The Asylum (An Asylum Tale)

Jordan Deakes could not keep the disappointment from his face as Andrea drove the kobaloi away. His scowl followed the Land Rover along the dirt track. He was convinced that Theo, Cruise and the others would fare better with the protection of ARC, but the child-like cryptids had decided otherwise.

The 4x4 stopped at the giant stone head positioned at the border of the hidden valley then, after a few moments, continued on its way.

‘I’m still not sure if that thing is alive or not,’ Deakes said.

‘Firstly, he is not a “thing”,’ Thomas Harris said beside him. ‘He has a name: Hunter. And he is alive. Probably the only troll in England.’

Deakes turned to take in the rest of the Asylum. The administrative block, a grey-stoned complex roofed with solar panels, occupied the south end of the valley. Beyond that were a collection of wooden buildings, more a shantytown than a village. An open plain stretched to a lake at the far north, to the left of which nestled a verdant copse. High over the waters, dark shapes swooped. Deakes wouldn’t be surprised if Harris told him they were dragons.

‘There’s so much about this place that I still don’t know about,’ Deakes said.

‘That’s because you’re a field agent. You’re needed out there, where the real work is.’

Deakes looked at the ground. What good had he been to the kobaloi? He had wasted everybody’s time by bringing them here.

‘It would be a benefit to me,’ he said, ‘to know what I’m asking the cryptids to come to.’

Harris considered for a moment, then said. ‘You’re right. I’ll arrange for someone to give you a tour.’

*

Twenty minutes later, Deakes was in the break room when Fletch marched in.

‘Harris asked me to show you around.’ His voice was tight, his words clipped.

‘I could do it myself,’ Deakes said. ‘I don’t need a guide.’

When Fletch pursed his lips, his moustache and beard joined to hide his mouth. It reappeared when he said, ‘No. I don’t want you spooking the residents. Come on. I’ll drive.’

He led Deakes out of the building and jumped into one of the remaining Land Rovers, identical to the one Andrea had taken. The keys were already in the ignition, as was the case with all five of ARC’s vehicles. Without waiting for Deakes to fasten his seatbelt, Fletch pulled out of the parking bay and onto the tarmacked road which led into the valley.

‘What is it you’re looking for?’

‘I just want to get a feel for the place,’ Deakes answered, refusing to react to Fletch’s tone.

‘Let’s do the full circuit then.’

The first area they entered was the hamlet of wooden buildings, well-made and sturdy. Most were homes, some with modest gardens. A woman looked up as they passed, and waved as she nudged her companion. Deakes smiled and waved back. He had helped reunite Salina Edison with her mother when he first met Andrea. She was the first cryptid he had encountered, a therianthrope with the ability to change into a raven.

‘There you have the civic centre, town hall and education centre,’ Fletch announced as they passed three larger buildings.

In the grounds of the school, several children were playing football. Deakes recognised one of the boys by his sandy hair and goat legs. Andrea had introduced him to the satyr on his first visit to ARC. Most of Pax’s friends looked human enough but one had the head of a kestrel, two sported tails of different variety and one was covered with brown silky hair which swept gracefully as he – or she, Deakes had no way of knowing – chased the ball.

The small village was like high civilisation compared to the rest of the valley. The natural recess was perhaps three miles wide and seven in length. Beyond the wooden chalets there was nothing but Mother Nature. Were it not for the compacted dirt road, it would seem humankind had never set foot in the area.

They drove past grassy meadows where sheep grazed by the score. A couple looked up as the Land Rover approached and Deakes caught the eye of one impressive ewe. The landscape was majestic and vast, and he was just a speck, an invader in a world he was not welcome. The idea that humans were superior to the creatures of the land was fundamentally flawed, he saw that now. These beasts were beautiful and carried themselves with more dignity than a person could ever hope to attain. The only talent the human race had was to pillage and destroy. Planet Earth would be much better if all the peoples of the world did the decent thing and took their own–

Fletch roughly shoved Deakes’s shoulder and said, ‘Don’t make eye contact with them. These chrysomalls have been known to send more than one person over the edge.’

Deakes wiped sweat from his forehead and looked directly ahead. His breathing was rapid, his pulse strong in his carotid. It was several minutes before he was able to speak.

‘What are they?’

‘No one really knows.’

‘Isn’t it dangerous having them this close to the village?’

‘Not really,’ Fletch answered. ‘They don’t bother the residents and we humans know to avoid them.’

‘You could have given me a heads-up beforehand,’ Deakes said.

Fletch paused for only a second before answering. ‘Yeah. I could have.’ He offered no further explanation.

