Consensus Breaking (The Auran Chronicles Book 2)

by M. S. Dobing

  ‘And taking a beating from a simulacrum is the best way to do that?’

  ‘I feel better now. I just need to build my strength up. If I’m to face that thing again, I need to know what I’m up against. At Domus they could modify the simulacrum’s shape to suit any particular training. I’m hoping this one has something for the balsheol whatever-it-is.’

  Seb dropped the stone in the divot that had marked its former home. The air fizzed as the Weave honed in on the circle. The air inside the perimeter shimmered, and the simulacrum appeared before them, its head bowed, staff held in a gloved hand.

  ‘Stone me,’ Caleb said, ‘it actually worked.’

  ‘You seem surprised?’

  ‘Old habits.’

  Seb took a deep breath. What was he thinking? Would this thing even know to respond? It was a training simulacrum, that’s what everyone knew it as. Cian had used it for his own training, and if it was good enough for Cian…

  ‘What’s your name?’ Seb said.

  Nothing. The wind howled across the overgrown lawn, sending a swirl of brown leaves billowing between them.

  ‘Your name!’ Seb said, amplifying his voice with the Weave.

  Still nothing.

  ‘Perhaps you need to go in?’ Caleb ventured.

  Seb gave a sarcastic smile. ‘I figured that.’

  ‘Well, what are you waiting for?’ Caleb was smiling now, almost bubbling with anticipation.

  ‘You’re not too old for me to put you on your arse, you know.’

  Caleb raised his hands in mock offence. ‘You’d strike an old man? The youth of today!’

  Seb stepped in the ring. The simulacrum didn’t move, but he was sure he saw it tense, its shoulders rising slightly.

  ‘You are not Cian,’ it hissed, its voice hollow, like an echo inside an abandoned building.

  ‘No, although I trained with him. I seek your counsel.’

  The simulacrum’s head rose. Seb felt a chill ripple down his back. Silver eyes stared at him.

  ‘I do not give counsel. I test the strength of those who are worthy.’

  ‘Am I not worthy?’

  ‘It must be decided.’

  ‘Seb, are you sure this is wise?’ Caleb said, a tone of unease in his voice.

  ‘It’s okay, Caleb, we need this, I just need t -’

  The simulacrum blurred and it was in Seb’s face. He caught sight of the staff a split second before it cracked into the side of his head. For an instant the world went black, and then he was face down in the earth.

  ‘You are not worthy,’ the simulacrum whispered.

  Seb’s head rang, and his ear throbbed. He let Avatari heal the wound and pushed himself off the ground.

  ‘Some would say that was cheating,’ he said, flexing the knots out of his neck.

  ‘You are not worthy,’ the simulacrum repeated.

  Cian’s staff appeared in Seb’s hand. ‘No?’ he said. ‘Let’s see.’

  This time it was Seb that blurred. He jabbed high and struck low, pivoting and spinning with each movement. The simulacrum responded in kind, their staffs cracking against each other in the morning sun, sending flocks of starlings fleeing from their nests in the surrounding trees.

  The merry dance continued for several seconds. Seb on the offensive, throwing everything he had into the strikes, knowing his movements were preternaturally fast. Always the simulacrum was equal to him. It parried the final jab at the peak of Seb’s attack, deflecting a blow to one side. Seb blurred backwards and the simulacrum jabbed into thin air. Seb swung his weapon as he appeared. He didn’t make contact, but he caught the simulacrum’s hood as it leapt out of the way, drawing an admiring gasp from Caleb in the process.

  ‘Am I still not worthy?’ Seb said, drawing in long breaths whilst he leant on the staff for support.

  Bad move.

  The simulacrum didn’t tire. He should’ve remembered that. The next moment it was in his face again, the staff a twirling blur of unforgiving wood. Seb parried and ducked, backpedalling now. His sense seemed on fire, allowing him to predict the movement before it occurred. He was slower than the simulacrum, but he just knew where the strike would go, and it was with great relief when he finally stepped casually to one side as the simulacrum swung a vicious overhead strike that rattled the invisible field that kept it in place.

