Message Bearer (The Auran Chronicles Book 1)

by Dobing, M. S.

  ‘Something else?’ he said, noticing that she hadn’t moved.

  Stay calm.

  ‘Sylph? Say it or go. I don’t have time for childish tantrums.’

  ‘What was Sarah doing?’

  Marek clasped his hands together and leaned forwards.

  ‘I thought that was obvious. Betraying those who’d taken her in.’

  ‘Tell me.’

  ‘Are you feeling okay? Where has this dangerous line of questioning come from?’

  Marek’s white eyes were fixed on her. Her blood ran cold, the anger evaporating in an instant. All she wanted now was to get out before Marek made a decision that didn’t bode well for her future wellbeing.

  ‘I’m sorry, I’ve just been having trouble sleeping since I returned.’ She dropped her head. ‘Forgive me.’

  ‘Look at me, Sylph.’

  Sylph forced her head up, her instincts screaming against the action.

  ‘Sarah tricked me. She tricked us all. She had my confidence and she used it to steal secrets that I sought. Knowledge that would’ve allowed us to overthrow the betrayers and bring justice for those who suffered under Danu.’

  ‘She had crossed over?’

  ‘I told her of a site I had located, rumoured to contain powerful magicks secreted away by Balor when he sensed Danu had turned against him.’

  She suddenly realised she’d hadn’t breathed for several seconds and took in a sharp gulp of air.

  ‘A true site of Balor?’

  Marek smiled. ‘It had taken many months of searching, but I’d finally found a genuine site. Sarah begged me to let her go. She was trained, skilled in infiltration. She could get there without drawing the attention of the Border Guards.’

  The smile dropped.

  ‘That’s how she convinced me anyway.’

  ‘She found it, didn’t she? But she tried to take it back to the Magistry?’

  ‘Alas, she did. She would’ve made it too, if it wasn’t for the Hound that found her.’

  ‘So that’s why I was sent to retrieve her memories? So you could acquire the knowledge that she’d taken?’

  Marek nodded.

  ‘Unfortunately the memories you managed to obtain are fragmented. It will take time to make sense of what she’d taken.’

  They didn’t seem that fragmented to me, she thought.

  ‘Sylph?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘You seemed to drift away for a minute.’

  ‘I’m sorry, I am tired, that is all.’

  Sylph rose and went to the door. With the handle half turned she stopped and looked back.

  ‘The site Sarah found?’

  Marek had returned to his favoured place, his white eyes lost in the flames.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘The sheol weren’t there, too, were they?’

  ‘No, of course not, the site is sacred, lost to all. They may be our allies now, but I would not trust them with the location of any of our sacred artefacts. Why?’

  ‘No reason, just curious.’

  ‘Goodnight, Sylph.’

  Sylph left without a word. As the door closed the shadow behind it shimmered as a humanoid form coalesced out of the dark.

  ‘You are bold, hiding in plain sight like that,’ Marek said as his visitor stepped into the light.

  ‘Your protégé is distracted. She couldn’t sense her own nose, let alone me.’

  ‘What brings you here, Silas?’

  Silas, First Sword of the Brotherhood, sauntered across the room and slumped into Marek’s chair.

  ‘How long?’

  ‘You tell me. It is your spies who are monitoring his progress.’

  ‘He is training with a mage called Caleb. My son is teaching him the ways of the warrior.’

  Marek snorted. ‘Caleb? I’m surprised that old bastard is still shuffling round. How does the boy fare. Is his Weave-mastery progressing?’

  Silas sat. He poured himself a coffee from the pot. Marek slid two fingers across in the air and the bolt on the door locked. Silas took a sip. He murmured in appreciation.

  ‘According to my son he is weak, untrained. But he is keen.’

  ‘You know it takes six years to learn the three schools.’

  ‘Six years? We don’t have that long, the borders will have shifted. The sheol will be out of control by then.’

  ‘You do not have to remind me of this, Silas. It was I who gave you this opportunity.’

  ‘Of course, Marek, and I appreciate -’

  ‘Then you will appreciate that this will take time. If your Brotherhood had done their job, then the infiltrator would have completed her mission safely and we wouldn’t have this particular challenge.’

