Message Bearer (The Auran Chronicles Book 1)

by Dobing, M. S.

  ***

  Jack Mitchell hadn’t been in the Brotherhood long, but he’d been a serving marine for eight years before that. He’d seen action in places ranging from the Crimea to Iraq. He didn’t consider himself easily tricked.

  That was why when he saw the young boy ambling up the road that led to Skelwith he didn’t so much as bat an eyelid.

  ‘You lost, kid?’ He stepped out from behind the massive oak trunk from where he’d kept watch ever since Cade and those loyal to the Oath had fled here. The kid staggered and fell, his eyes wide, mouth gaping.

  ‘Shit, sorry,’ he pushed the Beretta PDW behind his hip and rushed forwards, cursing inside at his own crudeness. He knew he was an imposing figure at the best of times, but in his Brotherhood garb, armed to the teeth? The poor kid would be having nightmares for months.

  The kid was on all fours, face down, as Jack reached him. He dropped to one knee and offered his free hand out, gently gripping the kid’s shoulder.

  ‘Kid?’

  It all happened so fast. The kid flinched at his touch, but it wasn’t that what made Jack stagger back, fumbling the safety on his weapon. It was the way the kid’s head twisted towards him, sinew cracking, his eyes bulging and black teeth dripping a viscous ichor.

  Jack’s mind was caught in a moment of split indecision. He’d messed up, he knew that. Never lower your guard, no matter how innocent the threat might seem. He was caught between alerting the others and defending himself. Self-preservation won out. He brought the weapon to bear as the kid launched towards him. His finger tightened on the trigger just as a point of cold iron pierced the base of his skull.

  ***

  ‘What do I do?’

  Seb stood in the centre of an intricate circle of Runic Script that had been etched into the floor in front of the throne. Outside the circle stood five Elites, heads bowed and covered. The Magister stood from her throne and glided down the steps to the circle.

  ‘The magi here will channel into you, giving you the necessary focus to prise upon the lock. Runic Script will emerge that you will see in your mind’s eye. It is most likely you will not understand what you see, but do not worry about that. I will read and decipher the Script. Do you understand?’

  Seb nodded.

  ‘Good. Like I said, there is nothing to fear from all this. Soon it will be over, the burden will be removed.’

  ‘And what of me?’

  The Magister stopped and tilted her head. ‘Sorry?’

  ‘When you’ve got what you wanted. When I’m no use anymore. What then? You cast me out? Leave me to fend for myself? Or worse?’

  ‘What do you take us for, Seb? Do you really think we’d let someone with your talents simply vanish?’

  Seb shrugged. ‘I know what I’d like to think, but in reality, I’m not sure.’

  For a moment the Magister looked annoyed, almost angry, but then her face passed back into the familiar placid veneer. She crossed into the circle, the charged air crackling as she approached. She placed a hand on Seb’s shoulder.

  ‘I give you my word, Seb. When this is over, should you wish it, you will remain with us.’

  Seb didn’t sense any deceit at all. He didn’t dare sense, lest he offended the Magister. But for all he could read she seemed genuine. Something lifted off his shoulders, at least temporarily, and he forced out a smile.

  ‘Thank you.’

  The Magister smiled. ‘Now, let us get back to the business at hand, shall we?’

  ***

  Guards fell all along the perimeter of the mansion. All of them Brotherhood. All still blind to the truth. Rueben had watched from afar as his men, allied with the sheol, had systematically taken out the various sentries in a combined action lasting no longer than three minutes. They converged now on the mansion itself. They knew where to stop, where the sentinels range extended. Marek had been clear on that.

  Reuben wasn’t a fan of working with the sheol. He’d spent the best part of his life hunting them and their kind down, and now he was here, allied with them, purging the world of their common enemy. Still, it was the greater cause that mattered. They were destined to reunite with their daemon kin, not to be slaves to an antique oath to a dying race. Every time he saw one of his former Brothers fall he reminded himself of that.

  Something rustled in the undergrowth. Rueben didn’t flinch, preferring instead to drain the last of the coffee from the flask by his side. His men spun about, weapons ready in a flash.

