Consensus Breaking (The Auran Chronicles Book 2) (25 page)

Caleb was already up by the time Seb finally returned to the Drain’s living area. Strangely, the old man had managed to drape some old blankets over the rubble, and balance half-shattered wooden cabinets against what walls remained. Candles burned in various alcoves.

All in all, it made for quite a cosy scene.

‘Ah, it lives,’ Caleb said. He rose from the table where he’d left a pile of assorted documents strewn in a pile and went to the kettle. He poured a mugful of coffee and held it out for Seb, who took it gratefully.

‘Thanks,’ he said, sitting at the table and casually looking at the documents. None of them seemed familiar. He took a sip, the strong coffee sending a jolt of wakefulness through his system.

‘Good?’

‘We have Novo. We have Avatari. But nothing beats the power of a strong coffee in the morning.’

‘Amen to that,’ Caleb said. ‘How’s the arm?’

Seb flexed the muscle. It still ached, but only a little. The pinkness had faded also.

‘Almost as good as new,’ he said.

‘Looking a lot better,’ Caleb said, hobbling over to the table.

Something about the old man didn’t ring right. He kept looking at Seb’s arm, an almost disbelieving look on his face.

‘What’s the matter, Caleb?’

Caleb sat, letting out a long sigh. ‘I couldn’t heal that wound. Nothing I know could’ve healed that wound. The black algae bought you some time, but your own Avatari destroyed whatever toxin had made it into your system.’ Caleb let the sentence hang in the air, as if there was a follow-on question he’d decided not to ask.

‘What is it, Caleb?’

‘What is it? You survived
that
, and you ask me what the problem is?’

‘I don’t understand. What’s your problem?’

Caleb shoved a document under Seb’s nose. Seb couldn’t understand the text written upon it. Certainly it was nothing he’d read previously. But he recognised the thing in the hand-scrawled picture in the centre of the writing straight away. For he’d seen it before.

When it broke his ankle and nearly melted his arm.

‘This. This is the thing that I fought.’

‘I know it is.
Now
.’

‘So?’

‘You know what that is? You know
who
that is?’

‘Caleb, don’t go cryptic on me and just spit it out. It’s some kind of sheol obviously.’

‘Saying
this
is some kind of sheol is like describing Cian as some kind of human.’ Caleb pressed one finger down on the document. ‘This, Seb, is one of the balsheol. Powerful magi, ancient, taken by Nazgath. He captured their souls and corrupted them. Now they serve him, and are rumoured to be amongst his most powerful servants.’

‘Rumoured to be?’

‘No one living has ever seen one. They were thought destroyed or banished. The document there tells of powerful creatures, almost immune to magic, capable of destroying armies as if they were nothing more than an afterthought.’

Seb nodded, flexing his arm. ‘Seems about right. He was more powerful than anything I’ve seen before.’

Caleb shook his head, a disbelieving grin on his face. ‘The master of the understatement speaks again.’

‘How so?’

‘Seb. These things are living nightmares. They have powers beyond even Novo that we can’t claim to understand. Touching one, like you did, results in instant disintegration for the unprepared, and I’ve heard of archmagi that could only survive hours after being wounded.’

‘I’m guessing luck doesn’t come into it?’ Seb said, suddenly feeling very self-conscious.

‘You should know by now there is no such thing as luck in this world, Seb. What happened to you.
This
. By all accounts you should be dead. You should’ve been dead long ago. What is it that’s different about you?’

An image came to mind unbidden. The ruined tower. The parathi warrior.

Brother.

‘What is it?’ Caleb said, picking up on the sudden distraction.

‘What?’

‘I may not have Sentio, but I can tell when you’re hiding something. Spit it out, Seb. This is no time to be coy.’

For a minute a flicker of doubt flashed across Seb’s mind. Was it really Caleb? Or was this simply another ruse? Another sheol ploy to make him spill some hidden knowledge? Caleb seemed sincere. He didn’t have any kind of power now, none that Seb could detect. What threat could he actually pose? There was no sign of nervousness, or that strange intensity that had filled him when he’d been possessed. In the end, the desire to simply tell all won out over any remaining reservations. He’d carried this for too long and had pondered it for many hours without getting anywhere.

So he told Caleb everything. He told him of the tower that he’d first encountered on his astral walk. He spoke of the Parathi, the one who had addressed him as
brother
. He told him of the sea of sheol that marched across a land far away. Marching towards Earth. Of the voice, the one who spoke to him at times of crisis. It took perhaps thirty minutes but as he spoke the last words he felt like no time had passed at all. Caleb simply stared back at him, unblinking.

‘Well?’ Seb said, when the pause became too much.

‘I’m stunned, Seb. I really don’t know what to say.’

‘You can start by telling me you can make sense of what I’ve been experiencing?’

Caleb frowned, his eyes narrowing to slits. His lips pursed as he raised a gnarled hand. ‘The Parathi. The name rings a bell, but without Avatari my memory is screwed.’

‘The library?’ Seb offered.

‘We can look. But the wards are broken there. You would be unprotected from the sheol.’

‘It’s worth it. They’re only ferals after all.’ Seb jumped from the table, a renewed sense of purpose pushing him forwards.

‘Okay, okay.’ Caleb rose and shuffled over to his rucksack. He produced a cloth sack wrapped in leather straps. He handed it to Seb.

