Caleb pushed his way forwards and away from Cade, leaving the warrior frozen in shock. Cade blinked and shook the experience away, watching as the old man clumsily made his way to the front of the circle. As he stood he felt his thoughts drifting. Something didn’t sit right. He’d placed two warriors at the Drain and yet still Sylph had managed to launch an attack. When he left her the last thing she’d seemed focused on was starting another fight. According to Seb she’d risked her life to bring him back safely, why jeopardise that now? And why hadn’t his guard contacted him about the assault?
He cast one last look at the room, his eyes lingering on Caleb. His gut screamed at him. Something was wrong. He turned and marched out of the chamber.
***
The corridor was quiet. Too quiet. By the time Cade turned onto the last corridor that led to the Drain he was almost at a run. His limited sense screamed at him, not because of what he could sense, but what he couldn’t.
Shit!
Two eviscerated bodies - his warriors - lay strewn in various parts across the corridor. The walls were coated in blood and matter. Cade noted the weapons still in their holsters, safety’s still on. Whatever happened had taken them by surprise, the looks of shock on their dead faces confirming that thought. He stepped over the lake of blood, weapon in hand, and ventured downstairs. He sensed a presence there. A faint, lingering aura clinging to life.
‘Sylph? Sylph!’ He ran across to the woman on the floor and dropped to a crouch next to her. Her skin was the colour of wax, her lips blue and cold. He reached his hand under her neck, wincing at the coldness of her touch. The pulse there was weak but steady. This one did not give in easily.
‘Sylph? What happened?’ A nearby table had been flipped and thrown against a wall. Shards of wood littered the floor. Near one of Sylph’s outstretched hands a candlestick lay, one end wet with blood.
Black blood.
‘Shit.’
He had to get back. Caleb - whatever he was - needed to be stopped. But Cade couldn’t leave her like this. Whatever she’d done before, she’d fought too hard to get this far, and without her Seb wouldn’t be here at all. But what could he do? Come on, think. He’d seen it once. He lowered her down and raced to the shelves at the far wall, where potions of various colour were lined up. He normally had his own antidote but his had been used when his men found him in his father’s office. Thankfully, he found a similar potion, a small bottle with a circular base. A thick, black liquid slopped inside. He snatched it from the shelf and ran back. Without pause he tipped back her head and poured the entire contents of the bottle down her throat. She bucked and thrashed as reflex forced her to swallow. He held her close, waiting until the worst of the shudders had passed. When her spasms had ceased and her breathing had returned to something that resembled normality, he lowered her back down and raced back out of the chamber.
***
Seb didn’t know what he was expecting to happen, but in the end, when it did, it was relatively low key. At least initially.
A perimeter of golden light surrounded him, obscuring the magi behind a glowing haze. In front of him the locked box simply materialised into existence, floating in the air right under his nose. It rolled and twisted, seemingly responding to his own mind.
He’d seen Caleb before, standing near the inside of the circle. The sight of the old man, clearly frail but determined to not leave his sole pupil to face this challenge on his own made Seb’s spirits rise. Caleb was gone now, perhaps sitting. It didn’t matter. He was there, and that was enough.
The box had stopped rotating now, the cracked underside now facing him, a fierce gold energy emanating from the fissure. Without thinking, he lifted his hands, palms facing the crack. He knew the thought wasn’t his own, for he was a puppet now, controlled by the greater powers and wisdom of the combined magi.
The crack seemed to spread, sprouting several smaller cracks that grew outwards, quickly enveloping the box until nothing remained of its former structure, just a glowing cuboid of light.
‘It opens!’ The Magister’s voice echoed in his mind.
The box rippled, then something else happened. Strange runes began to rise from the inside. The language he knew was Runic Script, some of the symbols even made sense, hours of reading finally paying off.
Rune after rune appeared in the air then vanished. The Magister muttered under her breath, recanting the magical words as they went. They didn’t seem to be much. Simple binding or describing runes used to hide underlying complexity in powerful magicks. He’d seen them before many times. Nothing special at all.
Strange. What is this?
