The Psychonaut_Book 1

by Tom G. H. Adams

  Celestia looked at him. “I couldn’t have chosen any other way. My will is different from that of Lazlo and Jason.

  “Are there any other dissenters?” Albany asked.

  “If there are, then they have not revealed themselves. Cependent, there is more I must tell you. Lazlo revealed that Shamon has left his lair. He sent a heavily armed detachment of warriors to counter-attack the Ukurum this morning but the place was deserted. Lazlo employed tracers to discern their destination, and it seems he has relocated to his homeland.”

  “Turkmenistan?” asked Albany.

  “Oui. He has a stronghold there. Now he has the scroll he has no need to remain in this land.”

  Merrick swallowed. “And Lotus?”

  “Sadly, they have taken her too.”

  Merrick stared up at the ceiling, his eyes glazing. “Then there’s no hope for her?”

  “There is always hope, mon cher. At least we know she is alive.”

  The words were small comfort for Merrick. Shamon’s final threats echoed back from his memory. Maybe it was better that she was dead. He didn’t want to think of what he could do to her.

  Arun clasped his arm. “You have to be strong, friend. It looks like we have an alliance here, and there are others who will rally to our cause, each with a fiery determination to vanquish Shamon and all he stands for.”

  “Merrick met his gaze. “More skewers for the kebab?”

  “Enough for a barbecue,” said Arun, smiling.

  “Then we need to make plans.”

  ~~~

  They talked well into the early evening, stopping only to eat a hasty meal. They were going to Turkmenistan, that much needed no debate. They also had the element of surprise on their side. Shamon would be concentrating his surveillance on the Hierophants. As far as they knew, he had no knowledge of the Outcast’s rebellion. They were also aware that Shamon had access to the gateways, and he was in his home territory. As he heard contributions from this conglomerate of conspirators, a fierce resolve and anger replaced Merrick’s apprehension. Arun took him aside after supper and gave some elementary tuition in Anutpada.

  “You must use visualisation as a tool,” the Vietnamese said. “Every day, use the techniques I show you. In time, they will become second nature.”

  Arun showed him how to picture the source of his psychonautic power. “In terms of anatomy, we know your talents centre around the pineal gland. Traditional imagery has it pictured as a pine cone. But that will not be suitable for our purposes. Tell me how it feels when you release your mind force.”

  “It’s different to when I read people’s motivations. That sensation is like a mist infiltrating another’s consciousness. This, on the other hand, is precise. It’s like releasing an arrow, but when I raise the bow as it were, the tension is so strong the arrow flies off almost without volition.”

  “Then that is the image to use. We must build the strength of your bow arm so that you exercise full control at all times.”

  “That might be okay for when I release the energy, but there’s also the build up, it’s like a rising column of molten rock.”

  “Then we divert the lava flow gradually.”

  “But that’s the problem. I can only release it if there’s a mind to focus on. I almost gave Mike permanent brain damage when I demonstrated my power. Will I have to hurt someone every time I erupt?”

  “We will find a way. For now, use me as the point of focus.”

  “That may be suicidal.”

  “Have no concern. I have ways to absorb the energy—as long as I know it’s coming. You have a remarkable and powerful gift. It’s no wonder Karapetian wants to harness it.”

  “And the reason that Shamon wants me neutralised.”

  “That is so. Now, let us work to ensure you possess your talent rather than it possessing you.”

  They practiced while the others made their preparations. Albany required a whole day to draw up forged documents for travel. He also needed to transmute their appearances with genetic manipulation. Not all took him up on the offer, however. Rovach could change, holding his and Celestia’s appearances by illusion. But he didn’t have the magickal strength to extend it further.

  More’s the shame, Merrick thought. I could do without the pain of Albany’s crude technique.

  Mike busied himself booking flights using masking software. It seemed surreal somehow, that with all their combined supernatural powers they had to rely on conventional means of transport. They would be travelling to the capital, Ashgabat. After that, they needed to get their bearings soon, find a base of operations and locate Shamon’s whereabouts. It felt good to Merrick that they were now galvanised into action. Actually doing something was infinitely preferable to overwhelming helplessness.

  He left Mike to work, warmed by his friend’s willingness to add his skills to the cause. Even Merrick had to admit, this was a crazy proposition. He was desperate for some shut-eye and retired to one of the bedrooms. However, before he could lay his head down, there was a knock at the door. Celestia walked in with Rovach. The illusionist carried Merrick’s suitcase.

  “Your belongings,” she said. “I retrieved them before we fled Paraganet House.”

  Rovach dumped the case on the bed.

  “Your chap doesn’t talk much does he?” said Merrick.

  “He is a man of few words,” she replied.

  Merrick attempted to reach out with his mind to the illusionist, but met with an immediate rebuttal.

  Do not attempt to read my thoughts, the illusionist sent, “you will regret it.”

  “Rovach guards his secrets jealously,” Celestia said, “we would do well to respect his wishes.”

  “Suits me.”

  “Oh, and I brought this.” She presented him with his sabre.

  “You went through my case then?”

  “I was curious. Are you trained in swordsmanship?”

  “I can open letters with it.”

  “Arun may be able to school you in how to open the throats of the Ukurum.”

  Merrick slumped onto the bed. “I’ve had enough of killing to last me a lifetime.”

  “Even Jagur Shamon?”

  He looked up at her, his expression grim. “You know, I think I’ll make an exception with him.”

