldn’t place. He smiled back at her, kicking Albany under the table as he did so.

  “You won’t have heard of the Vril,” she stated. “If it wasn’t for these perilous times you would have no doubt remained in ignorance. We rarely have dealings with the surface world.”

  “The surface world?” Merrick said.

  “The Vril are a subterranean people and live in the hollows of the earth,” Karapetian said by way of explanation. “They are a most valuable addition to our forces as their numbers are counted in thousands, and their kingdoms are found on every continent.”

  Merrick’s eyes widened. “I’m impressed,” he said, “especially as you’ve kept yourselves hidden for so long.”

  “Occult orders are, by their nature, hidden,” she replied with a kind smile. “You could say we are the most secretive of secrets.”

  The breakfasts arrived and Merrick joined Albany in attacking the food. Karapetian explained the nature of the alliance and all that had transpired in the last six months. Merrick appreciated that Karapetian wanted to be seen as the initiator in the discussion. The way he proceeded had an air of I’ll-show-you-mine-if-you show-me-yours about it.

  “Here’s what we know,” Karapetian began. “Shamon has attracted a host of significant orders to his cause. Unlike ourselves, he has absorbed them under the common banner of the Ukurum. He demands total obedience from his acquisitions, and the more coercible, together with those who lack moral judgement, think they’ve joined the winning side.

  “Having listened to Shamon’s philosophy,” Merrick said, “I think yo
u might be mistaken about his allies being forced to bend the knee.”

  “Hmm, voluntary loyalty versus coercion. Just talk to Albany about how much he believes that.”

  The irony of Karapetian lecturing on moral certitude wasn’t lost on Merrick. “What sort of numbers are we talking about?” he asked.

  “Having now acquired the second largest, and oldest order—The Thule—they number over ten thousand.”

  Merrick puffed his cheeks out and blew. “That’s a colossal size. How does such an organisation remain undetected by international intelligence?”

  Blazej leaned forward. “It is not without reason that we name the secular world’s population the jaded ones. The Ukurum, and indeed our allies do not operate in the secular realm. We don’t form political organisations, terrorist cells or revolutionary groups. We have always been more interested in understanding the realms that lie beyond. The secret services have much more pressing matters on their hands than investigate what they see as a loose collection of the deranged.”

  “But Merrick,” Naomi interjected, “We’ve heard from Jason that Shamon’s forces now include civilisations beyond the gateways. Is this true?”

  Merrick remembered again the hideous Necrolytes, and the pitiful but formidable horde of Amorphic. “I’m afraid it is. We defeated a pack of them in Turkmenistan, but Shamon is breeding them by the thousand in a world called Celebrai. Although, breeding is an inaccurate term. They multiply in nutritive tanks housed in vast chambers. We saw one of these rooms, but I’m sure he has more. Who knows? Perhaps he’s found other gateways and recruited more populations to his cause.”

  “One thing’s for sure,” Albany said, deciding to take a break from toast consumption, “Shamon is building an army in Celebrai. He’s not doing it to put on a stage production. He’s planning for war.”

  The three alliance leaders shared solemn expressions. It was Karapetian’s turn to speak. “We now know of Shamon’s gateway. We house another and Naomi here guards a third in the Americas. I have to ask you, Merrick; do you know of others?”

  Karapetian secreted stress hormones and leaked them despite his best efforts at concealment. It was a loaded question.

  Merrick looked at Albany then said, “We located a gateway just north of Shamon’s stronghold. He himself had sought it but was unsuccessful. We passed through to the other side.”

  Karapetian turned to face the other two leaders, who both nodded in some coded agreement. “It is as we heard,” Karapetian said. “Tell us of the world beyond.”

  Understanding he had passed a test, Merrick continued. “It seems that the Şahşah gateway is a junction between realms. Celestia and I had little chance to explore but what we saw led us to believe there was at least one advanced civilisation in existence. What’s more, its history and culture closely parallels our own.”

  Merrick went on to share all he knew of the gateway and his experience in Shamon’s stronghold. After he had finished, Blazej and Naomi asked him more questions until they were satisfied he’d revealed all he knew.

  “It is as told in our Vril scrolls,” Naomi said. Having completed the Great Work, the Dragon from the East rises and calls together his armies from the realms.

  Blazej raised his forefinger. In a surreal moment, Merrick expected him to cast a spell, until he realised it was a mannerism—an annoying one at that. “I’ve no doubt Shamon is planning the conquest of our world,” Blazej said, “but at present, he can’t appear from a gateway and hope to overthrow the world’s governments using military force. He needs time to infiltrate the seats of power, influence decisions, persuade others to his cause.”

  “That could take decades,” Merrick said. “Has he that much patience? By the time he’s crowned king of this planet, or whatever, he’ll be a doddering old man.”

  “This is where you should know your enemy,” Karapetian said. “Shamon is the embodiment of the Ukurum—its essence is older than any living vessel.”

  “Karapetian speaks truly,” Naomi said. “Even our scrolls say nothing of the Ukurum’s origins. It no doubt pre-dates mankind.”

  “So—Shamon is what, possessed?” Merrick said.

