The Psychonaut_Book 1

by Tom G. H. Adams

  ~~~

  The companions stood in the corridor. Two Necrolytes were sprawled on the floor, green blood pooling beneath them. Merrick sat on the floor too, exhausted but unhurt.

  “That took more out of you than you predicted,” Celestia said. She crouched over him, a look of concern on her face. He looked into her eyes and drew strength from the warmth he found there. “Tu est formidable,” she said, “but also foolish.”

  It took an effort to lift his head. “You’ve got to admit though, it was pretty cool.”

  “Cool? It was amazing,” Albany said. “Have you got any more tricks up your sleeve?”

  “None I’ll be performing today,” Merrick replied. His speech slurred and he knew he wouldn’t be making much sense.

  “We can’t stay here.” Aislynn was looking round the corner of the passage up ahead. “We need to keep moving.”

  “Can you give us cover as Necrolytes?” Albany asked.

  “Yes, but we’ll be dwarf Necrolytes. My illusions can’t compensate for the difference in height. We’d be better adopting the form of Amorphics.”

  “Would they have access to this part of the fortress?” Celestia said.

  Albany stood up. “It’s a risk we’ll have to take. Aislynn, give me a hand getting these bodies into that alcove over there. Celestia, help Merrick up. We need to find a room or hiding place. Somewhere to give him chance to recover.

  Like a veil passing over each of them, Aislynn’s Amorphic illusion coalesced around their bodies.

  The alcove contained an aperture in the floor. Albany looked over and snapped his head back. “Fucking hell, what a stench,” he said, placing a hand over his mouth and nose.

  “It’s a Necrolyte latrine,” Aislynn said.

  “What better place to give these bastards a final resting place.” He hefted his Necrolyte towards the hole then booted the corpse into it. There was a second of silence followed by the echo of a viscous splash. “Rather poetic, don’t you think?”

  Aislynn ignored him, lifted the remaining Necrolyte above her head and tossed it in to join its partner.

  “Hey, where d’you get those muscles?” Albany said.

  Aislynn looked at him. “I just keep eating the spinach.”

  “The girl has a sense of humour too.”

  “Hurry up, you two,” Celestia called to them.

  They bundled Merrick along as best they could. They passed two groups of Ukurum, choosing to stand aside for both. The first, consisting of four Necrolytes, pounded past with a purposeful gait the companions had come to expect. They swept by without a glance. The second group stopped in their tracks. They were three Amorphic, who made clicking noises at them. The companions lack of response seemed to exasperate one, but they too passed on after judging they posed no threat.

  They passed many doorways, always hearing the sound of Ukurum communication on the other side; either the gutteral harshness of the Necrolyte tongue, or the irritating burr of the Amorphic. Finally, they happened upon a room beyond an archway, separated from the passage by a thick damask-like drape. Inside, they found wooden boxes piled from floor to ceiling and shelves laden with tunics, belts and assorted weaponry. It offered scant concealment but served as a place of respite.

  They placed Merrick, delirious with exhaustion, on the only seat present and took stock.

  “He’s going to be out of commission for a while,” Albany said.

  “No wonder,” Celestia said. “He created six portals to get us here, and that last one was more a tunnel than a gateway.”

  Albany stood with hands on hips. “Well, if we’ve achieved nothing more from this trip, knowing he can weave a way through different realms back to the same one will have made it worth the trouble.”

  “Yet we don’t know the full extent of Shamon’s defences,” Aislynn said.

  Albany looked at his watch. “Assuming time runs the same between realms, then we’ll have been in Celebrai ten hours. If we stay much longer, Karapetian’s going to get antsy.”

  “Not to mention we’ve got several hours trek back to our original access point,” the illusionist added.

  “Maybe we won’t have to make the return journey across the plain,” Albany said, looking down at Merrick.

  Celestia bent down and felt Merrick’s perspiring brow. “He’s not going to be ready for that. He needs time to recover.”

  Albany shrugged. “Then we might as well make use of the wait. I suggest you stay here with Merrick while Aislynn and I do some more reconnaissance.”

  “I won’t be able to maintain their illusions once we leave,” Aislynn said.

  Albany swept a hand over the surface of a folded tunic. Cobwebs festooned his fingers. “With a bit of luck they won’t need them. This place doesn’t look like it’s used much.” He looked at Celestia. “What can you detect?”

  “I keep trying to get a sense of the complex, but there’s so much interference. The constant maintenance of our sensory shield limits my range too. What I do know is that a diverse mass of life exists in the lower catacombs. It could be a multitude of morphing tanks, like we saw on our previous visit.”

  “We could do with knowing just what Shamon is spawning in this hellhole. I suggest we follow whatever directions you’ve got, get a handle on what’s down there and then return.”

  Celestia stood up again. “And what if you don’t come back?”

  Albany forced a grim smile. “Don’t bother sending out a search party, just get yourselves back to the others and skedaddle to Paraganet.

  Celestia sighed. “I still haven’t lost that bad feeling.”