  ‘How dare you!’ Silas’ yellow eyes blazed. ‘You know what we have to deal with, what the magi have done to us! It was your out-of-control sheol that killed her in the first place!’

  ‘Calm, old friend. I did not mean to rile you. We merely have to be patient. If we get the boy now it is of no use. He would die, and we would lose all we have. Give it some months, let the foundations settle. When he has something we can use, then we will act.’

  Silas pursed his lips, nodding slowly. ‘And the sheol?’

  ‘What of them?’

  ‘It is obvious that the control we have is tenuous at best. Will it hold until he is ready?’

  This time is was Marek’s voice that dripped in menace. ‘The sheol are my concern, Silas. I will monitor the situation and act accordingly.’ Marek rose. ‘I believe this meeting is over.’

  Silas rose and tipped his head. ‘Of course. Let us not fall out over this. We have a common cause after all.’

  ‘Indeed. It would be wise not to forget that.’

  Silas slowed as he approached the door. Already his shadow-melding was taking effect, his form fading into darkness.

  ‘The girl.’

  ‘What of her?’ Marek said.

  ‘She is asking the wrong kinds of questions. She could be a threat.’

  ‘Sylph is my ward. I will decide how to deal with her. And besides, I believe she has a significant role to play in this yet.’

  ‘But in whose favour?’ Silas said. His voice seemingly came out of thin air now, although Marek could see his aura as clear as day. ‘If she becomes a danger, let me know. We will deal with her.’

  ‘Goodbye, Silas.’

  The bolt slid back. The door opened and the Silas-shadow vanished into the gloom, leaving Marek with troubling thoughts.

  Chapter 23

  6 Months Later…

  Seb stooped, resting his palms against aching knees. His muscles burned. His arms trembled and sweat poured from his brow, stinging his eyes.

  Yet he would not give in.

  ‘You want to rest?’ Cade said. The warrior circled the chamber. One fist held the other, the knuckles cracking as he flexed.

  ‘What’s the matter, you getting tired?’

  Cade stopped. ‘Seb,’ he said, smiling, ‘there’s no need to do yourself an injury. I -’

  Seb dashed forwards. He arrived at Cade in a heartbeat but his attack was overextended. Cade ducked back, letting him fly past, sliding to a halt on the smooth stone.

  ‘Very good! You’re getting better at that!’ Cade said. ‘You are still letting frustration better you, though. Now, attack. No Sentio, just what I’ve shown you, muscle memory only.’

  Seb didn’t need to drop his connection to the Weave. It had vanished already. He could never maintain it for long, and even then it only came in fits and starts. Sometimes it wouldn’t come at all. This, though, he could deal with. Straight up skill and strength, no magic involved.

  Seb adopted one of the many combat stances Cade had shown him and launched a ferocious attack. Muscle memory kicked in, weeks of training, hundreds of hours practicing coming together. His hands moved in a blur, deft actions designed to draw maximum impact with minimum effort. Of course Cade parried or dodged, his hands equal to Seb’s attacks, but they weren’t as
easily deflected as previously. When they’d first started these sessions Cade could have deflected any attack with one hand tied behind his back. Now though it took both, even if the warrior never broke a sweat.

  Seconds later they parted. Cade stepped back, his guard dropping. Seb staggered back to his side where a towel and water bottle lay on the rug. He wiped his brow and took several gulps.

  ‘You are doing well.’ Cade said, waiting for Seb to get his breath back.

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘I wouldn’t lie. What troubles you?’

  ‘That obvious?’

  ‘You’re not as obnoxious as normal.’

  ‘Wow. It must be bad.’

  ‘Tell me.’

  Seb scrunched the towel up and threw it on the floor.

  ‘It’s the same shit, Cade. This stuff,’ he said, gesturing at their makeshift ring, ‘I can do. It’s physical, it’s normal. I know if I practice hard then I’ll get better. It’s simple. And I enjoy it.’

  ‘But?’

  ‘Learning the Weave is something else.’

