Consensus Breaking (The Auran Chronicles Book 2) (2 page)

They gave Sylph another hour before Seb made the call to wake her. It was only a couple of hours until daybreak when the Unaware would rise and go about their daily routines, making accessing the magical fortress exponentially more difficult. They trudged down the steep hillside that abutted the back of the ruin, edging sideways on the damp grass to avoid tumbling to the bottom. Eventually the hill levelled out and a narrow path formed in front of them.

‘I never thought I’d come back here again,’ Sylph said. She drew her jacket tighter around her.

‘Me neither, I was hoping it was a kind of once-in-a-lifetime thing,’ Seb replied.

They ducked under a gap in a broken fence, taking the same route Seb and Sylph had taken months earlier. Ascending the embankment, they moved along the wall until they found what they were looking for. A crack stood before them, just wide enough for one person at a time.

‘Home sweet home,’ Sylph murmured.

‘You okay with this?’ Seb said.

‘Let’s just get on with it.’

Darkness filled the crack, but it didn’t matter, each of the group had their own abilities that allowed them to see beyond the normal spectrum.

‘There are sheol ahead,’ Cade said, pausing, his head tipped to one side.

‘Several. Probably just ferals scavenging around the site. It’s still strong in the Weave, even after all this time.’

‘Marek left quite a presence here,’ Sylph said.

‘Indeed.’

They spilled out on the other side of the wall, emerging into the grounds. A field of knee-high grass lay before them, terminating at the rear of Haven, the coal-black walls infected with cracks stuffed with moss and lichen.

It was a miracle that the place was still standing.

Seb
sensed
out again. Eight sheol in total. Ferals, no doubt near-mad with starvation. Most would have fled in the weeks before, their host needing sustenance and the parasite inside needing to satisfy its urge to kill. The fact that they were still there, near death, meant that their minds were barely coherent, almost mindless husks drawn for reasons unknown.

Not unlike himself, a year earlier, he thought.

‘Where is Marek’s study?’ Seb said.

‘First floor. Up the central staircase and go straight ahead. His study is at the end on the right.’

‘Should we expect anything else? Booby traps?’

‘Not to my knowledge. I borrowed things before without any incidents.’

They stopped at a door that was formerly used to take in deliveries. Rust had claimed most of the steel, only a feeble hinge and a padlocked chain holding it closed. Cade stepped up first and drew his pistol. He aimed it at the chain and looked back.

‘We ready?’ he said.

‘We all know what we need to do?’ Seb said.

‘Find anything relating to the Families, anything that will let us find them,’ Sylph replied.

‘Good.’ He turned back to Cade and nodded. ‘Okay, do it.’

‘Be ready. They will hear, and they will come.’

Seb channelled Avatari. The energy swelled in his muscles, his awareness heightened, the world suddenly appearing with enhanced clarity. Next to him Sylph drew back, vanishing into shadow.

‘Let’s get this over with,’ he said.

Cade fired. The gunshot echoed around the yard. Seb winced,
sensing
the sheol as they all froze, their heads rising, turning towards the disturbance. As one they abandoned their mindless foraging and surged to the door. He stepped back and drew his rattan sticks.

‘They’re coming.’

Cade holstered his pistol and unsheathed his favoured twin swords, the runes on the blades glowing in the dark. With a shimmer he vanished from view, hidden beside the door.

‘You okay?’ Seb said. He’d felt Sylph’s channelling, weaker than his own, but there all the time. She was crouched low in a combat position by his side.

‘Yeah, just, this place, you know?’

‘I know.’

The door burst upon and two sheol barrelled out. The first slipped on the wet grass and slid downward to where Sylph was waiting. Before it could even react a sword tip pierced its throat. It shuddered once and fell still.

The other fared slightly better. It managed to remain upright, sliding to a stop just behind its companion. Seb struck out with his rattan, one strike dropping the fiend to its knees. A second sent it sprawling face down into the mud, unmoving.

More sheol emerged from the doorway. They formed a huddle as they advanced, their black eyes glinting in the moonlight. Viscous saliva hung from their jaws, the prospect of food almost unbearable. They took one more step forwards before a shadow moved between them. Cade appeared. Runed swords struck out in all directions. Black blood squirted, the daemons howling as muscles were sliced and arteries severed. Four dropped almost instantly. The fifth reached out with lethal talons but Cade simply ducked under the clumsy lunge, the creature falling face first into the ground. Cade dropped on one knee onto the creature’s back, thrusting his blade under the base of its skull, killing it instantly.

