Consensus Breaking (The Auran Chronicles Book 2)

by M. S. Dobing

  ‘What the hell is going on?’

  ‘It’s the Archmage, sir! The door’s locked. We heard shouts. Something breaking. Sonika’s in there!’

  ‘Sonika?’ Barach slowed for a moment. The last time he’d seen her was when he’d left her in the hospital, recovering from the episode at Haven. What was she doing up here? The thought vanished in a second. Those questions could come later.

  ‘Stand aside!’ he shouted.

  The guards drifted apart, pistols drawn, aimed at the door. Barach strode forwards, channelled, and then blasted the door of its hinges. The guards were in without pause, training kicking in. Barach followed. His sense found Sedaris instantly, the Archmage was kneeling by the bar, holding his head. Sonika lay at his feet, the mage’s neck twisted at an impossible angle.

  ‘Sir! What happened?’ Barach rushed over and took Sedaris by the arm. The Archmage stood slowly, grunting with the effort.

  ‘Sonika…’ Sedaris said, resting his arms against the bar. ‘She…is…was…a sheol.’

  Barach looked at the dead woman then back again. ‘What, how?’

  ‘You tell me, Battlemaster!’ Sedaris whirled on him, his bloodied face scrunched in anger. ‘How did these vermin make it here? Undetected?’

  ‘I don’t know, sir,’ Barach stammered. ‘She passed out at Haven. She was resting. I don’t know how -’

  ‘Then know, dammit!’ Sedaris screamed. ‘Take this, thing, out of my sight this instant. And get this place fixed up!’

  ‘Sir, I am truly sorry, I don’t know -’

  Sedaris was in his face in an instant. Barach flinched, his head tilted back slightly. ‘I don’t want don’t knows! I want answers. Now, take this out now, and you with it!’

  Barach was no fool. This conversation was over. Professional calm overlaid the confusion that bubbled underneath. He stood to attention and then nodded the guards towards Sonika’s body.

  ‘Clean this up.’

  ***

  Floors below, Seb woke from a troubled sleep. His heart rattled, and an irrational anger bubbled in his gut. He rolled onto his side and tried to put the sound that had disturbed his slumber to the back of his mind.

  The sound of a soul screaming.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  The path to the Croft hadn’t changed in the year since Cade had last been there. Sure, a few more cracks had appeared where the Brotherhood had bothered to lay down proper flagstones, and weeds had taken over more than perhaps he would’ve liked, but despite all that, it was familiar, it was comfortable.

  It was home.

  Cade’s limited sense didn’t detect any life as he ascended the path. At this altitude it was always cold, and his coat only partially protected him from the temperature. By the time he reached the outer wall his teeth were chattering and the tips of his fingers were numb with cold.

  No guards stood at attention by the open gate. No guards were stood there at all. He’d come back to the Croft just once after the fall of Skelwith. With his father and brother dead, Cade was the de facto leader of the Brotherhood. However, it seemed that those who hadn’t been present to choose a side in the battle had taken the opportunity to break free of the Oath. The place had been deserted. The remaining Brotherhood warriors were out there somewhere. With their enhanced skills they would be an asset for any organisation. With the break down in the Consensus, their particular knowledge would come in handy. Not that the warriors knew the true nature of the Weave. Only ranked Swords were exposed to reality in its true form, courtesy of the Magistry. The rest knew they were different, enhanced, but that was it. They got paid well, and didn’t ask questions.

  And now they were gone.

  The courtyard was equally devoid of life. Weeds had been even more successful here, claiming most of the ground, swarming over the cobbled courtyard. Cade paused for a moment in front of the array of wooden men. The training dummies were rotten now, worn down by wind and rain. Months earlier he’d watched the latest batch of recruits go through their kata under the tutelage of one of the Brotherhood trainers. Now though they stood empty.

  Useless.

  The cold had grown in strength since he entered the courtyard. Cade pulled his coat around him and went inside.

  At first, Cade assumed that the interior was in the same state as the outside - forgotten and left to the elements. Instead, his sense pricked almost instantly.

  Someone was there.