  ~~~

  Chapter 21

  Gates of Babylon

  Six months. Six fucking months we’ve been here and nothing to show for it.” Merrick kicked at a chair and sent it scuttling across the floor to smash into the wall.

  “Don’t shoot the messenger,” Albany said. “The intel seemed good so I acted on it. I didn’t promise it would yield anything. ”

  Merrick looked round at his companions. All were there except Arun. Most were seated on floor cushions, littered across the sparse communal area. Albany had perched himself on a cheap futon. They all wore a look of the disaffected.

  Merrick dissipated the energy building up from his third eye almost without a thought. A rat scurrying under the floorboards took the brunt of his chi and died unacknowledged beneath his feet. When Arun wasn’t here, the vertebrate population had to act as his psychic dartboards.

  Celestia attempted to lift their spirits with a hope-filled catalogue of goals they had accomplished since their arrival in the Turkmen capital. Much to their surprise, their transit to Ashgabat had been incident-free. Albany had worked wonders with their forged passports and documents, even managed to produce counterfeit work permits that would tide them over for the next year. They had secured primitive yet unobtrusive rooms located above a back-street carpet shop. The comings and goings of customers provided the perfect buzz to conceal their own, more furtive movements.

  The far-seer drew a pattern in the dust on the floor. “We ought to count it a blessing we have remained hidden from Ukurum surveillance for so long. We may not be have gotten any promising leads but our presence here is invisible.”

  “As f
ar as we’re aware,” said Merrick.

  “Mais, bien sûr. You can be sure that if they knew, our corpses would be forming the foundations of one of Ashgabat’s new apartment complexes.”

  “That’s all well and good,” said Mike. “But apart from rumours, and the possible sighting of an Ukurum at the local temple, our stay here has been fruitless.” He took a swig of vodka from a tumbler, then half-filled it again from the bottle at his side. Mike was now drinking during the day, as well as partaking until the early hours with Arun, with whom he’d forged an unlikely friendship.

  “You know, I’m not paying you to pickle your liver twenty four-seven,” Merrick said. Albany and Celestia looked up at the sound of his invective. “Have you found time out of the binging schedule to glean anything from your contacts?”

  “Ouch,” Mike said, pulling out an imaginary arrow from his neck. “Did you dip that one in curare?”

  Merrick pointed at himself. “Is the face laughing, Mike?”

  “Okay, okay. So nothing’s come up in the last day. I’m still waiting to hear back from my man in the diplomatic service. But these Ukurum are more difficult to unearth than the Illuminati. You stand more chance of getting something using your friend’s telepathic network.” Mike looked over at Rovach. “Our illusionist friend just seems to spend the day playing with his toys.”

