by M. S. Dobing
Sylph marched away. ‘Let’s just get this over with,’ she said, vanishing into the doorway.
CHAPTER THREE
Seb increased his body temperature as they made their way down the narrow corridor that led into the main building. It was night, and it was winter, but the coldness that permeated Haven and crept into his bones was caused by more than just the climate. A gnawing ache was spreading through him. His head felt heavy, his eyes taking longer to focus than was normal.
‘What the hell is that?’ Cade said. Even with his thick overcoat his teeth chattered, his lips a grey-blue compared to their normal ruby.
‘Marek, or the mark of Marek I should say. Although gone, his presence still lingers here. The Weave is soiled in this place,’ Seb said.
‘We should burn the place down when we leave.’
‘You won’t find any complaints here.’
‘Here,’ Sylph said. ‘It’s up here.’
The stairwell hadn’t lasted much better than the rest of the building. Seb placed a gentle foot on the bottom step, and then followed through with the rest of his weight. It creaked, but held.
‘One at a time, I don’t think it could take us all at once.’
The others waited at the bottom as Seb ascended. The elements hadn’t reached the middle level of the stairwell as much as the bottom, the wood relatively drier there. He got more confident and sped up, bounding up the stairs two steps at a time.
Big mistake.
He was only a handful of steps from the top, the archway that led to the first floor visible now, when he landed on a step that had obviously fared worse than he’d initially thought. There was a crack, his weight dropped and his stomach lurched.
He threw out a hand as the stairs crumpled beneath him like a stack of dominoes. He managed to get a good hold of the stone ledge, his knees scraping as he smashed into the brickwork.
‘Seb! Are you okay?’
‘Just a minute!’
He managed to get his other arm up alongside the first. He pushed more energy there, drawing on Avatari, then heaved himself up, using the rough brick for leverage. He threw himself onto the first floor and rolled onto his back, letting the inevitable headache come, his price for over-channelling the Weave.
‘Seb! Talk to me!’ Cade’s shouts echoed up the now hollow stairwell.
‘I’m alright,’ he said.
The pain came, a cold ache, the result of drawing too much on the Weave. He drew in a deep breath, and rested the back of his hand across his eyes.
When the pain had subsided he rolled over onto his knees and stood up. He leant against the wall for a moment, allowing the dizziness to pass. He opened his eyes.
The world seemed stable.
‘The stairwell collapsed,’ Cade shouted.
No shit, Sherlock. Seb couldn’t resist a smile. ‘Yep, I got that, thanks.’
‘We’re going to find another way up.’
‘No, stay there. I won’t be long. At the end, on the right, that right, Sylph?’
‘Yeah. You can’t miss it. It’s the room that looks like a gothic nightmare.’
Seb walked down the corridor. He trod carefully, every creak of a floorboard sending a cold shiver up his back. He passed several doors, all of them open, exposing rooms of generic decor, obviously some kind of guest rooms.
Eventually he stopped in front of a large double door, carved with an intricate design. Seb peered closer. The design was of some kind of serpent coiled round an irregular-shaped stone. Actually, not one serpent, but three, all curled around the same stone. There was something about it, a prick of familiarity that he couldn’t shake off.
‘Strange.’ He committed it to memory, something to look up later. He pushed against the door.
Locked.
The pain in his head had subsided, but his connection to the Weave was still weak. He needed to rest, to replenish his reserves. But that time wasn’t now. If he were to have any chance of locating the Families, he had to get inside that room.
And so he channelled.
Seb didn’t know Novo, the school of magic specialising in changing the actual structure of reality. All he had now was Avatari, the Self. He called upon it, sending strength to his muscles. His mind began to buzz, his vision blurring.
Just a bit longer, don’t leave me yet.
He locked his eyes where the two doors met, where the handles were, figuring that the lock was there. He took a step back, set his hips, and kicked.
The door shook, but did not open.
He channelled further. His mind began to pound. White stars formed in his vision.
He kicked again. The door splintered.