  It wasn’t obvious. Not immediately. Dust and cobwebs were still the dominant sights. But there was a subtle warmth in the air, imperceptible to the Unaware, but to Cade’s keen senses it was as clear as day. The smell was different too, not just the must and damp of the long abandoned.

  Someone was there.

  Cade sensed out again. Echoes came back, only slight. Human, but how many he had no idea.

  On instinct he slipped his twin blades into his palms, the weight reassuring in his grasp. As he took another step he activated the innate ability given to all the Brotherhood upon surviving the Bloodrite.

  He vanished.

  Cade crept forwards. A sound from beyond the archway ahead led him in that direction. He waved one hand in front of him - an old habit - noting that he couldn’t see it, just a slight shimmering in the air. Rounding the arch, he scanned the open sitting room, formerly a respite area for senior brothers.

  Nothing.

  He took a step, and paused.

  The far door was open.

  Movement. From beyond. Something rattled. A chair scraped on the floor.

  Cade glided across the room, a ghost in the shadows. He closed his eyes, his head tilted to one side. The person, and he was sure it was just one now, was not aware he was there. Their scent was calm, no pheromones in the air indicating they were afraid. He reached the door and peered inside.

  The inhabitant was definitely in complete ignorance of his presence. A girl, a young girl, was stood on a stool, rummaging inside one of the large pantries. Dressed in clothes that were clearly a size too small for her, and covered in mud and various cuts and bruises, she hummed to herself as she rummaged through the tins of food.

  Poor kid had been through a rough time.

  Cade sheathed his blades. Not eager to frighten the girl. He made as if to cough when his sense flared.

  Too late.

  A blade touched his neck, the tip pressed against his jugular vein. At once his shadow-meld failed, and he felt the shift as he became visible to the Unaware. A presence pressed against him from behind.

  ‘You’ve got some nerve, br--’

  Whoever had surprised him was good, but they only got lucky once with Cade. By speaking, they had lowered their defences, not much, just enough. Cade snapped his head back into his attacker’s face. Something cracked, and his opponent staggered back.

  The girl screamed, but she was of no concern now. Cade spun round. His attacker held one gloved hand up against a face that was pouring blood. They still held the runed blade in their other hand, and in a split second they threw the weapon in Cade’s direction. The warrior was expecting the action, sensing the shift in posture a heartbeat before the man began to move. He batted the blade to one side, sending it clattering to the floor. He pushed on then, not wasting time in drawing his weapons. The other warrior attempted a strike, their hand folded into a dagger-like shape that was aimed at Cade’s head. He ducked the attack easily, the blow sailing over his head. Cade hooked his arm round the man’s stomach and hurled him over his own outstretched leg. The man crashed backwards through a glass coffee table. Dazed eyes turned to fear as Cade dropped down, one knee on the prone man’s chest, a hand raised up high, Cade’s now-drawn dagger aimed downwards.

  ‘No! Don’t kill him!’

  The scream was filled with such fear that it stunned him. He only glanced up for a second, but it was enough for the warrior underneath to twist his hips, tipping Cade off. He went with the move, vaulting back to his feet, both weapons out now.

  The warrior grunted as he p
ulled himself up to one knee. His head was dipped, blood still trickling out of his broken nose. A sense of familiarity tickled Cade’s mind then, not a direct memory as such, but there was something in the man’s stance that made him pause for thought. The man pushed himself to his feet, the girl running across to him and wrapping her arms around his waist.

  ‘Don’t kill him! Please don’t hurt him!’ she said, sobbing into the man’s tunic.

  But Cade wasn’t listening to the girl anymore. He lowered his blades, his jaw dropping.

  ‘You,’ he heard himself say.

  The man wiped the blood from his face. He raised one arm, fist clenched, and pressed it to his chest.

  ‘First Sword,’ he said.

  The girl pulled away. She looked back at Cade, her tear-stained face creased in confusion. She turned back, facing the man.

  ‘You know him?’

  The man smiled. ‘Know him? Olivia, I trained him.’

  ***

  ‘So, what’s your story?’

  Cade sat, cross-legged on a chair, the bowl of still-hot soup in his lap. Across from him, the girl he now knew as Olivia was already on her second bowl, oblivious to the conversation around her.

