Message Bearer (The Auran Chronicles Book 1)

by Dobing, M. S.

  The link between them formed instantly. At once he received the combined benefits of the magis’ sphere of awareness, and it also became depressingly clear how much he had to learn. His own powers didn’t even register, the magis’ covering the entire chamber and beyond.

  ‘Now, focus, gently. We just need a prod, nothing more.’

  Seb opened the tap, just an inch. The energy trickled into his mind, extending to his limbs. He directed it inwards, towards the focal point that Cian had indicated.

  ‘Release your spirits now, we must travel.’ Cian’s voice echoed across the link.

  Seb let go, the initial tug that he’d felt in his last, and only Weave-walk with the Magister barely noticeable this time. Whether it was from his own growing expertise or the combined will of the stronger magi he did not know, all he did know was that he was free almost instantly, his body kneeling below him.

  Floating free, the silvery fire flickered around the dark silhouettes of the brothers, their half-daemon nature emphasising them more against the background. The magis glowed, purest blue, their bodies natural conduits for the Weave. But the statues of the First, they were something else entirely.

  If their stone forms were the result of years of decay, of the might of time against their physical bodies, their spirit-forms glowed like they were forged from the Weave itself. They stood, unmoving, in their former splendour. They all shared the same common stance as they did in the physical world, with their heads bowed, hands grasping their staffs. Their eyes glowed. Fiery orbs, millennia old.

  ‘They don’t seem to be particularly lacking in power,’ Don said, his spirit-form stepping right through his own body to stop in front of a figure that Seb had seen many times in the old tomes. Woden, leader of the First.

  ‘Their forms may still be here, but their essence is adrift,’ Cian replied. ‘I can feel them, even from here.’

  ‘Like the lights are on but no one’s home?’ Seb said.

  ‘Something like that.’

  Cian took up position in front of Woden. He turned back to the others. ‘Ready?’

  They murmured an affirmative together.

  Before Seb could even contemplate what was coming, the world as he knew it vanished, and he found himself adrift in an endless sky of varying shades of pink. Patches of other colours blotted the sky-scape, and intermittent bolts of red lightning scored the panorama, a shuddering thunder echoing across the vast distance.

  Stay together. If you get set adrift then your pattern will be lost. It’s not a temporary arrangement. Cian pulsed.

  Seb kept close to Cian. At first he drifted in sharp movements, shooting past to the right, overcompensating, then rocketing past to the left. His heart rattled, the panic at being lost forever in the Weave nibbling at his mind.

  Easy lad, don’t think about it, just will yourself, Cian’s voice came quietly, a soothing tone that dampened the panic a small degree.

  Seb took a virtual breath, not bothering to ponder if there was such a thing in this world between worlds. He let go of direct control, instead just focussing his attention on Cian’s form, the glowing avatar just ahead of him. His confidence grew when his pendulum-like swings lessened, his movements smoother. He drew nearer to the other magi, the action growing easier by the moment, as if he was awakening a long suppressed muscle memory.

  A tiny island, barely a rock, floated out of the distant haze. It brought back a memory of another journey he took, but his mind couldn’t focus enough to form it. He shook it away, looking ahead.

  A figure was sat on the rock, dressed in the garb of an elite, a hood pulled over their head. Seb followed the others down there, his confidence growing now. He soared above and below his comrades, relishing the freedom that flight gave him. He made a mental note to check the tomes about the feasibility of doing it when they got back to their own world.

  They alighted onto the rock, the stone strangely warm underfoot. Seb kept to the rear as Cian approached the kneeling figure.

  ‘My lord,’ Cian said, dropping to one knee in front of the figure.

  ‘Who’s that?’ Seb hissed to Mik.

  ‘Woden, or at least, part of him.’

  ‘No shit?’

  ‘Erm, yes, shit,’ Mik replied, confused.

  ‘I can hear you, but I cannot see.’ The voice drifted out from under the hood like a breeze.

  ‘My lord, my name is Cian, Battlemaster of the Magistry. We come seeking counsel.’

  ‘Cian? Cian? What an unusual name. What is that, Hardrish? Baloran?’ the voice sang, almost melodic.

  ‘No, my lord,’ Cian said, a hint of frustration creeping into his voice. ‘It’s Celtic. We’re on Earth.’

