by N. J. Mercer
“Why did the Council of Seven never tell me all this themselves?” Johnny asked his little familiar.
“I don’t know; this is all news to me!” exclaimed the cherub.
Theodora interceded, “All is revealed, Johnny, when the time is right; nature has its way, the universe has its way, and now you know. A student does not ask the teacher, ‘Why did you not teach me this before?’ but maintains the faith that all is divulged when it is appropriate. The universe is your teacher, Johnny; the Council of Seven is merely a conduit for its message.”
Johnny thought about the statement; he accepted it for now although he couldn’t bring himself to agree with it.
“It just makes me wonder what else there is to learn out there, it’s just so amazing. So who are you then? Are you also an Agent of the Equilibrium?” he asked the old woman.
“I’m no agent,” the old woman replied. “You can consider my companions and I as friends of the Equilibrium.”
Johnny and Baccharus looked on, waiting for her to expand on this.
“Earth is alive. It is filled with psychic energy and has its own aura; just like any person. From the very beginning, there have been people born with a particular sensitivity to the living Earth and the ability to tune in to it. Only those who, like Earth, are aligned to neither Order nor Disorder may connect with its energy. The planet is able to speak to certain women and men. By receiving wisdom from my predecessors, and tuning in to planet Earth, is how I can tell you all that I have. The technique for making this connection to Earth has been passed down and perfected over millennia. I am a witch, an Earth witch or Earth priestess, call it what you may; American Indians call my kind shaman, some African tribes might refer to me as Sangoma. People like me who talk to the Earth are many and are present in all cultures.
“The Lords of Disorder have controlled and corrupted the portal for many generations while we, the Earth witches, have been keeping a vigil over it, handing down this sacred duty to our successors over the years. The portal is a part of the planet, so we who speak to Earth are well suited to watch over it; it is the planet’s link to the greater universe. The portal is not for the Disciples of Disorder, or for Order, or the Equilibrium; it is for Earth only. We will always continue to watch over all the portals.
“Tuning in to Earth and communicating with it over time has made us aware of exactly what has been occurring around this particular portal. We, the priestesses, have for generations been secret witnesses to the evil of the lords. Earth has told us how its portal and its lands have been corrupted; it has told us of the evil beings already summoned through it. By controlling the portal, the forces of Disorder desire once again to place three kings on Earth to rule in their name, and they do this with the aid of demons.
“We priestesses are not witnesses without a reason; we are not here to stand by and merely watch. We may be too weak to directly challenge the Disciples of Disorder, however, our observations and our knowledge need to be passed on to one who would confront them, a son of Earth. We have observed the Disciples for generations only to aid him who would fight them, to call him to us, to show him the evil of Disorder, to guide him and teach him our way so that with our knowledge he may go forth to do battle and end the perverse ambitions of the Disciples of Disorder on this planet. We called to you, sent you the messages in the dream, and just like it was foretold, you came. Now you are here, Johnny, listen to these words: there is a strength that lies in planet Earth, it is a living entity. When the time comes, harness it.”
The old woman stopped speaking and turned to Johnny and Baccharus with a broad smile. Johnny looked back, the fire crackled away. It was impossible for the enormity of what Theodora had said to sink in.
“Johnny! Wow! You’re gonna fix everything!” said Baccharus, and what disturbed Johnny most was that it was a statement and not a question. He felt afraid; it seemed unfair. He had never asked for any responsibility, especially anything like the one that was being placed on his shoulders now.
“Look, I respect what you have done, and I intend to help you all I can. There’s just one thing … I don’t think the person you’re talking about, the one you have been waiting for all this time … is me,” said Johnny, conscious of upsetting or even offending the old woman; Theodora seemed unperturbed by his reaction and possibly even a little amused.