The voice, uttered by the Magister’s astral self, echoed in his mind. A rune hovered before him. It wasn’t part of any tome that he’d ever read. Nor in fact, had the Magister, judging by the way she spun it about in the air without calling it.
What is it, Magister?
Nothing, boy. Nothing of consequence. Obviously some kind of function designed to ease its understanding. Such bright people were the original magi.
Of course. Seb replied. Had he noted an air of uncertainty in the Magister’s voice? He dismissed it. She knew what she was doing.
The rune stopped spinning. The Magister called the unknown magic.
Marek appeared. At least an image of him. The room took a collective intake of breath.
‘What? What is this?’ the Magister said.
‘Thank you for this, Magister. I knew I could rely on your arrogance to aid me in my mission,’ The Marek-phantom said.
‘What is this abomination?’ Cian leapt from the throne and swung his staff through the apparition. It passed through the other side, the image unscathed. The Marek-phantom began to glow. The luminescence growing with each passing second.
The commune abruptly ended. The wall of light evaporated leaving Seb staring at a wall of shocked faces, principle amongst them was the Magister, who seemed to have visibly shrunk in both stature and size. Between them, the image of Marek glowed so brightly that it had morphed into a large glowing orb hovering in the air before them.
‘What is this, what is happening?’ one mage said, voicing the nervous thoughts that permeated the group.
‘Magister! What is going on?’
Seb blinked. He focussed his eyes on the orb. He saw now the tiny runes dancing within, moving along the lines like ants on a branch. Many of the words he recognised. He’d never seen them called in this way before, but as he pieced them together, clarity struck him.
No.
‘A bomb. It’s some kind of bomb!’
‘What?’ Cian marched over to the Magister who simply stood, slack-jawed, staring at the orb.
‘I don’t understand, it was meant to be some kind of lost knowledge, not something such as this,’ she muttered.
‘What? Seb’s right?’ Cian said, his eyes widening.
‘It can’t be. How did we not see?’
It all happened at once. The door to the hall burst open. Cade appeared, caked in blood. Seb heard movement behind. He looked back and saw Caleb appear behind the Magister. Yet it wasn’t Caleb. It was a sheol in Caleb’s form, his aura blacker than oil. Something flashed. The Magister gasped just as Cade yelled across the room:
‘Down!’
A gun fired, but the sound was nearly drowned out when the glowing orb burst, and the world exploded in a flash of light brighter than a thousand suns.
Seb dropped to the floor. His eyes burned and his ears roared. Around him the magi screamed and yelled, many of them on the floor with him. Only Cian remained standing. The shield he’d erected crackling as the remaining tendrils from the blast dissipated.
‘Is everyone okay?’
Seb rose onto one knee. He dared to open his eyes. Surprisingly, no one seemed injured. The other magi were rising also. Stunned yes, but no one seemed to have suffered anything worse.
‘What happened?’ Don said.
‘Cian.’ the Magister whispered. Cian looked down. His
mouth fell open and he dropped to his knees. Blood pooled under her where the Caleb-fiend had ripped open her gut. She stared at the giant warrior, but the gaze was sightless, the void beckoning.
‘Magister!’
‘My vessel is broken. I failed us.’
‘No, Magister. We were deceived.’
The Magister shook her head. She grimaced and coughed. Dark blood spat out onto her chin. ‘It doesn’t matter. Can you feel it? Have you sensed what’s occurred?’
‘The sentinels.’
‘They sleep. Marek’s magic did this.’
‘He will pay.’
‘In time. For now, defend Skelwith. It rests with you now. I will see you in the Great River.’
The Magister passed. Seb watched, dumbstruck as a pattern of energy left her body. It rose into the air before dissipating into the ether. Cian looked up and Seb caught his eye. The Battlemaster’s eyes glistened.
‘Outside!’
The shout from the magi broke the moment. Cian blinked the tears away and turned towards the windows. Others followed. Several of the magi rushed to the ancient glass as shrill shouts of panic began to erupt from their ranks. Cian bellowed in an attempt to restore order but his voice was drowned out by the combined clamour from the magi. Through it all, Seb simply sat, looking at the motionless body on the floor. Not at the Magister, but at Caleb. His grey eyes stared blankly towards the ceiling.
