Consensus Breaking (The Auran Chronicles Book 2)

by M. S. Dobing

  Despair came then, creeping in, using his fear as a lever. He couldn’t fight. He couldn’t run. They would tear him limb from limb. It would be easier if he killed himself and save himself the torment.

  They were coming, bounding through the trees. Their whoops and snarls drifted through the undergrowth, the sheol excited that they’d finally found live prey.

  Seb rolled onto his other side. Thankfully his other leg seemed intact. He grabbed hold of a knot protruding out from a nearby tree and used it to hoist himself up. Pain flashed through his bad leg but Avatari smothered it quickly, preventing him from passing out. He just needed…where was it? Where? Hopefully it had landed nearby.

  He held out a hand and called. Something rustled in the undergrowth and then the staff he’d carried with him flew like a dart. It smacked into his hand. He began hobbling through the undergrowth, instinct guiding him to the ruins of the first home he’d ever really known.

  Seb moved from tree to tree, limping in bursts, going as far as he could before the pain became too much. The sheol were seconds away, sniffing in the dark like hounds. They didn’t have his trail but it wouldn’t take long to find him regardless. He had to move, and move quickly.

  Seb crashed through a blackberry bush and stepped onto the path. On his left the path curved away and upwards, towards, he recalled, the ancient stone bench where he’d sat with Cade so many months before. It was a dead end. He turned right, heading down towards a junction that he knew led off in two directions. To the mansion, or what was left it, or the driveway that led back into civilisation. He had no vehicle to speak of, so the latter wouldn’t get him anywhere. Instead he turned left, towards the mansion.

  Something burst from the undergrowth ahead of him. Two sheol, teenagers once, but now a hybrid of human and daemon. They skidded into the path before him. One saw him at once and nearly toppled over in surprise.

  ‘Mageling,’ it snarled, ‘a mageling!’ It scrambled forwards, almost mindless, reaching clawed hands out towards him. ‘I feed!’ it growled, ‘tonight I feed!’

  Seb smashed its head to a pulp with one overhead smash.

  The other wasn’t quite as gone as its now deceased friend. It skirted around Seb, recognising the damage that the weapon could cause. It focused on his left side, trying to keep where he held his withered hand to his chest. It struck out, faster than he could pivot. Pain exploded down his side as talons raked across his ribs.

  The sensation came almost immediately, that numbing fire, sprouting from the wound, spreading out like veins. He hadn’t felt it for so long and yet the memory came quickly.

  Clementine. The church. Where it all began.

  His vision began to blur as he staggered about the path. The sheol grinned, its rotten teeth bared. It knew he was lost, that it only needed time. At the edge of his sense he felt more coming, answering that innate call they all shared. They bounded through the forest now, at least twenty, perhaps more.

  The sheol leapt. He couldn’t deflect it. He ducked low, more talons raking his back as it tumbled over. He fell back against a tree as the creature spun about. It launched again. Novo wasn’t an option, his mind was treacle now. Only Avatari, his ever faithful, didn’t desert him. He waited until the last possible moment, when he could almost smell the daemon’s rancid breath, then spun away. He caught the creature round the back of the head and smashed it into the tree, its face caving under the impact. It slid to the floor, still alive, but gurgling as it drowned in its own blood.

  He had to go. He had to get to safety. But where? Behind him the path seemed to close in, the trees like a sinister stone wall, constricting, removing any route that led away from this place. The other way led to the ruins of what had once been Skelwith, but where now just lay memories of where many of his kind had been slaughtered by Marek and his forces.

  Ironic really, that after all this time he would now die in the same place.

  The familiar, chilling howl of the sheol came now, carried across the still of the forest. He lunged forwards, dragging his leaden foot behind him. The poison, even countered by Avatari, coursed through his veins. Every step was agony, his muscles hardening, his body seemingly shutting down around him.

  Perhaps it would be easier to just lay down and die?

  He slowed. The thought, clear and loud in his mind, seemed to make perfect sense. He couldn’t make it. This last ditch effort was the desperate thrashes of a dying mind, trying to cling on to life. Cold logic came now. Just stop. Don’t fight. Let it take you. The Weave will welcome you.

