Message Bearer (The Auran Chronicles Book 1) (19 page)

‘A training dummy held
together by magic? This is not like the one you train with outside?’

Cian’s eyes flickered for
a second.

‘We need our version to
be more resistant,’ he said after a pause, ignoring Seb’s interruption. ‘Our
methods are more
damaging
than those seen in the martial arts of the
Unaware.’

Seb looked the wooden man
up and down. It didn’t look much. A gust of wind would take it out in an
instant.

‘You doubt its use?’ Cian
said.

‘It just looks a little –
flimsy.’

Cian swung the back of
his hand towards the dummy, the air crackling with unseen energy. He connected,
the dummy exploded, sending shards of broken wood clattering to the floor.

‘Whoa!’ Seb said. He bent
down to pick up a sliver of wood that landed at his feet. ‘I hope you’ve got
plenty more where that came from.’

‘No need. Observe.’

Cian didn’t move his
hands this time. The energy crackled in the air yet again. The wooden fragment
in his hand began to tug as if being pulled by an unseen force. He let it go.
The shard floated in the air, drifting back to where the dummy had stood
moments earlier. The shard was joined by the rest of the debris, the wooden
fragments reforming back into a humanoid shape. The air around the dummy shimmered.
The cracks vanished, leaving it whole again.

‘Ah.’ Seb said.

‘You get it now?’

‘No matter how hard you
hit it, it just gets back up?’

‘Exactly. Now, to the
lesson at hand. Avatari. The Self. At its most basic level it involves
channelling the Weave into your second most important asset. Your vessel. With
it you will increase your speed, strength and senses.’

‘I thought Sentio did
that. The senses, I mean.’

‘Sentio is your
Weave-sense. It is basically your ability to connect to the Weave and intuit
everything else connected to it. Avatari is your physical senses such as
hearing and sight.’

‘Got it.’

‘Good. Now come forwards.’

Seb stepped over to Cian.
The wooden man hovered right before him. He resisted the urge to pass his hands
through the gaps between components as if he would find some hidden string.

‘Hit it.’

‘What?’

‘Am I speaking a foreign
language? Hit it, Seb.’

Seb took up a fighting stance,
muscle memory kicking in from months of training with Cade. He took in a deep
breath. As he exhaled he struck out with a snap punch. He hit the dummy’s head
with a dull thunk.

‘Shit!’ His fist burned.
He held it between his legs as he hopped round the room.

‘Good effort.’

‘Good effort? What the
hell does that prove? I think I’ve just broken my knuckles.’

‘You and I both know that’s
not true. I was just re-enforcing the point. You can testify that this is not
simply cardboard. That is a firm, solid structure?’

Seb looked at the back of
his hands where his knuckles blazed an angry red.

‘Yeah. I think I can
testify to that.’

‘Good. Now. Are you
connected?’

Seb closed his eyes. The
hum was there, an almost imperceptible sensation, like a radio being plugged in
and turned on but the volume turned down to zero.

‘I am.’

‘Very well. Open your
eyes. This may hurt a little.’

Cian weaved his right
hand through the air. A trail of white light followed this forefinger. He
stepped back a moment later, the completed image hovering in the air between
them.

‘What is that?’

‘Runic Script.’

‘I know that. I just don’t
recognise it.’

‘You won’t find it in
Fundamentals
.
This, and certain others for the other schools, are held from the acolyte until
they are ready. These are the building blocks from which the other patterns can
be built from.’

An image came to mind.
The Tower. The stone platform. A door opening. Someone talking to him. A finger
touching his chest. The world exploding in white light.

‘Problem?’ Cian said.

‘This didn’t happen with
Sentio. I don’t remember ever receiving a first Script for that?’

‘You did. Via the foci.
You couldn’t read Runic then. Your mind wasn’t able to comprehend its meaning.
Now you are different. You can see it in its true form. Now, brace yourself.’

‘Wait -’

The hovering rune began
to glow, the light expanding. Then he realised it wasn’t expanding. It was
moving towards him. He tried to close his eyes but couldn’t. He was held,
immobile, as the pattern encompassed his entire view. From somewhere, something
rumbled, then the rune exploded, and burned itself into his mind.

‘Are you okay?’ Cian
said.

Seb blinked. He could
still see the pattern in the air, like when someone stares at the sun for too
long before looking away. It faded with each passing second, becoming a handful
of incoherent blobs that finally vanished completely.

Did he feel okay? There
was no pain. None at all. But something was different. The Weave connection was
there, that ever present hum, but it had a different tone to it, as if it were
sat there, ready to be activated in some way.

‘Something’s different.’

‘It’s normal to feel that
way. Your mind has just been awoken to further possibilities with the Weave.
Already new neurons are forming as a result, the pattern embedding itself
within you, readying you for what comes next.’

‘What comes next?’

Cian stepped back. He
nodded to the dummy. ‘Hit it.’

‘How did I know you were
going to say that?’

‘Hit it again. Only this
time, draw upon what you have just learned.’

‘How do I do that?’

‘Channel. Call up your
patterns. You will see.’

Right.
Call up your
patterns
. Easy enough. He closed his eyes and accessed the store where all
the memorised patterns went. They came easily, a catalogue of runes available on
demand. He could tell straight away that the library had been expanded
massively. A whole new area was there, listed under an image of the rune he had
just absorbed. These runes were different though. They weren’t callable, they
were just
there
.

‘I can see them, but I
can’t call them,’ he said, his eyes remaining closed.

‘Indeed. These are known
as passive effects. They are always on, so to speak, as long as you are
connected. Just remember they are bound by the same rules as everything else.
Beware the Consensus, and don’t burn yourself out.’

‘Understood,’ he said.
I
think
.

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.’

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 and 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.’