The ground outside grew wetter and Fletch shifted the car into offroad.

‘How can the terrain change so dramatically?’ Deakes asked.

‘We have created different habitats for the various residents we home. The undine regulates water from the lake ahead into the earth here, making it more suitable for our amphibious guests.’

‘What’s an undine?’

‘Water nymph. If we’re lucky, you’ll see.’

Fifty yards later, Fletch eased off on the accelerator. There was a frog in the road ahead. Sitting hunched on its hind legs, the frog was still taller than the Land Rover. Fletch let the vehicle come to a standstill.

‘Is there anything I need to know about this one?’ Deakes asked.

‘Just don’t make any loud noises,’ Fletch whispered. ‘When startled, a megavatrach is prone to exploding and their blood is a highly corrosive acid.’

The frog stared at them and blinked.

‘Can we drive around it?’

‘I don’t fancy our chances. The sound of the engine could make it go pop.’

Blink.

‘Do we just sit here until it moves?’

‘We’ll have to get out and shoo it along.’

Deakes stared at Fletch. When he remembered to close his mouth, he said, ‘Are you serious?’

‘They’re pretty timid,’ Fletch answered. ‘Just don’t slam the door.’ He crept from the Land Rover, tiptoed to the front then turned and beckoned Deakes to join him.

Deakes pulled the door release lever. The click sounded like thunder. His eyes shot to the megavatrach but it remained in one piece. He climbed from the passenger seat, tensing at each creak of his bones, every rustle of his clothing. When he joined Fletch, he spoke so quietly he could hardly hear himself.

‘What do we do now?’

‘Stay with me,’ Fletch breathed and stepped forward. ‘We need to get up close.’ Another step.

The frog smelled of damp moss. Its tongue shot from its mouth, wiped its eyes and disappeared again.

‘Raise your hands,’ Fletch instructed as they continued moving.

They were within three feet of it now. Definitely in the splash zone should the frog explode. The only good thing about that, Deakes reasoned, was that their deaths would be instantaneous and painless.

‘Now what?’

‘A little closer…’

Deakes could barely breathe.

‘…and then we go…’

He prayed his hammering heart did not set off the frog.

‘BOO!’ Fletch screamed at the top of his voice.

Deakes could not suppress a shriek.

The frog’s eyes bulged. It hunkered down, leg muscles bulging, then leapt high into the air. It landed twenty feet from them and quickly hopped twice more to put a safe distance between it and the humans.

When Deakes spun on Fletch, the bearded man was bent double, laughing raucously. ‘Your face,’ he managed to say around the guffaws. ‘Megavatrachos are harmless, they’re just big.’

Deakes clenched his jaw and counted to ten. He abandoned the count at six and said, ‘You’re a real prankster, Fletch. Did you try that stunt on Eddie too?’

‘I don’t know who that is,’ Fletch answered, wiping tears from his eyes.

He was telling the truth, Deakes calculated. Had Fletch been involved in Eddie’s disappearance, mentioning his name would have stopped his mirth.

‘Come on,’ Deakes drawled. ‘Show me the rest of this place.’

*

There was little conversation for the following ten minutes. Fletch would occasionally chuckle to himself, or mutter ‘Screamed like a girl,’ but Deakes refused to rise to the bait.

As they neared the lake, with the small forest on the north shore, Deakes saw that the creatures swooping through the air were not dragons but large birds. Covered in feathers the shades of gold, amber and russet, they climbed and circled and drifted in a magnificent aerial ballet. In unspoken agreement, three of the birds turned and dove on a fourth. The victim was buffeted hard, one wing collapsing in a shower of dust. It dropped from the sky, falling apart in a trail of shining particles. It disintegrated completely before it hit the ground.

The column of glittering dust hung steady in the air for a few moments, then began to contract. The lower regions rose while the topmost section descended until all the debris was compacted into a misshapen ball.

Not a ball, Deakes thought. A golden egg.

A ripple ran through the egg and it exploded in a crimson flare. From the glare flew a new bird, its plumage sharp and brilliant. With a beat of its great wings, it climbed into the sky where the others greeted it with ethereal cries.

Fletch uttered just one word, his voice hushed, the tone reverent. ‘Pheonix.’

At the southern shore of the lake, Fletch stopped the car beside a wooden jetty. A woman sat at the far end, her bare back to them. She was singing to the people who bobbed in the nearby water. Like her, all were naked from the waist up.

‘Isn’t it too cold to be skinny dipping?’ Deakes asked.

