Soul Heist - The Missing Mentor

By Volker Breuer

Featured on Wattpad * Alternate Badassiverse * A Magical Journey * Between Worlds *

 

A mystical adventure skipping between continents and dimensions.

A few days into a surf trip to Bali, happy-go-lucky Danian finds himself smitten with Indira, a fervent climate change activist. Together with her local friend Tammy and Naoto, the tech whizz, they embark on a reality-bending scavenger hunt to rescue Indira's Buddhist mentor Kenzo. 

High up in the majestic Himalayas, down in the secret catacombs of a monastery strangely devoid of any soul, they discover a magical portal. But, before they can enter, there are more mysteries to be solved; some involve Japanese instant noodles, others pesky mythical monsters that get in their way.

When flash floods cast Jakarta into chaos and millions inexplicably vanish, it finally dawns on the four friends that Kenzo's disappearance is mysteriously linked to the fate of humanity at large. They need to decide whether to face down an otherworldly enemy who is about to abduct 87% of human souls—and shares a common past-life experience with Danian.

 

It touches: Mythical monsters! Ancient spiritual wisdom! Making new friends! The fate of humanity! Wow! Interesting! Imaginative! Read today! Enjoy! (Margaret, Goodreads)

This book is very descriptive, the author makes it easy to picture everything going on. It's a quick and easy read, and has a lot of funny parts. I highly recommend this book for anyone who likes adventure stories with comedy and magic. (Bea, Goodreads)

• Language: English
• Publisher: Volker Breuer
• Release date: May 5, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201188184

Book preview

Volker Breuer

Soul Heist

The Missing Mentor

Copyright © 2022 by Volker Breuer

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

Volker Breuer asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

First edition

This book was professionally typeset on Reedsy

Find out more at reedsy.com

For my mum. A twinkling star.

Contents

Acknowledgement

1. Prologue

2. Beach Party

3. Ancient Warrior

4. Cheeky Monkey

5. Dragon Dance

6. Yeti Skull

7. Secret Chamber

8. Mystic Paintings

9. Helicopter Chase

10. Mermaids

11. Sunstone

12. Small World

13. Rescue Mission

14. Avalanche

15. AI

16. Fish Market

17. White Rabbit

18. Samurai Sword

19. Raptors

20. Jade Amulet

21. Epilogue

Hang on!

About the Author

Acknowledgement

First and foremost, I’d like to show my appreciation to my two adorable kids, who, occasionally, granted me breaks from their constant torment and let me sneak away to hide behind my desk and work on my manuscript. Similarly significant, my beloved wife would remind me merely every other day that there were loads of (more rewarding) chores to do around the house, instead of, as she put it, staring at an empty screen.

To be fair, my son’s unprecedented YouTube/Netflix bingeing did provide plenty of creative sparks and made the often commiserated writer’s block a somewhat foreign, intangible concept. So instead, I would organise my thoughts and ideas on leisurely daily dog walks.

A big shoutout to my friends (that’s Ale, Alan, Caroline, Carsten, and, skipping towards the end of the alphabet, Valerie, to name but a few) who read an utterly hideous first draft and provided an essential dose of encouragement.

Emboldened, I took another step and worked with my very first editor. Yes, you’re about to read a debut novel. Anyway, working with Julia Richardson was a fantastic experience. For the first time, I felt like an actual author. And authors have beta readers—some of whom, and Katelyn Rothney in particular, provided me with exceptionally helpful feedback.

Since I’ve caught myself many times judging a book by its cover, I’m so glad Adrian Doan Kim created one for me I instantly fell in love with.

Finally, this is to everyone I’ve first cautiously, then more confidently, told I’m writing a book and who responded with genuine interest: A big heartfelt thank you!

Now, on with the story :)

1

Prologue

A gangly, solitary figure craned his neck, making sure nobody could see him, then pulled a dark, blood-red monk’s hood from under his down jacket. The next moment, his image disappeared into the thick garment. The clouds parted over him when he reached the mountain saddle in the North-East of Nepal, close to the border with Tibet. He stopped for a moment and glanced at the extensive complex of the Buddhist monastery at over 3,800 meters elevation. On top of the wide arched entrance, golden ornaments sparkled in the setting sun. Secretly, he slipped through the gate up a broad flight of stone steps that led to the main building.