  He stopped. Smiled. Dropped to his knees.

  The sheol were almost upon him. Not a dozen. Not twenty. More like fifty, all gathered around the magical scars caused by Skelwith’s destruction.

  He calmed his mind. He would only need one Script. One last call to the Weave. It came easily. A focus of power. An explosion of energy, with him as the epicentre.

  I’ll be with you soon, old man, he smiled.

  The runes burned in his mind’s eye. They glowed, awaiting that final command to let it go. Let it all go. Seb took a final breath, calm and steady, and -

  - A light. Some kind of glow, white, like snow, appeared before him.

  He raised a hand, trying to shield himself from the glare. A silhouette appeared, the figure’s identity hidden by the light behind them.

  Who is that?

  The sheol poured onto the path from all sides. They fell over themselves in a mindless frenzy, all drawn like sharks to blood.

  Somewhere, something clicked. Did someone curse? Something flew through the air. He couldn’t see it, but he felt it, the change in air pressure detected by his fading powers. Something zoomed past his ear, barely an inch.

  The world exploded into white light. Sheol screamed. A wave of force picked him up. He flew. Trees beckoned. The air smelled of burned flesh.

  Then everything turned black.

  ***

  It was the smell that he noticed first. Damp. Rotten wood. Mixed with something else that he couldn’t quite put a finger on.

  Before he could ponder the thought further, his stomach clenched and gurgled. He rolled to one side. Something hot roared up his throat. It gushed out of his mouth, hitting the floor with a splatter. It seemed to go on for an age. In the end, he was retching air, his stomach throbbing with the effort. When at last the urge to vomit had subsided, he sat up, taking in his surroundings.

  A room. No, an alcove, huddled against a wall. A wooden cabinet stood next to his bed, a single candle long burned to the wick. Avatari filled in the blanks, and as his eyes grew accustomed to the gloom the unease made way for recognition. A wave of emotion crashed over him.

  The Drain.

  How? What had happened? The last thing he remembered were the sheol, a swarm, almost on him. Something appeared. Someone. But he hadn’t sensed anything, no ripple of the Weave. The world had exploded in white fire.

  Phosphorous.

  At least that explained one thing. Whoever had saved his life was not Unaware, or at least, they knew of the ways of the Aware.

  He swung his feet onto the floor, avoiding the stinking pool of vomit. He held his breath and dropped a rag from the bedside cabinet onto the sick by his feet. He wiped up the mess and pushed it against the wall.

  A flicker of memory made him smile. For a moment he was back in time two years, getting ready for another day of rounds with Caleb or more beatings at the hands of Cade.

  Happier times.

  He lifted up the acolyte smock he’d been put in and checked out his ribs. He smiled again.

  Black algae. It was a large splat of the stuff, no doubt filling its belly on the sheol poison. The last time he’d seen it Cade has used it as an emergency patch to keep him alive until more powerful magicks could be used. Not now though. Already he could feel Avatari burning away, taking over from the efforts of the algae and consuming the poison on its own. His ankle throbbed, but no longer was the foot facing at an impossible angle. And his arm…


  …no way.

  The skin was pink, like new, the rotting black veneer had gone, as had the smell. It felt sore, but it was still attached.

  He would live. But how the hell he had was beyond him.

  A noise from beyond the arch made him start. He sensed. No, definitely not Aware, but life, definitely. The aura was human, but it was a strange mix. Unaware with something else. Something he’d not seen before.

  Seb crept to the arch and peered round. For a moment his heart nearly leapt out of his throat.

  An old man, stooped and frail, squatted down in front of a log fire. The man had his back to Seb, grey wispy hair pouring down a thin back where his spine showed through a tatty brown jumper. The man leant against a crooked staff as he squatted, staring into the fire.

  ‘Who are you?’ his voice made him start, not realising he was going to speak until he actually said the words.

  The man jumped and nearly fell over. He tried to stand up quickly but slowed halfway, wincing and reaching a gnarled hand to his hip.

  ‘Shit, boy, you’ll give me a heart attack. I thought I’d told you about that already?’