‘One more,’ Cade said. He stood and wiped the blood on his sleeve.

‘It’s mine. I know this one.’

Cade stepped to one side as Sylph lunged forwards. The last sheol emerged, not quite as emaciated as the rest, its host still recognizable as human. It paused for a moment at the door, its pale brow furrowing as it took in the woman before it.

‘Sylph?’ it said, the voice stilted, as if speech was a forgotten skill, rusted from underuse.

‘Luchar. Looks like you got your wish after all.’

‘You betrayed Marek.’

‘He betrayed us all.’

Sylph leapt forwards before the Luchar-fiend could even react. They fell to the floor as one, Sylph’s daggers raining down. The fiend tried to parry but Sylph, fuelled by rage, smashed its arms out of the way as she tore into its chest. In moments its arms stopped flailing, no sounds coming but the squelch of steel puncturing flesh.

‘Sylph, he’s d-’ Seb began, before Cade stopped him.

‘Let her. She needs this.’

Seb stepped back as Sylph hacked at what had once been her friend. She was slowing now, her breaths becoming shorter, more ragged.

‘Sylph,’ Seb whispered. ‘He’s gone.’

Sylph came to, looking at her blood-soaked hands before glancing down at the bloody pulp. Her shoulders slumped.

‘You knew him?’ Seb said. He held out a hand which she took.

‘I knew who he was. Before he was possessed.’

‘You did him a favour.’

Sylph marched away. ‘Let’s just get this over with,’ she said, vanishing into the doorway.

Seb increased his body temperature as they made their way down the narrow corridor that led into the main building. It was night, and it was winter, but the coldness that permeated Haven and crept into his bones was caused by more than just the climate. A gnawing ache was spreading through him. His head felt heavy, his eyes taking longer to focus than was normal.

‘What the hell is that?’ Cade said. Even with his thick overcoat his teeth chattered, his lips a grey-blue compared to their normal ruby.

‘Marek, or the mark of Marek I should say. Although gone, his presence still lingers here. The Weave is soiled in this place,’ Seb said.

‘We should burn the place down when we leave.’

‘You won’t find any complaints here.’

‘Here,’ Sylph said. ‘It’s up here.’

The stairwell hadn’t lasted much better than the rest of the building. Seb placed a gentle foot on the bottom step, and then followed through with the rest of his weight. It creaked, but held.

‘One at a time, I don’t think it could take us all at once.’

The others waited at the bottom as Seb ascended. The elements hadn’t reached the middle level of the stairwell as much as the bottom, the wood relatively drier there. He got more confident and sped up, bounding up the stairs two steps at a time.

Big mistake.

He was only a handful of steps from the top, the archway that led to the first floor visible now, when he landed on a step that had obviously fared worse than he’d initially thought. There was a crack, his weight dropped and his stomach lurched.

He threw out a hand as the stairs crumpled beneath him like a stack of dominoes. He managed to get a good hold of the stone ledge, his knees scraping as he smashed into the brickwork.

‘Seb! Are you okay?’

‘Just a minute!’

He managed to get his other arm up alongside the first. He pushed more energy there, drawing on Avatari, then heaved himself up, using the rough brick for leverage. He threw himself onto the first floor and rolled onto his back, letting the inevitable headache come, his price for over-channelling the Weave.

‘Seb! Talk to me!’ Cade’s shouts echoed up the now hollow stairwell.

‘I’m alright,’ he said.

The pain came, a cold ache, the result of drawing too much on the Weave. He drew in a deep breath, and rested the back of his hand across his eyes.

When the pain had subsided he rolled over onto his knees and stood up. He leant against the wall for a moment, allowing the dizziness to pass. He opened his eyes.

The world seemed stable.

‘The stairwell collapsed,’ Cade shouted.

No shit, Sherlock
. Seb couldn’t resist a smile. ‘Yep, I got that, thanks.’

‘We’re going to find another way up.’

‘No, stay there. I won’t be long. At the end, on the right, that right, Sylph?’

‘Yeah. You can’t miss it. It’s the room that looks like a gothic nightmare.’