‘For humans, maybe,’ Fletch said. He wound the window down and issued a soft whistle. All heads snapped in their direction. The singer’s eyes were bright and alert. Those in the lake dove under the surface, their torsos followed not by legs but by the long, thick bodies of snakes.

‘Mermaids?’ Deakes said doubtfully. Then he corrected himself, ‘Mer people?’

‘The term is merfolk,’ Fletch said. ‘But no. They tend to congregate on the north side of the lake. These are nāga.’

‘I don’t know what that is,’ Deakes admitted.

‘Similar to merfolk but half sea-serpent instead of fish. There are a lot of different species in this lake, including Buddy. At six-hundred-and-seven, he’s the oldest sea turtle in the world.’

‘How do you know he’s that old?

‘He told us,’ Fletch said. ‘He speaks over thirty languages. That is, he speaks over thirty human languages. God only knows how many others he knows.’ He turned and looked wistfully at the lake. ‘The undine keeps to the centre of the lake. I’ve yet to see her, but I keep hoping.’

They waited for a few fruitless minutes, each looking keenly at the middle of the lake. With no indication that the water nymph was going to make an appearance, Deakes’s gaze drifted to the trees on the eastern bank. Something about them did not sit right in his mind, but he could not say what.

The copse was large enough to be seen from the administration suite; he recalled spotting it when he was standing there with Harris. He’d seen it again just before being enchanted by the flight of phoenixes. From each vantage point, the forest had seemed to edge onto a different shoreline. Either his eyes were playing tricks on him, or…

‘Those trees are moving.’ It wasn’t a question.

‘They’re not trees,’ Fletch said, abandoning his vigil and starting the Land Rover. ‘They’re landvættir. Very much like trees. They’re in tune with the land, and help shape and protect the valley.’

‘Like Tolkien’s ents?’

Fletch shot Deakes a puzzled look. ‘I don’t know what that is.’

‘From Lord of the Rings.’

‘Oh,’ Fletch answered with a shrug. ‘I’m not really into movies,’ he added as he pulled away and continued the tour.

They headed back to the office complex, taking a different road. The ground was potted on either side with holes of varying sizes, some as small as rabbit holes, some long and thin fissures and a couple large enough to admit three bulls side by side.

‘Not all our residents live above ground,’ Fletch explained. ‘We have the same amount of underground dwellers, if not more. Pixies, light moles, minhocão, goblins. All manner of subterranean cryptid.’

When the caves petered out, the land became wild pastures. A brood of fowl wandered about aimlessly, pecking at the ground and sometimes at one another. They looked like large roosters, ranging from two to three feet in height. One leapt into the sky, revealing a tail that was not stubby feathers but that of a snake.

Further along, two horses came into view. One was as black as midnight, the other chestnut red with a bright auburn mane. They were on the road, approaching the Land Rover at speed.

Fletch’s only reaction was to tut, as though the horses were a mere irritation. He kept the 4x4 at a steady thirty-five.

The horses drew closer, galloping faster.

Deakes braced his hand against the dashboard. He was about to grab for the steering wheel when the black horse leapt.

The length of the horse’s flanks shuddered and bristled. Hidden limbs unfolded, stretching out in the air to catch the wind with dark feathers. Tucked along the horse’s side, the wings had been invisible. Now, fully unfurled, they were visions of beauty; graceful as sunlight, strong enough to keep the creature aloft. The second pegasus followed suit and joined its companion in the sky.

‘Always playing chicken, those two,’ Fletch muttered and shook his head.

Their next encounter caused Fletch to frown and pull over. ‘What are they doing out here?’ he said as he got out of the Land Rover.

Fifty yards to the right, two women were standing in the field beside a man with a horse’s head. Deakes left the vehicle and joined Fletch. One of the women spotted them and waved. Deakes recognised her. He grabbed Fletch to stop him.

‘We have to be careful,’ he hissed. ‘These two are vampires.’

When Andrea had introduced Deakes to Dust the year before, the siren had secured two cryptids for ARC – the vampires Sloane and Pippa. Deakes may not know much about many of the cryptids, but he’d read enough books to fear the undead.

Fletch yanked himself free and continued walking. ‘I know what they are,’ he said and added, with a barb in his tone, ‘You watch too many movies.’

‘Darwin Fletcher,’ Sloane greeted. ‘What brings you out here?’

‘Checking on you,’ Fletch answered. ‘Why are you here? You know it’s dangerous.’

What could possibly pose a threat to a couple of vampires? Deakes thought.