  The man turned around. The room began to spin. Logic battled longing. This couldn’t be. It just could not be.

  The man who looked at him was Cranks, the caretaker from Domus. The one he’d seen die and then brought back to life.

  But this wasn’t Cranks. Sure, it was his body that stood before him. The same near-opaque eyes that stared from a face that was so worn it could’ve been made from leather. But up close Seb could see beyond that. He could see the truth behind what his eyes told him. Beyond his sense, it was just a knowing born of hundreds of hours spent in the presence of this man.

  His mentor.

  His friend.

  Tears filled his eyes. Something hot stuck in his throat. He felt the words forming, a pair of words he’d never thought he’d ever say again.

  ‘Hello, Caleb,’ he said.

  ***

  ‘Don’t just stand there, boy, take a seat will you before that shock reaches your legs and you fall over,’ Caleb said. ‘Actually, make a drink will you. One of those revolting tonics that soothes aching joints. I think I’m going to need a lot of those going forwards.’

  Almost on autopilot, Seb reached for the copper kettle and filled it with water from the pump. He placed it above the fire and stepped back, casting a quick Script as he did so, making the fire increase in intensity.

  ‘That’s better, so much better,’ Caleb said. He wiped away the dust from his old chair and eased himself down. He closed his eyes for a second. Then opened one, noticing Seb still stood by the fire, his jaw hanging. ‘I used to think that look was because you were new to us, but now I’m wondering if it’s some kind of affliction?’

  Seb shook the expression off his face and pulled a stool closer to Caleb. It was disconcerting. Even up close he was definitely Cranks, the same guy who’d died and come back days earlier. But the inflexions, the movements, the twinkling of the eyes, they were all Caleb. Right down to the sarcastic barbs.

  ‘Caleb, it is you isn’t it?’

  ‘Afraid so, Seb, although not quite how I expected to see you again.’

  ‘What the hell happened, Caleb? I know it’s you, but -’ he threw his hands up in the air and shot up from his seat. ‘What the hell, Caleb? This isn’t possible. You’re dead. I saw you die!’

  ‘Calm down, boy. I would’ve thought by now you would’ve known the difference between possible and impossible is a lot less defined than before.’

  Seb lowered himself down. ‘Sure, I get that, but this!’ he waved a hand.

  ‘It’s a lot to take in, I’m sure. Imagine how I felt?’

  ‘Tell me, Caleb. What happened?’ He handed Caleb a cup of green tea and sat back down. Caleb took a long sip on the hot draught and let out an appreciative sigh. He sank back into the chair and made himself comfortable.

  ‘The short answer is, I don’t know.’

  ‘Well take the long way round.’

  ‘I died, Seb, there’s no doubt about that, before you ask.’

  ‘The sheol. You were possessed?’

  Caleb shuffled, his aged face creasing into a grimace. ‘I can’t even begin to describe how it feels. You’re a prisoner in your own body. You can see all that is going on, but you have no control, nothing. It’s like banging on soundproof glass whilst your controller goes about its business.’

  ‘When did it happen?’ Seb said, asking a question that had bothered him for months. ‘I’m guessing it must’ve been Kollmorgen’s,’ he continued, thinking back to the near-disaster at the collector’s house that had resulted in Caleb being seriously wounded. He shook his head, ‘but you came out of that, wounded, but alive.’

  ‘Aye, I thought so too. The wounds were deep, but they healed. The poison was removed. Once Avatari was able to kick in I thought I’d be okay.’

  ‘So what happened?’

  ‘Nothing at first. I felt fine, more than fine in fact. I felt strong, alert, but yet, something else. I felt nervous all the time, anxious. I put it down to the fact I’d been nearly torn to pieces by the sheol, but even after talking with the Magister it remained.’

  ‘You never said anything to me,’ Seb said, trying but failing to hide the hurt he felt.

  ‘You? Seb, you had your own cross to bear with Marek and the rest. Besides, you were still so new to all this, it would only distract you from your training.’

  ‘So what happened after that?’