  ~~~

  Merrick was aware that some time had passed since he last heard the whispers of his companions. He drifted in and out of consciousness, only able to open his eyes a fraction before complete exhaustion overcame him again. In his thoughts he heard Celestia’s soothing voice. Her French inflections made the words a song, the lilting cadence of their rhythm percolating into his vivid dreams. The scent of her perfume, the knowledge of her closeness gave him the security he needed to let go and regenerate.

  After a passage of time he felt the lip of a vessel against his lips, and a fiery liquid poured down his gullet.

  “For strength,” he heard her say. The potion revitalised him as its heat spread like molten gold through his body.

  Before long he was conscious. Celestia explained what had transpired.

  “How long have they been?” he murmured.

  “About forty minutes.”

  “They shouldn’t have gone,” he said, sitting up in the chair.

  “Shhh. Rest. I can sense them returning. They are not far.”

  She sat next to him on a makeshift seat made up from a stack of mouldy blankets. She looked at him, her mind open.

  “Celestia, it seems we never have time to ... ” He didn’t finish. She could read his thoughts, and he in turn was under no illusion about the sentiments she broadcast. She leaned across, not needing further invitation, and placed her lips on his. Despite her appearance being that of a Celebrain, he could taste them sweet as nectar, less fulsome than those of Lotus but tantalising just the same.

  Damn the comparison.

  No need to explain or justify, she sent. You cannot banish a former lover so quickly from your thoughts. I just felt I ought to do that.

  Ought?

  I think it’s time we gave ourselves permission. After all we don’t know what the future holds.

  Maybe we should ask Destain.

  She screwed her face up at the proposition.

  Then again, maybe not.

  The smile slipped from her face. “Albany and Aislynn. They’re not alone. We must ready ourselves. Do you think you can open another gateway?”

  He shook his head. “The walls between realities are dense here. Our only chance is to make it back to our previous drop-off point. I might be able to open up the tunnel where the fabric of reality is we
aker.”

  She looked amongst the discarded weapons and picked up a light broadsword. “Just stay behind me.”

  They burst out into the corridor to find Albany and Aislynn bearing down on them, all pretence of illusion gone. A maul of Necrolytes pounded close behind.

  “Back to the access point,” Celestia said. “Merrick will try to re-open the gateway there.”

  They retreated up an incline at a pace dictated by Merrick’s stumbling. Albany used the opportunity to disable the nearest Necrolyte with a war-hammer he had acquired. The narrowness of the passage and the elevation gave the companions an advantage, but in the end it only provided a few seconds respite. The footfall of more warriors could be heard in the distance, heading towards them. The Necrolytes would catch them in a pincer movement within seconds. He looked ahead and saw a cross-roads. He staggered towards it and glanced in all four directions. Down one passage he saw an endless line of Necrolytes jogging towards them.