  ‘Am I still not worthy?’ Seb demanded, ready this time.

  ‘Seb, are you asking for a beating?’

  And so the simulacrum came again. Its speed had increased this time, Seb’s precognition not sufficient enough to ward off the attacks. He parried a dazzling barrage of blows, the staffs cracking together so quickly it sounded like one continuous noise.

  The simulacrum struck out with its free hand, sending a blast of force that sent Seb flying out of the ring.

  ‘Bravo!’ Caleb shouted, rising and clapping at the display.

  Seb rose to one knee and spat out a mouth full of dirt. He raised a hand and Cian’s staff smacked into his palm. He stood up, his stomach burning from the impact.

  Damned if he was going to show weakness now.

  He took a step back into the ring.

  The simulacrum didn’t move.

  ‘What’s the matter, you tired of giving me a kicking?’

  The simulacrum looked at him. ‘You are powerful. Clumsy, but powerful.’

  ‘I’ll take that, I think.’

  ‘You wish my counsel?’

  ‘I do. There is a new threat. I need help in defeating it.’

  ‘You have battled a balsheol.’

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘Your arm still glows with their taint.’ It tilted its head to one side. ‘I wonder how it is you still live?’

  ‘What can I say? I’ve not quite mastered this dying lark.’

  ‘You cannot defeat it. Not on your own.’

  ‘Reassuring, but I sort of expected that. I just need to know how to fight it. I don’t want to be that exposed again.’

  ‘You willingly seek to engage it again?’

  Seb smiled and rubbed his aching stomach. ‘Willing’s a strong word. I think resigned is a more appropriate one.’

  The simulacrum paused for a moment as if lost in thought. Just when the time dragged on into awkward silence and Seb was opening his mouth to break it, the creature spoke again.

  ‘Very well. I will teach you what I can.’

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  Following a day of planning, where Cade, Barach, Sylph and Morgan exchanged various ideas for how an attack on Osgog would go, they finally emerged just as the purple orb was coming to life, and the surface sun was beginning to set. Cade assembled six of his best warriors, not the best of the Brotherhood in its prime, but loyal to the cause. Alongside him came Sylph, now dressed in white combat gear. Barach joined them, wearing similar gear to Sylph, his shrunken staff attached to his back.

  Gough walked with them, all the way to the gate.

  ‘Are you sure about this, Cade?’ Gough said.

  Cade smiled. ‘I thought it was our duty?’

  ‘It’s easy to say, not as easy to watch you all go.’

  ‘We go willingly. An encounter such as this was going to happen sooner or later. If we succeed, well, perhaps there’s hope for all of us.’

  Gough clasped the warrior by the shoulder. ‘Come back safely.’

  ‘We’ll do our best.’ Cade nodded past, towards where Shimmer was supervising the loading of various wagons for a trip through the Ways. It had been decided that the Sanctuary wasn’t a good enough place to defend, should Sedaris find out its location. Cade had managed to persuade Gough that there already existed a place that could take Sanctuary’s residents and provide defences that the underground town could never do.

  ‘Are you happy with what you need to do?’ he said.

  ‘We have it easy. If all goes well, we’ll be at the Croft by sundown.’

  ‘I bet you’ll miss this place,’ Cade said.

  Gou
gh took a lingering glance around Sanctuary, at the ever growing populace. ‘I will, but I recognise that we need to move on. There’s simply too many now. With the Croft we have protection, running water, food. It’s a no-brainer.’

  ‘Good, I’m glad you took my advice.’

  ‘I may be stubborn, but I’m not stupid,’ Gough said.

  Cade let out a short laugh. ‘Reassuring. Good luck, Gough.’

  ‘Good luck, Cade.’

  ***

  The group trudged in relative silence for a couple of hours, following a narrow passage that led to a Way that would bring them to Russia. From there Cade had contacted allies on the surface who would take them the rest of the way.

  Aside from Cade, the Brotherhood warriors consisted of seasoned ex-soldiers that had been on external duty when Silas had turned many of those that had remained at the Croft. Following interviews with each of them, where Gough had scrutinised them for any kinds of deception, Cade had accepted them, and many others back into the fold. They weren’t the best, but they believed in the cause, and that mattered much more at this time than being the best with a rifle at three hundred yards.