  ‘Ah, the realm of Light. Our sanctuary. I would so love to have seen that come to fruition.’

  Seb exchanged a glance with Mik, the look returned didn’t instil any confidence. The mage shrugged and raised his eyebrows.

  ‘Woden, my lord,’ Cian continued, his head rising now. ‘Earth exists, you brought us here. You fulfilled the last wishes of Danu. But now it struggles, the Consensus weakens, and the sheol probe and squeeze through the cracks.’

  ‘The sheol? Are they still such a menace, they are such an inconvenience don’t you think?’

  ‘An inconvenience?’ The growl had crept back into Cian’s voice. ‘My lord, Aura was overrun, Earth is barely holding. How is it that you do not know any of this?’

  ‘I am sorry,’ Woden breathed, the words taking an almost sad tone. ‘I do not remember...much...of anything anymore. I am adrift, floating.’

  Cian turned and marched back to them. Woden didn’t move.

  ‘This isn’t good,’ he said. ‘He’s just an essence, barely present. He’s been here too long.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Seb said, not taking his eyes off the hooded figure.

  ‘I mean that’s the reason why the Consensus is weakening. If he’s an example of the rest of them, they are just dispersing out into the Weave. Soon they’ll just be like the rest of us, fragments of memory and mind.’

  ‘So that’s it, we’re screwed?’ Don said.

  Cian frowned. ‘I don’t know. I suppose it was inevitable. The Consensus controls the Weave, but it is also fed by it. It is its lifeblood.’ Cian shook his head, clearing his thoughts, ‘Perhaps, without the use of the Weave being so prevalent, that the First have simply lost the taste for it. Like a shark moving onto other waters when the food dries up.’

  Seb moved past the men as they continued their discussion. He dropped to his knees in front of Woden, resisting the urge to peer under the hood.

  ‘My lord, can you hear me?’ He spoke the words but pulsed it also, directing towards the entity he saw before him.

  ‘Who is this, is that you, Shimmer?’ The voice came, melodic, almost child-like.

  ‘No, not Shimmer,’ Seb said, ‘my name is Seb, an acolyte under Cian, we came seeking your help.’

  ‘Cian, who is he? Do I know him? It’s an unusual name, is it Baloran?’

  This wasn’t getting him anywhere. This was some kind of astral senility caused by centuries of standing idle. A thought occurred to him from nowhere. He didn’t think it through, and he sent a mild mental jab with the Weave.

  The resulting force knocked him to the floor. He shook his head, blinking the shock away as the hooded figure suddenly stood, a white light burst from under the hood, hurting his eyes.

  ‘Vulgarity! Who dares channel in my presence?’

  Seb staggered back, Cian’s strong grip preventing him from tumbling off the rock and into oblivion. The figure spun about, arms flaying, words coming out but to Seb they sounded like nothing but gibberish.

  ‘What the hell did you do?’ Cian said.

  ‘He wasn’t responding. You said they fed on magic, so I gave him a nibble.’

  The bait that animated Woden was fading already. He stopped, walked a couple of steps, muttering all the time, before dropping back to his knees in the place where he started. Cian
shot Seb a don’t move glance before moving back over.

  ‘My lord, can you hear me?’

  ‘I hear you, my son, who is this?’

  ‘I am Cian, my lord, Battlemaster of the Magistry.’

  The figure gave a barely noticeable nod, ‘Cian, that’s an unusual name, what is it? Hardrish? Baloran?’

  Cian cursed and stomped back. ‘It’s no use, he’s lost. We’re on our own.’

  ‘Is that it? One setback and you’re giving up? I had him then, he responded, he just needs -’

  ‘He needs nothing but being banished into the void. This is no existence for someone of such greatness,’ Cian marched away, avoiding eye contact.

  ‘So, now what?’ Don said.

  ‘We go. This is a dead end.’

  At that moment a familiar voice shouted, carried across the wind, surrounding them.

  ‘...Cian! Don! Wake up, we’ve got company!’

  Chapter 42

  Seb roared to consciousness, the experience like rushing to the surface after spending minutes underwater. His eyes opened, and he sucked in cold air as the real world appeared around him.

  ‘What is it?’ He heard Cian say.

