Message Bearer (The Auran Chronicles Book 1) (17 page)

‘Come
on. Get your arse out of bed,’ Caleb said, kicking the side of the mattress.

Seb woke with a start. A jolt of
sense
hit him straight away, a random connection to the Weave that announced Caleb’s
presence without him needing to open his eyes. The sensation vanished as
quickly as it appeared, and Seb let out a drawn out sigh.

‘What’s happening? We’ve got no deliveries
today.’

‘I know. That’s why we’re making the most
of it. We’re going to try to get you out of this grump you’ve been in for the
past few weeks.’

‘What? Who told you that?’ He sighed. ‘Cade.’

‘He didn’t need to say anything. It’s
written all over you.’

Seb swung his legs out of bed. What now?
He didn’t need this. He’d tried his bollocks off trying to work with the Weave,
but the harder he tried the worse it got. He hadn’t even made a connection in a
week. Caleb had been fine about it but he could see the frustration in the old
man’s face.

He was a failure. Everyone knew it.

‘You are not a failure.’

‘I thought it was considered rude to read
someone’s mind.’

‘You might as well have put it in neon
lights and stuck it to the walls the way you’re carrying on.’

Caleb pulled a stool up as Seb rummaged
through his trunk for the least unclean clothes.

‘It’s not your fault you know.’

‘No?’ Seb said. He couldn’t find the smock
he was looking for, the one that itched the least. He slammed the trunk shut
and kicked it against the wall. The heavy container hit the stone with a dull
thunk.

‘At least your lessons with Cade are
paying off.’

Seb chucked on the top from yesterday. ‘Yeah
they are. It’s easy with the combat stuff. It’s just practice. Training. I know
if I work at the routines that I’ll get better, it’ll just take time. With the
Weave though…’ He slumped on the bed. ‘…I don’t know. I just don’t get it.’

‘You think too much. Has anyone ever told
you that?’

Seb laughed. ‘No. The opposite.’

‘You read those books, thinking that the
more you know, the easier it’ll be, but in fact it’s the opposite. You’re
trying to do this without context. The Weave is hard enough to learn anyway,
but with your rational brain trying to fight against it you’re on a hiding to
nothing.’

‘Great pep talk, Caleb. What’re you
saying? I can’t do it?’

‘No, of course I’m not. Although I do
think you need a bit of help, just to get you going.’

‘What? How?’

‘Get dressed. Not that shirt. Look smart.’

‘Where are we going?’

‘To see the Magister.’

***

The massive double doors that led down to
Skelwith’s inner sanctum loomed at the end of a wide corridor that trailed away
from the reception hall. Seb stood before them, Caleb by his side, Seb’s eyes
like plates as they took in their vastness.

‘Close your mouth, Seb. I don’t want to have
to get a mop out.’

‘Sorry.’

Seb stepped forwards. The doors, some kind
of ancient wood, black in colour, were covered in hundreds if not thousands of
runes. Their exact nature eluded him, but they were some kind of defensive
wards, that he was sure of.

‘This is Runic Script?’

‘Correct. The Script on these doors is
hundreds of years old. Nothing, bar the inner most circle, can open them.’

‘What’s in here?’

‘It’s easier to show you.’

Caleb nodded at one of the silent magi who
stood either side of the door. The hooded man nodded back in response. His head
dipped. Seb sensed a slight crackle in the Weave. The door opened a moment
later, creaking inwards as if pulled by unseen hands.

‘Come on. Let’s not keep the Magister
waiting,’ Caleb said.

The door opened out into a wide stairway
made of a polished marble. Strange lanterns hung on the wall on both sides,
illuminating the stairway with a soothing violet light. Caleb strode on, Seb
followed.

Unlike the rest of the mansion with its
tired decor, the passageway that descended into the Magister’s sanctum still existed
in all its former glory. Massive oil paintings depicting scenes that defied the
imagination covered the walls all the way down. Was that the Crossing? Is that
one Danu? Or is it Balor? Surely that one must be Temperos. The wonders
continued as the stairs levelled out into a wide open area. The room extended
on into the distance, a path of gold brick guiding the way between a series of
marble pillars that burned atop with a purple flame.

‘This is amazing.’

Caleb nodded. ‘It is indeed. Soak it in
Seb. Not many acolytes – hell – not many magi full stop get to come here. In
this place is the source of Skelwith’s power.’

‘I don’t follow,’ Seb said. He stopped in
front of two huge stone knights that stood before another double door. The
Weave crackled off them in random spurts, as if someone was turning a radio in
and out of tune. ‘These are sentinels, correct?’

‘The last line of defence. In times of trial
the sentinels can be called upon to defend Skelwith.’ Caleb stopped beside him.
‘What don’t you follow?’

‘The source of Skelwith’s power. You said
it’s up ahead.’

‘That’s right.’

‘I thought the Weave is the source of a mage’s
power?’

‘It is. But this place is,
special
.’

‘How so?’

‘Come inside. It will be easier to show
you.’

As they approached the doors a sound came
from somewhere. A clunk of something heavy, followed by the whir and click of
moving parts. The door opened inwards, groaning as if in protest.

Beyond loomed another large room. It was
angular in structure, plain stone walls glued together at regular angles. This
chamber lacked the opulence of the previous corridor, and all focus was drawn
towards the simple structure in the middle. A marble podium took pride of
place, and mounted atop it, wrapped in curling swirls of bronze, was the largest
gem stone Seb had ever seen.

‘What is that?’ Seb said, wincing as his
voice echoed back, amplified by an unseen force.

‘The Spoke Stone, young mage.’

The Magister emerged from the gloom,
drifting towards them like a ghost. Caleb bowed a head. Seb followed a second
later.

‘Magister. It is an honour,’Caleb said.

