The Psychonaut_Book 1

by Tom G. H. Adams

  “Quel abominations,” Celestia said.

  “I estimate about nine thousand combatants made up of three basic types,” Jason said.

  Merrick was adept at estimating large numbers of grouped individuals after having spent many a day out on the mud flats with his uncle counting waders. “I’d say nearer to ten thousand.” He knew the correction would irritate Jason, but that wasn’t his purpose. They needed an accurate assessment of the opposition to stand any chance of victory.

  Jason ignored the contradiction. “You can be sure Shamon’s held back another army, equal in size and most of which will be disciplined Ukurum warriors. This lot look fearsome, but they’re likely just cannon fodder, designed to weaken us before the second, more experienced troops wade in.

  Merrick continued to examine the shambling and shifting bodies of the Ukurum advance guard. One type appeared androgynous in form, unclothed and faceless, their torsos made of myriad tubes and intertwined in a dull-brown conglomeration. He could make out limbs but no face; just an anterior, raffia-like swelling on the shoulders. The legs were humanoid and padded with plates of tissue—natural rather than synthetic armour.

  Much larger in stature, were conjoined double-entities; again, humanoid in form but appearing as a skeletal, wiry framework wrapped over with sheets of pale, grey skin. The skin patchwork was shaped into cowls which, as far as Merrick could tell, enclosed nothing. Blackness was ensconced within.

  The third, most common type weren’t just small, they were minute. At this distance, Merrick judged they could be no more than knee-height. This might have filled him with confidence if it wasn’t for the fact that they moved with the speed of quicksilver. Indeed, they scurried about with such rapidity, under and over each other, between the legs of their lanky brethren, that they were more like a swarm. Every so often he snatched a glimpse of an eyeless head, with jaws larger than a gin trap and teeth equally sharp. Merrick could imagine the damage they could do to limbs and nether regions in the middle of a skirmish.

  Jason lowered his telescope. Wafers of precipitation lay on his beard as if he’d just eaten an oversize pastry and forgotten to brush himself down. “Well, I haven’t seen the like of these before. Did you notice they’re not carrying weapons?”

  “Yeah,” Albany said, “which means they’ll not be any good except at close quarters. Our arrows and catapults could exact a heavy toll before they even cross the valley.”

  Merrick still scanned with his binoculars. “Shamon’s too crafty to throw unarmed monsters at us. He’s hiding something.”

  “I can’t pick up anything by far-sight,” Celestia said. “The psychic shield over their troops is stronger than ever. I’ll need to get in closer if I’m to penetrate their defences.”

  “How long until battle commences?” Merrick asked.

  “About two hours left,” Jason said. “Horns will blow on both sides.”

  “And then?”

  “Whoever advances troops first onto the flood plain, opens themselves up for attack from an army charging down from above. More likely the opposing armies will march, then repeatedly stop. That way neither side concedes the advantage.”

  Merrick felt a knot tighten in his bowels. It hadn’t let up since dawn. He’d forced some food down despite protests from his stomach, and now it repeated on him, aggravating his nausea. Some action would combat the tension, and he knew just how to take his mind off things.

  Celestia, are you up for an astral visit to check out the competition on the far side?

  Oui, but my range won’t even reach to their front line.

  That’s okay. I’ll realm-travel to the gulley lying south of them. It should give us enough range.

  After telling Jason their intentions, they returned to the tent with a warning from Jason not to do anything that constituted an attack on the Ukurum. They were bound to keep the Mage-lock.

  Merrick carried twenty metal vials of elixir in an adapted belt. He took one out and swallowed half the contents.

  “That should do it,” he said, feeling the warm glow of the potion spreading from his core. “Are you ready?”

  “Ready and armed,” Celestia replied.

  Merrick breached three realm boundaries to arrive at the gulley, but resolved to try a different route back as one of the worlds was infested with insectoids that ran up their legs. They swept several of them off as they clung on with tenacity to their clothes.