  Rovach ignored Mike, concentrating instead on turning a beetle he had found into various exotic beasts. As it clicked across the floor it changed first into a three-headed monstrosity and then into a purple, iridescent beauty.

  “Arun returns,” Celestia said, standing up and stretching. “He’s running. Maybe he has news.”

  “More likely he’s gagging for another vodka,” Merrick said.

  Arun strode into the room, a triumphant look on his face. “My friends, I have just learned something interesting.” He sat down cross-legged on a spare cushion. “I talked to the old man who sits on the corner of the street. We usually have a game of draughts most mornings, as you know. He never seems to win a game, but he’s a glutton for punishment.”

  “All right,” Albany said. “Get to the point.”

  “Impatience. The father of frustration and the grandfather of error.”

  Merrick gestured with an open hand. “Arun. You were saying?”

  “Yes. This man, Eziz is his name. He told me of a wise woman living in the mountains just south of the city. Somewhere on the upper reaches of Mount Şahşah.”

  Mike passed him a vodka. He knocked it back with a flourish. “That is good. It is thirsty work pitting your strategy and your wits against—“

  “Fuck it, Arun,” Merrick said. “Did this Eziz tell you anything else that could help us?”

  Arun looked hurt. “Yes, she is known as ağ geçidi koruyucusu.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Her title is Turkish for Guardian of the gateway.”

  ~~~

  The wind whipped up flurries of sand and litter as the small group of Outcasts weaved their way through the bustling mid-day market. Outcast? The term fitted Merrick well. He had worn it like a mantle for most of his life. Now it was official.

  They agreed that Celestia, Arun and Albany should go with him to find this woman. They needed transport and a hired jeep seemed the best option.

  “Eziz said the woman’s abode is difficult to find,” Arun had told them. “But he marked its location on a map I bought. He also said she is a little, how do you say it, eccentric?” It amused Merrick to think that anyone who lived an isolated existence in the mountains had to be at least a little unhinged. Not the most promising of leads, but it was all they’d got. At least it meant they were doing something.

  They found the vehicle hire agency on the other side of town but within walking distance. They would soon be there. The cry of street merchants haggling with customers and the excited babbling of women trading fine textiles dulled Merrick’s perceptions. So it wasn’t until he bumped into a man in a tribal robe and telpek cap that he registered it was Jason.

  Merrick stared in astonishment at the Hierophant. He also recognised two others from the order standing behind him. The look of recognition was not returned. Albany had done his job of genetic manipulation well. All they would see were the wizened faces of local tribes-people in the penumbra cast by overhanging tarpaulins. Jason muttered an apology and edged round them in the narrow gap between the facing stalls. Celestia jabbed Merrick in the back, urging him to break out of his startled pose and move on.

  “Do you think they detected us?” said Merrick to Celestia, once they had gained some distance from their adversaries.

  “Not with their eyes, no,” Celestia said, “but I don’t know if my cursory shield was enough to mask our presence at close quarters.”

  “Don’t look now,” said Albany, looking over his shoulder. “But I think they saw through it.”

  Merrick, concerned, looked beyond Albany and made out Jason, pushing his way through the throng back towards them.

  “Merde,” Celestia said. “We need to lose them.”

  “Through this bazaar,” Arun said, pointing to a squared-off section of the market. “I know that shop on the far side. It has a back door we can take.”

  They waded through a huddle of people queuing to buy spices and lurched into the cramped alcoves of a trinket shop. Merrick, the tallest, caught his head on an overhanging display of necklaces. They fell to the floor in a scattered heap. The vendor, a bespectacled greybeard, let out a torrent of abuse at him.

  “Just passing through,” said Merrick.

  Unfortunately, so was Jason, closer than ever.

  Outside again, Celestia ran across a road jammed with traffic and through the door of a tall, ochre, stucco building. The honking horns of impatient drivers, their tempers raised by the troupe of Outcasts skimming across their bonnets, receded into the background as they scaled a steep stairway.

