2: Natarani - Late For Destiny

The train remained stationary, a hundred metres from its destination. Tasha idly scrolled her phone. The upgrading to Castle Cary Central was now well into its third year and although the numerous billboards and automated announcements assured travellers of a quicker, more pleasant journey in the not-too-distant future; this did little to dispel the commuters' cynicism.

The old station had been gutted; its Victorian, gothic spires now nothing more than a façade, hiding an ultra-modern, eighteen track, high-speed, international rail-link, with a sprawling underground shopping mall. 

At least it would, once it was finished. 

Tasha continued to scroll. A slogan caught her eye - 'Where information breaks down to noise'

She sighed.

Social media was not something she enjoyed. Most of the time, it seemed to Tash, like she was being forced to study a massive spreadsheet, composed solely of disparate halves of other people's dull conversations. Natasha had lived through the rise and fall of so many different platforms, each one worse than the last. The irony was that none of the many profiles she felt forced to monitor had anything to do with Tasha herself. They all belonged to her alter-ego; Natarani, the Destroyer.

As a modern avatar of vengeance and destruction, Natarani found social media a useful tool. Despite having to suffer the trolls, cranks and the awkwardly devoted, her visible internet presence had helped in several dangerous cases.  Sifting through Natarani's official socials was just one of the daily chores for Natasha Nartak, mild-mannered yoga teacher.

Resigning herself to the fact that she was definitely going to be late, Tasha messaged her students, to let them know her that the class would be delayed.

Immediately, as she updated the group chat, the train suddenly jerked into life and trundled slowly into the station. 

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The electronic announcer apologised for the delay with all the sincerity that a machine could muster. Tasha darted off the train and wove through the rush hour commuters. With luck, she thought that she might not be late after all.

Ducking through the narrow, west exit, to avoid the main concourse and the majority of the crowds, Tasha found her path blocked by a little old lady. 

The woman was somewhere in her early seventies, with an unruly mop of white hair. She had wire rimmed glasses and wore a black sweater, illustrated with a delightfully gaudy picture of a tabby cat. 

Rattling a charity tin under Tasha's nose, the woman muttered something under her breath.

Tasha assumed that the lady had just launched into her charity sales-pitch. It was only after a few seconds of rummaging in her bag for loose change that Tasha realised that what the old woman was actually saying was very strange indeed. 

"The Avatar of the Auspicious One," chanted the woman, shaking her charity tin in rhythm with her incantation. "The dancer, the huntress, that some call Ardinharishvara, the Destroyer, the Annihilator, known as Dehardhaghetana, anointed protector of the City of Avalon..." 

"I'm sorry," said Tasha, holding out thirty four pence worth of change. "I thought you were collecting for the cat sanctuary. I think you may be confusing me with someone else." 

"...One of the Five," the woman continued, "The transforming one, that modern chronicles have named 'Shiva's Diva'..."

Natasha rolled her eyes. She had always hated that particularly tacky pseudonym, coined by a hack at the Daily Vale. There was no way Tasha would answer to a nickname created by those nasty little rage-baiters.

Tasha leaned down to the woman and raised a silencing index finger. The old woman stopped speaking and stared with inhuman intensity. It was clear to Tasha that there was some kind of possession in effect.

"I would prefer it if you called me 'Natasha' for now,” said Tasha, quietly. “What would you like me to call you?” The old woman opened her mouth, but no words were forthcoming. A struggle was taking place within the woman’s mind. Tasha dropped her loose change into the charity tin. "Now," she said, "Why don't we see if we can get a quick coffee, and you can tell me what all this is about, yes?" The woman continued to open and close her mouth like a goldfish, but followed Natasha to a nearby branch Café Hero. 

As they queued, the pair cut a contrasting image. Natasha was tall, athletic, with jet black hair tied into a long braid. Even dressed in her shapeless, grey sportswear; Tasha was poised and elegant. Her eyes were sharp and her skin was golden brown.

The old woman was, at most, five feet tall, barrel shaped with a silvery complexion. Her eyes were grey, glassy and unblinking.

Tasha bought two lattes and found a pair of seats at the bar in the window. 

"There," said Tasha. "This is much nicer, don't you think? Now, you seem to think that you know a lot about me, and I know nothing at all about you. Have you decided who you are yet?" 

"The Natarani knows me," said the woman. 

Natasha coughed, then sharpened her tone. "I thought I had already made myself clear!" said Tasha. "I must insist that you refer to me as 'Natasha'. If you refer to me in any other way again, I will take it as a deliberate discourtesy!" 

She paused to make certain the old lady understood her meaning. The woman said nothing. 

