The Psychonaut_Book 1

by Tom G. H. Adams

  As if he had cut out a template in reality, the arch shape fell away from them to reveal a dimly-lit world.

  “Fascinating,” said Karapetian. Even Jason’s jaw dropped.

  “Don’t bite off more than you can chew,” Albany said. “Straight to Celebrai then back again, like we agreed.”

  Merrick winked at him, took Celestia’s hand and stepped into the unknown.

  ~~~

  Exhilaration is a curious emotion. Best appreciated in its fullness on an ephemeral basis. The human brain is not equipped for constant, unbridled ecstasy. So it was that the Psychonaut’s mind employed its own protection, a numbing sensation such that Merrick experienced his augmented power as the pilot of a ship. His hand was on the tiller, guiding it into and through the maelstrom. He could see the path they had to follow, familiar like the lines on his palm. He let Celestia see through their mind meld—it held her in rapture.

  After five boundary crossings, they stopped in a forest of luminous plant life.

  The wall is thick here, he sent, and it doesn’t thin out for many miles.

  How are your energy reserves?

  At a guess—~~~0 per cent.

  The creation of a tunnel could drain you considerably.

  True, but there may be another way.

  They re-entered the gateway they had just come through, closing it behind as Merrick had done with all of them. He held his hands up as if running them along a wall.

  Here, he sent, there’s a worm-hole of sorts. I can circumvent the glowing forest and choose a longer but less arduous route.

  Are you sure?

  That’s the beauty of Karapetian’s drug. It would be harder finding the way to the end of my nose, look.

  He opened his third eye so she could see through it.

  It ... it’s ...

  No need to explain. It’s impossible isn’t it? How can you describe just knowing?

  He gestured again and they stepped through the resulting wound in reality. The remaining doors hardly required even the smallest of gesticulations as they moved with dizzying rapidity through them. In a matter of minutes they stood outside the familiar edifice of Shamon’s city in Celebrai. Dawn approached and nothing stirred save the occasional insect. Seeing they were unobserved, Merrick kept the gateway open and found that it required minimal effort.

  Celestia looked around. It’s almost—

  Too good to be true? Wait a second, I’m going to try something.

  He stood before the gateway and held his arms aloft, curling his fingers as if gripping a bar. There was an ear-splitting, explosive sound like a sonic boom and an irregular archway, twenty feet tall appeared. It swallowed up the previous doorway.

  Incredible, Celestia sent.

  Their elation proved immature. A creaking and groaning began to emanate from all around, like giant monoliths toppling over.

  What’s happening? she sent.

  I don’t know, but I think we better go back. That wasn’t a healthy sound.

  They jumped through the arch and Merrick closed the rent in the air with a visible effort. Once shut, the groaning subsided and they could both breathe easy again.

  A step too far? Celestia sent.

  I think I’m beginning to test the limits of what I can do. It’s as if the larger breach weakens the construction of reality around it.

  What would have happened if you’d left it open?

  Another unknown. But I don’t think the outcome would be good.

  You look tired.

  Yeah, I’m starting to weaken now.

  Do you need more of the elixir?

  No, I’ll be fine. Let’s go.

  ~~~

  Needless to say, the Hierophants and Outcasts were waiting eagerly with a host of questions upon their return. Karapetian gave Merrick a small dose of straight Restiatin as a precaution, given that he had exerted himself so much in a short space of time.

  After hearing their report, Karapetian was satisfied that the conditions were met for a reply to Shamon—an acceptance of the challenge. The news of Merrick’s increased competence at realm-travel buoyed up the Alliance, and soon, word had spread throughout Paraganet House. While this increased morale, Jason was ever conscious of the threat of espionage. Should this information ever find its way into Ukurum hands they would lose the element of surprise. His concerns manifested themselves in a doubling of security, for traffic both in and out of Paraganet House.