One more.
His legs shook. The pain in his head felt like someone had driven a drill through his brain. He swallowed down a rush of bile and kicked again, throwing everything he had into the strike.
The door exploded inward. Seb collapsed on his knees. The world turned black. He only just managed to throw his hands down before his face smacked into cold stone. He lay there, resting, letting the throbbing reduce to something more bearable.
Moments passed. The pain lessened. He had to get moving before Cade and Sylph started climbing up. The last thing he wanted was them finding him sprawled out on the floor.
Ignoring the pain as best he could, Seb managed to stand. His legs still trembled and his head felt like it was made of lead, but at least he was mobile. He stepped inside Marek’s old office, ignoring the chill that fell on him like a cloak.
It was strange, searching Marek’s old den. It didn’t show the same signs of destruction that filled the other rooms. The desk was still neatly arranged, with a cobweb-covered mug still half-filled with a liquid that was more vegetation than drink. Obviously Marek had every intention of returning from his assault on Skelwith.
He eventually emerged back at the other end of the corridor from where he’d started, clutching a collection of books that seemed at least partially useful. He’d taken another stairwell down, and Cade and Sylph jumped to attention as he appeared from the new direction and rushed over, taking some of the books off him.
‘You okay? You look like shit,’ Cade said.
‘Supportive as always,’ Seb said.
‘I don’t believe in beating around the bush.’
‘Don’t I know it.’ Seb looked beyond Sylph, towards a large open archway that he presumed led back out. ‘Let’s get the hell out of here.’ He marched towards it.
‘Wait, not that way!’ Sylph cried, nearly dropping the books she carried as she tried to catch up.
‘What’s the problem? There’s nothing here - whoa.’
It was much darker than he remembered, probably due to the phosphorous grenade that had scorched the interior, but he recognised straight away the chapel where, only months earlier, he’d escaped with Sylph from Marek’s clutches. His stomach crunched and he put his sleeve over his mouth.
It stank of rotten flesh.
‘Looks like they didn’t have time to clean up your handy work,’ Cade said, stepping over the charred remains of a sheol, its face still frozen in fear from the white fire that ended its life.
‘This place is tainted.’ Sylph took a tentative step inside the chapel, one trembling hand resting against the archway.
‘I feel it too,’ Seb said.
‘It’s like he’s still here.’
The chill in the chapel was bone-numbing, a painful cold that seeped right to the core. There was nothing there, nothing Seb could sense, but it was as if evil dwelled in the chapel, a stain that would not shift.
His foot struck a pew, and he realised with a shock that he’d walked the entire length of the chapel, standing now before the altar. The wooden post, the one he’d been strapped to during the interrogation by Marek’s master, still stood there, the leather straps that he’d ripped open still hanging down.
He’d seen enough.
Seb was about to turn back when something caught his eye on the altar. I
t was like a shimmering in the air, as if some hidden heat source was generating currents that rippled upwards.
What was that?
He took a step closer. He probed with his sense, but nothing came back, no aura, danger, nothing. It was definitely there, though, his eyes weren’t lying to him. He was a foot away when he happened to glance down at the floor.
A chalk circle, partially obscured by dust and grime.
He crouched down, reaching out towards the chalk. At the same time, he became aware of another sound, a low roar, like rushing water, almost at the edge of his hearing range. He stopped, cocking his head to one side, not risking any further channelling of Avatari; he was near enough to burn out as it was.
The noise was getting louder. There was something else too, something almost understandable amongst the din.
‘You hear that?’ he said.
‘Hear what?’ Cade said, idly kicking a blackened skeleton to one side.
‘I don’t know, it’s -’
Seb’s sense flared to life. The noise stopped and he jumped back from the altar. He spun round. Sylph was looking down, too absorbed in avoiding the corpses around her feet to even notice the air that shimmered before her.
‘Sylph!’
She looked up. A figure materialized before her. A human. Dressed in jeans and a long jacket. He held a staff in one hand. The Weave pulsed off him, his aura a bright blue.