"Now," said Tasha, "I can only assume that you are some sort of spirit, currently speaking through this woman. A spirit with whom I am familiar, perhaps?" 

"I am the Augur," said the woman. 

Natasha sipped her latte. 

The Augur of Avalon. A recurring figure throughout the history of the city and the more eccentric areas of the internet. Tasha had been trolled by many who claimed to be 'the Augur'. Whether the woman's claim was legitimate or not was neither here nor there. What was certain was that this woman knew some of Natasha's secrets and what happened next would not be pleasant for either of them.

"What can I do for you, Augur?" Tasha asked. 

"You alone, 'Natasha'," said The Augur, “will not be enough. But, you alone are the foundation. The unnameable lies with the unspeakable. The Tor will crumble. The City will follow. Then, all things shall fall." The old woman's eyes shone with calamity. She believed all that she said.

"Look," said Natasha, her patience withering, "Your delivery is... how can I say this politely?... A little old fashioned. With 'signs and portents' there's a thin line between profundity and gibberish, you know." The Augur shifted in her seat. "Now, I understand," said Tasha, "It's overwhelming to suddenly find yourself with unusual abilities that can't easily be explained. Believe me, I appreciate that better than anyone. But if the reality of the situation is weird at face value; how exactly does talking in riddles help?" Natasha gave The Augur a wide, encouraging smile. "Do you understand what I am saying?"

The Augur blinked, curled her lip and replied, "You don't have to be so bloody patronising about it."

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Natasha sipped her latte. They were making progress at last. The Augur continued to slip out of character. "How am I supposed to know how these things work?" she muttered. "I went to the library. Read up on it. I went on the internet and everything. I didn't ask for this, you know!" 

"I know," said Tasha. "I'm sorry. Just tell me one thing; is the city going to fall in the next couple of hours?" 

The Augur screwed up her face. "I don't think so," she said. 

"May I ask your name?" said Tasha.

"Connie," said The Augur. "Connie Priestly."

Tasha held out her hand and Connie shook it sheepishly. 

"I'm very pleased to meet you, Connie," said Tasha. "Listen, I am late for a yoga class. Why don't you join me? We could discuss this further."

Tasha tried to sound casual, but she was keen to question Connie more thoroughly, and in a more confidential space. The old woman was a potential danger to the public and to herself. By keeping everything normal and casual, Natasha had managed to get Connie speaking informally, which suggested that whatever was 'possessing' her was, for the time being, in remission. Further work would be needed. Tasha had to proceed calmly, but quickly.

"Yoga?" said Connie. "Oh, I don't know. I'm not really dressed for that sort of thing." 

"Don't worry about that," said Tasha. "I can find you something to wear. Then afterwards, we can have a proper chat, yes?"

With some reluctance, the Augur of Avalon agreed. They finished their coffee and left. 

Outside, rush hour traffic clogged all three lanes of Walter Street. They joined the hoards of pedestrians, cutting through congestion, squeezing between the bumpers and breathing in the hot, metallic air.  Tasha led them into a side street, where the traffic noise was not quite so intense.

"So," said Tasha. "How is it that you know so much about me?" 

Connie creased her forehead. "I'm not sure I can explain it," she said. "I suppose it started with the visions." 

"Have you always had 'visions'?" Tasha asked. 

"Since I was a child," Connie replied. "'Visions' is the wrong word, really. All through my life, once in a while, I would just know something and I couldn't explain how I knew. But, I knew and it would always turn out to be true. It's only in the last couple of years that it's become more regular. Now, it's almost daily."

Natasha and Connie turned onto a secluded side street and arrived at a pub called the Jolly Marshman.  "I know this place," said Connie. "I used to come here about thirty odd years ago. Right dodgy it was, back then. I thought that they'd closed it down." 

"They did," Tasha said. "It reopened a couple of years ago. It's all sourdough and craft beers these days. My yoga studio is above it." Natasha led them down a passage, where there was a side entrance to the upper floor.  "'The Neutral Space'," said Connie, reading off the carved wooden sign on the door. "Is this your own business then?" 

"It's a co-op," said Natasha, opening the door and leading the way up the stairs. "I'm just one of several teachers." 

She guided Connie through reception, past the main studio, where Tasha's class had already begun, and then up a second flight of stairs to her office. Tasha unlocked the door and invited Connie to step inside.

"Ooh, it's lovely in here," said Connie, with a nervous smile. "I love all the tapestries." 

"Thank you," said Tasha. "They brighten up the place, don't they? Why don't you have a seat and I'll have a look in my cupboard for a change of clothes for you."

