Message Bearer (The Auran Chronicles Book 1) (26 page)

‘That why you can’t just
make a building disappear, or turn a man into a pig?’ Cade said.

‘Exactly. As time moved
on, and science with it, the ability of the magi to affect their will on
reality diminished. All that remains are the skills we’ve evolved now. These
work with subterfuge, without going against the collective will of the unaware.’

A thought occurred to
Seb. ‘So that means there’s no such thing as the unaware? Not really, anyway.’

Cian’s finger stopped in
its zigzag trail down the parchment. ‘What?’

‘Well, they might not
know it, but everyone has a say in it. It is by their will that reality is
formed, so if they all decided to say, turn someone into a pig, they could do
it?’

Cian thought on that for
a moment. Then, something rare happened.

He smiled.

‘Yes, I suppose that’s
right.’

‘Can we cut the
philosophy and get back to reality. Do your shit mage, then we can get out of
here.’ Reuben said.

‘What’s wrong, Reuben?
Something scaring you?’ Cian replied.

‘Nothing scares me, mage.
I just want this madness over with so we can get back to the real world.’

Reuben shuffled on his
feet, his eyes darting left and right. He checked and rechecked his weapon.
Cian was right, the Second Sword was acting odd. The rest of the Brotherhood
didn’t seem to share his concern though, if anything they seemed disinterested
about the whole thing.

‘Then let me work,
fiendling, and we can be done with this place quicker.’

‘What will you do?’ Seb
said.

‘I must commune with the
First. Their souls may have drifted far from their bodies so I will need to Weave-walk
to find them.’

‘What? You mean they’re
still alive?’

‘Of a form. Their bodies
are gone, their minds no longer coherent, but they still persist. That is how
they maintain the restrictions on reality. Magi, come here, I will need your
help in this.’

Seb did a double take. ‘Me?’

‘You are an acolyte, yes.
However you are still a user of the Weave. Your powers will aid and supplement
our own.’

Seb shrugged the doubts
from his mind and stepped forwards. What was he meant to do? Focus, he told
himself, focus. He followed Mik and Don’s cue and sat in the ring near Cian. He
closed his eyes and entered a light trance.

The link between them
formed instantly. At once he received the combined benefits of the magis’
sphere of awareness, and it also became depressingly clear how much he had to
learn. His own powers didn’t even register, the magis’ covering the entire
chamber and beyond.

‘Now, focus, gently. We
just need a prod, nothing more.’

Seb opened the tap, just
an inch. The energy trickled into his mind, extending to his limbs. He directed
it inwards, towards the focal point that Cian had indicated.

‘Release your spirits
now, we must travel.’ Cian’s voice echoed across the link.

Seb let go, the initial
tug that he’d felt in his last, and only Weave-walk with the Magister barely noticeable
this time. Whether it was from his own growing expertise or the combined will
of the stronger magi he did not know, all he did know was that he was free
almost instantly, his body kneeling below him.

Floating free, the
silvery fire flickered around the dark silhouettes of the brothers, their
half-daemon nature emphasising them more against the background. The magis
glowed, purest blue, their bodies natural conduits for the Weave. But the statues
of the First, they were something else entirely.

If their stone forms were
the result of years of decay, of the might of time against their physical
bodies, their spirit-forms glowed like they were forged from the Weave itself.
They stood, unmoving, in their former splendour. They all shared the same
common stance as they did in the physical world, with their heads bowed, hands
grasping their staffs. Their eyes glowed. Fiery orbs, millennia old.

‘They don’t seem to be particularly
lacking in power,’ Don said, his spirit-form stepping right through his own
body to stop in front of a figure that Seb had seen many times in the old
tomes. Woden, leader of the First.

‘Their forms may still be
here, but their essence is adrift,’ Cian replied. ‘I can feel them, even from
here.’

‘Like the lights are on
but no one’s home?’ Seb said.

‘Something like that.’

Cian took up position in
front of Woden. He turned back to the others. ‘Ready?’

They murmured an
affirmative together.

Before Seb could even
contemplate what was coming, the world as he knew it vanished, and he found
himself adrift in an endless sky of varying shades of pink. Patches of other
colours blotted the sky-scape, and intermittent bolts of red lightning scored
the panorama, a shuddering thunder echoing across the vast distance.

Stay together. If you get
set adrift then your pattern will be lost. It’s not a temporary arrangement.
Cian
pulsed.