  ‘Something’s out there,’ Cade said.

  Seb stumbled to his feet and staggered out of the chamber housing the First. The Brothers were scattered before him, all bar Reuben and Cade on bended knee, weapons trained on the darkness around them.

  ‘What is it? I don’t see anything.’ Mik took up position next to Cian, his staff rippling with blue lightning.

  ‘I thought you lot were meant to be psychic?’ Reuben hissed. ‘Listen, dammit!’

  Seb closed his eyes and drew in a slow, steady breath. Through ears enhanced by the Weave the sounds drifted to him. Whispers at first, a faint hiss of movement. Then the hiss became a gush, like a leak from a pressurised pipe. Yet it wasn’t gas he was hearing. The hissing became a storm, a roaring wind of razor-teeth and black eyes. With his heart rattling like a caged bird, Seb opened his eyes.

  The sheol.

  ‘Cian!’

  ‘I know, boy. We all do.’ Cian raised his staff. A Weave-fire erupted from his skin, his outline a dazzling azure inferno. ‘Gather yourself, this is going to be testing.’

  Seb rummaged for the rattan sticks. One of them got stuck in its strap. He gave it a yank and it flew out, clattering on to the floor. He dived for it, grabbing it as it rolled against Reuben’s foot. The Second Sword gave him a look of sheer contempt before turning his yellow eyes back to the oncoming threat.

  The shadows in the roof began to shift and morph. From tunnels unseen a mass of creatures poured forth, racing down the stone vertical pillars. Black eyes glinted in the gloom, the sheol gibbering and growling as they surged forth.

  ‘Contact, north pillar!’ Cade said.

  ‘And the west,’ one of the other brothers replied.

  ‘Suppression pattern. Tight bursts. Don’t fire until you’re sure of a hit.’

  Seb fell behind Cian. The light sticks suddenly felt heavy in his hands, his palms slick with sweat. He sensed out, the fear making the effort clumsy, fragmented. Countless echoes fired back at him. Feral minds with only one goal.

  ‘They’re going to kill all of us,’ he heard himself whisper.

  ‘Shut down that fear, boy. Remember your training.’ Cian said, not looking back at him. ‘Cade, can we make it to the exit?’

  The mass of sheol were on the ground now. They raced towards the group from two directions. The Brotherhood had not fired a round yet. They remained poised, weapons ready. Cade stood, his enhanced vision looking above and over.

  ‘We need to punch a hole through. If we move quick we’d only encounter a few.’

  Cian nodded. ‘Make it so. Let me lead. On my signal you give them the P grenades.’

  ‘Understood.’

  ‘Stay with me, boy.’

  Cian barrelled forwards. Strengthened limbs propelled him at high speed, his massive frame barely touching the ground as he sped towards the approaching sheol. The magi, Seb at the rear, followed behind. The air crackled and shimmered as a field of force was projected before them. The sheol were only yards away now. They scrabbled and barrelled into each other, any that stumbled quickly being trampled on by those that came behind.

  ‘Now!’ Cian’s voice rumbled across the chamber.

  ‘Eyes!’ Cade shouted.

  Seb scrunched his eyes shut. The world became black and panic flared as he raced headlong into certain death. He heard the whoompf as the Brotherhood’s weapons discharged. Beyond his closed eyelids the world exploded into a searing white. The sheol shrieked, his nostrils suddenly filled by the scent of scorched flesh. He dared to open his eyes, the fear of falling too much to ignore. He nearly gagged as he saw the sea of molten, bubbling sheol flesh that extended before him, their blood turning the floor black with blood.

  The massive arch that led out of the Nexus loomed ahead. He didn’t think about their chances. It had taken what felt an age to simply descend the steps into this room. An hour at least to get back to the exit. They had no hope of outrunning the sheol if they chose to pursue. He could only hope Cian had a plan.

  They swept forward. Hundreds of sheol had been vaporised in the blast. Many more flailed in agony on the ground, grasping at scorched stumps that had formerly been limbs. Seb kept his head down as they ploughed onwards.

  They were almost through. The blast had formed a clear gap through the sheol hordes but already more were streaming forth, the hole narrowing by the heartbeat. A thin line formed before them barring their way. Cian pointed his staff, blasting them with an invisible force, the sheol bouncing away like skittles.