  The path ahead shrank even further. Roxie, his lead scout, paused at the path that was now no more than a crack, and peered into the gloom.

  ‘Great, as if it couldn’t get any smaller.’

  ‘Told you to keep off the pies,’ Cade winked at the scowling Roxie as he crouched and crawled into the shrinking tunnel. Roxie followed closely behind, then the rest of the brotherhood warriors. Sylph waited to the end, nodding Barach forwards.

  ‘After you,’ the mage said.

  ‘You afraid I’m going to stick a knife in your back?’ she said.

  ‘If you’d intended to do that you would’ve tried by now,’ Barach replied.

  ‘Tried?’

  ‘Tried,’ Barach said.

  ‘I like you, Barach, you’re a grumpy bastard but you’re not up your own arse as much as the rest of them.’

  ‘Charmed.’

  Barach grudgingly ducked inside the tunnel and followed the rest. Sylph cast one last look at the passage they’d just left before joining him.

  Minutes passed, and the passage shrunk even further. By now Cade was edging sideways, sucking in as best he could, his face scraping the cold stone that pressed against him.

  ‘Now who’s wishing they’d kept off the pies?’ Roxie said, her slighter form moving easier through the crack.

  ‘It’s not like this for long. It opens out into a Way that leads right to Norilsk, the village nearest to Osgog,’ Sylph said, ‘There’s a path that leads to the Putoran mountains. It’s a bit of a climb but it brings us around the back of Osgog.’

  ‘And this is the only way?’ Cade grunted, cursing as he scraped his cheek across a jagged piece of rock.

  ‘A frontal assault on Osgog would be suicide,’ Barach said, grunting with exertion as he moved. ‘We studied it several times over the years, just in case they tried something and we had to act. This route, if what the Night Sister says is correct, will give us a way in that is lightly guarded, if it is guarded at all.’

  Thankfully, the tunnel didn’t last for too long, and within minutes they emerged into a wide, circular chamber. A pool of still water claimed the centre, and ruined pillars, some still bearing visible Runic Script, lay in a heap around the perimeter.

  ‘This has seen better days,’ Barach said, his staff lighting up at the end, a ball of light appearing that dispelled the blackness.

  ‘It’s collapsed,’ Sylph replied, leaping from rock to rock. ‘The real world has seeped into the Way here. If you go up that crack there,’ she pointed to a thin fissure that led up from a far wall, ‘you’ll end up with the Unaware.’

  ‘You really have been around, haven’t you?’ Cade said.

  ‘Marek insisted I learn everything there was about this world, not just what the magi wanted us all to know.’

  Sylph ignored the barbed look she got from Barach and dropped from the last rock. She melded into the shadows and reappeared at the far side, where a partially collapsed pillar had fallen across the exit.

  ‘This way. It’s not long now.’

  ‘How long?’

  ‘An hour, tops.’

  ‘Okay. We stop here. Let us go through what we need to do. I don’t fancy doing a briefing halfway up a mountain.’

  Barach set up a glowing perimeter of orbs that bathed the chamber in a welcoming combination of heat and light. Cade sent two of his warriors into the tunnel beyond to keep watch, ensuring they didn’t go too far that he couldn’t maintain his mental link with them at all times.

  This would not be another Skelwith.

  ‘Barach, tell us what to expect. We need a clear picture of what we’re dealing with.’

  ‘This will help.’ Barach closed his eyes. His brow furrowed in concentration. A strange glow appeared before the group, almost a smudge in the air. As they watched the smear grew, adding colour and a more refined resolution. As the blurriness vanished an image began to form, a collection of buildings and other structures, but as if from far away.

  ‘Is that Osgog?’ Sylph said, passing her hand through the image, which shimmered and reformed with the movement.

  ‘Yes,’ Barach said. ‘I’ve reconstructed it from my memories and those I ripped from the Ninth soldier.

  ‘That’s amazing.’

  ‘Not all magi can do it. It needs a strong Sentio to work.’