  “I know it’s you, Merrick,” Jason shouted from the foot of the stairwell. “Stop running and talk to us. Running away is futile.”

  “Don’t listen to him,” Albany said, “if they lay hands on us we’ll never see the light of day again.”

  Merrick accelerated and launched himself up the steps two at a time, his lungs burning.

  “They’re gaining on us,” Arun said, bringing up the rear. “I’ll attempt a delaying tactic.”

  There were laundry baskets, linen bursting out from underneath their lids, lined along the landing at the top of the stairs. Arun rolled two onto their sides and kicked them back down the steps. Albany sent another two following on after them. The move gave them a few seconds advantage but nothing more. The Outcasts tumbled along the passageway, breaking out onto a balcony. The fierce noon sun streamed onto them as they ran past age-distressed doorways on one side.

  Merrick’s heart sank as they reached a cul-de-sac at the end of the balcony.

  They turned round to face the closing adversaries, who had now slowed their pace upon seeing the Outcast’s predicament. Jason adopted a combat pose, as did his two accomplices.

  “Time has not been kind to you,” Jason said, leering. “You nearly got away with your disguises, but Ked here has the nose of a bloodhound.” He edged closer as Arun and Albany slipped into defensive stances.

  “Celestia, is that you? You disappointed us with your unannounced departure,” Jason said. “And Albany. So glad you’re still around. Who stitched the chunks of flesh back together for you?”

  “I know a good seamstress,” Albany replied.

  “There’s nowhere to go. You might as well come quietly—it will be less painful.”

  “You’re outnumbered,” Merrick said. “Maybe you need to turn round and walk out of here while you’ve got the chance.”

  “Numbers don’t mean much when you can do this … ”

  Jason’s invisible, thaumaturgic hand pushed Arun and Albany together. Their bodies were slammed back-to-back, their faces c
ontorted in agony. Tangled together this way, they struggled against Jason’s intangible will.

  Merrick swallowed his panic and focused his mind, like Arun had taught him. He fired a trio of mind bolts at the combatants. Each found it’s mark, instigating a wave of torment in their minds. A concentrated bolt targeting one of them would have been enough to fry their brains, but Merrick diluted his assault—he also knew they were strong from years of occult augmentation.

  Albany and Arun sprung apart from their psychic ensnarement as Jason and his sidekicks struggled to silence the shrieking of torn nerve endings.

  Celestia and Merrick looked over the balcony. The courtyard below was too far to jump. “There’s no way down from here,” Celestia said.

  “Except back the way we came,” Arun replied. Immediately he leapt, cat-like towards the hunched-over trio. He landed on Jason’s back, bringing him to the ground and with a panther’s grace, swatted the head of Ked against that of his companion. Both Hierophants slumped to the floor.

  “The way is open to us,” said Arun. “Come.”

  ~~~

  Merrick shielded his eyes as he looked up at mount Şahşah. The jeep they had hired bounced along the dirt-track road jarring his bones over every pothole, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the peak. It shouldered above its brothers like a red-layered giant of the Kopet Dag range, which itself formed an arched vertebral column out of the Karakum desert.

  “Should have killed them while we had the chance,” Albany said. They had pulled cotton scarves over their heads to shield against the grit-blasting of the desert sand, so his voice was somewhat muffled.

  “Quit bellyaching and concentrate on driving,” said Merrick.

  “Just saying.”

  Merrick shut out the rest of Albany’s bickering and tried not to think about Lotus.

  It was impossible.

  Memories of her filled his head every minute of every day. He had to believe she was still alive but, even if she was, the probability that Shamon had abused her loomed in his thinking. Merrick tried not to see her terrified face as she recoiled from the Ukurum, kept pushing away the image of her desecration, time and again at his hands. Worst of all, he couldn’t avoid the truth: this would never have happened if she’d never met Merrick. It ate away at his core like a canker.