  Cade frowned. ‘I thought you were doing well?’

  ‘I was. At the start. But, it’s like, the more I learn it, the harder it becomes to do anything. It’s like I’m overthinking it. I can make the connection, most of the time, but then I try and remember the damned Scripts and it all just fizzles away.’

  Cade took off his arm guards and threw them into his sports bag. ‘Have you discussed this with Caleb?’

  ‘I haven’t, but I know he knows. He can sense my frustration I’m sure.’

  ‘Perhaps he’s waiting for you to ask for help?’

  ‘You think?’

  Cade shrugged. You never know unless you try.’

  The two men stood and walked towards the exit.

  ‘How are things anyway? You know, out there?’

  ‘No better. You heard about the human vassals?’

  ‘Yeah, Caleb said. Now we have humans and the sheol working together. How the hell did that happen?’

  ‘It looks like Marek is trying new tactics. They’re working too. We’ve lost ten brothers in six months. I’m sure I’ve encountered a mage too. Of sorts.’

  ‘What? Working for Marek?’

  Cade nodded. ‘First when we rescued you. Then I’m sure I saw them again when I first encountered the human vassals.’

  ‘How is that possible?’

  ‘I suppose it’s quite possible with Marek out there. What’s to stop him getting hold of a Latent mage before we do?’

  ‘What’re we going to do?’

  ‘The magi will do what they normally do; stick their heads even further into the sand,’ Cade said. ‘Sorry, that’s not aimed at you.’

  ‘Why don’t they do anything? Surely it’s in their interests to help?’

  ‘The Oath only works one way. We owe them. Not the other way round.’

  ‘They won’t feel that way when there’s no Brotherhood left.’

  ‘Perhaps,’ Cade said, a resigned smile on his face. ‘Although if it gets to that stage I’m sure I won’t care.’

  They walked back through the tunnel towards the main chamber, where Caleb’s morning grumbles drifted through the air like clouds.

  ‘You think it will get that bad?’ Seb said.

  Cade glanced across at Caleb. If the old man was listening, he didn’t show it. ‘Five years ago, hell, even six months ago, I would’ve said no. But now?’

  Cade let the question hang in the air as he turned and trudged towards the stairs, the world hanging a bit heavier on his shoulders.

  ‘Cade,’ Caleb said, as the warrior walked by.

  He received no answer.

  Chapter 24

  ‘Come on. Get your arse out of bed,’ Caleb said, kicking the side of the mattress.

  Seb woke with a start. A jolt of sense hit him straight away, a random connection to the Weave that announced Caleb’s presence without him needing to open his eyes. The sensation vanished as quickly as it appeared, and Seb let out a drawn out sigh.

  ‘What’s happening? We’ve got no deliveries today.’

  ‘I know. That’s why we’re making the most of it. We’re going to try to get you out of this grump you’ve been in for the past few weeks.’

  ‘What? Who told you that?’ He sighed. ‘Cade.’

  ‘He didn’t need to say anything. It’s written all over you.’

  Seb swung his legs out of bed. What now? He didn’t need this. He’d tried his bollocks off trying to work with the Weave, but the harder he tried the worse it got. He hadn’t even made a connection in a week. Caleb had been fine about it but he could see the frustration in the old man’s face.

  He was a failure. Everyone knew it.

  ‘You are not a failure.’

  ‘I thought it was considered rude to read someone’s mind.’

  ‘You might as well have put it in neon lights and stuck it to the walls the way you’re carrying on.’

  Caleb pulled a stool up as Seb rummaged through his trunk for the least unclean clothes.

  ‘It’s not your fault you know.’

  ‘No?’ Seb said. He couldn’t find the smock he was looking for, the one that itched the least. He slammed the trunk shut and kicked it against the wall. The heavy container hit the stone with a dull thunk.

  ‘At least your lessons with Cade are paying off.’

  Seb chucked on the top from yesterday. ‘Yeah they are. It’s easy with the combat stuff. It’s just practice. Training. I know if I work at the routines that I’ll get better, it’ll just take time. With the Weave though…’ He slumped on the bed. ‘…I don’t know. I just don’t get it.’