The Mani Rimdu festival was in full swing and would usually last for three whole days. If the monk’s memory didn’t trick him, then the festival commemorated the foundation of Buddhism in the Everest region. How fitting, he thought, that it was destined to become the bedrock for his personal quest. Your enlightenment is imminent, he snarled into the brisk air that suddenly exploded with traditional music when someone threw the big wooden door open and ushered him inside. He tugged his hood even deeper into his face, hesitated for a moment, then stepped past the slightly surprised Sherpa, who dropped his welcoming arms and mingled back into the dancing crowd.

Two small kids, a boy and a girl in traditional dresses, squeezed past him out into the dusk, galloping down the stairs in their thick jackets, whistling excitedly. He briefly turned to cast a longing glance, clenched his teeth and decided to let them go. What were two souls, anyway, in the grand scheme? Through an unexpected alliance, his game plan had become so much bolder than he’d ever envisioned. Nay, ridiculous audacious!

The level of energy in the prayer hall was intoxicating. He coughed at the sweet smell of burning yak dung mixed with incense and what could only be sweat from hundreds of dancers who had broken the tight traditional formation and ventured into more abstract dance moves. Arms over shoulders or pointing straight up into the air, expressing the joy and love that carried the local villagers through their sometimes harsh everyday lives. Eyes beamed in wrinkled faces where the sun and wind had written stories of tenacity into their dark skin.

Like a shadow, unnoticed by the local Sherpas, the foreigner slid through the pulsating congregation and behind a curtain close to the larger-than-life Buddha statue at one end of the prayer turned dance hall. Without hesitation, he opened a trapdoor. His hands tracing the stone wall, he cautiously went down a spiral staircase and pulled back his hood to adjust a headlamp. The air was moist, the music and singing muffled but still audible in the catacombs. Finally, a room opened to one side of the pitch-black hallway. In there, he let his hands gently caress a massive gong that stood menacing from floor to ceiling.

The man took off his jacket, folded it neatly into a square and dropped it on the ground. He grabbed a mallet that leaned on the wall, then plunged onto his self-made pillow. Instantly squeaked. And pulled a spray paint can—a leftover from his last days’ grind down here in the ancient vault—from under his self-made cushion. Cursing, he tossed the can towards the far wall, where darkness engulfed it.

Back on the ground with legs crossed and headlamp switched off, his dark black eyes slowly fell shut. Accompanying every deep inhale, a rasping hollow sound cracked through his lips. He started to feel the villagers’ excitement above him, sensed their emotions and raised his arms as if to lift this invisible weight. The energy, their energy, pulsated through his veins. The limiting boundaries between body and mind deliberately fell away, and gravity seemed to cave in ever so slightly. So much power, he thought to himself, seemingly levitating a hand width above the ground. Enough power to… he brushed the thought away. All thoughts, for that matter. It was time to make some noise.

The gong’s deep vibrating sound reverberated through the catacombs, relentlessly suffocating the music from above. Then, as the metallic sound grew louder, suddenly, the first feeble neon light flashed across the wall. Soon enough, a myriad of geometric and somewhat alien patterns bathed the room in ever brighter light. Eventually, everything exploded into a hot white fusion of energy.

Moments later, the darkness returned.

And with it, silence. In the catacombs and above. No more singing or dancing. No more love or laughter. No more souls left.

The stranger had collapsed into his pillow, breathing heavily until a flicker of contentment played around the tip of his mouth.

Outside, snowflakes settled on the roof of the deserted monastery.

2

Beach Party

Danian was idling around, relaxed, his mind calm. Then he saw it rolling towards him with all its might. Powerful enough to throw him over. Crush him. If he lost his cool. He probably had a second or two to decide whether to get out of its way. But there was a yearning deep inside him to take on this ride.

Danian turned his surfboard so the short pointy end, with a somersaulting dolphin sprayed on it, faced the beach. His arms carved a couple of firm strokes before the swell picked him up. Just beyond the wave’s white crest, where the water dropped, he pushed his chest up. In a choreography practised thousands of times, he slid his left foot to the centre of his board before he firmly perched his right one on the back and stood up. Keeping his balance low enough to hold onto the rails of his surfboard with one hand, he raced down the inside of the wave. The board under his feet was trembling as he gained velocity speed and danced along an imaginary path drawn by the wall of water that kept piling up in front of him.