Seb kept close to Cian.
At first he drifted in sharp movements, shooting past to the right,
overcompensating, then rocketing past to the left. His heart rattled, the panic
at being lost forever in the Weave nibbling at his mind.

Easy lad, don’t think
about it, just will yourself,
Cian’s voice came
quietly, a soothing tone that dampened the panic a small degree.

Seb took a virtual
breath, not bothering to ponder if there was such a thing in this world between
worlds. He let go of direct control, instead just focussing his attention on
Cian’s form, the glowing avatar just ahead of him. His confidence grew when his
pendulum-like swings lessened, his movements smoother. He drew nearer to the
other magi, the action growing easier by the moment, as if he was awakening a
long suppressed muscle memory.

A tiny island, barely a rock,
floated out of the distant haze. It brought back a memory of another journey he
took, but his mind couldn’t focus enough to form it. He shook it away, looking
ahead.

A figure was sat on the
rock, dressed in the garb of an elite, a hood pulled over their head. Seb
followed the others down there, his confidence growing now. He soared above and
below his comrades, relishing the freedom that flight gave him. He made a
mental note to check the tomes about the feasibility of doing it when they got
back to their own world.

They alighted onto the rock,
the stone strangely warm underfoot. Seb kept to the rear as Cian approached the
kneeling figure.

‘My lord,’ Cian said, dropping
to one knee in front of the figure.

‘Who’s that?’ Seb hissed
to Mik.

‘Woden, or at least, part
of him.’

‘No shit?’

‘Erm, yes, shit,’ Mik
replied, confused.

‘I can hear you, but I
cannot see.’ The voice drifted out from under the hood like a breeze.

‘My lord, my name is
Cian, Battlemaster of the Magistry. We come seeking counsel.’

‘Cian? Cian? What an
unusual name. What is that, Hardrish? Baloran?’ the voice sang, almost melodic.

‘No, my lord,’ Cian said,
a hint of frustration creeping into his voice. ‘It’s Celtic. We’re on Earth.’

‘Ah, the realm of Light.
Our sanctuary. I would so love to have seen that come to fruition.’

Seb exchanged a glance
with Mik, the look returned didn’t instil any confidence. The mage shrugged and
raised his eyebrows.

‘Woden, my lord,’ Cian
continued, his head rising now. ‘Earth exists, you brought us here. You
fulfilled the last wishes of Danu. But now it struggles, the Consensus weakens,
and the sheol probe and squeeze through the cracks.’

‘The sheol? Are they
still such a menace, they are such an inconvenience don’t you think?’

‘An inconvenience?’ The
growl had crept back into Cian’s voice. ‘My lord, Aura was overrun, Earth is
barely holding. How is it that you do not know any of this?’

‘I am sorry,’ Woden
breathed, the words taking an almost sad tone. ‘I do not remember...much...of
anything anymore. I am adrift, floating.’

Cian turned and marched
back to them. Woden didn’t move.

‘This isn’t good,’ he
said. ‘He’s just an essence, barely present. He’s been here too long.’

‘What do you mean?’ Seb
said, not taking his eyes off the hooded figure.

‘I mean that’s the reason
why the Consensus is weakening. If he’s an example of the rest of them, they
are just dispersing out into the Weave. Soon they’ll just be like the rest of
us, fragments of memory and mind.’

‘So that’s it, we’re screwed?’
Don said.

Cian frowned. ‘I don’t
know. I suppose it was inevitable. The Consensus controls the Weave, but it is also
fed by it. It is its lifeblood.’ Cian shook his head, clearing his thoughts, ‘Perhaps,
without the use of the Weave being so prevalent, that the First have simply
lost the taste for it. Like a shark moving onto other waters when the food
dries up.’

Seb moved past the men as
they continued their discussion. He dropped to his knees in front of Woden,
resisting the urge to peer under the hood.

‘My lord, can you hear
me?’ He spoke the words but pulsed it also, directing towards the entity he saw
before him.

‘Who is this, is that
you, Shimmer?’ The voice came, melodic, almost child-like.

‘No, not Shimmer,’ Seb
said, ‘my name is Seb, an acolyte under Cian, we came seeking your help.’

‘Cian, who is he? Do I
know him? It’s an unusual name, is it Baloran?’

This wasn’t getting him anywhere.
This was some kind of astral senility caused by centuries of standing idle. A
thought occurred to him from nowhere. He didn’t think it through, and he sent a
mild mental jab with the Weave.

The resulting force
knocked him to the floor. He shook his head, blinking the shock away as the
hooded figure suddenly stood, a white light burst from under the hood, hurting
his eyes.