  The man - Morgan – sank the last of his wine - a vintage 1758 pilfered from Silas’ private store - and wiped his hand across his face. Grey stubble had settled comfortably on his face, and his skin had a few more lines than before, and a few more scars, but aside from that, the man who’d trained Cade as a boy hadn’t changed since he’d last seen him.

  Fifty years ago.

  ‘You want the short version or the long one?’ Morgan said.

  ‘Fifty years is a long time to cover. Let’s start with the abridged version and go from there.’

  Morgan nodded. ‘As you wish, First Sword.’

  ‘News travels fast.’

  ‘We all heard about what happened at Skelwith.’

  Cade raised an eyebrow. ‘We?’

  Olivia stopped, her spoon halfway to her open mouth. Cade didn’t miss the glance that passed between her and Morgan in that brief second.

  ‘Me and Olivia, I meant.’

  Morgan’s temperature had increased slightly, his aura changing, just subtly, but enough for Cade to pick up on.

  ‘You’re lying.’

  Morgan gave a weary smile. ‘Probably the wrong person to try that on, eh?’

  ‘What can I say? You taught me well.’ He leant forwards. ‘Who is “we”’?

  ‘No, don’t tell him, he might betray us,’ Olivia pleaded, not looking at Cade, but at the man who’d obviously taken her on as some kind of ward.

  What was the deal there?

  ‘Olivia, we can trust Cade.’

  ‘But he’s one of them? He would turn me over.’

  Morgan fixed Cade with a steely stare. ‘No, he won’t. Not anymore.’

  It hit Cade like a hammer. How had he not sensed it? He looked at the girl again.

  ‘You’re Aware?’

  Olivia dropped the spoon and scuttled behind Morgan. Her small hands gripped the warrior’s shoulders as she peeked over.

  ‘He’s going to take me back! He’s going to take me to them!’

  Morgan patted Olivia’s hand and gently moved it away, drawing her in front of him so her back was to Cade. ‘Now,’ he said, ‘Cade is not our enemy. He is not a mage. He will not betray us.’

  ‘But -’

  ‘You are tired, child. Go to the room I showed you. You should rest, there is more travelling yet to undertake.’

  Olivia stood up, her bottom lip jutting out. ‘But I’m scared up there on my own.’

  Morgan smiled. ‘Scared? With me and Cade here? There is nowhere safer in all of the shards right now. Trust me on that.’

  Cade watched as Olivia hurried out of the room. She threw one last scowl his way before vanishing into the corridor that led up to the guest quarters. With her gone, he looked back at Morgan.

  ‘Well, what’s all that about?’ he said.

  ‘I suppose you’ll find out about it eventually,’ Morgan replied. He stood up from his place before the fire and strode to the window. Snow was falling outside and the moon cast a long shadow from the warrior that extended into the room.

  ‘Tell me what? Sorry, Morgan, I don’t like conversation at the best of times. Just spit it out.’

  ‘Definitely not your father’s son in that regards, then?’

  Cade joined Morgan at the window. Down below, the streets of Salzburg buzzed with normal activity, none of them aware of the fortress that loomed high above them in the clouds.

  ‘Not my father’s son in most regards, I would hope,’ Cade whispered.

  ‘Of course, I am sorry to hear about…what happened.’

  ‘It is done. I don’t wish to discuss it. Tell me your story.’

  ‘As you wish. For many years, after you’d been trained to a degree that I could no longer teach you anything of value, I was reassigned by your father. My skills were in demand throughout the world. I could fight. I could kill. I was worth twenty human men.’

  ‘You are one of the best.’

  Morgan grunted. ‘Best? That’s a strange word to use for a half-daemon killer.’

  ‘Regardless. It is what we are. Let us not pretend otherwise.’

  ‘Perhaps, although I no longer think that.’

  ‘So what changed?’

  ‘I did, in all honesty,’ Morgan stared out into the darkness, his yellow eyes drinking in the city below. ‘I began to question everything. Small things at first - a particular mission, a specific target. Why had this person deserved to die like they did? What right did we have to take the life, regardless of if they were Aware or not.’

  ‘You asked questions?’