  ‘Relax, it’s one of them,’ he said. He’d sensed the horned fiend flitting through the bushes five minutes earlier. He was intrigued to see how far it would come without detection, its movements being slicker, more subtle than the rest. He was impressed – and annoyed - to see it made it all the way to their camp without being sighted.

  He rose and turned as the daemon, crammed into human form, burst into the clearing. Near seven foot tall now, partially burned and covered almost entirely in black scale. One eye had been burned out, but a malevolence burned in the remaining red orb that told him it was something much darker than the standard feral that he’d come across. It stomped to a halt as it sighted the array of guns aimed in its direction. It snapped looks at each of the warriors in turn, no doubt sizing them up. Its mouth was bared, exposing narrow fangs through which a black forked tongue whipped across.

  ‘Who are you?’ Reuben gave a barely perceptible nod and his men lowered their weapons. He stepped before the daemon, noting casually that the air seemed noticeably cooler in its presence. The daemon slowly lowered its gaze until it fixed on him.

  ‘You are the leader?’ it hissed.

  Reuben straightened his back, feeling the reassuring presence of the blade on his hip.

  ‘I am,’ he replied, keeping his voice level. ‘And you are?’

  ‘Farouk. Commander of the Ninth Legion. I was summoned by the mage.’ Farouk replied, his grating voice dripping with distaste as it mentioned Marek.

  Reuben raised an eyebrow and nodded. ‘Then I am grateful indeed that your Master has spared such a formidable ally.’

  ‘The Message. Where is it?’

  Reuben bristled, not used to being spoken to in such a way, daemon or not.

  ‘Where it’s been for the past few hours. The magi are about to begin the ceremony.’

  Farouk cocked his head to one side and sniffed the air. He looked back at Reuben, his scaled face creasing into a grimace.

  ‘The sentinels are still active. I can sense them.’

  ‘You are correct.’

  ‘Why have you failed to accomplish this task? Why are they not sleeping?’

  Reuben ignored the shocked look on his men’s faces and swallowed down the burgeoning anger. ‘The task is at hand, I assure you.’

  ‘It is not me you need to assure, my Master is not as patient as I am.’

  ‘Then why doesn’t your Master try her luck for herself?’ Reuben waved a gloved hand down towards the valley. She’s welcome to have a go!’

  Farouk blurred towards him in an instant. The daemon’s teeth snapped at the air inches from his neck. Reuben fumbled for the weapon by his side but the daemon had gripped a taloned claw round his neck, strangling the flow of oxygen. Already white spots were peppering his vision.

  ‘What in the hells is going on here?’

  Farouk dropped Reuben to the floor as Silas and Marek entered the clearing. The daemon turned and two of Reuben’s men rushed over to help their leader. He shoved them away, clutching one hand to his neck whilst firing a hate-filled stare at the back of the daemon.

  The two leaders took position in the centre of the clearing. A combination of Brothers and sheol warriors fanned out around them.

  ‘Reuben?’ Silas said.

  Reuben stood upright. His neck burned but he was damned if he was going to show weakness. ‘Nothing to worry about, Father. I was just welcoming our new guest.’

  ‘Farouk, is everything okay?’

  Farouk tipped his head slightly. ‘
I was just asking this warrior who claims to lead this rabble why he hasn’t succeeded in the simple task of disabling the sentinels yet. He didn’t like the question.’

  ‘If you doubt my words why don’t you walk straight on ahead? There’s a thirty foot knight on the path that I’m almost certain is no longer functioning.’

  ‘Enough, Reuben!’ Silas crossed over to him and lead him away from the group. He glanced back at the gathered sheol and then shot a concerned luck Reuben’s way. ‘We cannot afford to look weak in front of the daemons, Son.’

  ‘I’m aware of this. What do you think I was just doing?’

  ‘By the looks of things about to destroy our fledgling alliance before it had even started.’

  ‘I’m not afraid of that,’ he made a point of glaring at Farouk, who simply growled in return, which only served to boil his blood further.

  ‘I don’t give a shit if you are or not!’ Silas never raised his voice, and this time it got Reuben’s attention. ‘Farouk’s right, though, why don’t we have access yet? The window is narrow enough as it is.’