‘Vulgarity! Who dares
channel in my presence?’

Seb staggered back, Cian’s
strong grip preventing him from tumbling off the rock and into oblivion. The
figure spun about, arms flaying, words coming out but to Seb they sounded like
nothing but gibberish.

‘What the hell did you
do?’ Cian said.

‘He wasn’t responding.
You said they fed on magic, so I gave him a nibble.’

The bait that animated Woden
was fading already. He stopped, walked a couple of steps, muttering all the
time, before dropping back to his knees in the place where he started. Cian
shot Seb a
don’t move
glance before moving back over.

‘My lord, can you hear
me?’

‘I hear you, my son, who
is this?’

‘I am Cian, my lord, Battlemaster
of the Magistry.’

The figure gave a barely
noticeable nod, ‘Cian, that’s an unusual name, what is it? Hardrish? Baloran?’

Cian cursed and stomped
back. ‘It’s no use, he’s lost. We’re on our own.’

‘Is that it? One setback
and you’re giving up? I had him then, he responded, he just needs -’

‘He needs nothing but
being banished into the void. This is no existence for someone of such
greatness
,’
Cian marched away, avoiding eye contact.

‘So, now what?’ Don said.

‘We go. This is a dead
end.’

At that moment a familiar
voice shouted, carried across the wind, surrounding them.

‘...Cian! Don! Wake up,
we’ve got company!’

Seb roared to consciousness, the
experience like rushing to the surface after spending minutes underwater. His
eyes opened, and he sucked in cold air as the real world appeared around him.

‘What is it?’ He heard
Cian say.

‘Something’s out there,’ Cade
said.

Seb stumbled to his feet
and staggered out of the chamber housing the First. The Brothers were scattered
before him, all bar Reuben and Cade on bended knee, weapons trained on the
darkness around them.

‘What is it? I don’t see
anything.’ Mik took up position next to Cian, his staff rippling with blue
lightning.

‘I thought you lot were
meant to be psychic?’ Reuben hissed. ‘Listen, dammit!’

Seb closed his eyes and
drew in a slow, steady breath. Through ears enhanced by the Weave the sounds
drifted to him. Whispers at first, a faint hiss of movement. Then the hiss
became a gush, like a leak from a pressurised pipe. Yet it wasn’t gas he was hearing.
The hissing became a storm, a roaring wind of razor-teeth and black eyes. With
his heart rattling like a caged bird, Seb opened his eyes.

The sheol.

‘Cian!’

‘I know, boy. We all do.’
Cian raised his staff. A Weave-fire erupted from his skin, his outline a
dazzling azure inferno. ‘Gather yourself, this is going to be testing.’

Seb rummaged for the
rattan sticks. One of them got stuck in its strap. He gave it a yank and it
flew out, clattering on to the floor. He dived for it, grabbing it as it rolled
against Reuben’s foot. The Second Sword gave him a look of sheer contempt
before turning his yellow eyes back to the oncoming threat.

The shadows in the roof
began to shift and morph. From tunnels unseen a mass of creatures poured forth,
racing down the stone vertical pillars. Black eyes glinted in the gloom, the
sheol gibbering and growling as they surged forth.

‘Contact, north pillar!’
Cade said.

‘And the west,’ one of
the other brothers replied.

‘Suppression pattern.
Tight bursts. Don’t fire until you’re sure of a hit.’

Seb fell behind Cian. The
light sticks suddenly felt heavy in his hands, his palms slick with sweat. He
sensed out, the fear making the effort clumsy, fragmented. Countless echoes
fired back at him. Feral minds with only one goal.

‘They’re going to kill
all of us,’ he heard himself whisper.

‘Shut down that fear,
boy. Remember your training.’ Cian said, not looking back at him. ‘Cade, can we
make it to the exit?’

The mass of sheol were on
the ground now. They raced towards the group from two directions. The
Brotherhood had not fired a round yet. They remained poised, weapons ready.
Cade stood, his enhanced vision looking above and over.

‘We need to punch a hole
through. If we move quick we’d only encounter a few.’

Cian nodded. ‘Make it so.
Let me lead. On my signal you give them the P grenades.’

‘Understood.’

‘Stay with me, boy.’

Cian barrelled forwards.
Strengthened limbs propelled him at high speed, his massive frame barely
touching the ground as he sped towards the approaching sheol. The magi, Seb at
the rear, followed behind. The air crackled and shimmered as a field of force was
projected before them. The sheol were only yards away now. They scrabbled and
barrelled into each other, any that stumbled quickly being trampled on by those
that came behind.