  His companions joined him seconds later. Albany and Aislynn had dispatched their Necrolytes but they could hear more following behind.

  “Which way?” Aislynn said.

  “Straight down there,” Merrick replied, pointing. He noticed a tear in her sleeve and blood staining the material before dripping off her sword hand.

  “I can create a multiplication to buy us time,” she said, grimacing.

  “Do it,” Merrick replied, “then follow me.” The adrenaline flow revived him, but his movements were still uncoordinated. Celestia grabbed his arm just as five illusions sprang from each of them, spreading out in all four directions.

  It was just as it had been outside Ashgabat, when Rovach had performed the same magick. Aislynn had thrown the Necrolytes into confusion, and the companions grasped the chance to speed away from the melee. They passed the latrine alcove and Merrick felt the weakness in the ether ahead. It was as if the breach in reality had been sewn up with crude stitches.

  He applied his will and saw a fissure appear in the air. Wild energy crackled through the gap but it remained too small to pass through.

  “I can’t do it,” he said in desperation, “there’s too much resistance.”

  “The Necrolytes,” Albany cried, “they’re not fooled.”

  Merrick snatched a glance behind and saw a familiar combatant waving his hands and dispelling the illusions Aislynn had created.

  “Radice,” Merrick said. “What I wouldn’t give to tan his hide.”

  “Merrick,” Celestia said. “You must try again. I will join with you—perhaps I can augment your power.”

  He launched his will at the fissure with renewed momentum. Celestia’s mind-force bolstered his and they saw the tear in reality grow, yet it was still too small.

  Albany and Aislynn parried Necrolyte weapon-thrusts but they were losing ground. Behind the snarling beasts, Radice held his hands high. Merrick could sense the man adding his energy to the onslaught.

  “We can’t hold them off much longer,” Albany said. He bore a wound across his forehead, the crimson flow unsighting him in one eye.

  “One more push,” Celestia said.

  It was all Merrick could do to remain conscious, but Celestia’s mind-force swelled beneath him. He felt rather than saw the fissure split with an audible snap.

  “We’re through,” Celestia said and pushed him headfirst through the breach. She followed into the tunnel of energy, picking him up, coercing him to use his legs. He heard the clash of weapons behind and hoped Albany and Aislynn were able to follow. The tunnel ahead was open, but he sensed the fissure close behind and the air fill with chaotic energy.

  The walls of existence, he sent, they’ll swallow us up.

  His terror was short-lived. Ten more strides and they were through—cast into the next reality. Merrick lay on the ground in a twilight world. He twisted round to see first Celestia, then Albany and finally Aislynn tumble through.