Sneaking a glance down, he saw the reef below the surface with its notches and spikes. Nasty when you get wiped out. But his body, his board, the sea itself had become one beautiful, synchronised, timeless play. He flew up and down the wave in a state of excitement, joy, and awe.

The reef break in Medewi, West Bali, was the island’s longest lefthander, which meant one would turn to the left to ride it. If chance and skill met, it could carry you for hundreds of metres. Eventually, the white water crawled up onto Danian’s chins, and he let go. His body tumbled casually into the water with a grin on his face; his mind elated, like waking up from a blissful dream.

Danian decided to take a break. Lying on his board, he held onto both sides. His upper body arched upwards as the splashing water pushed him towards the sandy beach with the lush, green vegetation in the backdrop. Once the reef lay way behind him, Danian let himself plummet into the shallow water that was so much warmer than at home Down Under.

Bitchin’ waves, bro! A dark-skinned local guy raised his arm to high-five Danian as he climbed up the boulders that separated the end of the dirt road from the beach.

Hey! Their hands clapped. Danian vaguely remembered him from one of his last stints to Bali. Kavi, right?

Long time, no see. Kavi grinned. Holidays?

Danian nodded, then pointed at the camera slung around Kavi’s neck. It had an impressive zoom lens. You’re a surf photographer now?

Making some money off the tourists. He carefully handed Danian his camera and pointed towards the surf. Check out that girl. Decent surfer.

Danian followed the brunette who was gliding skilfully across Medewi’s signature surf. Every detail was suitably enlarged through the powerful lens in his hands. Indeed.

He was still peering through the camera when he noticed a fin appearing next to the girl’s board. Danian involuntarily held his breath; his body tensed. Two more triangular fins popped up through the surface. You don’t have sharks here, do you? Danian’s voice was edgy.

No. Never seen one. Why? Kavi glanced out onto the waves, shielding the sun from his face with one hand.

Then Danian saw the first dolphin pierce through the body of the wave. The others followed, effortlessly flying into the air and diving into the white water. He exhaled and shook the tension off. He’d seen one too many sharks back home off the coast of Western Australia.

Danian turned to Kavi, I think that girl was on my shuttle bus.

Lucky you. Kavi carefully stuffed the camera into his ragged backpack.

Danian silently agreed; he was pretty lucky, no doubt. Merely a couple of days into his term break, he’d Balinese soil under his bare feet and had just surfed one of his favourite breaks. Life was simply delicious. Until something wet caressed his big toe. Danian bent down to pet a scrubby dog, one of the mix-breeds that frequented Bali’s beaches, and was immediately rewarded with an intimate lick across his face.

She’s in love with you, bro!

The dog’s tail was wagging up a storm at all the attention.

Must be the blond hair. Danian rubbed his slightly wavy hair dry with a towel. You’re not gonna sell me any photos of me acing that bomb?

Kavi handed him a USB stick. No, bro. You’re a friend. Then he rolled his shoulders and sported a sassy smile. Think I’m going out later when the surf picks up.

I’ll join you then. Danian accepted the challenge, shaking his left fist with an extended thumb and little finger. In the meantime, let me treat you for lunch. I’m starving.

As if recognising the word lunch, the dog suddenly froze in anticipation; ears pointed upwards. Then a deep rumbling sound rolled down the mountains behind them. The dog dashed off in terror. Birds panicked and flew out of the trees. Danian’s jaw dropped, not quite to the shaking ground, but close.

A skipped heartbeat later, and it was quiet again.

What the heck was that? Danian realised too late that he was shouting.

The gods.

Danian looked at his friend, who was as cool as a cucumber.

When Kavi realised Danian was staring at him with wide-open eyes, he frowned. Mount Agung. It started erupting again.

The volcano? During a previous visit to Bali, Danian had visited the near-perfectly cone-shaped crater, the highest point on the island and often shrouded in clouds.

It’s where the gods hang out. Kavi raised his eyebrows, mimicking Danian’s immediate reaction to his words. My dad says they’re not happy with how we treat this place. Climate change. Plastic in the oceans. All that stuff, you know.

Danian did know, of course. Who didn’t? But he’d also managed to park any relevant concerns in the corner of his mind he rarely paid a visit. And your dad thinks that makes the gods angry?