‘Now!’ Cian’s voice
rumbled across the chamber.

‘Eyes!’ Cade shouted.

Seb scrunched his eyes
shut. The world became black and panic flared as he raced headlong into certain
death. He heard the
whoompf
as the Brotherhood’s weapons discharged. Beyond
his closed eyelids the world exploded into a searing white. The sheol shrieked,
his nostrils suddenly filled by the scent of scorched flesh. He dared to open
his eyes, the fear of falling too much to ignore. He nearly gagged as he saw
the sea of molten, bubbling sheol flesh that extended before him, their blood
turning the floor black with blood.

The massive arch that led
out of the Nexus loomed ahead. He didn’t think about their chances. It had
taken what felt an age to simply descend the steps into this room. An hour at
least to get back to the exit. They had no hope of outrunning the sheol if they
chose to pursue. He could only hope Cian had a plan.

They swept forward.
Hundreds of sheol had been vaporised in the blast. Many more flailed in agony
on the ground, grasping at scorched stumps that had formerly been limbs. Seb
kept his head down as they ploughed onwards.

They were almost through.
The blast had formed a clear gap through the sheol hordes but already more were
streaming forth, the hole narrowing by the heartbeat. A thin line formed before
them barring their way. Cian pointed his staff, blasting them with an invisible
force, the sheol bouncing away like skittles.

They were through! The
gap failed to close. The sheol yowled and screeched as they reformed but for
now, the exit beckoned. Seb allowed a flicker of hope to spring to life.

Something changed then.
Reality didn’t just groan. It screamed. The magi stopped, exchanging confused
looks.

‘It’s not me!’ Cian said.

‘What the hell?’ Cade
said. The Brothers had fallen in behind the magi, inside their protective
spheres. They aimed their weapons at the horde, but for some reason they too
had stopped, maintaining a perimeter around them.

A sound that made Seb’s
stomach fill with dread made him turn back, towards the exit. He didn’t want to
look. It was as if his mind knew, on some unconscious level, what he was going
to face. Yet he had no choice.

‘Danu be merciful,’ Mik
muttered.

It was as if some
invisible force had ripped the very fabric of reality. A tear appeared in the
air, twenty feet high. The rip moved downwards like an otherworldly zip,
exposing a crack of darkness that filled the air with a ragged diamond shape.
As they watched, dumbfounded, two massive, black-scaled claws emerged from the crack.
They gripped the side of the aperture. A petrifying scream rang out as the
crack widened. A daemonic maw emerged, all teeth and scale. Oval red eyes fixed
on the group, the edges turning upwards in a wicked smile.

‘Cian!’ Seb heard himself
yell.

‘Back. Behind me. To the First!’

‘We can’t. There’s no way
out!’ Don screamed.

‘The Home Stone. Use it.’

The daemon was half way
out now. A heavily muscled leg appeared, ebony claws alighting on the flags.

‘But the sheol!’

Cian whipped his head
round. His eyes blazed blue. Weave-lighting crackled and rippled across his
body. ‘Go dammit! I will hold!’

Mik and Don exchanged
worried glances. The Brotherhood didn’t need a second invite. They turned and
ran. The sheol roared and converged on them. The warriors emptied rounds into
the mass. Silver bullets ripped through daemon flesh like butter. The sheol
fell in their droves, but for every one that died, two more took their place. The
warriors’ weapons clicked empty.  Rune Scripted weapons were unsheathed as the
sheol came upon them.

And hell erupted.

Seb didn’t want to leave
Cian. The giant warrior stood before the daemon that was now fully out of the
portal. It stood to its full height, easily three times Cian’s size. It roared,
the sound sending daggers of fear through Seb, paralysing him in place. A dark
fire burned on the fiend’s skin, and a massive curved blade, wickedly serrated
and adorned in strange silver runes that Seb didn’t recognise, materialised out
of the air inside one of the creature’s hands.

‘Seb! Come on!’ Mik
ducked as a sheol leapt over the mass. He raised a hand and a bolt of fire
surged out of his palm, taking the sheol in the face, incinerating it in mid-air.
A smoking pulp skidded to a halt at his feet.

Seb hurried after him.
Don had burned a hole back the way they’d come. Seb surged on, the Brothers
falling in behind. Cade took up the rear, his twin blades cutting down any
sheol that dared come within range.

‘We need to get back to
the First, we can hold there whilst we summon the portal!’ Don shouted.

