Consensus Breaking (The Auran Chronicles Book 2)

by M. S. Dobing

  Too late.

  With Sedaris’ hands just inches away, Seb flicked the safety cap off and pressed the switch.

  Sedaris screamed.

  The world exploded in a blinding flash of heat and light.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  The three survivors had slept most of the journey back to the Croft. Caleb had kept in the real world for as much as possible, only taking a Way when he absolutely had to, taking them from Siberia back to western Europe. No one desired another battle. All were spent, beyond exhaustion.

  Sylph didn’t sleep. She just stared out of the window, the wipers squeaking on the glass as they pushed the early morning drizzle away. At one point a news broadcast had begun reporting about a massive explosion in deepest Siberia. Russian officials were sketchy on the details, promising a full investigation.

  They had no idea what had happened.

  Early on in the journey Caleb had reached out to her, not touching - her only memory of him was as a possessed sheol trying to kill her - but trying to talk to her, to reassure her.

  Sylph didn’t talk back.

  Cade was dead.

  She hadn’t said it out loud yet. She hadn’t had to. When Caleb had asked the silence he’d received in response was all the answer he needed. The old man had nodded and swallowed. When he asked her, more tentatively, about Seb, she felt a part of her break with him.

  ‘I don’t know, Caleb,’ she said, figuring she owed the old man this much. He loved Seb, that much was obvious. ‘He stayed behind, with Cade. I left. Then it just went up.’

  Something seemed to die inside Caleb at that moment. She’d tried sensing out for Seb, but her skills were weak compared to the magi. At first she thought she’d felt something, but then it fizzled away.

  Wishful thinking.

  And what was it with her, anyway? Seb was her friend. As was Cade. She’d had friends before. Sarah. Marek. Luchar. All had died. What had she felt? Sad? Maybe. Disappointed? Definitely.

  But there was something else. A feeling she hadn’t felt since, well, ever.

  She remembered appearing on the mountain, where Barach had placed his marker.

  Then came the explosion.

  She remembered screaming. Crying into the wind until her voice had turned hoarse. She’d trudged down the mountainside a zombie, only stopping when she fell into the arms of Dmitri and Roxie, not struggling as they’d carried her back to the van.

  She hadn’t spoken since. If something had died in Caleb it felt like something had simply been removed from her. She felt empty inside, dulled.

  What the hell was wrong with her?

  ‘We’re here,’ Caleb grumbled, drawing the vehicle to a halt.

  Sylph stepped out, landing in muddy water. She felt the cold, but it didn’t bother her. It was good to simply feel something. She stood, casually watching the two Brotherhood warriors as they trudged in through the open gates of the Croft. Others ran to help them, brothers and other Aware that Gough had brought from Sanctuary.

  Sylph didn’t need help. Her ankle was swollen, and she had several lacerations to her forearms and face, but she could walk. She just wanted to be left by herself.

  The crowd parted and Gough stepped through. ‘How are you, Sylph?’ He came forward, concern in his eyes. She felt the subtle tingle as he probed her aura.

  No point in lying.

  ‘I feel…empty, Gough,’ she muttered.

  The old man nodded. ‘You have suffered great loss. We all have.’

  ‘Sedaris?’

  ‘Unknown. No one saw him leave Osgog, but Barach has not returned either.’

  Sylph looked out over the mountains, down into the wide, snow-covered valleys where the Unaware carried on about their business.

  ‘It’s not over, is it?’ she said.

  ‘No,’ Gough said, ‘far from it, I’m afraid.’

  ‘Without Cade and Seb, what will we do?’

  This time it was Shimmer that spoke, his voice commanding attention. ‘All is not lost, child. Heroes have fallen before, and will do so again,’ He reached out a supporting hand. This time, she accepted. Exhaustion hit her and she near-collapsed, the world shifting as the warrior took her into his arms and carried her inside.

  Gough stayed. He looked out over the world.