  ‘It just got worse. But more than that, I felt distant from everything. It’s hard to explain, but I was there, at least physically, but it felt like I was being drawn away, like watching everything from a distance.’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell the Magister?’

  Caleb shrugged. ‘Foolish pride? I tried self-treating. I should’ve know really that this was more than just some kind of magical infection. I trusted Avatari and Sentio would warn me of anything to worry about.’ He shook his head and gave a weary smile. ‘Then one day I was looking in the mirror. Shaving or something. I looked up, and instead of me looking back it was one of those things.’

  ‘An improvement then? Every cloud I suppose,’ Seb said, smiling. Caleb scowled for a brief moment before letting out a guttural laugh that slowly petered away as the memory took hold.

  ‘The strange thing was. I didn’t jump. I didn’t scream. I just stared back. I remember now the feeling, like icy water being poured down my back. With that, all the doubts, all the anxieties just melted away. And the strange thing is, I liked it, Seb, you know?’

  Tears were forming now, covering Caleb’s eyes in a shimmering veneer. He took a long draught again then wiped the back of his sleeve across his face.

  Seb waited, letting this pour out.

  ‘I just let it take over me. It was a welcome relief, from the pain, the fear. I just slipped into this prison of darkness without a murmur. The next thing I knew I was back in the Great River. What happened? How did I die?’

  ‘Cade. He put a bullet in your head,’ Seb said, omitting the bit about the Caleb-fiend murdering the Magister. Some things were best left unsaid.

  Caleb smiled. ‘Cade, eh? Figured. He never liked me that one.’

  They both laughed that time. A comforting sound that removed some of the tension in the air.

  ‘And then what happened? You died Caleb, we both agree on that. But now you’re here. In someone else. What gives?’

  ‘Some of that I can explain. Why I remained, and why I didn’t return back into the Weave with the rest, I don’t know. All I know is that I was adrift in some kind of in-between. It was like an astral walk but just this grey murk without a sense of time or place. I don’t know how long I was there for. I just floated. Every now and again I saw these flashes, like lightning but smaller. Every time I drifted to the source it had vanished. I thought I saw you on a few occasions. I tried to contact you but you just couldn’t hear me.’

 
; ‘I think I did sense you, at least on some level,’ Seb said, thinking over some of the experiences he’d had of being watched. ‘Was it some kind of limbo?’

  ‘Yes, but nothing I’ve ever heard about.’

  ‘So what got you inside poor Cranks here?’

  ‘I saw a flash, but this time it didn’t go. It stayed, fluctuating between a bright white light right through to almost nothing. I drifted across. I couldn’t see anything at first, but then the smoke began to clear slightly. I could see Cranks on the floor, surrounded by various Aware. He was staring straight at me. I could see his spirit form trying to leave, but his body wasn’t quite ready to let go. Then there was one last jolt and he was free. He soared past me, vanishing into the gloom.’

  ‘He saw you, you know,’ Seb said, remembering the incident. ‘He thought it was an angel, when he saw you. Doesn’t say much for the afterlife if they all look like you.’

  ‘Bastard,’ Caleb snapped, his eyes twinkling.

  ‘So you entered his body? How?’

  Caleb raised both hands. ‘No idea. I looked at him, then I saw you Seb, and you looked so lost, so angry. No one else seemed to be aware but you blazed away like a furnace. I looked at the body of this man, and I just knew I could do it. I know there are Scripts for this in Novo, but it’s nothing I’ve ever learned. Way above my pay grade. Perhaps it was some kind of vestigial knowledge that I’d picked up from the sheol that possessed me. I don’t know. All I do know is that I looked at him, and whilst his body was still fresh, I knew I could possess him.’

  ‘So you just,’ Seb made a diving action with his hands.

  ‘Pretty much. His body had died. His heart had just stopped. I think the jolt of me entering it made it start again. Even after that though I didn’t think it would last longer than a few seconds. Yet I’m still here.’

  ‘But then you, I mean Cranks, you just left?’

  ‘I was confused, Seb. My memory hadn’t returned, not fully. I was half full of Cranks’ stuff whilst my old memories were trying to come through. I just upped and left, taking a van and going to the only location I really knew.’