  Celestia shuddered, and it wasn’t from the cold. Have you got them all off me? I hate les bestioles.

  Yeah. I wasn’t counting on them hitching a ride.

  They found a sheltered nook and merged minds straightaway.

  We should proceed with caution, Celestia sent. They’ll have their own far-seers employed to guard against any infiltration.

  Can you shield us?

  Oui, provided they do not have an adept of higher order than myself.

  Is that likely?

  Non.

  The frisson of pride she gave off made him smile as they soared free of their corporeal selves and glided over the massed Ukurum. Close up, Shamon’s hordes were even more ferocious and bestial. The little creatures they had observed from afar seemed to writhe as a mass of teeth, bone, skin and slime. They skittered over their neighbours in a constant competition to occupy the top layer, trampling the more unfortunate ones underneath. As they zoomed in, Celestia and Merrick saw huge piles of compressed bodies beneath the squirming multitude. He watched the skin of one dead life form (presumably asphyxiated.) It bubbled as something moved beneath. Then, a head burst through the body’s dermis and crawled out, biting at other emergents around it.

  Merde, I can’t stomach much more of this, Celestia sent.

  I’m with you on that one. It’s hard to see how the Ukurum can control these things. Surely they’ll just get in the way of Shamon’s other troops?

  Let’s not jump to conclusions. We need to inform Jason so he’s prepared.

  They soared over the rest of the front line, Celestia keeping them well away from circling astral sentinels.

  They’re not reacting to our presence, Merrick sent.

  That seems to be the case, but I sense they’re suspicious.

  Have you picked up on Shamon yet? It would save everyone a lot of trouble if I could appear behind him and slice the fucker’s throat.

  Non. He’ll not let his shields down. He knows I am present and I him, but we cannot pinpoint each other.

  Let’s take a closer look at those raffia-type monstrosities further up the valley.

  They drifted over the monstrous horde, speechless with horror at the atrocity Shamon had engineered. They decided to name the types as they discovered more of them. The little toothed critters were Ankle-biters while the taller, androgynous humanoids were Wool-whores. The comedy names served to lessen the terror threatening to swamp them—at least in part. When it came to the last breed, Merrick began to doubt the allies’ chances of victory. They called the fifteen foot monstrosities Double-heads. There were well over a hundred of them. They looked unwieldy, but as they observed them for a few minutes, Celestia and Merrick could see they moved with inhuman speed, floating above the other troops like grey kites of death. Their parchment-like cowls billowed in the wind casting dread shadows over the ground.

  Jason’s going to need to tackle those bastards early on, Merrick sent. They seem more disciplined than the other breeds and Christ knows how they inflict damage—I bet it’s not pretty.

  Shamon will need to issue orders to the troops. Let’s see if we can identify the Ukurum officers, Celestia sent.

  They didn’t need to look for long. Armoured Necrolytes moved through the ocean of monsters, growling orders in their gutteral tongue. Every so often they cracked thorn-tipped whips to bring the more chaotic troops into line. The humanoid Ukurum had positioned themselves two hundred yards behind the main body of monsters in fortified command posts. They held commanding arms in the a
ir, although what this accomplished was far from clear. These posts were interspersed among hundreds of shuffling Amorphic. Directly behind, columns of Necrolytes wielded javelins or iron cross-bows. Still further back were huge catapults, loaded with pitch-coated projectiles.

  How far do they go? Merrick sent. There’s fucking thousands of them.

  Look, up there on the higher slopes, sent Celestia.

  They flew to where she indicated and saw dozens of outlandish-garbed warriors.

  I recognise some of them, Celestia sent. A mixture of illusionists, far-seers and thaumaturgists. They are former members of the Ardus Obsidian order—a potent group of adepts.

  They attempted to traverse closer to the group but met with a resistance akin to slamming into a brick wall.

  Merde, I wasn’t concentrating—I’ve tripped an astral sensor.

  Time to retreat?

  Oui, rapidement.