  In the ensuing days, Merrick had the sense of sand running through the hourglass at an accelerated rate. Many demands were made upon him and he found himself returning to Celestia’s arms at the end of the day, weary in body and mind. That did not prevent them from sharing their intimacy through the early hours of the morning, however. Indeed, the comfort of their union filled him with vitality, leaving him refreshed and ready to face the rigours of another day.

  Although he was back in England, he now felt almost completely detached from his previous life. He learned that he was still on Interpol’s most wanted list, but felt no compulsion to seek a solution to the problem. If he ever made it through to the other side of this war then he could worry about it then.

  There was much beyond Merrick’s ability to grasp. Jason and Karapetian discussed and organised strategy through every waking hour. Each subsidiary order had their own base of operations and part to play in the run-up to zero hour, and Merrick remained in awe of the Hierophant leader’s ability to keep track of it all.

  Merrick’s role was almost exclusively geared to eliciting access to Celebrai. The more he used his power, the more refined he became in choosing the most propitious route to the Hierophant’s target realms. Celestia accompanied him on most, but not all assignments. At first, it was only a select few who were privileged to travel. Jason, Karapetian and his companions had first rights for obvious reasons, but immediately after, this was extended to the representative magickal and military leaders from each order.

  Johnny took over command of the mercenaries in Biff’s absence and carried out numerous sorties into enemy territory to acquire further intelligence. This yielded limited results as Shamon had his security as tight as a virgin’s pussy, as Johnny described it. But at least they were able to reconnoiter the surrounding land and produce quite detailed maps, including the proposed battle zone. One matter weighing heavily on them was their inability to locate either Biff or Hacker. Merrick had even delivered a drop-off at the lonely ridge they’d seen as the predator abducted Hacker, but after a day of fruitless searching and periodic curses from Johnny, he finally repeated his initial assessment—“both dead men.”

  With only four days to go, Merrick found himself with an hour to spare while waiting to re-admit another party of gateway travellers. When he wasn’t accompanying them, these were tense passages of time. As yet, their covert missions were not detected, but there was always the chance of a slip-up with so many personnel involved. To take his mind off matters he arranged to meet up with Arun in the gym while Celestia honed her projectile weaponry skills on the outside range. It struck him that he had almost zero combat ability. Perhaps he could learn something useful, even if it was rudimentary.

  The Vietnamese had regained his strength and stamina. An unexpected bonus was his remission from alcoholism. The enforced stay in the medical wing had removed temptation from his grasp and, with the help of Destain, he had successfully applied an abstinence regime. This wasn’t good news for everyone. Mike thought he’d regained a drinking partner, but when he turned up at Arun’s room with a bottle of vodka, he was met with a stern and resolute rebuttal. From then on, Mike referred to him as that bloody teetotaller.

  Merrick had changed into a loose-fitting, judo-style suit. After a quick warm-up he was facing Arun on the mat.

  “Let’s see what you’re made of,” Arun said. “Come at me as if you mean it.”

  He circled the Vietnamese, fainting in one direction, then following it with an erratic kic
k at Arun’s mid-section. Next thing he knew, he was on his back, winded and looking up at a spinning ceiling.

  Arun extended his prosthetic hand and helped him up. “You signal your attacks like a claxon,” he said. Here, your stance is all wrong too, let me show you.” Arun helped him adopt a traditional Vovinam posture and led him through two basic manoeuvres. After half an hour, Merrick was losing patience with his own inept attempts.

  “Come at me again,” said Arun, standing in a relaxed but defensive posture. This time, Merrick resolved to do the unexpected. He sliced the air with his hand and disappeared through the temporary gateway he created. The gateway closed again leaving Arun circling on the balls of his feet, trying to anticipate what he knew must follow.

  Ten seconds later, there was a crackle of energy and the smell of ozone in the air. Merrick dived at him through a virgin gateway formed behind his opponent. It was an impressive display, but Arun caught him mid-air, swung him head over tail then slammed him down on the floor with his knee pinning Merrick down.

