by N. J. Mercer
“No on all counts, I’m afraid.”
“Well, aren’t you leaving it all a bit late? I’m going to be heading down in a minute to start the proceedings; I will be very busy, Arkkun, so sort it out!”
“Yes, Edward, soon; we are monitoring the signals very closely.”
The four hooded men around Lord Arkkun were some of his initiates: young, inexperienced, but full of potential. At present, he was using their combined focus as an antenna to track psychic activity over an exponentially vaster area than any individual mind could achieve. It was how he had followed the dream signals to Johnny.
Unhappy about the lack of progress, Edward Devilliers broke off his gaze from the bowl; the image of Lord Arkkun and the initiates faded. “What the fuck is taking them so long?” he muttered to himself.
It was time to get going. He looked through the study window again to observe a nearby field. He noted the many cars that had parked in it already, hidden from the road. All sorts of vehicle were present, from affordable compact cars to high-end prestige models. The gathering had commenced.
He pulled out four large books from the corner of an enormous oak shelving unit that dominated an entire wall of his study. Hidden behind them was a safe. He keyed in a code to electronically open its door and reached inside, past a few antiques, to remove a large and ancient leather tome. As the book emerged from its storage place the air in the study seemed to come alive. An electrical charge became palpable in the atmosphere, and the hairs on Edward’s head and body stood on end; he could feel the vibration of energy in his fingers where they touched the cover. He closed the safe and walked through his house with the book. He passed the girls’ bedroom and had a quick glance through the partially open door to reassure himself that they were all still there: one, two, three, he counted and was unable to resist a smile of self-satisfaction.
Edward walked down the broad, opulent stone staircase of the old building, through the magnificent entrance hallway with its chandeliers and marble tiled floor, into a long, narrow, wood-panelled corridor. Some way along this corridor he stopped before a door, one amongst a row of identical wooden doors. He walked through it into a small, untidy utility room, it seemed an unusual place for the master of the house to have entered; Edward knew exactly where he was going. He walked past the old washing machines, mops and domestic paraphernalia that cluttered the poorly lit L-shaped room before proceeding around a corner into the shadows. Here, there was a wooden cupboard built into the far wall. He opened it; there was nothing inside. With a projected thought, he slid the false back of the cupboard sideways, revealing a heavy metal door that would have looked more at home on a bank vault. Edward whispered some secret words, and in response, three clicks sounded from the locking mechanism of the door, which swung open. He walked through, and it slammed shut again, leaving him engulfed in absolute darkness for an instant. With another thought he lit a row of large flame torches that were mounted in the wall adjacent to his entry point.
The illumination revealed a fantastic rectangular stone chamber that plummeted for several storeys beneath him, a vast space that had been cut into underground rock over a thousand years ago. He had entered through a doorway that was positioned high up in the corner of the chamber at a point where his head almost touched the ceiling. An open stone staircase descended from where he now stood. It ran along the wall to his left and led all the way down to the great slabs that made up the floor. Positioned around the centre of this cavernous hall were two massive pillars that stood about fifteen feet apart and supported the ceiling. The stone surfaces of both the pillars and the walls were covered with carved images; not an inch was spared. Strange beasts, humanoids, men and women were depicted in every conceivable act. Edward walked past a section of wall where they were fighting, eating, sleeping and loving. The carvings came alive in the flickering torchlight here, and a draught whistled eerily through multiple small vents hidden amongst the stone images.
Edward Devilliers walked over to the opposite corner of the chamber. More steps plunged deep into the ground, creating a tunnelled passage broad enough for four men to stand abreast. Any person taller than Edward Devilliers, who was of a considerable height, would have struggled to stand erect in the passage, and it was so long that where it eventually ended was a distant, invisible point. He descended for what seemed like an age. All the way he used his will to light a sequence of small torches set in niches within the passage walls on either side of him – the resulting flickering, orange glow was the only illumination here. Each of the niches was vented, and lengthy hidden channels carried the air that fed the flames and kept the passage oxygenated. On his journey down, he passed two landings from which there extended more corridors to either side of him. Ignoring these, he continued to the last of the stone steps, which terminated under a small archway. He walked through the arch and into a plain rectangular stone room the size of a small church hall; this marked the end of his descent. His new location was rather an anti-climax when one considered the grand carved space from which he had made his way. A blazing fire basket provided some heat and lit up the chamber. It revealed a few arches in the wall to his right similar to the one by which he had just entered; beyond each of these, there were more stone stairs ascending into darkness. It was the wall opposite to him that housed the dominant feature of this otherwise plain room: an ornate Gothic arch covered with carvings depicting more of the strange figures that had adorned the great upstairs hall. Edward Devilliers walked through it and into a place that was far more impressive and unexpected than any he had entered so far.