  Merrick sensed his astral form sucked backwards as a leaf in a hurricane. The union with his body left him wheezing for breath, but Celestia gave him no time to rest.

  “Take us back,” she said, they will be upon us in seconds—and this time, no insects.”

  ~~~

  “It’s useful intelligence,” said Jason. “Broadcast the Ukurum positions to our command posts. We’ll get our bowmen to target the positions you’ve suggested.”

  “Will do,” Merrick replied. “Have we suffered any enemy surveillance ourselves?”

  “Two attempts. Pretty crude. Our far-seers closed them down before they could see anything important.”

  There were fifteen minutes to go and Merrick could sense the boiling cauldron of anticipation amongst the allied armies, enveloping them like a dense cloud. “We could do with a pair of eyes behind their lines during the battle. They may well have moved their command posts since we penetrated their defences.”

  Jason shook his head as he pored over a map. “They’re ready for you now, it’s not worth the risk.”

  Merrick accepted the judgement and ran to the command tent where Celestia and three other Hierophants gathered. He relayed the message as Jason had asked, but a loud booming across both sides of the valley interrupted him.

  Celestia and Merrick looked at each other.

  “It’s started,” she said.

  ~~~

  Shamon viewed his troops from a vantage point high up a mountain. He saw them in the waters of a large vessel resting on a pedestal in front of him. Each time he disturbed the surface, the view changed from one side of the battlefield to the other. He saw through the eyes of falcons and kites as they swooped up and down the valley at his command.

  Lotus stood at his side. “The first assault is going well,” she said.

  Shamon nodded. “I almost feel sorry for them. They could not have foreseen the havoc my creations would unleash, despite the attempts of Whyte and Barone to warn them.”

  A spidery, pitiless blackness consumed Lotus’ eyes. She saw the carnage inflicted by the double-headed breed and a deep, callous heat infused her.

  “Are you sure they didn’t see what lies in wait further up the ravine?”

  “I am certain,” he replied. “But the way the battle is going, we may not need to invoke it. Look how the enemy is swept aside with each pass of my pets.”

  Lotus watched, her only regret being she couldn’t partake in the slaughter herself.

  ~~~

  Karapetian looked on in frustration as the tide of Ukurum swamped the allies’ forces. The initial barrage of arrows and boulders from the Hierophant troops had hinted at an early victory as large swathes of Ukurum had fallen under the rain of projectiles. He had given the order for an immediate advance to press home the advantage, but this had proved to be their undoing. The purpose of the Wool-whores was revealed with sickening suddenness as their battered corpses were thrust aside by the sheltered swarm of Ankle-biters underneath. They advanced on the allies like black oil, flowing across the river shallows and along the valley floor. Brave Warriors had their legs bitten from beneath them by the scurrying beasts. No shields or line of defence could resist their onslaught. They moved too fast and swamped the allies with their numbers.

  Jason had given the order for Merrick to cleave the air and deliver two waves of Magickal Warriors to the South and North of the Ukurum. For five precious minutes the enemy appeared routed, until billowing, shrouded death descended on them from above. The Double-heads spread their cowls like giant floating manta rays over the allies. Everything they touched turned to dust, including the Simiata. Jason had held two back and was now reluctant to release them for fear of losing their strongest weapon in an instant.

  “Jason,” Karapetian said over the radio, “Call a retreat. Gather our troops amongst the forests—it may give them cover from the Double-heads at least.”

  Jason didn’t need telling twice, yet Karapetian saw with a sinking heart that the allies were reduced in number by a third as they retreated. He looked to the higher ground above his vantage point and saw with growing gloom there was only one battalion of Vril left in reserve.

  Naomi, beside him, directed her troops to ready themselves. “May Aiwas preserve us,” he said to her. “I hope your army can turn the tide. Otherwise we’ll be undone.”

  ~~~

  Merrick boiled with frustration. No matter how many times he and Celestia reported troop movements, the allies were so poorly equipped for the threat of Shamon’s monsters that any retaliation on their part was immediately quashed. He hadn’t counted on the interference he would receive from the suffering of thousands either. At times, it was more than Celestia and he could bear, forcing them over and over again to retract their astral forms.