Cautiously, Connie perched herself on the edge of the sofa. She glanced around. The office was around eight feet by ten arranged to serve several purposes. There was a shrine, with a meditation space, in the left hand corner and a small desk with a laptop on the right. There was a beautiful, ornate metal cabinet, bolted to the far wall. The skylight above them was painted with elaborate, translucent symbols. There were similar symbols on the tapestries that covered the walls, and woven into the carpet on the floor. 

"What do all these symbols mean?" asked Connie.

"Oh, they're just to keep the nasties out," said Tasha, closing the door and locking it. 

Connie flinched. "What are you doing?" she said.  

"Try not to panic, Connie," Tasha replied. "I think there's a chance you may have picked up something nasty yourself, during your investigations." 

"What do you mean?" said Connie. "I'm perfectly well. Let me out of here!" 

"In a minute," said Natasha, keeping her voice low. "Try to relax. This is a safe space." Natasha wandered over to the shrine and lit some incense. The Augur leapt to her feet. Her shoulders hunched and her arms tensed. Her fingers curled like claws. She tilted her head. "Let me out!" she hissed. 

Natasha took a deep breath, closed her eyes and reached inward. As she exhaled, her skin crackled with unearthly potency and turned a glorious shade of electric blue. Her eyes sparked as they flicked open.

If things got physical, Natarani needed to be ready.

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Something was definitely making its presence felt within poor old Connie. 

"I'll let you out," said Natarani, calmly. "But first; you must leave this woman." 

Connie coughed and spat. "The woman wants me with her," rattled a new voice from deep within the old woman's throat. "You have no right to make such demands!" 

"What are you?" asked Natarani. "Why did you come to find me? You know that I am the Destroyer, surely?" 

"The old woman was too eager," said the voice. "Desperate to make herself important. Should have taken her time. But time was short. We came... to help." 

To Natarani, the entity sounded like some form of mind parasite. They were frequently found hidden in all sorts of texts, from the most arcane grimoire to the least interesting insurance form. Any unwary subconscious could be susceptible to a mind parasite installing themselves. In most cases, the host would never become aware of the parasite's presence.  On this occasion, it appeared to be sustaining itself on Connie's own curiosity. 

"What makes you think I need help?" said Natarani.

"The woman knows things," said the voice. "She doesn't understand them. We don't understand them. They frighten us." 

"Why should I trust anything you say?" said Natarani.

"I am The Augur!" said the voice. 

"No, you're not," said Natarani. "You're just some greedy little sprite who got stuck in the wrong woman's mind." 

"We are the Augur!" pleaded the voice. "Destroy me and you destroy our secrets!" 

"Tell me one," said Natarani, calling the parasite's bluff. "Tell me a secret that will save your existence."

Connie twitched. The old woman's head flicked left and right. Her gaze settled the laptop on the desk in the corner. "I will show you something," said The Augur. "Something terrible." 

Connie shuffled over to the laptop, opened it and started typing. Natarani hung back, watching closely, waiting for any sign of deceit. Connie's fingers danced across the keyboard with unnatural expertise, eventually settling on a webpage and turning the screen to face Natarani. 

The screen was white with a large, black circular symbol in the middle. The symbol was made of a sequence of other circles, crossing each other and linking together. It was like a mandala and yet not.

"What is this?" Natarani asked. 

"This is the beginning of the end," said The Augur. "Look at it!" 

Natarani leaned closer. 

She recognised some of the elements of the circle. There were Sanskrit characters alongside Norse. Mayan next to Mandarin. Prehistoric cup and ring marks woven in with HTML code. There were other forms of script that caused her vision to blur and her stomach to turn over. There were glyphs and ciphers that Natarani knew no one could ever safely translate and remain sane. 

The Augur could see, from the expression on Natarani's face, that this secret would delay its destruction for now. "How did you find this?" Natarani asked.  

"By searching the farthest borders of the darkest web," said The Augur. "Where information breaks down to noise." 

A shock of recognition hit Nararani. She picked up her bag and began searching for her phone. "Say that last sentence again!" said Nararani.

The Augur looked bemused. "Where information breaks down to noise," she repeated. 

"That's too much of a coincidence," said Natarani, finding her phone and scrolling through her news feed. She located the account that she had seen earlier. The profile in question belonged to someone calling themselves, 'Johnny Ballistic'. The profile picture was a hand-drawn, grimacing face, and underneath a bio read; 'Where information breaks down to noise.' 

She held up the phone for The Augur to see. The cover image of the account was a photograph of some graffiti. It was the same circular symbol that Connie had just revealed; only this time, it had been spray-painted on a wall, under a concrete flyover. 

The Augur's eyes widened.

"Who the hell is 'Johnny Ballistic'?" said Natarani.

Chapter 3 in two weeks!

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