‘Seb?’
He looked up. Cade stood there, gun still in hand, one held out to him. Seb took it, noting absently the way his own hand shook. Cade hefted him off the ground.
‘How did you know?’ Seb said, looking back down at Caleb.
‘He’d attacked Sylph. Killed two of my men. Even then I wasn’t hundred percent until I saw him lunging for the Magister.’
Seb blinked. Reality rushed back to him. He glanced around. The growing tide of panic from those at the window was almost reaching hysterical proportions. From outside, where darkness now blanketed the mansion, a horn sounded.
‘What the hell is that?’
‘The sheol. And my former Brothers.’
‘It was a trap wasn’t it? All of it.’
‘I don’t know. Yes, maybe.’
Seb looked down. A shadow seemed to gather around him. He’d been played. Played like the desperate fool he was. He’d thought himself special, but in reality he was just some dumb sap that had lapped up what he’d been given.
‘Don’t go there, Seb. None of this is your fault.’
‘No? Tell me why? It looks like it pretty much is from where I’m standing.’ They walked towards the windows as Cian’s bellows began to instil a semblance of order.
‘Close the shutters.’ Cian yelled. ‘Bar them all. I want men on the roof. Form a link. I need to know everything that’s going on.’
Magi obeyed without question. Training kicking in now as the initial shock faded.
‘How many?’ Cade said as Cian turned towards them.
‘Unknown. Enough to finish us off without the sentinels. Countless sheol, they stand out like sore thumbs out there. A small number of the Brotherhood. Not that they deserve to wear that title anymore.’
‘My father? Reuben?’
Cian nodded. ‘Oh yes, they’re there. At the back, like the heroes they are. Marek is with them. He’s blocking but the air is thick with his stench.’
‘What’s the plan?’
‘I’ll command from here. Elites will cover all the main access points. One elite and one adept together. We can’t afford to have our best all grouped together. The acolytes will fall in as required. What about you? How many do you have?’
‘Twenty four in total. I just lost two to that thing over there. I’m assuming all those guarding the outer perimeter are lost too. I’ll take some to the roof. We can use ranged weapons from there. The rest will cover the inner building for when they breach.’
Cian nodded. ‘Good. Seb – you stay with Cade. You haven’t worked in a coterie before so you won’t be any use with any of the mage groups.’
Seb glowered but managed to keep the smart quip that sprang to mind at bay. ‘What do they want?’ he said.
‘What?’ Cian said.
‘What I said. They’ve dropped the defences. The Magister is dead. Now they’re here. What is it they want?’
‘Isn’t it obvious? To wipe us out.’
It came and went in the blink of an eye, but there was a pause then. Something else, there was something else. Cade noticed it too.
‘Cian. What is it? Marek wants something in here. What is it?’
For the briefest of moments it looked like Cian was going to say more. He glanced between them, mouth opening slightly.
That was when the world erupted into flame.
They heard the shouts a split second before two of the barred windows exploded inwards. Blasts of flame struck the nearest magi, engulfing them in terrifying balls of purple fire. Those that took the brunt of the blast were vaporised instantly, those who were further away rolled on the floor in agony, their flesh and bones melting away into charred, sickening stumps. Those not caught could only watch in paralysed fear. Seb barely suppressed the bile that shot up his throat. It was just like the Nexus, but the tables had been turned.
‘Breach!’
Cian’s mighty roar shattered the fear-induced paralysis, but not before four sheol leapt through the open windows. With the Consensus weak, they were hybrids now of human and daemon, and bony limbs skittered on the wooden floor as they slid into the centre of the hall.
One came to its feet directly in front of Cian. A young boy, barely a teenager. He brandished a rusted meat cleaver in one hand and grinned a manic smile when he saw Cian. The smile vanished as its head crumbled under a vicious overheard strike.
Other magi rounded on the possessed. The elites lead the charge, staffs ablaze with Weave-fire, cutting through the primitive defences of the sheol. During the skirmish one of the possessed rolled out of the melee, Seb noticing with horror that it was grappling with the young acolyte, Harry. The youngster was unarmed, holding the daemon’s snapping jaw back with all his strength whilst the beast took chunks out of his hands and arms.