Kavi seemed to ignore the hesitation in Danian’s voice as much as the actual questions. As if it was too ignorant a question to bother at all. Instead, he explained how during the rainy season, the rivers flushed rubbish into the ocean. His outstretched arm wandered along the beach. All lined with plastic bags, bottles, all that rubbish. It takes weeks to clean up the mess.

* * *

During the three hours on the rusty old shuttle bus, Danian had time to ponder the Balinese gods he’d learnt about over lunch with Kavi. The locals believed in them as he believed in surf forecasts: You’d mostly get what you expected, but sometimes they were in for a surprise.

He jumped off at Ecco beach in the south of Bali. Easily one of the hippest parts of the island. Danian stretched his limbs and untwisted his spine. His back hurt from falling asleep, crammed between bags and legs. The latter had belonged to Marionette, the cute French surfer.

The shortboard under his arm, wearing a long navy-blue surf poncho covering his trunks, Danian steered straight to the beach bar. A mixed young crowd of locals and tourists let the day end with sundowners and chill out music blasting towards the sea. After a bit of cheeky banter with the Balinese girl behind the bar, Danian got a Mexican beer. A lime wedge perched on its tip. Mindlessly, he popped it down the neck of the bottle. A seemingly benign incident that caused a chain reaction with life-changing consequences.

First, bubbles formed, then foam thrust out of the bottle and poured over his wrist. The bartender chuckled, and Danian swung around, slightly embarrassed. It was in that sweeping motion that he saw her for the very first time.

The girl in question stood maybe two metres apart from him, breathtakingly beautiful, her flower-printed summer dress loosely flowing down to her ankles. A gust of wind blew in from the sea and wrapped her dazzling dress neatly around her slim body, her curves luring Danian like the perfect wave. The outlandishly orange-red melange of the setting sun gave her an angelic aura. As she pushed a strain of her long, curly red hair back behind her left ear, she briefly smiled at him.

They burn the bloody forest again, those creeps, a voice said next to him.

Danian looked to the side to see a slim guy in a tank top. What?

Why do you think it’s so red? It’s the ash carried over by the wind from Borneo. They burn the freakin’ jungle to create more sodden palm oil plantations.

Danian turned back again, not in a mood to vent over the irresponsible practices of globalisation.

But like a mirage, she was gone.

He bit his lips. How could he let her get away? You fool, croaked a voice, this time in his head. Maybe she hadn’t been there in the first place, and he’d just dreamed her up?

Danian let his glance wander to the sea, watching the mellow waves for a while as he strolled along the beach. Far ahead, gloomy in the dusk, he saw an elephant emerging from the sea. Anywhere in the world that would have been an unfathomable sight but not in Bali. It was a magical place. The island of gods. And one ginger goddess.

Not far from the bar, a popup cinema had been set up, right on the beach. Hand-painted posters advertised the latest Star Wars trilogy. Tonight, they screened The Last Jedi. Perfect choice! Danian had probably seen it five times already but didn’t mind making it half a dozen. Several rows of bean bags were neatly lined up in front of a sizeable screen. And there, in the second row, he spotted the girl who’d just turned his head upside down with a single wink of her almond-shaped eyes. She shared her bean bag with a pretty local girl in baggy jeans and a black tank top who wore an orange bandana around her upper arm. The bean bag left of the two girls was still empty, which Danian interpreted as a sure-fire sign from the universe.

When you found something beautiful, hang on to it; you never know how long it lasts. That was what his mum used to say when she flipped through one of their old family photo books, dreamy-eyed.

But what did that mean for him? Should he just walk up to the girl? What was he going to say? Danian looked up into the sky, where he saw the faint image of a rising moon—a romantic setting. But doubts prevailed. He felt a lot more confident on a ripping surfboard than with solid ground on his feet.

Yet, every tantalising ride started with a small step.

He took a deep breath, dropped his backpack and surfboard in a designated area filled with boards and beach bags, then sauntered nonchalantly over to the empty bean bag. And cannonballed into it, which was silly in hindsight. The bag practically swallowed him. He managed to climb out, stretch and look for any reassuring reactions. The redhead looked slightly startled.

Hey bro, what do you think you’re doing? A deep voice barked.

