Message Bearer (The Auran Chronicles Book 1)

by Dobing, M. S.

  Seb assumed his favoured fighting position once again. He focussed on his connection, willing it towards his limbs. His fists. In his mind’s eye he felt, rather than saw, the collection of runes begin to glow with a golden light. His hands tingled. A warmth began to fill his upper body. Absently, he noticed the redness on his knuckles had faded away, the pain vanishing with it.

  ‘Hit it.’

  Seb struck out. His fist, imbued with the Weave, struck the dummy with force. The head cracked, splitting out in two directions as his fist emerged out of the back. The broken head clattered to the floor as he stepped away. He glanced at the fist that showed no sign of damage.

  ‘Well done.’

  ‘My fist. It doesn’t hurt.’

  ‘No. You have Avatari now. Your body can take more damage than it could previously. It will heal faster. Many times faster than a normal human.’

  ‘What, just like that?’

  ‘No, unfortunately it isn’t just like that. Avatari is like any muscle. It needs work, training. Soon you will see the effect of our little exercise today, and it won’t be a pleasant experience. You must keep trying. Keep working at it. Over time you will recover faster and will be able accomplish more before your reserves are spent.’

  ‘What do you mean? I feel fi -’

  A wave of weakness crashed into him. The world span. His knees gave way and he dropped to the ground, his open palms stopping him just in time to prevent him hitting the cold stone.

  ‘Here it is. Caleb!’

  He heard the door open and Caleb scurry in. He tried to lift his head but the energy just wasn’t there. His stomach wretched. The world began to fade.

  ‘Easy lad, easy.’ Caleb’s voice came, full of concern.

  Strong arms lifted him. He tried to focus on the blurred face in front of him but gave up when his stomach heaved.

  ‘I feel sick.’

  ‘Don’t worry. It’s perfectly normal,’ Caleb said. He was being dragged across the room.

  ‘I will return in two days.’ Cian said, his voice coming from somewhere far away.

  The world faded away.

  ***

  Caleb lowered the unconscious Seb into bed and pulled over the covers. Already he was breathing deep, exhaustion claiming him. Caleb rose and left him to rest. Cian was waiting in the Drain.

  ‘Two days?’ Caleb said, continuing their conversation. ‘He’ll be lucky if he’s awake after two days.’

  ‘He will be. He is unfocused, but he is strong. We must push him.’

  ‘To hell with the message, Cian.’ Caleb snapped. ‘Push him too hard and it will kill him.’

  ‘I do not particularly care about this message, whatever its contents. The boy is unique. He doesn’t come from the Families. He isn’t numbed to the Weave in all its wonder. It makes him eager, desperate even, to learn more. He could be powerful.’

  Caleb sank a mouthful of ale. He wiped the froth from his beard. ‘Powerful? Is this before or after the Magister casts him out only to be hunted by the Brotherhood?’

  ‘Watch your words, Caleb.’

  ‘Why, do I tell a falsehood?’

  ‘You are still here. Are you not?’

  ‘I was lucky. I wonder if Seb will be so?’

  ‘Leave the boy to me. If he progresses as he is, then the Magistry, and so the Families, will have a much greater interest in him.’

  Cian left without a word. He bounded up the stairs, taking three steps at a time. After the door clunked shut, Caleb sank the rest of his tankard and aimed a weary eye at the sleeping Seb.

  ‘Aye. That’s what I’m afraid of.’

  Chapter 26

  The cold nipped at Cade as soon as he stepped out of the Way. The magically maintained atmosphere of the passage vanishing as he emerged into the small wood that stood near his home. He drew his cloak tighter around his body and placed one foot onto the snow.

  The wind swirled around him as he followed the treacherous path upwards. The snow numbed his skin and stung his eyes. Down below, partially obscured by cloud, the people of the realm continued their lives, blissfully unaware of the fractures that were opening up in their reality.

  Two more men he’d lost on this last patrol. Two more Brothers giving their lives for the Oath. It was a loss that they could do without. The attacks were increasing, at least once a day now, and the sheol were growing in number. Before, they were isolated fiends, clumsy and disorganised. Recent weeks had seen a change in that. Now they worked together in packs. And now they used humans too? It was too much to comprehend.