Seb’s breath caught in his chest.
‘Mage!’
Sylph reacted on impulse. She lunged with her dagger, but the mage was equal to her. He brought the staff round, striking Sylph on the wrist. Bone cracked and the blade went spinning across the floor. Seb sensed Sylph’s pain but she didn’t slow. She spun, aiming a low sweep at the man, but his speed was greater than hers. His staff slammed down, point first, on Sylph’s thigh. Another bone broke. She screamed this time.
Around them Seb felt other disturbances, the Weave groaning at the manipulations. Five more of the figures appeared, all clutching the same staffs, all with the auras of blue fire. Cade dropped to one knee, his pistol out in a heartbeat. He lined the weapon up but the figure nearest to him waved a hand, the Weave crackled, and Cade’s weapon went flying through the air.
Seb sensed movement behind him. He pivoted, dropping low, sensing his opponent’s intentions and avoiding the staff that whooshed over his head. He channelled and struck out, putting all his energy into a punch that blasted the air from his enemy’s lungs. The man collapsed, his staff clattering to the floor as he wrapped his arms around himself, wheezing heavily. Seb took the staff in both hands and raised it high above his head.
‘Hold!’
He froze, the staff still held in position, ready to strike. Behind him, Cade stood, swords out, surrounded by two of the magi. One was clutching a bloody arm. Sylph lay on the floor, clutching her broken leg. Two more of the magi stood next to her, both with staffs pointed in her direction. The source of the voice, another mage, stood in the centre of the room. He was heavily built, a tailor-made suit stretched taut over muscle. The Weave radiated from him in waves.
‘Lower your weapon, Seb,’ the mage said.
‘Tell me who you are, then I might listen.’
The mage raised an eyebrow. ‘I don’t think you’re in a position to make demands. Do you?’ The mage took a step forward. ‘Now, put your weapons down or we will take them by force, to hell with the consequences.’
Seb glanced across the room. Sylph was out of the fight. Cade gave a quick dip of the head. No point in dying a fool today. Seb lowered the staff. The prone mage stood quickly and edged away, holding a hand over his stomach.
‘Good, now perhaps we can start again, on a slightly better footing.’
‘You attacked us!’ Cade growled.
‘Really? My recollection is hazy, perhaps I imagined the woman trying to impale one of my magi?’
‘Drop it, Cade. We can’t win this one.’
The mage smiled and nodded. ‘Wise choice,’ he said. ‘Heal the girl. Let us go somewhere less…redolent.’
***
Ten minutes later found them sat in what was left of the old dining hall. Many of the tables had been flipped over or destroyed by rampaging sheol. A mage levitated one that hadn’t been totally ruined. He rotated it in mid-air then lowered it to the ground. The three sat down, Sylph rubbing her healing leg. The lead mage sat with them, the others maintaining a perimeter at the edges of the hall.
‘So, you going to tell us who you are?’ Seb asked.
The mage laughed. ‘You can tell you’ve been training with Cian.’
‘You’re from the Families, aren’t you?’
‘The name is Barach, of the Family known as the First. This,’ he motioned to the magi at the perimeter of the room, ‘is my coterie. You are Seb, bearer of the message that destroyed the Magistry and also breaker of the Spoke Stone.’
Seb’s face flushed. ‘How do you know all this? None of the Families even knew about the message.’
‘No, we did not, although that was purely down to the ignorance of your Magister.’
‘How did you know?’ Seb repeated.
‘When we detected the disruption caused by Skelwith’s destruction, several of our coteries converged there. We found the mansion in ruins. Many dead. After the news became public in our particular community we happened upon Loremaster Brun. The slimy whelp couldn’t live with the guilt of what he knew and was only too eager to enlighten us on what had transpired.’
‘We were tricked.’ Seb heard himself say, his mind drifting back to those final few hours. Something hot filled his throat and he swallowed it down.
‘Save your explanations. Whatever your motives, the actions that transpired that day have led to severe repercussions throughout the Shard.’