  ‘No, not over at all.’ He turned and entered the Croft, the giant gates drawing shut behind him.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  Unknown Location, Siberia

  Archmage Tarmyr slumped in his throne, gnawing on a ham hock. Beside him Alexei, still smarting over his defeat at the hands of the invaders, sulked in silence.

  Tarmyr couldn’t help but smile. His plan couldn’t have gone more to plan. He hadn’t anticipated that the survivors of the Brotherhood would be so brazen as to attack his home, but it had at least saved him the job of having the upstart mage Sedaris assassinated instead.

  He laughed out loud, his guards turning briefly before resuming their fixed expression.

  Shard of Nazgath. How stupid did Sedaris think he was? He wasn’t the first mage to become corrupted and attempt a coup, and he wouldn’t be the last.

  Tarmyr laughed again. Or perhaps he would? How many magi were left? His men were on their way back now. Hours away, apparently. The last of the magi lay slaughtered in their homes, and the Ninth, the shunned Family, the true followers of the Wronged Lord, would have the Spoke Stones, all the Spoke Stones in their possession.

  Nazgath would be beyond grateful, and he, Tarmyr, would be remembered as the greatest ruler this shard had ever seen.

  The air rippled and fizzed in the centre of the throne room. Strange that. The wards in place should prevent an unauthorised teleport into his secret chambers. Only those he’d granted permissions to could enter. And they were all here. All except…

  ...No. He was dead. He had to be dead.

  Sedaris appeared. Burned. Scarred.

  Angry.

  ‘Archmage Sedaris, it is a joy to see you have survived the battle. I was worried for a time.’

  ‘You abandoned me,’ Sedaris said. But it was not his voice, not the voice Tarmyr knew. This was a growl, echoing around the chamber. He felt his elites shiver at the power it encompassed. ‘You left me to burn.’

  ‘Now, Sedaris, you know that is not true. Was I not coordinating our forces in bringing back the Spoke Stones? I’m afraid any mishap that occurred at the Manyway was entirely --’

  Sedaris teleported and appeared right before him. Before anyone could respond Sedaris thrust a hand into the Archmage’s chest. Dark blood oozed from the wound as Tarmyr froze, Sedaris’ hand closing around his fluttering heart.

  ‘You betrayed me. No one betrays me.’

  Sedaris twisted and yanked the still beating heart from Tarmyr’s chest. The Archmage could only stare through wide eyes, slumping down as the life left him.

  Tarmyr’s elite guard responded instantly. They raced from the perimeter of the room towards the throne.

  Another figure appeared, coalescing from the darkness. It moved amongst them, a shadow of steel and death. Ten magi fell, limbs severed and throats cut. The rest slowed to a halt and backed away.

  ‘Now,’ Sedaris said, idly throwing Tarmyr’s body to the floor, where two young acolytes ran and scurried away with it. ‘By the right of Ascension I claim this Family as my own.’ He turned to Alexei, the Archmage’s son still staring in wild panic at his father’s body. ‘Do you have any objections?’

  Alexei looked up, unblinking. He shook his head.

  An aged man, older than the building itself, coughed subtly. All eyes focused on him in disbelief.

  ‘Lore keeper, you have something to say?’ Sedaris barked, holding a restraining hand as the hooded figure made as if to slay the speaker.

  ‘Archmage Sedaris, you are great in power. But you are not Archmage Tarmyr, you do not follow the ways of Nazgath.’

  Sedaris chuckled, the noise sending chills to those around.

  ‘The ways o
f Nazgath?’ he said, his voice turning to a roar. ‘I gave you your ways, ignorant fool.’

  The man’s creased face crunched into even more lines. ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘Then try this,’ Sedaris leant forward. The air shimmered around him as he shed the last of his human disguise. Sedaris vanished. In his place a serpentine figure, clad in scaled armour the colour of night, stared back at the old man, who fell to his knees sobbing, just one word on his lips.

  ‘Nazgath.’