  ‘You don’t have to remind me, Father.’ He turned back to Silas, forcing a calm over the tumult in his stomach. ‘The ceremony is about to begin. The sentries have been incapacitated.’

  ‘That’s all good, but with the sentinels still there, we don’t have a chance.’

  ‘Have faith, Father. Isn’t that what you always tell me? Marek is certain, is he not?’

  Silas sighed. ‘Yes, but I’m unfamiliar with not being in total control.’

  Reuben smiled, calm now. He put one hand on Silas’ shoulder. ‘I thought I was meant to be the hot-headed one. The time is at hand. Marek’s plan will come to fruition. It’s all worked so far, hasn’t it?’ Reuben looked across at the mage, who at that moment was gazing silently into the forest. ‘He seems to have thought of everything.’

  ‘I truly hope so.’

  ***

  ‘Where are you taking me?’ Sylph had remained in silence for almost the entire journey as Cade led her away from the commune. As they stepped off the last damp step that led out into the Drain she could hold herself no longer.

  ‘Somewhere safe.’

  ‘I’m not afraid.’

  ‘No shit. It’s not for your safety I’m putting you here,’ Cade smiled as he waved at the open chamber. Sylph sauntered in, taking in her new surroundings with a disdainful sniff.

  ‘Come on, surely this is better than Haven?’

  Sylph ran her finger across the table, raising an eyebrow at the accumulated dust on the tip.

  ‘Seb lives down here?’

  Cade nodded. ‘He prefers it here. Plus, he’s not alone.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Caleb’s here, too. His mentor.’

  ‘The guy who nearly died?’

  ‘That’s the one. He’ll take care of you.’

  ‘Bu-’

  ‘I’ll be back,’ Cade strode towards the stone staircase, vanishing into the shadows before Sylph could get out another word.

  ‘Great.’ Sylph turned and dropped into a leather armchair. She winced as something dug into her back, shuffling to the side into a position of least discomfort.

  She felt it before she saw it. A tingling at the edge of her senses, a shimmer in the mind. Without thinking she was out of the chair and on her feet. Her hand shot to her side, mentally cursing at the empty sheath there.

  ‘Who are you? Show yourself!’

  The man known as Caleb shuffled out of the dark. Hunched over, white, skeletal hands gripping a staff, Caleb came forwards, head low, breath wheezing.

  ‘Stop there.’ Sylph took a step back, palm raised. He looked human, but the wrongness just oozed out of him like an ichor, pooling with the shadow that seemed to follow him from the alcove.

  Caleb stopped. His head rose in slow, juddering steps. His eyes met hers. Cold. Grey. Lifeless.

  ‘Ah, you must be, Sylph,’ Caleb said, his voice coming out as barely a breeze. ‘I have heard a lot about you.’

  He came forwards again. Sylph stepped back. Her back struck the table behind her. On instinct her hands dropped to the furniture, fingers furtively searching for something, anything. Her eyes told her that this was simply an old man, not far from the Veil, but her innate senses told her much more.

  This was no human.

  ‘You’re possessed.’

  Caleb stopped. His head cocked to one side. ‘I’m sorry? My dear, I think you’ve -’

  ‘Don’t bullshit me. I’m not one of these magi. I don’t know how you’re hiding it from them but I can tell. You reek of it. Show yourself.’ Her right hand alighted on something cold, smooth. She lifted it, noting the weight.

  The illusion vanished in an instant. Caleb blinked. Grey eyes vanished, replaced by orbs of black. He rose suddenly, the stick clattering to the floor. Bones cracked. Muscle stretched. He grinned at her, pale lips stretching taut across a mouth displaying teeth designed for shredding.

  ‘What are you, little whelp? You’re not a mage, not really. You don’t have the smell. Yet I can tell you’re imbued. Tell me your story, before I rip the throat from your pretty little neck.’

  Sylph didn’t feel fear. At least, not as a conscious emotion. She recognised the release of adrenalin, the light feeling in her stomach, the pounding of her heart. She’d seen enough possessed to know they could range in danger from the merely deranged to those hosting daemons of unimaginable power. She couldn’t read this one, but she had a feeling that it wasn’t the former.