What he now stood in was a gargantuan subterranean cathedral; its interior was bathed in a mysterious pale purple glow while its walls and even the very air inside it resonated to a gentle throbbing vibration. He loved this place passionately, and his eyes darted around it as if he were seeing it for the first time. The vaulted ceiling above was at least six storeys high, and beneath his feet the floor was made of ancient, uneven granite slabs, worn smooth through centuries of use. Those with an eye for detail would have noticed that there were no building blocks visible in the walls, which had been carved into underground rock. Tall, pointed, Gothic arches lined the perimeter of this enormous rectangular space. Numerous pillars supported an ornate balcony that extended all the way around the mid-level forming a viewing gallery which eventually joined a large mezzanine that defined the far end of the cathedral. Many more, smaller archways opened onto all of the higher levels. Stone friezes were carved into the walls at various heights with scenes similar to those from the first chamber except for the recurring illustration of a particularly fierce humanoid entity. At the centre of this vast, ornate cathedral space was a waist-high circular wall about twenty metres in diameter, crafted of finely cut stone blocks. On first inspection it appeared to form the sides of a large indoor pool; however, it was not water that it contained but a crystal clear purple matter with a flawless glassy surface that produced the purple glow of the cathedral interior. It was the portal, and it was from here that the omnipresent, gentle, ebbing vibration emanated.
Edward Devilliers walked over to this mysterious circular region and extended his arm to hover above it. He did not have to utilise any muscles to hold his limb suspended there: the waves of energy emanating from the purple matter were able to do this for him, like a magnet that repelled its opposite pole. Tonight, I will make good use of the portal, thought Edward Devilliers. He withdrew his arm, and his face became lined with deep concentration. As he exerted his will, rows of torches fixed at many points all over the walls of the cathedral spontaneously flamed into life along with several fire baskets scattered throughout this sacred location. Their collective light added to that from the purple matter and made clearly visible another tall pointed arch. It was ten feet across at its base, and its border was decorated with ancient carvings and runes, strange symbols unrecognisable to the uninitiated. Also revealed was a large lectern positioned between this arch and the portal; like everythi
ng else in the cathedral, it was a stone piece and decorated with hideous gargoyles that appeared to climb all the way up its stand. Edward stepped up to the lectern. He placed onto it the ancient book he had carried all the way from the safe in his study. Leaving this precious item, he entered one of the nearby arched doorways to emerge a few moments later wearing a leather one-piece suit and a cape of black material with a hood that hid his face. He returned to the lectern and stood before his book. He was facing the portal and its purple glow cast an eerie light over his person. Holding his arms aloft he called out loud; it was not in any recognisable earthly language that he spoke. Only the death priests of ancient Egypt and the initiated could have understood the foul and ancient tongue he used; its words sounded cruel and terrible. A chanting echoed around the apparently empty cathedral in response to him: a low-pitched murmur, repetitive and terrifying, with a beat that was in time to the ebbing vibration from the portal.
Edward Devilliers raised his voice above the ancient chant to cry out once again in the same twisted language. He barked hideous words, and from each of the many archways on both the ground level and in the balcony there filed out a continuous flow of individuals, naked except for leather masks that were stretched tightly over their heads and perforated with small eyeholes and occasionally a slit for the mouth. Most were clearly human, men and women, many were not. More of the foul blue-skinned demons that had attacked Johnny could be identified amongst their number along with numerous other strange beings; like a humanoid covered in wrinkly elephant hide, rigid in its movements, and a squat scaled being that twitched furtively. The humans were more numerous by far. To the uninitiated, there was something offensive about witnessing these faceless naked people interspersed with malformed alien beings. Concealed in a secret room beyond the grand archway behind Edward Devilliers stood a figure who would have been instantly recognisable to Johnny and his friends – a tall man in a black hat with a large, muscular beast by his side. All of these Disciples had gathered in the underground cathedral complex earlier that evening to wait patiently for their leader, and now, at his beckoning, they had each taken a position around the periphery of the great cathedral hall.
About a hundred and fifty Disciples had gathered on the ground level and another hundred and fifty higher up in the viewing gallery and the mezzanine. They all looked upon Edward Devilliers at his lectern and the portal. When his people had settled, Edward Devilliers, who stood nearest to the portal, drew back his hood. His handsome face glowed with reflected purple. He looked around at each gathered figure and smiled affectionately. His was an egalitarian organisation. Before him stood Disciples, poor and destitute, beside men and women of authority and power, all stripped naked, all faceless. Amongst the gathered could be counted a mayor, Members of Parliament, company directors, convicted criminals, the homeless and the infirm. Every stratum of society was covered. What made one rise above the other in the eyes of Edward Devilliers was not wealth or standing (useful though they were to exploit) it was devotion to Disorder. Those with a love for the principles of Disorder were indifferent to material gain and cared little for how they were perceived by those around them; only from increasing disorder did they gain any satisfaction. The demons amongst them were born in worlds of Disorder; they were here as examples and as help. It was good for his human Disciples to know that there were whole segments of the universe inhabited by life dedicated to the principles of Disorder, and the ‘way of Disorder’ was a gift he wished to bring to Earth.
Chapter 21
Johnny loathed leaving his friends behind; they had followed him this far and found themselves operating well beyond their comfort zones, and now he was abandoning them. He, nonetheless, convinced himself that it was for a good reason. To expose them to the potential danger that lay in the valley of the three mountains was inexcusable. There was still the possibility that the dream signals were from a malevolent source. Even if they were not, it was very likely that if they could be traced by the Disciples to him as the receiver, then they could also be followed all the way back to the sender; the enemy might therefore be lying in wait. If he ended up compromised, the mission itself had to continue unimpeded; it was far too important. Despite these reservations, Johnny decided that he would need to take Baccharus along to convey any messages or items back to the rest.