  ‘I am just glad you have it,’ Cade said.

  ‘It has proved useful in the past, although I cannot hold it for long, so get what you need, and quickly.’

  Cade stepped up to the image. The complex resembled a cold-war-era factory, with many large buildings intertwined with miles of sprawling pipelines. Large cooling towers stood at the back, outlets for whatever by-products the facility had made in its operational years.

  A high wire fence surrounded the three sides of the complex, which sat on a snow-covered plateau at the base of the mountains. Watchtowers stood at the intersections of the fence. A single road trailed off from the complex, dipping down into a narrow valley that allowed just one access route to the complex.

  Behind the complex loomed a fearsome looking wall of rock that provided protection from any kind of large scale attack from the rear.

  A fortress in all regards.

  ‘How is that place assailable?’ Roxie said.

  ‘It’s not,’ Cade replied, ‘and that’s the point. They’re on high ground. The winds through this valley are vicious at best, meaning access by aircraft is a dangerous business. The only way in is by that road, and you can be assured they’ve got their eyes trained on that at all times. Both technology and Weave-based.’

  One of Cade’s warriors, Dmitri, paced round to the other side of the image. ‘So, I’m assuming there’s some good news with this?’ Dmitri said.

  Cade looked at the mage. ‘Barach?’

  Barach pointed towards the steep mountainside at the back of the complex. ‘Here. Unfortunately the defenders of Osgog don’t appear to be the brightest bunch, and have failed to think in three dimensions. If a small force were to come from the mountainside, they could drop straight in. Literally, drop straight in.’

  ‘Why do I not like the sound of that?’ Sylph said.

  ‘Here,’ Barach indicated the three cooling towers. Security is tight in the compound, with forces patrolling near constantly. However, they won’t have people inside the towers. If we drop in through them, we can go straight below ground. And that leads into the catacombs underneath the complex, and is where we will find the Manyway.’

  ‘Wow, sounds so easy,’ Roxie smirked.

  ‘It is the only option of getting below ground without raising the alarm.’

  ‘So what happens when we get underground? Where then? And what about the magi? How do we avoid being sensed?’

  ‘Maintaining sense all the time takes effort. Although most of their magi will be out on the missions
to retrieve the Spoke Stones, there will be some that remain. These will be magi involved in security. Their sense will be active, like a searchlight. I will maintain a shield across us to hide us, but should we encounter them we’ll need to take them out sharpish. It’s not something I can maintain for long.’

  Cade nodded, ‘Okay, sounds good. And once underground? The Manyway is right at the bottom. Show us how we get there.’

  Barach wiped a bead of sweat from his brow. The exterior view of the building vanished.

  ‘As you wish,’ he said.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  ‘Better. Much better,’ the simulacrum said, not moving from its place in the centre of the ring.

  ‘Really? It doesn't feel like that.’

  Seb sat outside the ring, clutching his arms to his chest, the unpleasant numbness slowly changing into an itchy fire of pins and needles that rippled up into his shoulders. When the sensation had passed, he rose to one knee, sinking down further into the mud, before standing upright, his legs aching with every stretch of muscle.

  ‘You need a break, Seb,’ Caleb said, stifling a yawn as he opened a flask of coffee.

  ‘I’ll take a break when I can hit this thing without my arms feeling like they’re going to drop off.’

  Seb turned towards the ring. The simulacrum still remained in the form it had assumed in the past few hours. That of the daemon Kranor, the one he’d fought at Domus. The simulacrum had been specially trained by Cian to adopt pretty much any form that could be found amongst the sheol ranks. It was amazing, but also terrifying. The ferals were just the bottom tier of a hierarchy that extended up many levels. True, Kranor was high up there, but there were other, equally terrifying creatures in existence that he hoped he’d never encounter.

  ‘This is the problem with the magi,’ the simulacrum said. ‘You cling to your three schools like they’re the only way the Weave works. It is a credit to your kind that you’ve managed to understand it that way, but it also limits you. The Weave is more than Novo, Avatari and Sentio, but by your own designs you are blinding yourselves from it. It is this reason why you cannot strike me.’