  The lore keeper said the word just once, but it was weighted, spreading around the chamber. The other magi present fell to their knees, all chanting the name of their lord, the one who had returned to them.

  Amongst the clamour, Nazgath raised a taloned hand, beckoning the hooded figure forwards.

  ‘Come, join my side, the battle to reclaim our birthright begins today, noble Cade.’

  The hooded figure drew back its hood. Cade, eyes as silver as moonlight, turned and took up position by Nazgath. He scanned the warriors in the room, those who’d had the wisdom not to fight him.

  ‘As you wish, my Lord.’

  EPILOGUE

  At first he had just let himself go. He had blurred at the same moment he’d pressed the detonator. The blast had destroyed the portal chamber, but not before the Manyway had welcomed him into its depths.

  The lines before him and after him were familiar, taking him to wherever the Manyway had been directed. Sedaris’ screams died in his ears as he braced himself for his arrival in a place where the sheol had gathered, readying to invade his world.

  They would be sorely disappointed.

  He was going to die, that much was certain. He had readied a Script for himself. A jolt of electricity that would fry his mind in an instant, saving him from the agonies that would surely come.

  But then something else had happened. Something was there, with him, in the portal. Not a creature, something else.

  No, not something else.

  It was him. He was different. He sensed out, at once the magic of the portal flowed into him. Runic Script, ancient but recognisable all the same. The patterns flowed into his mind. He drank it in, not sure what was happening, only that the new patterns were being absorbed into his mind, complementing those he already had.

  Then he saw it. The destination.

  It wasn’t a place, not yet, anyway. Instead it was a series of symbols, similar to Runic Script, but not quite the same. On some instinctive level he just knew they were a location. A place.

  The sheol horde.

  He took them into his mind. As he stared at them, a memory came. Not his own, not quite, but something from before.

  Centuries before.

  Another Script came to mind. It was similar to the one before him – the same language, nine characters in a line – but some of the symbols were different.

  Another location.

  He didn’t have time to think. The lines were thinning out now, the end location of the Manyway coming up. He tapped into the Manyway’s magic again. Could he do it? Could he alter it, just like that?

  He focused on the location Script. He forced his will upon it.

  The Script vanished. A new one appeared.

  His own.

  Then he was out, the portal spitting him out into the air, screaming as he landed face down on warm sand the colour of rust.

  He looked up. He was in a cave. No, some kind of basin. A red sky loomed above. The air smelled of sulphur. Behind him the portal shimmered and then vanished into nothing.

  At that moment the pain returned, the wound from Kranor’s blade burning with a ferocity unlike any he’d ever experienced before. His physical body had been tested to the limits of his endurance and he sank to his knees, before falling face forward into the sand. As his mind slipped away, seeking sanctuary in unconsciousness, he thought of Sylph and Cade and the others. Sylph at least had survived. She would make it back, as would Caleb, and many others. Without the magi to pursue them then perhaps they would have a chance.

  His final thought was of Cade.

  See you in the Great River, Brother.

  Just as his mind slipped away, a faint tug on the Weave pricked at the edge of his sense. His eyes fluttered open.

  From nowhere, someone, something, appeared next to him. Out of the corner of his eye he saw two massive feet, encased in red, burnished armour. A familiar voice spoke then; one he’d only ever encountered when he’d journeyed from his body.

  ‘Welcome home, little brother.’

  The End

  From the Author

  I hope you enjoyed Consensus Bearing, and if so, you’ll be pleased to hear that the third book in the Auran Chronicles is scheduled to arrive by Winter 2016.

  If you’d like to keep up to date about further releases in the Auran Chronicles saga, please subscribe to the newsletter here.

  Also, it’s hard getting a novel to be noticed in this market we find ourselves in. So if you enjoyed the Auran Chronicles, please could you drop a review on Amazon and/or Goodreads? I’d be most grateful.

  Thanks for reading,

  Mike

  http://www.msdobing.com

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