“I always harboured some doubts about whether you would come,” she replied. “Some might even have questioned my faith in the prophecy, but here you are. I can feel your strangely unique aura as we speak, and I have sensed how Earth responds to you, Johnny. Never have I felt the planet’s energy drawn into a single person as strongly as it is in you. You are the son who we have been waiting for, Johnny – of this I am certain.”
Johnny laughed nervously, still unconvinced, although unwilling to argue the point which was, he decided, academic. He was here for a purpose, and time was short.
“You said something about giving me some help – well, believe me, I need it! Especially now that I know I’m up against the offspring of demons and psychic warlords with summoned alien entities to aid him.”
“Fear not, Johnny, I will help you better understand this gift you possess and show you how to draw upon deep strength from within yourself and from without also.”
With a chuckle, the old woman eased herself onto her feet for the first time. Johnny noted her squat, powerful gait and the way she was swathed in voluminous, colourful, woollen garments. Leaving him sitting where he was, she walked over to one side of the fire and pulled out from its edge a small, metal saucepan which Johnny had not previously noticed. She held the hot handle with a thick sleeve and returned with it to sit back down again; this time it was opposite her new acquaintances.
Johnny and Baccharus looked suspiciously at the contents of the little pan. Inside it were the charred, desiccated remains of seeds, nuts and leaves. It was the source of the sandalwood fragrance in the air so noticeable on first entering the clearing. From a satchel that she wore beneath her blanket wrapping, Theodora produced a clay handle-less mug and a small water bottle from which she emptied a red liquid into the pan. She swished the contents about together before pouring the lot into the little mug and offering the mixture to Johnny.
“What’s this?” asked Johnny, looking at the contents of the mug uncertainly.
“You asked for help, Johnny, here it is – drink it.” She gestured for Johnny to take some of the mixture.
Doubtfully, he brought the clay vessel to his lips. Baccharus hovered up to grab the mug suddenly.
“Wait, amigo, are you sure about this?” asked the familiar.
Johnny shrugged and sipped the contents; it had an ashen taste with a fruity hint.
“Why did you do that?!” demanded a distraught Baccharus.
“Take more!” urged the old woman, and Johnny gulped a large mouthful.
Chapter 22
Sascha and Boyd studied the maps together; they wanted to use the time spent waiting for Johnny as constructively as possible.
“You’re pretty good at this orienteering stuff,” Sascha commented as Boyd hurriedly scribbled hazards and possible routes to the Devilliers’ house on a scrap of paper.
“Reading maps, assessing terrain, all this stuff was an important part of my old job.”
“Oh yeah, your old job; what was that again? You were a soldier, weren’t you?”
“No, not exactly.”
“You never did get round to telling us about your background.”
Boyd continued to examine the map before him intently; he jotted down some more figures, and with a final flourish he put his pencil down. “Sorry, Sascha, you were saying?”
“I have been wondering where you’re from. And exactly what the hell is the Order of the Earthly Eye?”
“Where I’m from is a very long story, and ‘Boyd’, even though it’s the name I am known by, is not the name I was born with.”
There was a prolonged silence.
Boyd reached for his inside pocket. “Do you mind?” he asked as he flipped open his cigarette packet.
“Oh, just go ahead if you have to. So … are you going to build on what you’ve just told me?”
“What?”
“The long story! Your real name! It just sounded as if you had more to say!”
“Oh, no! I’m not going into all that.”
“Well what about the Order then? The Earthly Eye?”
Boyd took a few puffs and frowned. The cigarette smoke and lack of answers were testing Sascha’s patience until, finally, Boyd spoke.
“Let me tell you why the Order of the Earthly Eye exists. There are beings, both human and non-human, born with psychic power, power that should by all rights be earned through discipline and study. For them, it’s just there. Take Johnny, for example; if the Equilibrium had not found and recruited him, I dare say he too might have become a Disciple of Disorder or something similar. The Grimoires state that the unchecked power of the psychic is the biggest threat to humanity … according to the Aged Masters.”
“So you’re anti-psychic then?”