  The two brothers guarding the outer gate snapped to attention when they saw the Third Sword emerge from the blizzard before them. He nodded at both as he marched past.

  He passed through the courtyard towards the front door. It was quiet today. A trio of brothers practiced sword movements in one corner where the weather hadn’t quite reached. The others were no doubt inside, hiding from the elements. Not that there’d be many, of course. Most of them were permanently assigned to other more profitable ventures that didn’t involve daemons from another realm.

  Inside, Cade swung off his cloak and hood and hung it by the door. A familiar face, aged since the last time he’d been home, waltzed over to greet him.

  ‘Mr Wallen, it is good to see you, sir,’ the man said in an airy tone.

  ‘Albert,’ Cade said, his voice matching Albert’s. ‘Is my father around? I need to see him about a matter of utmost urgency.’

  ‘He is anxious to see you too, sir. He was in the dojo, the new recruits are providing some entertainment for Reuben.’ Albert replied, his tone dripping with even more distaste as he uttered the other name.

  ‘My brother?’ Cade said, sighing. ‘Excellent, just what I needed.’

  ‘Shall I show you through, sir?’

  ‘I know the way, thanks Albert.’

  Cade dumped his bags on the floor by the door and set off through an archway to the right. It had been a long time since he’d been home, and the feelings on his return reminded him why he rarely came back. The atmosphere still hung like a damp cloth, sucking the warmth out of the place. Between this and the Magistry it felt like their world was crumbling. The remnants of a dying race, snuffed out like a candle.

  Shouts of alarm and grunts of pain came from the end of the corridor, shaking him out of his melancholy. Great. Reuben was indeed busy.

  He pushed open the doors, the frame crashing against the wall on the inside. His attention was drawn immediately to the familiar raised platform in the centre of the room. The usual scattered mats were clustered round the platform, a scattering of new recruits resting, staring at the show going on in front of them. Cade glanced upwards with a sigh, already knowing what he would see.

  Three people stood on the platform. Two men and one woman. He saw Reuben instantly, his older brother stood between the other two combatants, twirling a pair of rattan sticks in an intricate dance around his body. Reuben’s yellow eyes darted between the two that circled him. Both of them were dressed in loose, dark outfits - learner smocks. The man hobbled as he moved, one hand clutching his right knee, the other holding a wooden sword, curved in shape, like a katana, but much shorter. One of his eyes was bruised, his bottom lip puffed up and swollen. Blood trickled down his chin.

  The woman seemed to be faring better. Aside from a small welt on her cheek, where no doubt a bruise would swell in the morning, she seemed to be relatively unharmed. She held a staff in both hands, twirling it with a subtle confidence as she edged around the ring.

  On some hidden cue, Reuben’s opponents attacked him at once. Reuben became a blur, vanishing from in front of them a split second before they clashed together in the centre of the ring. He spun and appeared behind the man, who tried to turn and defend against the inevitable. The man never even got halfway before a kick to the back of the knee sent him crashing to the ground. A second crack on the side of his head saw him crumple to the floor, unmoving.

  To her credit, the woman
didn’t hesitate. She pounced on the sudden pause in proceedings and swung the staff, swinging out at full length, aiming for Reuben’s head. She had courage, definitely, but the outcome was inevitable.

  The strike was fast, anyone less than a ranking Sword would no doubt have gone out like a light. But Rueben was no ordinary warrior. At the last second he brought up both his rattan sticks, taking the full impact on the shaft of the weapons. He took a step backwards, parrying another attack as the woman pressed on, the staff following through towards his legs.

  ‘Stay back,’ Cade heard himself whisper.

  The woman pushed forwards, overextending herself. He could almost feel her emotions bubbling over, the eagerness to score a hit, the anger over her fallen friend, tainted with the fear of what would happen should she fail.

  She found out the latter a second later.

