Message Bearer (The Auran Chronicles Book 1)

by Dobing, M. S.

  ‘What is this?’ he said, reaching out, but not quite touching the stone.

  ‘Wards. It’s a construct designed to protect Skelwith from unwanted intruders.’

  ‘What does it do?’

  ‘It varies. At the Croft, where the Brotherhood is based and where there’s a permanent garrison on site at all times, the wards are simply alarms designed to alert us if we have any uninvited guests.’

  ‘And here?’

  ‘Here, the wards do a similar thing, mainly alerting the Magistry in times of need. However they don’t have the combat presence here, at least not anymore, so they have other protections also.’

  ‘Who are the Magis - Oh.’

  They’d rounded a tight bend in the path that angled downwards, twisting between two ancient oaks. Stood right before them, on either side of the path, were the statues of two stone warriors, the imposing structures easily the height of two men.

  ‘What the hell are these?’ Seb said, suddenly aware his voice had risen in pitch. He approached the nearest, the statue reminding him of a samurai in appearance.

  ‘Sentinels. Stone statues imbued with the Weave by the first Magi to base here.’

  Seb ran his hand over the stone. The warrior felt cold to the touch.

  ‘You mean this actually moves?’

  ‘I’ve never seen them move, but I do know that they are imbued with a very powerful and ancient magic. In times of need they can be called upon by the Magister to defend Skelwith.’

  Seb shook his head, a smile forcing itself onto his face.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘It all sounds so mad, all of it,’ he said, waving a hand at the statue, the mansion and the forest all around. ‘I should be trying to get out of here, probably calling the police or someone.’

  ‘And why don’t you?’

  ‘I don’t know. It’s all mad, it really is. Yet, it just seems to make sense to me. As if I already know about this, but had just forgotten. Does that make sense?’

  Cade smiled back, almost sadly, Seb thought. He nodded past the sentinels where the path opened out onto the lawn.

  ‘I think it’s time you met the Magister.’

  Chapter 9

  The sun had set completely by the time they’d descended the steep path down to the gravelled area. Lanterns guided the way now, their flames burning an odd, purple colour.

  They eventually arrived at a large archway that led into an equally imposing porch. Two guards, dressed in similar garb to Cade, stood on either side of the door. Both had firearms - automatic weapons - as well as swords strapped to their persons.

  ‘They with you?’ Seb whispered.

  ‘There is a permanent contingent of the Brotherhood here. It is part of the Oath.’

  Seb let the obvious question hang in the air and ducked past, avoiding those yellow eyes that followed him as he entered the building.

  They emerged into a wide hallway. A smell of old mixed with polish hung in the air. The floor was a dark wood, and a thick carpet strip threaded with intricate patterns led straight ahead through a large arch. A broad staircase followed the far wall, curving round onto an interior balcony that looked down upon the entrance.

  ‘Where is everyone?’

  ‘Not many live here. Those that do will be on lights out by now. Aside from those who are waiting to meet the special guest, of course.’

  They moved on, walking through the open arch. A huge kitchen met them here. Empty though, like the rest of Skelwith. Further doors led out of the kitchen, but Cade angled right towards a closed set of double doors. Another Brotherhood warrior stood there, this one almost as wide as he was tall. He stood to attention as Cade approached.

  ‘Brother Swift, I assume all are in attendance?’ Cade said.

  ‘Yes, Master Cade. All three.’

  ‘And the mood?’

  ‘Troubled, Sir.’

  Cade nodded. ‘As expected, then.’

  Without a further word Cade pushed open the double doors. Seb gave a sheepish nod to Brother Swift before following inside.

  They were in a lounge of sorts. Three sides were covered wall to wall in paintings of various size and shape. At the far side loomed a large open fire. Flames danced, casting shadows across the dimly lit room. A slight figure was stood by the fire. He turned as they entered, a smile breaking out across his face. The family resemblance was recognisable in an instant.

  ‘Cade, my son!’ The man raised his hands, beckoning Cade over.

  ‘Stay here until instructed,’ Cade whispered out of the side of his mouth as he stepped away. Seb glanced either way, taking a welcome seat on a small chair located near the door.