‘Cade!’
Cade saw the attack. His pistol was out, aiming at the battle, but he didn’t fire. The grappling duo were moving too quick to get a clean shot. Seb focussed briefly before hurling himself onto the daemon’s back. The beast howled as Seb wrapped his legs around its midriff, his arm clamping round its neck. He felt the weight of the youngster vanish as the daemon released its previous victim, the beast recognising where the bigger threat lay. It brought taloned hands up to Seb’s unarmoured forearms, and he stifled a yowl of pain when he felt the talons sink into his skin. He channelled, focussing the Weave on the arms that clamped round the soft flesh of the daemon’s neck. His strength increased, the tension growing on the beast’s neck. He gasped when his skin began glowing blue, and small flames flickered to life on his skin. The smell of burning flesh filled his nostrils. The daemon thrashed and kicked and wailed, but only briefly. Scaly flesh succumbed rapidly to Seb’s Weave-fire, his iron grip melting through bone, tendon and flesh as if they were nothing but air. The daemon’s head thudded to the floor as he rolled away, the body still twitching where he left it.
‘Harry!’
Seb ran over and took Harry’s head in the crook of his arm. The boy tried to speak. His mouth opened. His eyes went wide, and then he breathed for the last time.
‘No! No!’ He stumbled backwards into Cade.
‘Seb, not now. Grief can come later. Come with me. I need you upstairs with us.’
Seb didn’t complain as he was half-dragged by Cade up the staircase. Seven magi had died in the attack at the expense of only four daemons. They couldn’t hold out. Not without the sentinels. Already from elsewhere in the house he could hear the screams as more sheol attacked, hurling themselves through the wooden shutters without fear for their own safety.
They
ran up the rickety metal stairs that led onto the rooftop. The door was already open, and Seb could hear the rat-rat of gunfire as Cade’s men sprayed silver bullets into the surrounding gardens. They emerged into a night that was laced with the bite of a rising winter. A faint mist was descending, partly obscuring Cade’s men as they hunched low against the wall. Cade forced Seb down against an air vent and squatted in front of him.
‘Seb? You okay?’
‘He was only fifteen, Cade. Fifteen. He didn’t deserve to die here, like that.’
‘Seb, you can’t dwell on that. He gave his life for the Magistry, as will many others. We need you now. Are you up to it?’
Seb looked at Cade, his stare unwavering.
‘What do you need me to do?’
Cade smiled. ‘Good. Then we might have a chance. I need your sense. You can see what we can’t. The sheol will have controllers. Senior fiends who control the ferals. They will be at the rear. Show us where. We’ll do the rest.’
Seb nodded. He dropped to his knees, palms open. He cast out his sense far and wide. The Weave came easily and awareness flared, the world beyond the warriors ablaze as his imbued sight saw beyond the limits of his human eyes.
At first all he saw was a sea of black as hordes of possessed humans raced across the lawn. Then beyond, up near the ridge, he saw them. Sheol still, but stationary. They glowed with Weave-energy, and he could feel the subtle pulses they sent to the raging mass below them.
‘There!’ Seb pointed to the ridge. ‘There’s two by the old oak, just behind the pair of gargoyle sentinels. There’s one more to the other side. Follow the line of site across the roof through the weather vane. He’s right there.’
‘Excellent. Steve, Dimitar – phosphorous mortar. Set the elevation for a cloud burst at those coordinates. The rest – suppression fire at those locations. If we get them on the first pass then the ferals will fall apart.’
At once Brotherhood weapons opened up, muzzles flashing, the air redolent with cordite. The mortar fired, making a low whoompf noise. Seb watched through imbued sight as the foliage protecting the sheol commanders shook under the onslaught. The one on its own staggered and fell almost instantly, its aura vanishing at the same time. The other two managed to reach cover, but only as the cluster of phosphorous bombs exploded above them. One disintegrated instantly. The other dropped to the ground and rolled back and forth. Seb focussed his sense and winced as the fiend’s screeches of pain reached him.
Message Bearer (The Auran Chronicles Book 1) Page 30