  They were through! The gap failed to close. The sheol yowled and screeched as they reformed but for now, the exit beckoned. Seb allowed a flicker of hope to spring to life.

  Something changed then. Reality didn’t just groan. It screamed. The magi stopped, exchanging confused looks.

  ‘It’s not me!’ Cian said.

  ‘What the hell?’ Cade said. The Brothers had fallen in behind the magi, inside their protective spheres. They aimed their weapons at the horde, but for some reason they too had stopped, maintaining a perimeter around them.

  A sound that made Seb’s stomach fill with dread made him turn back, towards the exit. He didn’t want to look. It was as if his mind knew, on some unconscious level, what he was going to face. Yet he had no choice.

  ‘Danu be merciful,’ Mik muttered.

  It was as if some invisible force had ripped the very fabric of reality. A tear appeared in the air, twenty feet high. The rip moved downwards like an otherworldly zip, exposing a crack of darkness that filled the air with a ragged diamond shape. As they watched, dumbfounded, two massive, black-scaled claws emerged from the crack. They gripped the side of the aperture. A petrifying scream rang out as the crack widened. A daemonic maw emerged, all teeth and scale. Oval red eyes fixed on the group, the edges turning upwards in a wicked smile.

  ‘Cian!’ Seb heard himself yell.

  ‘Back. Behind me. To the First!’

  ‘We can’t. There’s no way out!’ Don screamed.

  ‘The Home Stone. Use it.’

  The daemon was half way out now. A heavily muscled leg appeared, ebony claws alighting on the flags.

  ‘But the sheol!’

  Cian whipped his head round. His eyes blazed blue. Weave-lighting crackled and rippled across his body. ‘Go dammit! I will hold!’

  Mik and Don exchanged worried glances. The Brotherhood didn’t need a second invite. They turned and ran. The sheol roared and converged on them. The warriors emptied rounds into the mass. Silver bullets ripped through daemon flesh like butter. The sheol fell in their droves, but for every one that died, two more took their place. The warriors’ weapons clicked empty. Rune Scripted weapons were unsheathed as the sheol came upon them.

  And hell erupted.

  Seb didn’t want to leave Cian. The giant warrior stood bef
ore the daemon that was now fully out of the portal. It stood to its full height, easily three times Cian’s size. It roared, the sound sending daggers of fear through Seb, paralysing him in place. A dark fire burned on the fiend’s skin, and a massive curved blade, wickedly serrated and adorned in strange silver runes that Seb didn’t recognise, materialised out of the air inside one of the creature’s hands.

  ‘Seb! Come on!’ Mik ducked as a sheol leapt over the mass. He raised a hand and a bolt of fire surged out of his palm, taking the sheol in the face, incinerating it in mid-air. A smoking pulp skidded to a halt at his feet.

  Seb hurried after him. Don had burned a hole back the way they’d come. Seb surged on, the Brothers falling in behind. Cade took up the rear, his twin blades cutting down any sheol that dared come within range.

  ‘We need to get back to the First, we can hold there whilst we summon the portal!’ Don shouted.

  Seb dared a look behind. The horned daemon swung the massive blade at Cian’s head, the speed of the attack much quicker than its size should allow. Cian ducked, a blur. He struck forwards, the staff a rod of blue fire as it lanced out towards the fiend’s jaw. It connected with a flash of light, the fiend staggering backwards in a daze. Cian didn’t hesitate. He turned and ran, backhanding a sheol that got too close, sending its head clean from its shoulders. Relieved, Seb turned, and fell over a sheol that had died at his feet.

  The room span. The fleeing magi vanished, and he was abruptly facing the stalactites that descended from the cavern. His elbow flared in pain, but he shoved it aside, flipping onto his front and rising onto one knee. He raised his head, just in time to see the sheol, one arm missing, the stump pulsing sable blood, as it staggered towards him. He reached for the rattan sticks that lay near his outstretched palm but it was too far away. The sheol was upon him. He raised his arms and braced for the inevitable.

  No! Not him!

  The feral voice pulsed across the chamber, rippling the Weave. The sheol skidded to a halt, rubbery legs flailing on the floor. It scrabbled to its feet and turned away, only to be obliterated by a blast of blue fire from Cian as he raced past.