  Cade skirted a wide leather couch as he moved into the area before the fire. He returned his father’s embrace. Inaudible words were exchanged between the two, then Cade turned to address someone sat on the sofa, out of sight to Seb. Eventually Cade looked back across. He beckoned Seb over.

  Here we go.

  Seb rose from the chair. Shit, why were his legs shaking? Come on, he thought, focus. He clenched and unclenched his fists, forcing out the tension. The walk across the room was like wading through mud.

  ‘So, this is the young man you told us of?’ Cade’s father said, his yellow eyes glinting with an almost predatory zeal as Seb came to a halt.

  ‘Yes, father. This is Seb. Seb, this is Silas, First Sword of the Brotherhood, and my father.’

  Unsure of the correct greeting, Seb played it safe. He held out his hand, Silas gripping it in a blink. They shook, a brief one up, one down action. As their arms fell free, Seb flexed. Silas had a grip of iron.

  ‘Behind you Seb you will also find Grand Magister Kenan and Lore Keeper Brun, leaders of the Magistry and Lore Orders respectively.

  Seb spun around to face the others. Magister Kenan was a woman, an old woman in fact. She was dressed in a simple purple dress that covered her from foot to neck, where a frilly collar flowered. Her face was scored in countless lines. Grey eyes, the colour of morning mist, stared back at him. Something washed through him, a chill that rocked him on his feet.

  ‘Seb, it is good to meet you, we have listened with earnest at Cade’s telling of your adventures.’ Lore Keeper Brun was much younger, or at least he seemed it. Lightly tanned, his black hair had been swept back, revealing flecks of grey. The Lore Keeper had stood, a warm smile on his face as he held out a hand. Seb took it, grateful to be looking anywhere but the Magister. He winced as that wave hit him again. Could she read his thoughts?

  ‘Good to meet you,’ he replied, ‘All of you,’ he added, eager not to offend.

  ‘Right, now that the pleasantries are out of the way. Let us get to business.’

  Magister Kenan’s voice had an edge of steel and dissolved any growing comfort in an instant. She looked at Cade first.

  ‘Cade. The apostate. You have not updated me on the search. When will he be located?’

  Cade’s cheeks flushed a deep red for a second. His jaw tensed, and behind him, where only Seb could see, his hands clenched into fists.

  ‘He has not been found, Magister. My men are out constantly trying to ascertain his whereabouts.’

  ‘And yet, they find nothing. Why is that, Third Sword, why is it that the Brotherhood seems to fail us once again?’

  Cade’s knuckles had turned white. Muscles tensed in his jaw as seconds of pure awkwardness passed.

  ‘We are doing all we can, Magister. However the apostate is very skilled. He always seems to be one step ahead of us. Perhaps, if we could have some assistance from the Magistry -’

  ‘What? Sully our hands with this kind of work?’ The Magister leaned forwards, her grey eyes fixed on Cade. The room seemed to shrink in size. ‘This incident is the responsibility of the Brotherhood to resolve. Now find the apostate and ensure he is purged before he can do any more damage to the Consensus. If you feel this is beyond you I am sure Silas can find a more fitting candidate for Third Sword, son or not.’

  Cade si
mply stared. His hands were clasped behind him, gripping his belt. A vein pulsed in the side of his neck. When he finally opened his mouth as if to reply, Seb flinched, afraid of where this was leading.

  Thankfully it was Silas that interjected.

  ‘There is no need to review the current arrangement, Magister,’ the First Sword said, a subtle arm raised in Cade’s direction, the warrior’s mouth closing into a thin line. ‘I will personally review the current activities and ensure the Third Sword gets the resources he requires.’

  Silas nodded towards the door. Cade gave a curt nod before turning and marching towards it. Seb tried to catch his eye as he went, but the look of fury there forced him to look down.

  ‘Now, let me see this young Latent,’ the Magister said, her mood audibly lifting. ‘Come here, boy, don’t be afraid.’

  Seb shuffled in front of the fire, suddenly feeling like a piece of livestock at a farm auction.