Seb dared a look behind.
The horned daemon swung the massive blade at Cian’s head, the speed of the
attack much quicker than its size should allow. Cian ducked, a blur. He struck
forwards, the staff a rod of blue fire as it lanced out towards the fiend’s
jaw. It connected with a flash of light, the fiend staggering backwards in a
daze. Cian didn’t hesitate. He turned and ran, backhanding a sheol that got too
close, sending its head clean from its shoulders. Relieved, Seb turned, and
fell over a sheol that had died at his feet.

The room span. The
fleeing magi vanished, and he was abruptly facing the stalactites that
descended from the cavern. His elbow flared in pain, but he shoved it aside,
flipping onto his front and rising onto one knee. He raised his head, just in
time to see the sheol, one arm missing, the stump pulsing sable blood, as it
staggered towards him. He reached for the rattan sticks that lay near his
outstretched palm but it was too far away. The sheol was upon him. He raised
his arms and braced for the inevitable.

No! Not him!

The feral voice pulsed
across the chamber, rippling the Weave. The sheol skidded to a halt, rubbery
legs flailing on the floor. It scrabbled to its feet and turned away, only to
be obliterated by a blast of blue fire from Cian as he raced past.

‘With me, boy!’

‘What was that?’ Seb
said.

‘No idea. Talk later. For
now, we run.’

Don and the surviving
Brothers had made it to the crypt. Two of the warriors lay dead behind them,
mutilated beyond recognition. It was a relief when he saw Cade, drenched in
blood but alive, slumped against the stone door. Reuben stood by him,
comparatively unscathed. Mik raced just ahead of Cian, nearing the door.
Behind, the ground shook as the giant fiend, flanked by hundreds of the sheol,
cracked the ancient flags as it closed the gap between them.

‘Don, Seb, to me. Lend me
your strength.’ Cian skidded to a halt and turned back. The air in front of the
onrushing sheol shimmered as he erected a wall of force. Seb immediately
channelled
,
lending what reserves he had to the warrior.

‘Mik – the stone, now.’

Seb heard the mage reach
for his backpack. Someone behind him muttered an expletive.

‘Shit. No way.’

‘What?’ Cian hissed. He
stared forwards, teeth gritted.

‘The backpack. I don’t
have it.’

‘What? How the hell?’
Reuben said.

‘I don’t know alright! It
must’ve come off back there.’

‘Where?’

‘By the dais, when that sheol
got in my face.’

The first of the sheol
smashed into the barrier. It flared as circles of energy rippled outwards from
the impact. The first rows of sheol were instantly incinerated. The second row
tried to stop but was forced forwards by the combined weight of those behind.
They fell screaming onto the barrier. The remainder slowed to a stop, howling
and snarling, but not moving. Seb looked across. He’d felt the massive drain on
the shield as the sheol hit. His head pounded. His legs were jelly. God knew
what Cian must be feeling. The giant warrior was on one knee now. Sweat poured
down his face. His body shook. Tendons jutted out of his neck. The shield was
holding, but it wouldn’t survive another onslaught. The magi knew that. It was
a matter of time before the sheol realised.

‘Where the hell is it,
Mik?’

Seb shook the sweat from
his brow. He wiped a blood-stained hand across his eyes. He channelled,
focussing Avatari. The blurred mass of sheol sharpened into a clarity he didn’t
know existed. Through countless legs and arms he peered, the world slowing, his
senses taken to new levels.

It was then that he saw
it. The backpack lay a few feet beyond the sheol. One of the straps peeked out
from under a blackened pile of bones.

There! Under that mass!
He pulsed.

Cian. When I get there.
Focus the shield on me. I only need one second.
Mik
pulsed back to the group.

Mik, wait!

It was too late. Mik
raced off from the group. The sheol shrieked with glee, not quite believing
that someone would just throw themselves at their mercy. A handful of them
forgot the shield even existed and dove forwards, burning to a crisp as they
hit the barrier.

Mik raced towards the
perimeter. His staff swung in circles above his head as he moved, leaving a
trail of blue energy behind him. When he was within feet of the barrier’s edge
he threw the staff, the weapon a spinning circle of death that burned into those
sheol gathered around the backpack. At the same time he pulsed his last words
in this realm.

Now!

Cian narrowed the shield,
extending it at the point where Mik dived out of its protection. Seb felt the
Weave crackle as the perimeter burned those caught in its new structure. Mik
dove for the backpack. He shoved one hand inside and whipped out the glowing
emerald gem.