‘We’re just taking a stroll. It’s not a prison, is it Darwin?’ Though her tone was light, there was a hardness in her eyes. She let the question hang for a moment before letting him off the hook. ‘We’re just chatting with Warwick here.’

Deakes looked at the horse-headed man. His chest and arms were covered in coarse hair, and his long legs were thick and equine with knees that bent backwards. He was not a man, not a horse, not even a centaur. When he spoke, his voice held an Asian accent.

‘I’m helping the ladies talk with a hindi-ardilya, Fletch.’

‘What’s a hindi-ardilya?’ Deakes asked. Sloane turned to him and smiled, and Deakes took an involuntary step back.

‘They’re burrowing cryptids from the Philippines,’ she answered.

‘The same place as tikbalang,’ Fletch said, indicating the horse-man hybrid.

A chittering noise came from Pippa’s shoulder and Deakes noticed the small rodent she carried. The size of a mouse, it sat on its hind legs with its forepaws before it. A fluffy tail reached over its head, reminding him of a squirrel’s. The creature was dark brown, but whether that was its natural colour or it was caked in dirt Deakes could not tell.

‘He says “box”,’ Warwick translated.

‘Where is it?’ Sloane asked, directing her question to the creature on Pippa’s shoulder. She added a click of her tongue and a tut.

It was no surprise to Deakes that the two were interested in the location of a buried box. Of course the vampires wanted to find the coffin.

The hindi-ardilya answered Sloane with a mix of chucking and chattering.

‘He doesn’t really have a grasp of imperial measurements,’ said Warwick, ‘but I’d say it’s below the village. He said it’s made of man-stone.’

Man-stone? Deakes thought. Does he mean concrete? Not a coffin then.

Pippa’s brow furrowed and Sloane said, ‘How big is it?’ Click-tut.

‘It doesn’t matter,’ Fletch said. ‘You know you shouldn’t go far from the settlement. There are Mongolian death worms nearby.’

Warwick listened to the hindi-ardilya’s litany of noises. ‘‘“Very big.” And it’s broken.’

‘How is it broken?’ Pippa asked the hindi-ardilya who answered.

‘“Hole in the side. Tunnel. Big tunnel.”’

‘I’ve had enough of this,’ Fletch said. ‘Come on. I’ll drive you back.’ He reached for Sloane’s arm.

She pulled away but turned to smile at him. ‘One more question.’ Without giving him time to respond, she asked the rodent, ‘Was the hole made by something breaking in or breaking out?’

Chitter-chatter-chuck went the hindi-ardilya.

‘“Out.”’

An uneasy silence settled over the group.

A minute later, which seemed like more, Sloane addressed Fletch. ‘Yes, we’d love a lift home, thank you.’ After saying goodbye to Warwick and the hindi-ardilya, she asked, ‘Darwin, do you know about anything beneath the village?’

‘You heard Warwick,’ Fletch said as he led them back to the Land Rover. ‘The critter doesn’t understand distance. He’s probably talking about the admin block’s cellars.’

The hindi-ardilya chuntered behind them, and Warwick called, ‘“No…” and then he used a bad word.’

Fletch glared at the rodent, then stomped back to the 4x4. Sloane climbed in the passenger side, leaving Deakes to share the back seat with Pippa. Deakes wasn’t keen on being this close to a bloodsucker but he supposed it was better to have one in front of him and one to the side, rather than them both behind him. He made sure to keep vigilant around them.

When Pippa leaned closer, he had to fight to stop from screeching. She smiled and whispered, ‘Sloane and I want to thank you for bringing us here. We think Dust was right about you.’

*

They dropped the vampires at the village, then returned to the main buildings. Deakes made his way to the break room to contemplate all that he had learned. As he passed Harris’s office, he was called inside.

Harris was sitting behind his desk. A laptop was hooked up to a porting station over which was an 18” flat screen. Other than a coffee mug and his mobile phone, the only other object was the name plate: Thomas Richard Harris.

‘We may have screwed up,’ Harris said, his brow creased.

‘How so?’ Deakes dropped into the chair opposite Harris.

‘I’ve been speaking with other ARC branches. Romania and Finland. They have experience with dealing with kobaloi.’

Deakes sat up. Maybe there was a chance to convince Theo and Cruise after all.

‘It’s not great news,’ Harris said. ‘The general consensus is that kobaloi are unpredictable and untrustworthy.’

‘So we had a narrow escape.’ A weight lifted from Deakes’s shoulders. ‘They could have caused trouble if they’d accepted my invitation.’

Harris’s expression did not alter, remaining dark and pensive.

‘My fear,’ he said, ‘is that now that they know our location, they may attack.’