by N. J. Mercer
“Are you okay?” asked Baccharus.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” said Johnny, still surprised at how well he felt; there wasn’t even a trace of the headache. He couldn’t work out why they were all staring at him.
“What’s wrong?” he asked his familiar.
“You were lying there mumbling away with your face all twisted up, dude. And then your whole head was jerking from side to side, and your body was writhing around. We tried to wake you gently and you just brushed us off. At one point, we even thought you were having a fit. Boyd was just about to call an ambulance – you woke up before he dialled out,” Baccharus explained.
Johnny saw the mobile phone ready in Boyd’s hand. “Hey, don’t worry, I feel absolutely fine.”
“You did have us all worried. What happened, Johnny?” asked Sascha.
“I don’t know, all this aberrant psychic energy must be messing with my head.” Johnny was not yet ready to divulge the details of his dream; he knew it would not be long before he had to. Baccharus was the only one who was aware of it – and even he could not guess that it was the source of his keeper’s distress. The friends continued to stand anxiously around Johnny, unconvinced by his reassurances that all was well.
“Don’t worry about me, I feel just fine,” Johnny repeated as he got up. At the same time he was struck by a very important realisation. “We’ve got to move out of here, straight away! I will explain later.”
“What? Now?” asked Boyd, confused.
“Where to?” enquired Sascha.
“We go now! Sascha, drive to the abandoned petrol station we saw on the drive to Mrs McGuiness’s, make it fast. Boyd, follow on your bike. Like I said, explanations later; trust me.”
Without hesitation, the friends quickly moved away from the nature trail car park just as Johnny had ordered. Motorhome, with motorcycle following close behind, raced all the way to the petrol station which lay isolated on a stretch of quiet road surrounded by fields and mountains. It was only a short journey. Sascha turned into the empty concrete forecourt where the pumps had been removed a long time ago. He passed the boarded-up kiosk building and parked beside the disused carwash to the rear, out of sight of the road. Boyd joined the rest of them as they quickly took up positions around the dining table, their unofficial mobile boardroom. When they sat together like this each team member felt strong and morale lifted (especially with the steaming hot coffee Baccharus had prepared). Johnny knew they would have to separate again sooner than he or any of the others would have wanted.
Johnny listened as Boyd started the proceedings by briefly explaining how he and Baccharus had successfully made the motorbike roadworthy again. With what Johnny suspected was considerable self-restraint, Boyd managed to spare everyone the technical details. Baccharus, who could never miss an opportunity to boost his approval ratings, was quick to point out the depth of his involvement in the job.
Johnny went on to give an account of the meeting with Mrs McGuiness; his familiar listened to him enthusiastically while Boyd sat there nodding and raising his eyebrows at interesting junctures in the story. When Johnny had finished, both were quick to congratulate him and Sascha on discovering the name of Edward Devilliers and the location of his house which was, in all probability, their ultimate destination.
A few minutes of chat and speculation followed as each finished his drink, and Boyd offered his evaluation of the situation. “The way I see it, we have the initiative here; we are the attackers, the raiders. The Disciples of Disorder might know we are coming … what they don’t know is when or how hard. I spent years as a merc and worked with all sorts of personnel. Most of my brethren were ex-Special Forces; they came from all over the world, and the one thing they all agreed upon was that the most valuable commodity, more important than all the guns and ammo put together, was intelligence…” He paused to make sure his three companions were listening, which they were, diligently. “We need to know more; I say we go and stake out this house, see who comes and goes while there is still light, and then, under cover of night – we strike!”
Johnny watched his friends nod and murmur in agreement. They had been thinking along similar lines; Boyd, with his combat background, had articulated the idea admirably. Johnny remained relatively quiet, and he could see that his friends had noticed; the last thing he wanted to do was make them feel uneasy.
“I expect the exact nature of our attack will be decided according to what we learn then?” Sascha added.
“That’s right; there’s no point fixing a plan here and now without gathering some information first, we know so little at present,” Boyd said to more nods of agreement. The group started to chatter about preparations for an assault, discussing the weapons available to them and deciding which of Sascha’s electronic devices would be most useful in taking on the enemy. As they spoke, Sascha downloaded maps from the Internet which displayed details of the area around the address Mrs McGuiness had given to them. The discussion swiftly moved on to psychic ability and how it would be implemented in any attack, which inevitably led to Johnny, who remained uncharacteristically quiet at this critical stage of the mission where he would usually be playing an active, vociferous role. His friends noticed his lack of participation and put it down to the strange sleep and headaches he had been suffering from earlier. Johnny sensed discomfort from his companions directed towards him, they needed his full involvement now more than ever – it was time to tell them about the dreams and why he would have to leave them. His cue came when Boyd asked him directly what he thought of the plan, Johnny felt that Boyd suspected he would disapprove. The rest of the group waited in silence for Johnny’s answer.
“It’s a good plan,” started Johnny, “there is something on my mind though.” His friends, who had already guessed as much, listened patiently. “I have been having a recurring dream from even before this assignment started, and it has been bothering me. It’s a weird dream, very vivid, so real that I wake up wondering if it is a dream at all.”