  ‘You think too much. Has anyone ever told you that?’

  Seb laughed. ‘No. The opposite.’

  ‘You read those books, thinking that the more you know, the easier it’ll be, but in fact it’s the opposite. You’re trying to do this without context. The Weave is hard enough to learn anyway, but with your rational brain trying to fight against it you’re on a hiding to nothing.’

  ‘Great pep talk, Caleb. What’re you saying? I can’t do it?’

  ‘No, of course I’m not. Although I do think you need a bit of help, just to get you going.’

  ‘What? How?’

  ‘Get dressed. Not that shirt. Look smart.’

  ‘Where are we going?’

  ‘To see the Magister.’

  ***

  The massive double doors that led down to Skelwith’s inner sanctum loomed at the end of a wide corridor that trailed away from the reception hall. Seb stood before them, Caleb by his side, Seb’s eyes like plates as they took in their vastness.

  ‘Close your mouth, Seb. I don’t want to have to get a mop out.’

  ‘Sorry.’

  Seb stepped forwards. The doors, some kind of ancient wood, black in colour, were covered in hundreds if not thousands of runes. Their exact nature eluded him, but they were some kind of defensive wards, that he was sure of.

  ‘This is Runic Script?’

  ‘Correct. The Script on these doors is hundreds of years old. Nothing, bar the inner most circle, can open them.’

  ‘What’s in here?’

  ‘It’s easier to show you.’

  Caleb nodded at one of the silent magi who stood either side of the door. The hooded man nodded back in response. His head dipped. Seb sensed a slight crackle in the Weave. The door opened a moment later, creaking inwards as if pulled by unseen hands.

  ‘Come on. Let’s not keep the Magister waiting,’ Caleb said.

  The door opened out into a wide stairway made of a polished marble. Strange lanterns hung on the wall on both sides, illuminating the stairway with a soothing violet light. Caleb strode on, Seb followed.

  Unlike the rest of the mansion with its tired decor, the passageway that descended into the Magister’s sanctum still existed in all its former glory. Massive oil paintings depicting scenes that defied the imagination covered the walls all the way down. W
as that the Crossing? Is that one Danu? Or is it Balor? Surely that one must be Temperos. The wonders continued as the stairs levelled out into a wide open area. The room extended on into the distance, a path of gold brick guiding the way between a series of marble pillars that burned atop with a purple flame.

  ‘This is amazing.’

  Caleb nodded. ‘It is indeed. Soak it in Seb. Not many acolytes – hell – not many magi full stop get to come here. In this place is the source of Skelwith’s power.’

  ‘I don’t follow,’ Seb said. He stopped in front of two huge stone knights that stood before another double door. The Weave crackled off them in random spurts, as if someone was turning a radio in and out of tune. ‘These are sentinels, correct?’

  ‘The last line of defence. In times of trial the sentinels can be called upon to defend Skelwith.’ Caleb stopped beside him. ‘What don’t you follow?’

  ‘The source of Skelwith’s power. You said it’s up ahead.’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘I thought the Weave is the source of a mage’s power?’

  ‘It is. But this place is, special.’

  ‘How so?’

  ‘Come inside. It will be easier to show you.’

  As they approached the doors a sound came from somewhere. A clunk of something heavy, followed by the whir and click of moving parts. The door opened inwards, groaning as if in protest.

  Beyond loomed another large room. It was angular in structure, plain stone walls glued together at regular angles. This chamber lacked the opulence of the previous corridor, and all focus was drawn towards the simple structure in the middle. A marble podium took pride of place, and mounted atop it, wrapped in curling swirls of bronze, was the largest gem stone Seb had ever seen.

  ‘What is that?’ Seb said, wincing as his voice echoed back, amplified by an unseen force.

  ‘The Spoke Stone, young mage.’

  The Magister emerged from the gloom, drifting towards them like a ghost. Caleb bowed a head. Seb followed a second later.

  ‘Magister. It is an honour,’Caleb said.

  ‘You owe this to Silas, Caleb. It was our noble brother’s idea that we try this approach.’