Danian turned to see a big, burly guy with security written all over him, squeezing through the row towards him. Twenty seconds later, just shy of getting his butt kicked, Danian was escorted to a ticket booth. He obediently queued. In front of him were two girls. And a drone that had just swooped in, hovering chest-high in front of him with a credit card dangling from a clasp. What freak would send a drone to buy tickets?

Strange world, thought Danian, whilst keeping an eye on the bouncer. He got momentarily distracted when his princess and her friend were kidding around with a young local boy who passed through the rows selling popcorn—four bags to the two girls alone. On top, he earned himself a set of high-fives and fist bumps. Not surprisingly, he left the scene with glowing eyes and most likely a more favourable impression than Danian had pulled off. A glance over at the bouncer revealed why such a business endeavour that most certainly lacked registration or licensing was condoned. The big guy shoved one of his bear-like fists loaded with popcorn into his mouth.

When Danian focused again on the task at hand, he found himself right in front of the abandoned ticket booth. A handwritten note on display read Sold out. He clawed his nails into his hair and looked up and down the beach before dashing after the ticket girl. Likely experienced with overly committed Star Wars fans, she didn’t call his motives into question when he explained with the urgency of someone reporting a drowning victim to a lifeguard that he’d to get a ticket for the screening. No matter what. In fact, she simply pointed in the direction of a Japanese guy with a drone hovering above the most humanly possible messy hairstyle ever.

That wacko bought the last two tickets.

Danian didn’t hesitate and ran over to the guy. The rock music that blared out from his outsized headphones grew louder with every step. Danian had to tip him on the shoulder to get his attention. Hesitantly, he pulled his headphones down.

Hey, mate. Saw your fancy drone. Danian pointed into the air above his head.

The boy hesitated. OK.

Well… Danian was wrecking his brain how best to connect. It would’ve been easy if the guy held a board under his arm. The surf was pumping today. Still stoked. How’re you? But a techie? Hang on. Maybe there was an angle. You don’t take surf videos by any chance, do you?

Maybe.

That’s great, Danian exclaimed. We can team up. I’m Danian. What’s your name?

Naoto. He bowed ever so slightly. Nice to meet you, I guess.

Danian slapped him on the shoulder and asked if he fancied a drink. On their way to the bar, he decided to inquire casually if Naoto was alone.

What happened to your date?

Naoto pulled a face. "The only ticket left was for a couple seat."

By the time Danian and Naoto fell into the oversized, extra-soft bean bag, they looked like old friends, so engaged was their discussion about their favourite movies. About midway into the film, stars sparkling bright in the night sky, Danian overheard the girls next to them fussing about the cold wind that had started sweeping along the beach. He immediately took off his poncho and leaned over to offer it as a substitute for a blanket. It was well received and earned him a grateful smile that made his heart melt like wax on a surfboard in the scorching sun.

Then the girl in the tank top briefly pointed at Danian’s black t-shirt, her fingers adorned with fancy glow-in-the-dark nail polish. She leaned into her friends’ ear, whispered something, and they giggled in unison.

Danian looked down his chest to see Star Wars in large white capital letters. He rolled his eyes and wanted to slap himself over the forehead. How come he’d totally forgotten about that shirt. What an untimely coincidence. From hero to geek in under five seconds.

Somehow they’d salvaged the situation after the t-shirt blunder, and all four of them—Danian, his new mate Naoto, the girl of his dreams Indira, and her best friend Tammy—strolled together to the beach bar for post-movie drinks. The party music was blaring out over the calm black sea. Torches stuck in the sand, letting people’s reflections flicker in the starlit night.

His feet dug into the sand, slumped into yet another bean bag, Danian stirred the crushed ice in his drink for probably the millionth time. His throat almost instantly dried up every time he glanced at Indira. She was sitting opposite him, a bright stretch of the Milky Way cradling her head.

You guys came here for the surf? Tammy broke the silence.

Both boys nodded.

Do you live here? Naoto asked.

I grew up on this island. Now I’m in rehab. Tammy sent a cocky smile their way. I broke my shoulder during training at the Special Police Forces Academy. She swiftly covered her mouth with a flat hand. Sorry, guys. That’s supposed to be a secret. I think I’m required to kill you now. Nothing personal.

Despite the loud music, Danian could clearly