  ‘Too many. I challenged my orders. Reuben said he respected my decision, and wished to meet in person to talk further.’

  Cade couldn’t help but smile. ‘Sounds like my brother. Did his definition of talking involve twenty of his most bloodthirsty warriors?’

  ‘At least,’ Morgan replied. ‘Of course, I wasn’t stupid. I knew this to be the case as soon as I received the summons. I did not attend the meeting.’

  ‘What happened then?’

  ‘A handful of brothers came to find me. I didn’t want to hurt them, you understand. They were following orders, just like I used to do.’

  Cade turned away from the glass and leant his back against the frame. He folded his arms and pressed his hands together, his lips resting on the fingertips.

  ‘Let me guess,’ he said, ‘they would not listen to reason.’

  Morgan glanced across at him. ‘I did not want to kill them, but they left me no choice.’

  Cade placed a hand on his mentor’s shoulder. ‘You do not need to explain yourself to me. Not anymore.’

  ‘I do. You are First Sword now.’

  Cade laughed. ‘First Sword? Of what?’ He waved a hand around the empty room. ‘Unless my sense is failing me there doesn’t seem to be anything left of the Brotherhood.’ He nodded when Morgan pulled a sullen face, ‘Present company excepted, of course.’

  ‘Cade, I lost the honour of wearing that title when I killed our kin, however I would follow you, even now.’

  They stood in silence for a few moments. Months earlier, Cade would’ve been furious at Morgan’s revelation of betraying the Brotherhood and slaying his fellows. Hell, he would’ve hunted the man down himself if he’d known. At the time, one did not question the missions given by the Swords. They were followed without question.

  Now, though? Morgan deserved praise. He recognised what the Brotherhood had become before anyone else had.

  A Brotherhood of killers.

  ‘What are you thinking?’ Morgan said, after a time.

  Cade sensed upwards. The girl was still awake, her aura agitated, flicking sporadically on the landing. She was trying her best to listen.

  ‘Okay, you left the Brotherhood,’ Cade said. He nodded towards the stairs. ‘What about
her? What’s her story?’

  Morgan’s face changed in an instant. Gone was the gaunt, sombre expression of a veteran from a thousand battles. His eyes lit up, a smile grew, stretching from ear to ear.

  ‘I spent many years travelling. Not seeking anything in particular. I kept away from the Brotherhood, from the Magistry, from all our kind. I did not seek conflict, I simply wanted peace. At last. It was during one particular trip that I encountered a young girl, barely a teenager. There’d been reports in the local press about her, about her “abilities” that had been attributed to a deal she’d made with some non-existent devil. Her community was God-fearing, and they kept her locked away, hoping to cleanse her of her “illness”.’

  ‘Let me guess, you freed her?’

  ‘That was my intention.’ The smile on Morgan’s face vanished. The steel returned, his eyes narrow. ‘I did not count on the magi getting involved.’

  Cade sighed. ‘Of course, she was Aware. I’m guessing she did not belong to a Family?’

  Morgan spat. ‘A Family? No. She was a mongrel to them, not fit to touch the Weave in any form. But they sent a welcoming party alright. One of their coteries turned up. It had no intention of taking her into their fold, have no fear of that.’

  ‘What happened?’

  Morgan poured another ale. He paced in front of the fire, the liquid swishing around the inside of the metal tankard. ‘What happened? I tell you what happened. They sent two. The rest of them didn’t bother. She was a girl. Nothing to worry about. They would purge her, Cade, you know what that means?’

  ‘They sever her connection to the Weave.’

  ‘No! It does much more than that! It severs her connection to her soul! Did you know that?’

  Cade wasn’t sure where this was going, but the manic look in Morgan’s eye told him now wasn’t a time to be challenging the warrior’s tale. ‘No,’ he simply replied.

  ‘Yes! I didn’t know it. But I’d heard rumours on my travels, stories about the ghosts who would appear to purge these devils. Sometimes of course it was the sheol, they’d already possessed the poor soul and they had no option but to be killed. But for those who hadn’t succumbed just yet, the punishment was worse, much worse! Condemned to live a life without a soul. Just an empty shell destined for the void.’