Johnny went on to describe how he flew through the valley, over the three sugar loaf-shaped mountains. He told them about the old woman in her field and the way the children played around her, chanting their strange rhyme. Sascha, Boyd and Baccharus sat there looking quietly intrigued.
“In the beginning I ignored it,” continued Johnny, “but when Baccharus came to me with this assignment the other day, I had a hunch that it was linked to the dream. As we progressed further north with the mission and nearer to the disturbance, the dream became more vivid and intense. I started seeing the old woman and the children around her more clearly, and she started to speak to me. ‘Help us, Johnny,’ she would say. ‘Find me here,’ she told me once, stretching out her arm and gesturing to the mountains around her. When the dream occurs, I can’t begin to tell you how real it is. When I wake up from it, I`m disorientated for a while and left wondering where I am.”
Johnny paused again to gauge his friend’s reactions. They were looking back at him, frowning, waiting for him to continue. He went on to describe the darkness and decay closing in around the old woman and the children.
Sascha had a question. “Is that what happened just now? When we found you thrashing around in your sleep? Were you dreaming that dream?”
“Yes,” said Johnny. “I was sitting there wide awake in the passenger seat and then it was as if the dream attacked me. It forced itself into my mind and gave me this intense headache right here.” Johnny pointed to the centre of his forehead. “I had no choice besides putting my head down and closing my eyes, and when I did that, all I could see was the dream. Just when I thought it couldn’t get any more intense, it starts invading my waking life!”
“I’m sure I speak for everyone when I say this: what the heck does it mean?” Baccharus asked quite reasonably.
“Yeah, is there a message in it?” added Boyd.
“I know there is something behind the images, I’m not sure what it is. Here’s another thing; I have noticed that every
time I dream, it’s soon afterwards that we are attacked by the Disciples of Disorder. It happened when that tall bastard Mr Kreb got us; it happened again when those blue-skinned demons tried to creep up on us.”
“So that’s why you got us to move so quickly to this old petrol station!” Sascha said, realising the reason for their speedy change of location.
“Yes, I thought it was best to move away from the place where I had just experienced the dream again, ASAP!”
Boyd was quick to offer his interpretation of events. “It’s a trap, Johnny, ignore the damn dream. And whenever it happens we should move before those Disciples can get us, like we just did! It’s your psychic ability, you see; it’s not all good. There are pros and cons to it just like everything else in the world. I reckon our enemy is tapping into your mind to trace us.”
Sascha had a less cynical take on the matter. “It could be a legitimate call for help; we can’t just ignore it,” he said.
Boyd wouldn’t be dissuaded from his view. “It’s a trap by the Disciples, a distraction before they attack; it’s bollocks, man. We have a mission, we have an objective, we mustn’t be stopped or distracted now.” Boyd was jabbing his finger on the table to emphasise the point.
“Well, Johnny, why don’t you tell us what you think?” Baccharus asked, and everybody fell silent.
“I reckon someone out there has a message they are desperate to get through to me, and they have been trying to do it for a while. I don’t know who or what they are. I don’t think they have anything to do with the Disciples of Disorder.”
“If it’s not the Disciples then how do you explain the dreams occurring before an attack?” Boyd asked.
“I think the Disciples just follow the dream message. They tune into it psychically somehow, and that’s how they have been onto us from day one. They follow the message all the way from sender to receiver; they haven’t stopped it because it’s been leading them to us every time.”
“So what are you gonna to do about it?” Baccharus asked.
“I’m sorry, guys; you’re not going to like this. I’m going to find the source of this dream before doing anything else. It’s just a feeling, but I think I’m supposed to find out exactly what this message is all about before moving on to the lair of the Disciples. Time is really tight so I will go by myself. If I don’t make it back, you guys move on the old house without me.”
Both Sascha and Boyd looked devastated and neither could hide how they felt. “Look at the time, Johnny, it’s already seven p.m. It will be dark soon. You yourself said that we had to act tonight. There’s at least one kid’s life at stake here and God knows what else. You can’t be doing this; I propose we move tonight – together.” Boyd was almost pleading.
“I’m sorry, Boyd. I have thought it through already. Believe me, it’s not been an easy choice. You have got to trust me. Sourcing this message and finding out what it’s about is as important a part of this mission as anything else.” He turned to Sascha. “Tell me, Sascha, how many times have we relied on my gut instinct? How many times has it pulled us through?”
Boyd looked at Sascha who nodded and said quietly, “I know you, Johnny, and if you think there is a sincere call for help out there, you’re not going to ignore it.”
Boyd turned to Baccharus for support. As a familiar, Baccharus had unshakeable faith in any decision made by his keeper; he trusted Johnny would always do the right thing. Boyd could see there was no way of getting them to change Johnny’s mind so he gave it one last attempt himself. “We’ll come with you then. We stick together,” he proposed.