“Not anti-psychic, just very wary of them. I suppose you can say that we in the Order have taken it upon ourselves to police psychic activity on Earth.”
“What gives you the right to do that?” Sascha asked reasonably.
“Nothing,” replied Boyd, “but someone’s got to do it. I mean, didn’t you see those two Disciples of Disorder who attacked you earlier in the hangar? Someone has to keep an eye on these beings or they will bring calamity to us mere mortals here on Earth.”
“Isn’t that what the Equilibrium, the Agency Johnny works for, does?”
“To a certain degree, yes,” nodded Boyd. “There are several important differences though, one of which is that the Equilibrium is alien, and we are human. The Equilibrium will always have the interest of the universe at heart; we, the Order of the Earthly Eye, have the interests of earthly life as our priority above all else. The Grimoires we follow were produced by man’s earliest ancestors through ancient, mostly forgotten, knowledge; and most importantly, they are an earthly power.”
“Well I guess for now it means you and Johnny are both on the same side.”
“Oh, yes.”
“So who are the Aged Masters?”
“Priests of man’s first religion; servants of the Grimoires.”
“Oh, yeah, the Grimoires, you mentioned those a few times now. What’s all that about?”
“The Grimoires are the only written record of man’s first religion. They are an epic story, full of guidance, wisdom and prophecy. They aren’t there simply to be read. They differ from other books in that the text transcribed within them is a conduit to the power source that is the essence of the universe. Each letter has been penned and imbibed with energy in such a way that it has become like a switch to control elements of our reality; you can turn the switches on and off by reading, copying, or chanting the writing contained within a Grimoire, and by doing this you can alter the physical world. To those who know, there are many ways of activating the text. If you can use the Grimoires correctly, it is like being born with psychic ability. Only the Aged Masters have studied for long enough to utilise the text to its highest level.”
“Is that what you carry with you then, a Grimoire?”
“No, the Grimoires are carefully guarded by high priests in five secret locations around the world. What I have is a selection of choice verses from the original Grimoires prepared in the way of the ancients, a concise, powerful treatise. It is a mere shadow of the great books, and even then, I am hardly able to use it.”
“So you follow this religion of the Grimoires as an acolyte then?”
“Whole-heartedly.”
Boyd sat patiently and smoked, waiting for his next question; Sascha didn’t disappoint.
“Where are you actually from? How did you get into all this?”
Boyd eyed Sascha carefully, internally debating how much to reveal. “Okay then, I will explain a little about my past to you. It goes against my principles and it will be only a little – believe me, it’s more than what most people get!
“As a young man, I got into a lot of trouble in Ireland fighting the Occupation. I was a Republican, and the authorities were on to me. I had contacts; they arranged for me to go abroad and start a new life. I worked with other lads in overseas security firms; basically, we were mercenaries. This was all before I had any knowledge of the Order and all the psychic bullshit that occupies my whole existence now. I met an Aged Master in a posting in Afghanistan, saved his life; three of his men died that day and he would have been next. They had been killed by a summoned entity, some ugly lizard-looking bastard. I blew the thing’s brains out. After seeing that lizard man, I had to know more; so the Master took me under his wing. I stayed with the Master for many years and learned; he asked me to join the Order, so I did. Members of the Order are assigned to different parts of the world, and I had to choose a location for myself. There was an opening in Scotland so I took it; it was near to Ireland and my childhood roots. Occasionally, I would secretly visit my family in Ireland. I had very powerful enemies who were still after me. I called myself ‘Boyd’ and set up as a paranormal investigator – believe me, that job description is the best way to be alerted to any rogue psychic activity … along with a whole heap of other bullshit nonsense, mind you! So here I am, in my parish, here in sweet home Caledonia.”
Chapter 23
The chanting stopped, and all eyes fixed on the shimmering purple of the portal. They watched this throbbing heart of the entire underground complex in wonder. They were gathered here for a ceremony, an event each had spent years preparing for as individuals, and as a collective, as the Disciples of Disorder, over a millennium.