  The Ankle-biters were a hideous force to begin with, but they could be overwhelmed by relentless bludgeoning with clubs or war hammers, and the intervention of Blazej’s Mage Warriors beat them back. The greatest horror had been the Doubleheads. The swathe of destruction they meted out turned the tide of battle within minutes and they didn’t seem to show any sign of fatigue. The allies had only shot two of them down. A hail of projectiles aimed at their headpieces proved to be a winning combination, but the accuracy required while they swooped and shifted was too much for even the keenest eyed bowman. Once they detected the allies strategy, they made a point of turning their cowl openings away from their antagonists. They didn’t seem dependent on a sense of sight.

  Merrick could stand it no longer. “Celestia, I’m going down. I can’t do anything by just watching from here.”

  “Stop and think for a minute, Merrick. There’s no way you can survive down there. How will you—”

  “I can look after myself. If I get into a tight corner, I’ll just realm jump.”

  “Don’t do it, you’re not—”

  He never heard the end of her sentence. With a wave of his hand he was gone.

  He stepped through a gateway into chaos. The melee was more savage than he could have possibly imagined. Even though the air crackled with the energy of his arrival, there were few on the battlefield who noticed. All around him the sound and smell of death reigned. Creatures cried and roared; some in pain, some in battle-fury. Above him floated the double-heads, descending without warning and converting all they touched into motes of dust that swept in the wind towards the allied ranks. He turned his face, grit-blasted with the cremated remains of his comrades, and tried to anticipate the next combatant. The powder that blackened his face and got in his eyes coated him in grim death.

  Through the clouds of ash he perceived rather than saw a malignant figure, dealing welts of death in the form of white-hot flares. As understanding dawned on Merrick, the Pyronaut materialised through a break in the dust cloud. It sensed him and turned its head in his direction.

  I see you, Psychonaut. Know this: you shall be consumed by my fire.

  Then the smoke obscured it again.

  Not yet, motherfucker, he sent.

  But Merrick h
ad more immediate concerns. The anklebiters came as a swarm. Next to him, they overwhelmed a bulbous-headed Hierophant. Whether a he or she, he could not tell, but they covered its belly and chewed through the abdomen in seconds. Intestines, liver and kidneys were devoured in as short a time.

  The barbarity oppressed Merrick so much he became transfixed. Many of the razor-toothed monstrosities had completed their meal and flowed off the eviscerated corpse, trampling their neighbours in the process. Although eyes were absent, they detected Merrick and scurried towards him. He had enough presence of mind to draw his sabre, but scant prowess to resist their onslaught. He swung the sword in a low arc, slicing through four of the beasts in one stroke, yet the wave didn’t diminish one iota. If anything, they came with increased vigour.

  Blind panic took over as he beat at them until he was sure his arm would drop off with fatigue. They were like a multitude of terriers, only one hundred times as deadly. One attached itself to his lower leg and, if it hadn’t been for the armoured grieves, would have taken it clean off. He tried to back up, but was pressed against a steep incline, the ground a quagmire.

  Disaster struck when one foot slipped and he fell on his back. There was just enough time for him to think he was done for, when a familiar shape jumped from behind into the midst of the Anklebiters.

  Arun was a dervish, spinning round, wielding his halberd in successive sweeps of death. His bionic arm gave strength and speed to the strokes such that the blade became a blur to Merrick. He took advantage of the momentary respite and regained his feet.

  “We’re taking a beating,” Albany said. The man had appeared at Merrick’s side, grabbed his arm and pulled him up the hill. Merrick could see the retreat occur all around him. The enemy were beating back the Hierophants towards a forest, its depths green and dark with the promise of sanctuary or further death. The wool whores wielded giant axes that reduced their foes to nothing more than a pile of choice meat cuts. Merrick knew they would make short work of the vegetation and reduce the allies to a rout.