  ‘He is a Latent.’ Lore Keeper Brun said.

  ‘Of course he is. He’s blazing away like a furnace. That needs to stop right away.’

  Something happened in the air. He couldn’t see nor hear anything, only a sensation of being subtly pushed. He closed his eyes as a coldness fell over his mind and sent a shiver down his back. The uncomfortable feeling evaporated away quickly. He shuddered and opened his eyes again. The Magister was smiling at him.

  ‘That’s better, much better. Perhaps now I won’t get a migraine every time I look at you.’

  ‘So, Cade has told us much about what transpired recently. For what it’s worth I would like to apologise for what you’ve been through.’

  ‘I’m just glad to be in one piece.’ he said, ‘I owe Cade my life.’

  The Magister scowled and he was sure he caught sight of a wry smirk on Silas’ face.

  ‘What I do want to know is about you, Seb. There is much puzzlement surrounding you.’

  ‘Why? I’m no one special.’

  ‘No, you are not, at least not to the Latent, however the fact you’ve existed so long amongst the Unaware without our knowledge is astounding.’

  Seb shrugged. ‘I’m not sure what to say. I’ve never felt different or anything, aside from what I told Cade, about going to certain places.’

  ‘Perhaps that is why. Perhaps your link to the Weave is very weak, hence it passed our detection.’

  The Magister fell silent. The only sound being the crackling from the fire. She nodded to herself, her fingers pressed against her lips. Eventually, she looked back up.

  ‘Your parents. Tell me about them.’

  ‘There’s nothing to tell. I’ve been in foster care from being a baby. When I was old enough I got out. I’ve been flitting between bed sits, couches and hostels ever since.’

  The Magister shook her head, her mouth open in what he was sure was fake dismay. When she spoke again it did nothing to change his opinion. ‘You poor, poor child. No one should have to live such an existence, especially one as rare as you.’

  ‘What can I say, I’m not exactly unique. There are plenty of others like me.’

  Those grey eyes glinted. ‘No, there are not plenty of others like you. You are Latent. Weak, perhaps, but Latent nonetheless. I don’t know how you slipped through the cracks but you will not do so again. You are a child of Danu, and for that fact at least, you will remain with us.’

  ‘What, you mean you want me to stay?’ He searched across the faces of the group, unsure how this was playing out.

  ‘Not want, that implies you have a choice in the matter,’ the Magister said. ‘You will stay. Latent magi found outside of the Families are rare, most likely the result of some bastard siring many years past but still, you are precious and are to be taken in by the Magistry so that you may develop to your full potential.’

  ‘I’m sorry, this is losing me,’ he said. ‘A magi?’

  ‘The magi, of which I am one,’ the Magister began, ‘are rare Latents who command the ability to change the Consensus.’

  Lore Keeper read his blank expression perfectly. His tanned face broke into a warm smile as he burst out laughing.

  ‘Magister Kenan, you are bamboozling the poor boy,’ he said. He motioned for Seb to sit in an empty armchair near the fire.

  ‘This concept is key, Seb. Understand this true, fundamental fact, and the rest is just built upon those foundations,’ he said.

  Seb nodded. He shut down the rest of his mind, the part that was churning through hundreds of questions a second.

  ‘The world in which you live. This universe, this Shard. All Shards. They are simply energy, manifested in separate forms. You see a chair, or a star. They are vastly different at a macroscopic level, but deep down, at the bottom level, they are all made of the same stuff.’

  ‘Star-stuff?’ he said, the word coming from somewhere he couldn’t quite remember.

  ‘Exactly! Exactly that!’ Lore Keeper Brun said. ‘Now, our senses. What we see, hear and touch. What we smell and taste. These are just instruments translating that energy into a form that our minds can understand. Reality is literally what we experience via these senses.’

  ‘Okay,’ he said, the word being drawn out into a drawl. His jaw was dropping, and perhaps some drool was seeping out too. He slammed his mouth shut, hoping that he didn’t look too much like a complete buffoon.

  ‘Keep with me now. You will learn more of this, much more, but for now you need to understand the one truth.’