Johnny shook his head. “Look, there are two reasons why I go alone. Number one: I am endangering the mission. If these dreams come again, I’m guessing another attack would soon follow. It’s better that I am away from you guys, we may not be so lucky next time. Number two: like you said earlier, Boyd, it could all be a trap, and if by finding the dream source I walk into it, the rest of you can finish the mission without me. If we are all ambushed then not only do we get screwed, in all likelihood, so does the rest of the world.”
“How will we know if you’re okay?” Boyd asked, slowly accepting the inevitable.
“Baccharus will come with me. If there’s any sign of trouble then he can return to the motorhome and tell you guys what happened so you all can complete the mission. You should know that I aim to be back by midnight.”
Sascha and Boyd both sat there with long, sullen faces. Johnny did not have to be psychic to know what they were thinking. After coming this far together, they felt abandoned; the group was broken up again and vulnerable. Together, they believed they had a good chance against the Disciples of Disorder; apart, they were weaker. He knew both his companions felt like this because he felt exactly the same. He had thought it all through though, and he had realised that he must go alone.
Sascha had one last question. “How do you know where to go to find the dream source?”
Johnny stood up, opened the cabin door and walked out of the motorhome. Sascha and Boyd watched him, puzzled.
“Come here,” Johnny shouted from outside. They walked over to join him with Baccharus hovering close behind. All three of them stopped beside Johnny.
“Look,” said Johnny, pointing up into the evening dusk. They followed his finger and saw three sugar loaf-shaped mountains towering over them.
Chapter 20
Edward Devilliers sat alone in his ornate oak study amongst antique furnishings, dwarfed by shelving that covered two walls from floor to ceiling. He was staring out of the large bay window at nothing in particular. In the background was the sound of the girls at play, they were in a distant room further along the extravagantly spacious corridor of his house. The three teenagers chattered away excitedly over electronic bleeps and music from a video games console that had been the focus of their attention for the past few hours. He leaned back on his large, reclining leather chair, and it creaked satisfyingly beneath him. He thought about his only son, the next lord, so far away. What type of world would he inherit? Edward Devilliers pondered. His thoughts moved to the three girls again; to find them had not been difficult. Adoption for someone in his position of influence was an easy process. Bringing them up had been hard work, a task which he had mostly left to his wife, Elizabeth. It was so difficult in this day and age to ensure a girl remained pure. The only way was to keep a close eye on her from as early on in life as possible, and of course, to keep her disciplined. That was the beauty of Disorder; under its umbrella there was room for everything, discipline included paradoxically enough. In many ways Disorder was so close to the Equilibrium; both encompassed multiple facets of the living experience. One vital difference was that Disorder knew no bounds. There was no code of conduct; any extreme event or act was as acceptable as a moderate one. The Equilibrium stifled this journey to the ends of the spectrum while Disorder positively encouraged it. Order, on the other hand, was all about denial, something he found entirely unacceptable.
A ripple of laughter from the girls carried down the corridor, and Edward’s musings shifted to the death of Chloe all those years ago. He cursed whoever had run her over to eternal strife; it had been a blow. He did have Rachel though. She would do, he thought. Elizabeth had known her for long enough and he had carried out the necessary checks – she was a perfect replacement. After tonight, there would be no need to constantly check on the girls; doing so had become such a burden over the years. Soon their purpose will be fulfilled. Three virgins of an age old enough to conceive was what he needed, and it was what he now had. Three vessels untainted by any man to bear the children of Lord Orbok and usher in a new alignment for planet Earth. Tonight, finally, the time was upon them all to reap the rewards of his efforts and further the domain of Disorder. He had taught Elizabeth many years ago the importance of what they were to do tonight, and he had introduced her to the secret his family had guarded for so many generations.
There was a burst of laughter from along the corridor and
he smiled. Over the years he had become fond of the girls; however, simple human failings such as affection would not stand in the way of greater things – he was, after all, the High Lord of Disorder and not entirely human. Edward got up from the leather chair. It was seven p.m. and it was becoming dark outside. He wandered over to the window and looked out into the evening sky; a prominent gibbous moon was becoming progressively visible as the sun set. Just as it had been calculated all those centuries ago, he thought. They knew exactly what this night would be like.
It was time to start the evening’s proceedings; he would have to check up on a few thorns in his side first. He took a silver bowl from one of the higher shelves. It was filled with an inch of water, and its inner surface was carved with many small runes. He gazed at it and directed some of his prodigious psychic energy into the water. The runes lit up with an immaterial, pale amber glow, and a three-dimensional image formed slowly, just beneath the clear liquid surface. He could see five figures before him, each wore long leather robes; four of them had voluminous cowls that hid their faces. The fifth man, with his head uncovered, was seated at the very centre of this sinister collective on a heavy wooden chair. He was aged and possessed an elegant, almost feline, face covered in light wrinkles with the hint of a tan. His long, fine, slightly thinning white hair was brushed back and hung over his shoulders. When he became aware of Edward Devilliers watching him, he opened his piercing blue eyes which had been shut for some time in deep concentration.
“Yes, Edward?” asked the old man; the four around him remained still.
“What news do you have of this Agent of the Equilibrium? Has he been stopped? Have we shut down this call for help that has been directed at him yet?”