  “Nothing so crude,” continued Naomi. “The essence of Ukurum manifests itself through him. Once, Shamon was a man, a seeker of knowledge. On the day he invited Ukurum in, their spirits became one.”

  Merrick took a mouthful of coffee as he mulled over this revelation. “Can he, in fact, be destroyed?”

  “Shamon?” Karapetian said, “yes—he is but a man, an earthen vessel, and like any piece of pottery it can be smashed. But the Ukurum—you don’t kill it, for it isn’t truly alive. It will lie dormant for a while until it finds another host.”

  “Then I guess we’re stuffed,” Merrick said.

  “Not so,” Blazej said, “to vanquish the Ukurum one must uncreate it.”

  “Uncreate—what’s that?”

  “It’s a magickal act even more profound than the great work. To perform it requires an adept of great knowledge and experience.”

  “Not to mention, power,” Karapetian added.

  “Do we know of such a person?” Merrick asked.

  “Alas, no,” Karapetian said. “The problem with the act of uncreation, is that no one has ever done it before.”

  ~~~

  Chapter 32

  Catch the rainbow

  Karapetian drew a close to their breakfast meeting as he had to speak with other key personnel. Jason had to oversee the Hierophants’ military training schedule, while Blazej and Naomi attended to unspecified commitments. They agreed to meet later that morning to begin developing a strategy.

  Merrick and Albany retreated to Celestia’s room. They were both laughing. No doubt, Mike had shared a tale from his army days.

  “Well, someone seems to be on the mend,” Merrick said. He saw Celestia’s face was flush with colour—a big improvement on the pallid skin he’d seen when carrying her the previous night. In fact, the only outward sign of trauma was the dressing applied to her head.

  “Oui, she said. “The Hierophants are in a league of their own when it comes to apothecaries and doctors.

  Albany and Merrick had brought food up from the breakfast room. Celestia and Mike took no time in tucking in to the delicious fare. Merrick shared what had transpired with Karapetian and answered questions from both of them.

  “So it’s an alliance of convenience,” Mike said.

  “Well, I can hardly see it lasting,” Merrick replied. “What do you think, Albany? You were pretty quiet in there.”

  “Yeah, I usually find it best to keep my mouth shut. Karapetian fed us a lot of information. I just wonder how much he’s holding back.”

  “Better the devil you know?” Mike said.

  “If you say so,” replied Merrick. He went on to question Mike about his financial assets.

  “I’ve dispersed your funds amongst seven offshore bank accounts,” Mike said between mouthfuls. “I’ve triple-locked them and liquidated as many shares as I can without causing a ripple in the wider investment community.”

  “Fast work, mate. Have you had any joy contacting your friends in the mercenary business?”

  “Some. But, as you’d expect, they want to know more about the gig—and, of course, I can’t tell them anything beyond the bare bones.”

  “Who do you trust?”

  “I trust them all. The difficulty’s going to be convincing them to jump in on our fantastical project without them thinking we’re a few peas short of a casserole.”

  “Don’t worry about that. You set up a meet with them, preferably all at once. I’ll take care of persuading them.”

  “They’ll want a wad of cash to take on such an uncertain mission.”

  “Negotiate, but be generous. Money’s the least of our problems.”

  “I thought negotiating was your forte.”

  “It is—but patience isn’t and I have other fish to
fry. Can you handle it?”

  “I think so.”

  “How are we all feeling?” Albany said. “I mean—apart from Celestia.”

  “About as rough as a badger’s arse,” Mike said. As if to emphasise the point, he rubbed the bruise on his head where Farrago’s men had coshed him. The burnt patch of hair on his scalp was obvious and did nothing but accentuate his dishevelled look.

  “I couldn’t get any sleep on Karapetian’s plane,” Albany said. “It was all I could do to stop myself throwing up.”

  Merrick recalled the hasty departure from Friseneit and the private plane’s bucket ride back to England as it plunged through a storm over the North Sea.

  “Looks like we could all do with some more rest. Let’s get our heads down for a couple of hours. We’ll need to be clear-headed for later.”

  Before he left the room, Merrick turned to take a last look at Celestia.

  I thought I’d lost you, he sent.

  Do not fret mon cher, I’m more of a resilient falcon than a vulnerable butterfly.

  The reference to Lotus was significant. The bond with Celestia was a strong one, but it conflicted him. She was receptive to any advance he chose to make, but this mission, this quest, prevented him from exploiting the situation.

  Get some rest, he sent. I’ll call in before I meet with Karapetian.

  With that, he departed and allowed a blanket of sleep to cover him the rest of the morning.

  ~~~

  Merrick attended Karapetian’s meeting feeling a little on the back foot. Albany and Mike weren’t invited and he still lacked a full grasp of the escalating conflict with Shamon.

  The venue was an unfamiliar chamber, located beyond the Central Hall. Upon arrival, the room impressed Merrick with its size, architecture and variety of people assembled there. Most were sat around a long, rectangular table of polished oak. Some stood in pairs or threes, discussing matters both significant and intriguing. Merrick counted eighteen individuals but more arrived by the minute.