  ‘I’m listening.’

  ‘Imagine if there existed a way to interact with the energy that underpinned reality. Imagine that certain races had harnessed this power and could use it for their own gains.’

  Seb frowned. ‘What, you’re saying that you can change reality?’

  The Magister nodded. ‘It’s simplifying it a great deal, but in summary, yes. All Latents are aware of this energy, the Weave, as it’s called, at some level, but only the magi have studied it to such a degree that they can actually use and harness its power.’

  Seb sat back, the large chair nearly swallowing him whole.

  ‘Wow, just wow.’ A tiredness had hit him like a hammer. He tried to blink away the fatigue, his eyelids leaden.

  ‘I think that’s probably enough for today, don’t you think?’ Brun said, putting his mug down on the table. Seb liked him already.

  ‘Wait, what about Sarah? What about what she did to me?’

  The Magister rose. ‘Come here, child. Let me see.’

  He stood and edged forwards. An urge churned in his gut, telling him to run, to get out of there whilst he still had his faculties. Yet something deep down, either his own curiosity or his need to belong, compelled him towards her.

  ‘Don’t be afraid, child, this won’t hurt.’

  They stood a foot apart. The Magister raised her hands and placed them on either side of his face. Her skin was almost scorching to the touch. She closed her eyes, her lips making tiny, almost imperceptible movements.

  The room vanished. Around him was a darkened street. The sporadic light from a series of decrepit lamp posts illuminated the road at random intervals. Houses lined the far side, their forms shrouded in gloom. He glanced above, knowing what he would see already, his gut churning.

  The church.

  The sound of running. Panicked breaths. A cheery whistle that chilled him to the core.

  No, not again!

  ‘What are you doing?’ he said, his voice echoing round the street.

  ‘Don’t worry Seb, this isn’t real. I am accessing your memories. You can come to no harm here.’ The Magister’s voice came from all around, resonating as if from a loud speaker.

  The image changed. They were running up the hill, him and Sarah together. The fiend loomed close behind. A door exploded inwards. They were in the church now, Seb dragging Sarah to the altar. A scream. He looked down, Sarah lying in his arms, her blue eyes fixed on him. Someone moved behind them. She opened her mouth. Light exploded, searing his mind.

  The image vanis
hed and Seb fell backwards, landing in the armchair. Lingering memories faded away. The Magister loomed over him.

  ‘Are you okay, child?’ she said. She reached down and took his arm. She pulled him upright, her strength belying her size.

  ‘I think so,’ he said. His legs felt hollow and his arms shook. ‘What did you see?’

  ‘It’s not clear,’ the Magister said after a pause. ‘The thing that attacked you was a daemon known as Clementine, a particular loathsome creature. As for Sarah, I need to consult with my colleagues here. She passed something to you, a memory of her own, but it is locked somehow, sealed from my sight.’

  ‘So what does it mean?’

  ‘It means, young man that this meeting is over. We will consult again, in time. For now, Don here will escort you back to your lodgings.’

  The Magister indicated a heavy-set man who had appeared, unannounced by the door. For a moment Seb was torn between learning more and getting some much needed rest. Physical needs won out almost instantly. He gave the Magister a brief nod before filing out of the lounge.

  ***

  The group sat in silence for several minutes after Seb had left. Both men focused on the Magister, concern etched on their faces for the woman who now seemed to be feeling her eight hundred years.

  Eventually, the Magister opened her eyes.

  ‘It is Runic Script of some kind, locked in a pattern I’m not familiar with. It’s powered by the boy’s own ignorance of the Weave.’

  ‘What, you mean, if he was connected to the Weave more, then you’d be able to read it?’ Silas said, his yellow eyes wide. ‘Until then it’s completely locked away?’

  ‘His own ignorance is the lock that seals it. It is beyond my power to simply remove.’

  Brun frowned. ‘That’s a complex pattern, how would Sarah even know of it?’

  ‘She was a resourceful girl, trained to adapt at will, who knows what skills she’d picked up over there.’ Silas said.

  ‘Regardless of that, the question remains. Is it important, and what do we do?’ Brun said.