  The Caleb-fiend leapt forwards, outstretched talons reaching for her throat. It was fast, inhumanly fast, the image of where he’d been standing merging with one of him right in front her, the distance between them closed in a heartbeat.

  She brought the object up and across from her side. Ideally she would’ve brought it down in an overhead strike, cleaving the sheol’s skull, but the sudden speed of the attack prevented that. The weapon, a cobweb-covered candlestick, complete with almost-extinct candle, caught the Caleb-fiend under the jaw, deflecting his charge just enough to send him barrelling past her, but not before a stray hand raked across her midriff, sending a searing pain through her core.

  ‘My, you are something different aren’t you?’ The Caleb-fiend rose, turning back to face her as she edged backwards, clutching the candlestick with one hand, the other clasped over the open wound in her side. Already a dull fire was spreading in ever growing waves from the wound.

  Poison.

  Caleb gripped the table and casually flung it to one side, the object smashing into smithereens under the impact. He advanced forwards, forked tongue dancing between razor teeth.

  Sylph scanned the room. As far as she could tell there was only one way out, the stairs that loomed behind Caleb, taunting her from afar. Not that it mattered though, she knew that even if she managed to get past this daemon that the door was no doubt barred from the other side. But maybe there were guards there? Someone she could alert? She didn’t have the time to figure out how this fiend had managed to fool all of the magi but she had no doubt that its presence here, now, at the time of the opening, was no mere coincidence. She had to warn them. She made to move but her legs were failing her, energy sapped by the lethal poison. The room blurred as her knees hit the floor.

  ‘Where’s the fight? I was hoping for much more sport than this?’

  Caleb-fiend crept forwards, fingers splayed, talons primed to end her life there and then.

  Bong.

  The noise reverberated throughout the building, the sound echoing and amplifying within the Drain.

  For a moment, Caleb and Sylph stared at each other. Sylph, mind numbed by poison, recognised nothing more than the fact a painful noise rattled her ears. Caleb-fiend though, knew more, much more.

  Bong.

  The ceremony.

  Caleb-fiend snarled and spun, bounding across to the stairs in one gravity defying leap. He melded into the shadows, a black arrow vanishing into the ether.
/>
  ***

  Seb swallowed, the dryness in his throat making the action difficult, almost painful.

  He dared one last look round before closing his eyes. He felt the combined power of the gathered magi. They were unified now, their energies combined, their power focused on him. The energy pulsed through him, his limbs alive, senses tingling. With one last glance at the Magister, her eyes now glowing a fierce gold, he closed his own. The sound of the side door to the hall opening barely registered with him.

  ***

  Cade saw Caleb enter. He smiled as the old man shuffled forwards, head bowed, clutching that staff as if his life depended on it. Stubborn old goat. Something stirred in Cade’s chest. After all this old man had been through, how close to death he had been, he still forced himself out of the Drain to see his pupil finally shed the burden that had plagued him for the past few months. He moved through the crowd towards Caleb, seeking the companionship of a fellow outsider amongst the silence of the magi.

  ‘Nice of you to join us,’ Cade drew alongside the older man. He couldn’t help but feel dismay at the sight of the old mage, a shell of his former self.

  He turned to look back towards the ceremony. The Magister was in full swing now, her words rising in pitch and fervour, the air tingling with a growing pervasion of Weave energy. Something pulled Cade back, something he noticed as he took his gaze away from Caleb.

  ‘What happened to you?’ Cade took the old man’s hand in his own. The back of it was nearly black with bruising. Dried blood was caked along his knuckles.

  ‘Huh? This?’ Caleb flexed his knuckles, the bones nearly visible underneath waxen skin. ‘That friend of yours. She made a break for it thinking I was nothing but a harmless old fool.’ He waved the staff under Cade’s eyes, his grey eyes twinkling, ‘I taught her the error of her ways.’

  ‘You shouldn’t have risked yourself. You’re too weak. Here, let me take you back to the infirmary.’

  ‘I’m fine!’ Caleb snatched his arm away from the offered hand. He noted Cade’s shocked expression and the anger melted away. ‘I’m sorry, I did not mean to snap. I just don’t like being taken for an invalid. Now I must go, I must be close to Seb to give my support.’