  She swept the staff low, aiming for Reuben’s legs. He dropped over the weapon, falling into a roll that brought him up behind the woman, who suddenly found herself facing thin air. Without looking behind, Reuben struck with his left hand stick, catching her at the knee. She fell backwards onto the canvas, the wind driven from her as she fell. Cade winced as Reuben kicked out, hitting her in the ribs. The staff rolled to one side as the woman doubled up, pulling her knees inwards, forming a protective shell.

  ‘Is this the best you can come up with?’ Reuben yelled, his voice echoing around the room. ‘I thought you lot were meant to be the best that was out there?’

  Cade sighed. The other people gathered around the ring looked up. All of them seemed unconcerned, their eyes blank, mouths level. This kind of outburst was nothing new.

  At that moment, Reuben squatted next to the woman, gripped her by the hair and forced her head upwards. Her eyes, streaming tears, stared back at him, hatred in her eyes.

  ‘Looking angry isn’t going to save you out there, is it, you stupid bitch?’

  At that, Reuben suddenly stood and kicked the woman hard in the face. Her head snapped back, blood droplets exploding onto the canvas.

  ‘Now what do you think?’ he shouted again. He kicked her again, and again.

  ‘Enough!’

  Cade’s voice echoed throughout the chamber. All eyes fell on him. Reuben looked up, scowling. Their eyes met and the scowl dropped, turning into the all too familiar sneer.

  ‘Well, if it isn’t the mage-lover?’

  Reuben vaulted out of the ring. Three recruits jumped in, rushing to their fallen comrades.

  ‘Brother. I see you haven’t lost your zeal for violence.’

  Reuben glowered. His hands clenched as he leaned closer. Part of Cade wanted him to attack. It’d been many years since they’d last traded blows. The outcome wouldn’t be as foregone as that time.

  ‘What is this?’ A new, familiar voice boomed out. Cade dropped to his knees, his brother following a second later.

  ‘Reuben, speak. What the hell is going on here?’

  They rose as one, heads bowed.

  ‘Father, forgive me. Cade and I were just getting reacquainted,’ he said.

  Silas, First Sword of the Brotherhood, turned and looked at his second son.

  ‘Cade. God, boy, what’s happened to you?’

  Cade touched a hand to the fading scar on his cheek. ‘This? It will heal.’

  ‘You must be getting slow, brother.’

  Cade ignored the barb and focused on his father. ‘Father,’ he said, ‘Forgive me for this unplanned return. However I must speak with you about a matter of great concern.’

  ‘Why of course, my son. You are my Third Sword and I value your counsel.’ Silas motioned for them to move. They left the dojo with Reuben and entered Silas’ study. Silas poured three cups of his favoured green tea before sitting. Cade followed suit. He took a deep drink of the tea, the hot liquid invigorating.

  ‘So, tell me, Son, what is this grave matter?’

  ‘Yes, tell us, Brother, what excitement comes from our friends at the Magistry?’

  ‘It is the sheol, Father. There is something wrong with them.’

  Rueben sneered. ‘Of course there’s something wrong with them. They’re a daemonic vermin that are a cancer on all the Shards. Tell us something we don’t know.’

  ‘Reuben. You will be silent. Or you will leave,’ Silas said. He looked back at Cade. ‘Son, tell me what you have seen.’

  Cade recounted the past few weeks. He hadn’t been sure at first but after he’d spent the time tracing it back he was convinced that it had been with Marek’s betrayal and Seb’s emergence that the sheol presence had jumped through the roof. He told his father of their greater numbers, their organisation. Silas pulled a pained expression when he heard how many brothers had been lost. When Cade mentioned the humans and the symbol he twitched slightly but did not say anything further. He ended the story with a description of the female warrior that he’d seen on several occasions with the sheol.

  ‘This symbol. Can I see it?’

  Cade took out his phone and pulled up the photos. He slid it across to Silas who scanned through each of them. After looking through them again he frowned and passed it over to Reuben.

  ‘I do not know this symbol, Reuben. Send them to the Lore Keepers. They will no doubt be able to discover its origins.’ Silas looked back at Cade. ‘Now, Son, thank you for passing this over. Is there anything else you would like to discuss?’

  ‘What?’ Cade said, looking back and forth between the two men, ‘That’s it?’