Johnny tried to return the Qrwshan amulet to Boyd again before he left; the big man insisted that he hang on to it and thereby continue to shield his prominent psychic signature from detection. Johnny exchanged a few encouraging words with his friends, who wished him well; he could see that it was difficult for them to let him go.
“Take care, Johnny,” said Sascha, surprising his friend with an embrace and doing likewise to the familiar. Boyd squeezed both their hands in a crushing shake. Johnny left the motorhome with Baccharus hovering over his right shoulder. Sascha and Boyd looked on like forlorn lovers from the doorway.
The first stage in the trek to the dream valley involved crossing the muddy field behind the old petrol station; it was gloomy and night was closing in. Johnny made his way briskly; it would be dark by the time he reached his destination so he carried a torch to light the way back in his long coat. Baccharus diligently hovered a few feet behind his keeper. Johnny, whose mood was pensive, considered what lay ahead of them.
The pair made good progress across the gradually ascending slope of the muddy field; Johnny calculated that it would be another hour of walking before they had a reasonable view into the valley. He did not bring any maps with him, there was no need, the vivid dreams had firmly imprinted an image of the region in his mind. He felt as if he knew the position of every rock and boulder here. His main concern was that out in the open he was an easy target, and if he were to receive another dream message then it could well give him away entirely. As a precaution, he kept a wide-ranging field of psychic perception about him for security.
“How are you doing, Bach?” Johnny enquired after forty-five minutes of walking in silence.
“I thought you’d never ask!” replied the familiar. “If you must know, I’m worried about those two back in the motorhome. I hope they just hang in there and don’t do anything crazy.”
“Boyd, not do anything crazy!? He’ll do something crazy all right. Providing he doesn’t endanger the mission or get himself and Sascha hurt in the process that’s fine!” said Johnny.
There was not much more to say. The setting sun meant that shadows from the mountains engulfed the landscape, and despite this poor light their progress had been good. They were now on a gradual ascent through the foothills of the nearest peak; just before Johnny reached their apex he sent Baccharus ahead to sweep the rocky region with a field of psychic energy to see if he could find any sign of danger. The familiar returned to report that there was none, and so without any concern about being seen, Johnny stepped onto a high ridge of craggy rock. It allowed him to view the entire valley basin. On either side and far ahead, he could see the sugar loaf mountains reaching up to the sky, and directly in front of him, the ridge gradually descended into the valley below. Rocks, boulders and scrubby vegetation marked his trail from here onwards. In the fading light he watched the long, narrow loch, surrounded by woodland; it was where the clearing and the old woman from his dream were supposed to be located. He looked behind him; the motorhome was visible only as a speck sitting in the old petrol station far away. Johnny took a swig of water from his bottle. Baccharus asked him where they were heading; he pointed into the distance, roughly towards the loch, took some more water and replaced the bottle in his long coat before proceeding along the rapidly descending route.
It was tough going; the ground was uneven and his balance was constantly shifting to maintain his footing. Baccharus suggested using the torch to light the way ahead or even implementing psychic energy to do the same; Johnny thought it prudent not to. For the whole duration of the walk, not once did the dreams attempt to invade his mind; it was as if they knew he was nearby, and there w
as no need for them to summon him any longer. After a further ankle-breaking hour of picking his way through the valley, Johnny reached the edge of the woods; over here, he paused, realising that this could be the most hazardous portion of the trek.
“I vote we go in,” he said to his familiar eventually and entered the trees. After getting this far there was no option but to proceed.
There was no sun now. Johnny’s eyes had adapted well to the darkness; however, progress was difficult. Silvery moonlight that managed to find its way through the branches guided him. More than once he was tempted to light the torch; fear of discovery prevented him from doing so. He carefully picked a route through the woods, sustaining scratches to his face and the back of his hands which were already raw with the cold and damp of the night. It was a good few minutes before he was able to see the traces of a fire between the trees ahead of him; its location was approximately where the clearing from the dream was supposed to be.
“We go towards the light,” Johnny said to Baccharus, who was eyeing the beacon suspiciously.
They walked on, drawn to the fire like moths; its dancing flames becoming increasingly visible the closer they got to the clearing. Johnny carefully concealed himself against a broad trunk to observe the open ground before him; Baccharus did likewise. There was an earthy, sandalwood smell from the fire that hung in the air, and its tallest flames leapt almost to the height of a man. Even in the darkness, Johnny could see that this was the clearing from his dream. Subconsciously, his mind recognised the dimensions and shape of the land; it was only then that he noticed a huddled silhouette sitting beside the fire, facing away from him. He could not make out any of this individual’s physical detail because of a thick blanket that was pulled over the head and wrapped around the body, but he had a good idea who it was sitting there. Quietly, he took a single step from behind his tree and into the clearing to present himself to the huddled stranger; Baccharus grabbed his shoulder with a little hand, and he turned to his companion.