  “Aaarghk!” was all Merrick could say as Arun pressed on his windpipe.

  “Sorry,” Arun said. “I was a bit over-zealous.” He released his hold on the Psychonaut. “Then again, it was you who pulled the fast one.”

  Merrick adjusted his tousled suit. “I thought I’d caught you napping,” he said, the disappointment on his face clear to see.

  Arun flexed his prosthetic arm. “You’ve improved the speed at which you create your gateways,” he said, “but I’ve seen faster reflexes on a sloth.”

  Merrick put his hands to his head. “It’s just no fucking use. I can’t learn martial arts in a couple of days, and with my hard Psychonautics a no-go zone, I’m as much use as tits on a fish.”

  Arun placed his hand on Merrick’s shoulder. “Not everyone is born to be a warrior,” he said, “but every man is capable of courage and greatness. “Refine your psychonautic skills. Make them count. Remember, no one in living memory can do what you do, and I’ve seen you demonstrate the bravery of a lion.”

  Merrick tried to take heart in Arun’s words but decided instead to sit on a bench and watch him instruct a mercenary in the art of the nun-chuk. Merrick watched the other groups practicing their skills in the training hall. As well as combat, he saw illusionists of various proficiencies weaving their mirages and disguises, thaumaturgists sending shock-waves to incapacitate opponents and others conjure fireballs and Mage-winds to great effect.

  After some time, Destain appeared at his side and sat down. “It seems our strength and effectiveness grows by the day,” he said.

  Merrick nodded. “Makes me glad we’re on this side of the conflict. I wouldn’t like to be on the receiving end of the punishment these guys are dolling out.”

  Destain wore a pensive frown. “And yet, the outcome of the battle ahead rests on more than military might or offensive magick charms.”

  “You’ve been having visions again?” Merrick asked.

  “Yes, I’m not getting much sleep.”

  “Tell me about them.”

  He took a deep breath in. “It’s the first vision I ever had when I became cognisant, about ten years ago. Since then, one vision has added to another, but the understanding has become, if anything, more clouded. My dreams, whether waking or asleep, reveal a great conflict between a dragon and a creature with nine heads.”

  “Sounds like something from the book of Revelation—sorry, I’m interrupting.”

  “The comparison is apt, although St. John alluded to a different time and a long-forgotten world order. I understand the man’s torment however. This Great War takes place in another land and between races unknown to mankind. My vision shows the denizens of earth going about their daily business wearing blindfolds, oblivious to the battle in another dimension.”

  “Do you know the outcome?”

  “As is my gift’s wont, it presents me with alternatives. They appear as three scrolls.” He pulled out a bottle of water, took a sip but kept his sightless gaze fixed on another horizon. “The first scroll shows the many-headed creature losing one of its heads. The remainder then bow before the dragon and swear fealty to it. There follows an age of darkness spanning many millennia.”

  “Mmm, cheery,” Merrick said. “Is the next scroll more optimistic?”

  Destain’s mouth curled into a faint smile. “More heartening, but also, more confusing. The dragon bites off three of the creature’s heads while a further head turns on another and devours it. However, the creature grows in strength and dwarfs the dragon.”

  “And the dragon is defeated?”

  “Not by the creature. The dragon has a pack of wolves that follow in its shadow. One of them strikes the dragon a mortal blow while the creature kills the others. The scroll finally tells of the dragon broken to pieces under the creature’s feet.”

  Merrick listened with greater attention now. He detected truth in what Destain revealed. But was it a truth that the seer had convinced himself of, or one that had credence beyond the man’s tortured mind?

  “The final scroll is the most fell of the three. The creature raises its heads to the sky and receives sustenance from the dark. It becomes all powerful, growing three more heads and overthrows the dragon. Once again the dragon is rent asunder, but it’s essence is absorbed by the creature to join with the darkness it has already received. The beast that rises up from that dreadful union becomes more fierce and hungry than the dragon ever was.” Rivulets of sweat fell from Destain’s face as he finished his prophecy. He drained the rest of the bottle’s contents and leaned back against the wall, spent.