  Silas frowned. ‘I’m sorry, was there something more?’

  ‘Are you not concerned about this report? The attacks? Our losses?’

  ‘Do not take that tone, Cade. Of course the loss of our brothers concerns me. But that is our Oath. We cannot forsake it.’

  ‘I’m not saying that, Father. What I am saying is that we must do something about it.’

  ‘What do you suggest?’

  Was this conversation really happening? How could he just be so nonchalant about this whole affair?

  ‘Cade?’

  ‘More men for a start. Give me more men. Let me try and locate the source of this infestation and eradicate it.’

  Silas shook his head. ‘I am sorry, son. We have no spare capacity. Aside from the trainers here we are at bare bones.’

  ‘Then call them back! This is not a game. Something is happening, and one of us needs to take this seriously!’ Cade’s blood was boiling now. Even Reuben had tensed somewhat, although Cade could see a wry smirk on his brother’s face. He was no doubt enjoying this exchange.

  ‘Cade. I will not warn you again, Son or not. You will not disrespect your First Sword.’ Silas spoke in an icy tone. There would be no negotiation from here.

  ‘Apologies, Father.’

  Silas held his gaze for a moment. Something lifted in his mind and the frown vanished. He turned to Reuben, a decision made.

  ‘Reuben. Take three of your best men from your personal guard. They are to be re-assigned to Cade with immediate effect.’

  Now it was Reuben’s turn to be incensed. ‘What? Father you cannot -’

  ‘Your best, Reuben. Understand?’

  Reuben’s face was stone. ‘Yes, Father.’

  ‘I am sorry I cannot give you more, Cade, but it is all I can do.’

  ‘What about the Magistry? Can they not assist?’

  ‘I have asked previously. You were there, Cade. You saw how the Magister was.’

  ‘But the Oath?’

  ‘The Oath is for us to them. Not the other way round.’

  ‘The Oath is a pile of shit, and we all know it,’ Reuben said.

  ‘Enough, Reuben. I am well aware of your thoughts on this.’ Silas rose from behind the desk. ‘Now, I have other matters to attend to. Cade, thank you for bringing this to my attention. Take your extra men and find the source of this infestation. I will try and talk to the Magistry again. Perhaps they can spare someone to assist.’

  Silas waved a hand towards the door. Cade rose, nodded an
d then walked towards the door. He held it as he walked through, waiting for Reuben.

  ‘Reuben,’ Silas said, the Second Sword stopping midway across the room. ‘A moment if you please.’

  Cade let the door shut behind him. With a walk fuelled by anger he headed back to the dojo.

  It was time for a workout of his own.

  Chapter 27

  Sarah stood by the dead priest, his black eyes gone now, replaced by the human eyes that lurked behind. Dark blood pooled under his head where her cudgel had cracked his skull.

  She swallowed down the guilt of what she had done. Releasing the priest from possession was a mercy for the poor man. His soul was free now, free to return to the River.

  She didn’t have much time. The first workers would be on site soon, their guards with them. When they found the priest dead they would search every member of the dig, and her sheol disguise, as good as it was, would not hold up to such scrutiny.

  She had to act, and act fast.

  With enhanced eyes she scanned the ancient writings that the priest had jotted down. She didn’t understand the language; it was an old form of Runic Script that she’d never been shown before. Still, it didn’t matter. Her mind would not forget. It would absorb every scrap of information her senses took in. When she returned to the Magistry they would extract it from her and decide how much this was worth. Only they had the knowledge to decipher such archaic writings.

  She scanned page after page. Image after image being burned into memory. A nervousness poked at the edge of her perception, but she kept it at bay, her training serving her well.

  She’d just scanned the last page when she heard the sounds of footsteps up above. The first workers had arrived.

  Time to go.

  She dashed into the narrow tunnels at the rear of the site. The route, carefully plotted and rehearsed over the previous weeks, led to the open tundra. From there it was a day’s hard running to the Way. To freedom.

  She was many metres into the tunnels when the first cries of alarm reached her sensitive ears. She didn’t slow. She kept moving at pace. The exit loomed ahead. The pink glow of the twin suns welcoming her back to the surface.