‘What repercussions?’
‘That is not for me to explain. My instructions were to find you; unfortunately, the changes in the Weave have meant it was like finding a needle in a haystack. Luckily for us you decided to come back to one of the few places we had under observation.’
‘Who’s instruction?’
Barach sat back, his eyes wide with disbelief. ‘You really don’t know anything, do you?’
‘Can you cut the smart ass shit, please? Just tell me.’
‘The Archmage, boy. My Archmage.’
Seb shrugged. ‘Sorry, I haven’t been told any of this.’
Barach stood. ‘That is very apparent.’ He waved at one of the nearby magi. ‘We’re going,’ he said.
‘Going where?’ Seb said.
‘Out of here. This place makes my skin crawl.’
The mage Barach had spoken to pulled a familiar-looking gem from inside his jacket. He dropped it to the floor. The gem smashed, and in its place a glowing blue portal flared into existence.
‘A home stone,’ Seb said.
‘My, they did teach you something after all,’ Barach said. ‘Come now, we travel.’
Seb paused for a moment. He could’ve said no, of course, but did he really have a choice? Sylph and Cade were still surrounded by the other magi. Without their weapons they were still fearsome warriors but recent experience told him that they were still no match for Barach’s coterie. Wasn’t this what he wanted anyway? To find the Families? He’d been trying for months but with no success. The experience so far didn’t fill him with confidence. In the months since the incident at Skelwith he’d forgotten, or at least tried to forget, the role he’d played when he’d destroyed the Spoke Stone, removing Marek’s spell and freeing the sentinels. The side effects of that were that the Consensus was broken; the Weave had been freed from the constraints layered upon it. Had he honestly expected this to be without ramifications?
Well, time to face up to them.
He stood, exchanging resigned glances with his companions as they made their way to the portal. With a flash of blue light, they left the ruins of Marek’s lair behind.
CHAPTER FOUR
The swirling t
orrent of blue lightning faded away. The ground firmed underneath his feet and the rotten smell of Haven gave way to something different, a sweet smell of incense. The coldness that had filled his bones evaporated away in an instant. A warmth enveloped him, comforting and reassuring all at once. He opened his eyes.
‘Wow.’
Their location couldn’t be further away from the ruin they’d left behind. They were stood on a raised platform of polished black stone. Around them a grand hall, much larger and splendid than the Magistry ever was, stretched off into the distance. A wide staircase led up and onto a balcony that surrounded the entire room. The walls were adorned with intricate displays of gold and silver. At regular intervals along the wall stood statues of bronze, similar in appearance to Japanese samurai, but each standing at seven feet tall.
‘Come on, save the gawping for another time,’ Barach said. He trooped off the platform, two of his coterie falling in line behind him.
‘Move.’ A staff jabbed Seb in the back. His Avatari swallowed the pain in a heartbeat and he stepped off the platform.
They arrived at a set of steel doors at the end of the hall a few moments later. Barach stepped forwards and pressed a black glass panel on the wall. A green triangle, point facing downwards, lit up with a “ding”. A moment later the doors slid apart, revealing an elevator lined with leather and a small couch along one side.
‘No expense spared I see,’ Seb said.
‘Not all magekind are as incompetent with their finances as was the Magistry,’ Barach said as he entered the elevator. ‘In fact it should be impossible not to succeed in this realm, with our particular abilities.’
Seb ignored the barb as Cade and Sylph were led in. The doors closed and his stomach fluttered as they began to ascend. They rose quickly, and within a couple of minutes the movement slowed to a halt at the fifty-fifth floor. The door opened and Barach stepped out. He nodded, and the mage that had stuck to Seb like a leech tugged him forwards by the elbow.
‘This is where you get off. Your friends will be taken somewhere more comfortable.’
Seb exchanged a brief look of alarm with his companions before the elevator door slid shut. He resisted sending a pulse towards Sylph, no doubt the First had methods of reading their communications, and it wasn’t like they had anything they could do at this point.