Seb walked down the corridor. He trod carefully, every creak of a floorboard sending a cold shiver up his back. He passed several doors, all of them open, exposing rooms of generic decor, obviously some kind of guest rooms.

Eventually he stopped in front of a large double door, carved with an intricate design. Seb peered closer. The design was of some kind of serpent coiled round an irregular-shaped stone. Actually, not one serpent, but three, all curled around the same stone. There was something about it, a prick of familiarity that he couldn’t shake off.

‘Strange.’ He committed it to memory, something to look up later. He pushed against the door.

Locked.

The pain in his head had subsided, but his connection to the Weave was still weak. He needed to rest, to replenish his reserves. But that time wasn’t now. If he were to have any chance of locating the Families, he had to get inside that room.

And so he channelled.

Seb didn’t know Novo, the school of magic specialising in changing the actual structure of reality. All he had now was Avatari, the Self. He called upon it, sending strength to his muscles. His mind began to buzz, his vision blurring.

Just a bit longer, don’t leave me yet.

He locked his eyes where the two doors met, where the handles were, figuring that the lock was there. He took a step back, set his hips, and kicked.

The door shook, but did not open.

He channelled further. His mind began to pound. White stars formed in his vision.

He kicked again. The door splintered.

One more.

His legs shook. The pain in his head felt like someone had driven a drill through his brain. He swallowed down a rush of bile and kicked again, throwing everything he had into the strike.

The door exploded inward. Seb collapsed on his knees. The world turned black. He only just managed to throw his hands down before his face smacked into cold stone. He lay there, resting, letting the throbbing reduce to something more bearable.

Moments passed. The pain lessened. He had to get moving before Cade and Sylph started climbing up. The last thing he wanted was them finding him sprawled out on the floor.

Ignoring the pain as best he could, Seb managed to stand. His legs still trembled and his head felt like it was made of lead, but at least he was mobile. He stepped inside Marek’s old office, ignoring the chill that fell on him like a cloak.

It was strange, searching Marek’s old den. It didn’t show the same signs of destruction that filled the other rooms. The desk was still neatly arranged, with a cobweb-covered mug still half-filled with a liquid that was more vegetation than drink. Obviously Marek had every intention of returning from his assault on Skelwith.

He eventually emerged back at the other end of the corridor from where he’d started, clutching a collection of books that seemed at least partially useful. He’d taken another stairwell down, and Cade and Sylph jumped to attention as he appeared from the new direction and rushed over, taking some of the books off him.

‘You okay? You look like shit,’ Cade said.

‘Supportive as always,’ Seb said.

‘I don’t believe in beating around the bush.’

‘Don’t I know it.’ Seb looked beyond Sylph, towards a large open archway that he presumed led back out. ‘Let’s get the hell out of here.’ He marched towards it.

‘Wait, not that way!’ Sylph cried, nearly dropping the books she carried as she tried to catch up.

‘What’s the problem? There’s nothing here - whoa.’

It was much darker than he remembered, probably due to the phosphorous grenade that had scorched the interior, but he recognised straight away the chapel where, only months earlier, he’d escaped with Sylph from Marek’s clutches. His stomach crunched and he put his sleeve over his mouth.

It stank of rotten flesh.

‘Looks like they didn’t have time to clean up your handy work,’ Cade said, stepping over the charred remains of a sheol, its face still frozen in fear from the white fire that ended its life.

‘This place is tainted.’ Sylph took a tentative step inside the chapel, one trembling hand resting against the archway.

‘I feel it too,’ Seb said.

‘It’s like he’s still here.’

The chill in the chapel was bone-numbing, a painful cold that seeped right to the core. There was nothing there, nothing Seb could
sense
, but it was as if evil dwelled in the chapel, a stain that would not shift.

His foot struck a pew, and he realised with a shock that he’d walked the entire length of the chapel, standing now before the altar. The wooden post, the one he’d been strapped to during the interrogation by Marek’s master, still stood there, the leather straps that he’d ripped open still hanging down.

He’d seen enough.

Seb was about to turn back when something caught his eye on the altar. It was like a shimmering in the air, as if some hidden heat source was generating currents that rippled upwards.

What
was
that?

He took a step closer. He probed with his
sense
, but nothing came back, no aura, danger, nothing. It was definitely there, though, his eyes weren’t lying to him. He was a foot away when he happened to glance down at the floor.