  Merrick grasped him by the shoulders. “Are you okay?” he asked.

  After a moment or two, Destain became himself again. “I don’t think I’ll be truly at peace until one of the scroll’s portents comes to pass. Only the gods know if it will be the repose of the blessed or the damned.”

  “You see these visions often?”

  “Several times a day. The hour is near when these things will reach their fulfillment.”

  Merrick’s brow creased in thought. “Is it too obvious to suggest the identities of the dragon and the creature?”

  “They say that a child could understand the meaning of the prophecy, but it must be an enlightened child. I sometimes wished I’d never chosen the way of the blind man. If I’d known the price I’d have to pay ...”

  Albany approached. He took one look at his brother and saw the fear written on his face. “You’ve had the visions again?”

  “There is only one I see now. You must excuse me, both of you. I think I could do with some fresh air.”

  “I’ll see you in the garden shortly,” Albany said and crouched next to Merrick.

  “He’s told you what he sees?” Merrick asked.

  “Yeah. To be honest I’m worried about his mental health. Locked up in Shamon’s lair for as long as he has would begin to twist anyone’s mind.”

  “Then you don’t think there’s any substance to his predictions?”

  “I have my doubts. But then Shamon seemed to take him seriously—otherwise he wouldn’t have kept him alive. Anyhow, I better go check on him.”

  “One thing before you go,” Merrick said. “He talked about choosing the way of the blind man. What did he mean?”

  Albany swallowed, then looked away. “Destain hasn’t been blind from birth. He received his gift—or curse, depending on which way you look at it—at the cost of his eyes.”

  “What? Someone took them out?”

  “No, he gouged them out himself.”

  ~~~

  Chapter 39

  Lock up the wolves

  Next morning, Merrick engaged in the most dangerous part of their preparations. He met with Celestia, Jason and a team of five others in the gateway cavern.

  Merrick looked at the cages the Hierophants had constructed. There were four in all, ten feet high and made of the same alloy used in Arun’s prost
hetic arm.

  Jason was his usual stand-offish self. “Are you ready for this, Merrick?”

  “Yes and no,” he replied. “Are you sure we need more Simiata?”

  “It’s like I told you, they’re strong as bull-elephants and very teachable.”

  “That may be true, but we’ve only four days until the battle. There’s no time to make them compliant.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong. Our labs have perfected an electronic collar that provides a direct link to the master’s mind and will. Early tests on the Simiata we already captured have proved most effective.”

  Merrick shrugged and left Jason to his preparations. Besides Celestia and himself, the team consisted of Aislynn, Arun and Johnny, together with two other mercenaries. Johnny told them to gather round and gave a final briefing.

  “The command structure is this: Jason’s in charge of the whole operation and I’m acting as deputy. For those of you without a military background, that means you follow orders—to the letter. No exceptions.” He looked at Merrick, who nodded back at him. He continued. “Merrick and Celestia are playing a non-combat role. Their job is to locate the Simiata and warn us of danger. Based on previous experience, that shouldn’t be hard as the Simiata tend to home in on gifted individuals anyway. So, we need to protect Merrick and Celestia at all costs. The good news? Our firearms work on the other side. I know, because Merrick and I tested them. The bad news is we need to capture them alive.”

  Johnny handed over to Jason who outlined tactics for trapping the Simiata. In principle, it sounded foolproof. But, as Merrick had once read, nothing is foolproof to a sufficiently talented fool—and Jason fitted the bill. Merrick swallowed his opinion and made ready to access the gateway. The smell of sweat and anxiety permeated the air as he and Celestia walked towards the gateway. He had grown familiar with its oily, beckoning surface, but nothing would ever get him used to the sensations he felt as first his hand, then his arm and the rest of his whole body immersed itself in the vertical pool.