‘You owe this to Silas, Caleb. It was our
noble brother’s idea that we try this approach.’

Seb frowned. Silas? What did he know about
the Weave? He kept his head low, eyes on the ground. A question for Cade stored
away for later.

‘Regardless of the source, I am grateful
for your assistance.’

‘Quite. Well between you there doesn’t
seem to be much progress being made, so perhaps it is right we try something
more
unorthodox
.’

If Caleb felt aggrieved by the subtle barb
he didn’t show it. Perhaps it was just the Magister’s way of talking? He had no
idea, but it made sense to follow suit. The Magister was not one to be trifled
with.

‘Well, then, Seb. I hear you have been
struggling to learn the basics of Weave mastery?’

The Magister’s eyes bore into him, it took
all his willpower to hold her gaze.

‘Speak, boy!’ Caleb hissed.

‘Yes, Magister. It started well but just
petered out.’

‘Indeed. No doubt a side effect of your
prolonged exposure to the Consensus.’

The silence hung in the air for a moment.
A quiet buzzing filled his mind, whether it was from the Magister or the stone
he couldn’t tell. Abruptly the sensation vanished. The Magister nodded to
herself.

‘Well then. Let us not tarry. Come, sit
here.’ The Magister motioned towards a series of plain mats that surrounded the
Spoke Stone like petals around a flower. Seb obeyed, dropping to a kneeling
position facing the Stone. Caleb sat next to him.

‘You will have heard of the apostate,
Marek?’

‘I have, Magister.’

‘Good. I would not normally have agreed to
Weave-walk this early in one’s training, but we believe that the increase in
sheol activity is due to the apostate and whatever his overall aim is. We have
reasonable intelligence to support the assumption that whatever Sarah took, she
did so to prevent it falling into Marek’s hands.

‘Now, he does not know that the secret he
sought survived Sarah’s death and lives in you, which is fortunate. However his
failure has made him increasingly desperate. He seeks
something
, and we
must find out what it is.’

‘You think what I have in my head is tied
to the sheol activity?’

‘I am growing increasingly certain of it.
We know that Sarah took something that he wanted. It was blind luck that she
found you when she did, allowing her to pass on what she’d uncovered.’

‘I wish I knew what it was.’

‘We will find out. In time. You just need
a helping hand to get there.’

The Magister adopted a meditating
position. Her hands dropped, resting on her knees, palms facing upwards.

‘Join me, Seb. I will assist you in
connecting to the Weave. The proximity to the Stone will provide you the boost
that is required to connect.’

Seb glanced at Caleb. The old man nodded.
Seb adopted the position he’d done so many times before, the one which
previously had been a source of excitement, only to become one of frustration
in recent weeks. He closed his eyes and sucked in a deep breath.

The connection came instantly.  Amplified
by the Spoke Stone his
sense
exploded to life, the auras of the Magister
and Caleb appearing as infernos of blue fire in the darkness.

‘We are going on a journey Seb. This is
called a Weave-walk, a journey undertaken by your astral self. The walk will
take us into the River, the Weave in its natural form. Do you understand?’

‘I think so,’ he said. His voice came to
him from far away, as if spoken by someone else.

‘The journey will not be long, merely minutes.
But it will expose you directly to the Weave. Much more so than the methods you
have been using previously. If successful, it will overcome the barriers you
currently face, allowing you to proceed with your training.’

‘Is it dangerous?’

‘I will not lie. Acolytes undertake a
single Weave-walk when they are completing their final Novo trials. It is only
then that they have the sufficient skills and knowledge to avoid being absorbed
into the Weave, and even then they are escorted by two elites in the process.

A sick feeling hit his stomach. ‘That can
happen? I can be absorbed into the Weave?’

‘We are all Weave-stuff, Seb. Ultimately
that’s where we all return. But yet, if one isn’t sufficiently prepared then their
pattern, their
soul
, can be simply absorbed into the Weave, their body
being left behind. An empty shell.’

‘That doesn’t sound too great.’

‘I will be with you at all times. Just
follow my instructions and all will be well. Now, are you ready?’

Seb nodded. It dawned on him that the
Magister couldn’t see the action. ‘Yes, Magister.’

‘As I said, the stone before you is what
is known as a Spoke Stone. It is attuned to the currents and eddies of the
Great River. It acts as a focal point for the Weave, allowing us to draw much
greater energies from it.’

‘Like the foci stone?’

‘Excellent. Exactly like that. This stone
is one of several of this type. There are several all over the world, all held
and protected by the different mage families. They are interconnected – each
spoke part of an overall hub. Together they harness the power of the Consensus,
and all connect to the Nexus, the focal point of all mage energy on this realm.’

‘I’ve never heard this before.’

‘You won’t have. This came after the
crossing. The first magi took fragments from the Forge, the only parts of the Weave
that exist in physical form. The fragments, the Spoke Stones, acted as
insurance to prevent the magi being disconnected from the Weave forever.’

Seb frowned. ‘I thought that was why Danu
insisted on the creation of the Consensus? So that the Weave couldn’t be
corrupted and misused?’

The tone in the Magister’s voice shifted. ‘That
is correct. To a point. However this did not mean he would send his flock to
this alien realm with no means of survival. What is a mage without the Weave?’

‘A human?’

‘Nothing. They are nothing, Seb. They had
to survive on this realm. Who knew what horrors lurked here, or if the sheol
would ever return. The Spoke Stones serve as that anchor. They unite the magi here
together, and ensure that we retain control of the Weave.’

Seb didn’t say anything, but the words
didn’t sit well. Wasn’t part of Danu’s covenant to ensure that the Weave couldn’t
be misused again? That another Shard War could not occur? Who was he though to
challenge what went before? He wasn’t there. He hadn’t been through what they
had.