A chalk circle, partially obscured by dust and grime.

He crouched down, reaching out towards the chalk. At the same time, he became aware of another sound, a low roar, like rushing water, almost at the edge of his hearing range. He stopped, cocking his head to one side, not risking any further channelling of Avatari; he was near enough to burn out as it was.

The noise was getting louder. There was something else too, something almost understandable amongst the din.

‘You hear that?’ he said.

‘Hear what?’ Cade said, idly kicking a blackened skeleton to one side.

‘I don’t know, it’s -’

Seb’s
sense
flared to life. The noise stopped and he jumped back from the altar. He spun round. Sylph was looking down, too absorbed in avoiding the corpses around her feet to even notice the air that shimmered before her.

‘Sylph!’

She looked up. A figure materialized before her. A human. Dressed in jeans and a long jacket. He held a staff in one hand. The Weave pulsed off him, his aura a bright blue.

Seb’s breath caught in his chest.

‘Mage!’

Sylph reacted on impulse. She lunged with her dagger, but the mage was equal to her. He brought the staff round, striking Sylph on the wrist. Bone cracked and the blade went spinning across the floor. Seb sensed Sylph’s pain but she didn’t slow. She spun, aiming a low sweep at the man, but his speed was greater than hers. His staff slammed down, point first, on Sylph’s thigh. Another bone broke. She screamed this time.

Around them Seb felt other disturbances, the Weave groaning at the manipulations. Five more of the figures appeared, all clutching the same staffs, all with the auras of blue fire. Cade dropped to one knee, his pistol out in a heartbeat. He lined the weapon up but the figure nearest to him waved a hand, the Weave crackled, and Cade’s weapon went flying through the air.

Seb
sensed
movement behind him. He pivoted, dropping low,
sensing
his opponent’s intentions and avoiding the staff that whooshed over his head. He channelled and struck out, putting all his energy into a punch that blasted the air from his enemy’s lungs. The man collapsed, his staff clattering to the floor as he wrapped his arms around himself, wheezing heavily. Seb took the staff in both hands and raised it high above his head.

‘Hold!’

He froze, the staff still held in position, ready to strike. Behind him, Cade stood, swords out, surrounded by two of the magi. One was clutching a bloody arm. Sylph lay on the floor, clutching her broken leg. Two more of the magi stood next to her, both with staffs pointed in her direction. The source of the voice, another mage, stood in the centre of the room. He was heavily built, a tailor-made suit stretched taut over muscle. The Weave radiated from him in waves.

‘Lower your weapon, Seb,’ the mage said.

‘Tell me who you are, then I might listen.’

The mage raised an eyebrow. ‘I don’t think you’re in a position to make demands. Do you?’ The mage took a step forward. ‘Now, put your weapons down or we will take them by force, to hell with the consequences.’

Seb glanced across the room. Sylph was out of the fight. Cade gave a quick dip of the head. No point in dying a fool today. Seb lowered the staff. The prone mage stood quickly and edged away, holding a hand over his stomach.

‘Good, now perhaps we can start again, on a slightly better footing.’

‘You attacked us!’ Cade growled.

‘Really? My recollection is hazy, perhaps I imagined the woman trying to impale one of my magi?’

‘Drop it, Cade. We can’t win this one.’

The mage smiled and nodded. ‘Wise choice,’ he said. ‘Heal the girl. Let us go somewhere less…redolent.’

***

Ten minutes later found them sat in what was left of the old dining hall. Many of the tables had been flipped over or destroyed by rampaging sheol. A mage levitated one that hadn’t been totally ruined. He rotated it in mid-air then lowered it to the ground. The three sat down, Sylph rubbing her healing leg. The lead mage sat with them, the others maintaining a perimeter at the edges of the hall.

‘So, you going to tell us who you are?’ Seb asked.

The mage laughed. ‘You can tell you’ve been training with Cian.’

‘You’re from the Families, aren’t you?’

‘The name is Barach, of the Family known as the First. This,’ he motioned to the magi at the perimeter of the room, ‘is
my
coterie. You are Seb, bearer of the message that destroyed the Magistry and also breaker of the Spoke Stone.’

Seb’s face flushed. ‘How do you know all this? None of the Families even knew about the message.’

‘No, we did not, although that was purely down to the ignorance of your Magister.’