Despite the vastness of the cathedral, the presence of so many unclothed bodies had actually raised the temperature within it a few degrees making it uncomfortably warm. A static electrical charge in the air indicated collecting psychic energy, and it certainly wasn’t helping matters.
Edward Devilliers opened the dark proceedings according to ancient Disciple protocol; he greeted his loyal associates in the tongue of Disorder, the same harsh language he had spoken earlier when inviting them to gather around the portal. It was a language not of Earth, its words and intonations possessed specialised properties that transcended all verbal and linguistic barriers. It was not only heard by the ears, it was also perceived from within the mind so that the speaker’s intentions could be understood by any living entity, even one that did not possess the ability to hear sound. It was a bastardised version of the original tongue; progenitor of all language and communication.
The Disciples replied to Edward Devilliers’ greeting in one united voice, a ritual response that palpably shook the walls of the underground chamber. Like their leader, they too spoke in the same ancient, damned tongue – a set response formulated aeons ago for this very ceremony. The tone and frequency of each syllable uttered in the chorus had been calculated to propel psychic energy through the purple of the portal and activate the cancerous wormhole within it, creating a route to the worlds of Disorder beyond.
Before he recited from the leather-bound tome on the lectern before him, Edward Devilliers prepared all those gathered for what was to happen here, he spoke in the earthly tongue so they would know that he was addressing them outside of ceremony protocol.
“My loyal friends, to be present here at this time is indeed an honour for each and every one of us. You will all be remembered in ages to come as those who were with me, who aided me in bringing forth the new reign of Disorder on Earth. Your presence here at the birth of the new age will raise your status to that of the aristocracy of the legions of Disorder on Earth, and your lineage from this point on will be both blessed and worshipped.
“To begin this next stage in Earth’s evolution, we summon tonight the Demon King Orbok himself; he who sits amongst the highest monarchs of Disorder. A demon wit
h rank lofty enough to seed the three kings who will rule Earth. We are unworthy of his presence. To aid our cause, he has been charitable enough to enter this minor peripheral galaxy, and indeed, walk upon this inconsequential planetoid that is Earth. He does this only because his blood runs in my veins. The essence of King Orbok himself has been passed down to me from his daughter, the demoness, through my ancestors. If requested in the correct manner through this ceremony, he will come to aid his faltering offspring, so that we may establish our rule in what to him is a mere children’s playground. Blessed indeed is the father; kind is he to his misguided children.
“Tonight we offer to him the three virgins. Three who will bear his seed and produce half-human, half-demon princes that will be kings here on Earth. It is only after this happens that Disorder may dominate the planet and make it a force to be reckoned with in the universal struggle of the Trinity.
“What we have before us is the portal through which the psychic energies travel. It is through knowledge liberated by our religion of Disorder that the wormhole within the portal was created, a route to the worlds where Disorder and its Demon Kings rule supreme; it is the same route by which Orbok will arrive in our world.
“I warn you now – when we open the corridor to the worlds of Disorder, beware! Experience has shown us that as we wait for Orbok, all manner of chaos beings from his world will slip through into ours. In King Orbok’s realm they are vermin, the equivalent of our mice and cockroaches; in our world they manifest themselves as wild demons and spirits, and some may even be described as powerful. Fear not! Because as their essence enters our planetary sphere, I have arranged for it to be drawn away psychically and stored in a specially prepared and sanctified section of the building above us to be dealt with later.
“I tell you this now because if, by chance, we fail to trap one of these entities as it arrives then it may materialise anywhere, even here in the cathedral. If this happens your focus must not be broken, you must chant with me without wavering, you must repeat the sacred words as I have taught you, even if your fellow Disciple, standing beside you, is mauled alive by an entity so vile it churns your stomach. This is the final trial.