  The crack in the air slammed shut, leaving only a compressed silence holding sway.

  ~~~

  Chapter 37

  Sunset superman

  Jagur Shamon observed Lotus from the shadows. He liked to watch during unguarded moments like these. They were the most explicit evidence that she had undergone a complete metamorphosis. She held a rod of power above her head, wielding it like a spear. Her stance was that of a striking jaguar as she focused on the target two hundred yards away. The battle garb he had given her fit like she was born to it. It gave her the air of a warrior queen, the manifestation of her prowess as beguiling as her beauty. He saw with a magus’ eye the slightest flicker of one eyelid initiate the release of the staff. It launched itself across the room faster than it took him to blink, and struck the target on the outer roundel.

  Lotus bowed her head, disappointment etched on her face. She raised her hand again and concentrated her will on the embedded rod. It vibrated like a dipole under the influence of a magnetic field, then shot out of the target back into her outstretched hand.

  “Your power grows by the day, my butterfly.” Shamon strolled from his vantage point and stood opposite the protege, clearly impressed at the display she had just performed. The combat arena would have been awash with sparring Ukurum during the daytime. Now, with nightfall, it was empty. The sprung floor and stark walls of stone echoed back Shamon’s voice, giving it a faux-horror delay.

  “The process is too slow,” Lotus said and, as if to prove the point, gestured at the metal weights stacked up on the floor. They rattled and shook, then stood still. She gasped with the effort, and partly from frustration.

  “You must be patient,” Shamon said. “Your skill level is already years ahead of expectations, but mastery requires the passage of time. If you rush the acquisition phase, your technique will suffer in the long term.” He held out his hand, fingers spread, and lifted it slowly upward. The top disc, about twenty kilograms, hovered above the pile. Shamon narrowed his eyes, then flicked his wrist in a dismissive gesture. The weight arced across the chamber and struck a side wall, burying itself in the plaster. Rock chips spat out and scattered over the floor.

  “A novice might have accomplished what you just saw, but their lack of experience would have compromised the release and accuracy of the projectile. A liability in a combat situation.”

  Lotus threw her rod to the ground. “It’s easy for you to say, but try to imagine my helplessness when Merrick attacked. He came close to killing you, and all I could do was wave a pathetic dagger—and we all saw where that got me.”

  Shamon’s face creased into a benevolent smile, an affectation he had until recently only reserved for Sarlic. “Your pride’s been hurt. That’s understandable, but these matters are too important to be sacrificed on the altar of vanity.”

  “Vanity? It was only your safety that concerned me.”

  “Of course it was. Only a cynic would think it was anything to do with being disarmed by Miss Barone.”

  Lotus turned her back on him and opened a grimoire. He could tell she was only pretending to read. “She ... they mean nothing to me. But the fact that they were here in the citadel again shows how close they can get to you.”

  He approached and clasped her shoulders. “The past is there to be learned from, not to be a source of regret. You will flourish in time.”

  She turned and looked up at him. “Though not soon enough to join you in battle.”

  Shamon gave a small sigh. “There may yet be a role for you. How is your unique talent developing?”

  A glimmer of satisfaction passed across her face. “I can sustain it up to ten minutes.”

  “Excellent. I am still astonished at how fortune has led to our union. First, the completion of the Great Work, then the discovery of your magickal potential. The spirit of Ukurum will dominate the realms beyond Celebrai, and we will participate together.”

  Lotus laid her head on his chest. He knew she would hear the dark song that coursed through his mortal flesh. “Has the
Hierophant alliance responded to your pronouncement?” she said.

  “Not yet. They will suspect entrapment and hold one of their insipid war councils. There they will toss theories and speculation back and forth in equal measure. Whichever decision they come to is of little consequence. We will defeat them in a day or a year—I am a patient man.”

  “One of your many qualities,” she said. Again, he marveled at his mate. Assertive yet not presumptious.

  “Shall we retire to your rooms?” she asked, “I yearn for release once more.”

  The smile he gave her was eager and alive with affection and delight. He took her hand and led her from the arena.

  ~~~

  When Merrick and his companions emerged from the Paraganet gateway, Karapetian and Jason were waiting for them. The travellers looked haggard and worn. Merrick didn’t even have the energy to stand. Albany and Johnny supported him as best they could.

  “Thank Aiwas you have returned,” Karapetian said and instructed two Hierophants to support Merrick.

  Jason stood with arms folded and surveyed the bedraggled group. “Eight of you left, two absent and you have gained another member. Are we to assume the worst has happened to your mercenaries?”

  “Stow it, Jason,” Albany said. “Now isn’t the time for petty point scoring.”

  “Who’s the Ukurum? She looks half dead.”

  Celestia slung her pack to the floor. “Her name’s Tessanee and she’s been quite candid with us ... eventually.” She darted a look at Johnny, who stood, impassive over his captive.

  “Are any of you hurt?” Karapetian asked.

  “Albany and Aislynn could do with some attention,” Celestia said, “but I’m most concerned about Merrick. He’s never pushed himself this far before.”

  “Let’s get the four of them to the hospital wing. You’ve no doubt got a lot to tell us, but it can wait an hour or two.”

  Merrick took two steps before his legs gave way. A blackout shutter closed over his vision.