‘What’s this?’ Seb weighed it in his hands.

‘I found it in the ruins. How the Families failed to detect it, I have no idea.  But one thing I’m sure of is that he would’ve wanted you to have it.

Seb placed the sack on the table and began untying the straps. ‘Who would’ve --’

The words died in his throat as he pulled the cloth away. Revealing a shortened mage’s staff, covered in various runes. As the cloth fell to one side, the staff seemed to shimmer, before growing to full size on the table. A ripple of purple electricity rippled up its length.

‘Is this what I think it is?’ Seb whispered.

‘Cian’s staff. It is indeed. There is no other like it.’

Seb picked it up. Despite its obvious power it felt amazingly light in weight. He twirled it round with both hands.

‘Doesn’t this belong somewhere? Some kind of vault for powerful magic items?’

Caleb scoffed. ‘You think Cian would’ve wanted that? A staff is a weapon, Seb. A mage’s weapon. One, especially one of such pedigree, does not belong in a museum.’

‘It feels so light.’ Seb placed it back into the cloth sack, the weapon shrinking to fit inside. ‘That’s amazing.’

‘It is bound to you now. It binds to the last mage that wielded it.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘Call it.’

‘What?’

‘Trust me.
Sense
it. Call it.’

‘Okaaaaay.’

Seb
sensed
out towards the weapon. It had its own aura that rippled back instantly. Without knowing how, he just knew what Caleb meant. He raised his hand.

The staff materialised in his hand.

‘Wow.’

‘Exactly.’

‘I don’t know what to say.’

‘Don’t say anything. Just do Cian proud, okay?’

‘I’ll do my best.’

Seb took the weapon and strapped it into his pants. He jogged to the stairwell and looked up into the darkness. ‘So what is it I’m looking for, exactly?’

‘There’s one book I can think of. It was in the protected section, not one you could borrow. Its English name is Origin: Before the Forge.’ Caleb scratched his beard, his eyes going up and to the left. ‘At least I think it is.’

‘It’s a start. Thanks, Caleb!’

‘Just be back before sunset, the sheol get braver then.’

‘Understood.’

It was a strange mix of emotions that Seb felt as he emerged from the Drain. Even though Skelwith was in ruins, the core structure still remained. Alongside piles of rubble and rotten wood glimpses of the old mansion came through. A painting here, ripped and torn but just about discernible, some old ornaments there. All reminders of what Skelwith used to be.

But as he crept through the corridor that followed the exterior of the mansion, it wasn’t the material items that got to him. It was the memories he’d forged in this place. Before Marek. Before the betrayal. It seemed before his encounter with Sarah, before he nearly died in that church, his life before was a meandering mess of places and journeys. He’d never made friends. He’d never made firm roots either. Sure, he could get on with people, he’d always had that ability, but he never felt close. Not really.

Not until the Magistry. Okay, a
select
number of the Magistry. Caleb. Cade. Even Cian. Now Sylph. It was only when he got drawn into this world did he finally feel that he’d found somewhere he could belong.

Until Marek had taken it all away.

He reached the end of the corridor and
sensed
. Nothing came back. The sheol, if they were active, were too far away at the moment to be a concern. With the sun up they wouldn’t risk coming unless they had to. He just hoped it stayed that way.

Seb moved across the damp carpet inside the main reception hall. He lingered for a moment at the wide passageway that had once led to the Magister’s inner sanctum. It’d been there where he’d smashed the Spoke Stone that broke the Consensus forever, awakening the sentinels that had saved the magi from almost complete annihilation.

Now though the passageway lay blocked, filled with rubble. The Sentinels were dormant once again. Their power remained, that much Seb could feel, but they slept again, perhaps knowing that there was nothing left to defend.

Moving on, Seb found the double door that led into the library. The door lay in fragments on the floor now, covered in moss and darkened by water. The frame was split, with lethal edges pointed inward for the unwary entrant. He edged in sideways, the stake-like points only inches from his face.

The library was in ruins. At least it seemed so at first glance. Most of the tall shelves had either fallen during the initial attack or had rotted and simply collapsed since then. Ruined books and soiled parchment lay strewn across the wooden floor, creating a treacherous surface to navigate. The roof had largely caved in, exposing grey clouds that scudded across at speed. The lectern still remained, the last book read still there, open, strangely undamaged.  Blocks of masonry, some showing the intricate artwork that had been carved into the ceiling, lay scattered amongst the ruins.

Where to start? Seb almost gave up there and then. He knew where the book would be - roughly - but the odds of it being found intact, amongst all this? Slim was being too optimistic. But if recent experience had told him anything, it wasn’t over until there was no life left in your veins. If he could survive that
thing
that nearly ripped off his arm, he could sure as hell survive trawling through a near-destroyed library for a book that was no doubt ruined.

He stepped past the lectern and made his way to the back of the library, where the protected tomes had once stood.

For a brief moment he’d hoped that perhaps some kind of protection had remained in this area, that the magi would have some kind of lingering effect that would’ve protected them from damage. But as he ducked under the arch that led to the book’s alleged home, his hopes were quickly dashed.

Destroyed.

The whole thing had been wiped out. The floor was covered with a thick layer of ancient stone that had cracked into smaller pieces. The wind was stronger here too, with a much stronger chill in the air. As Seb moved further inside he saw the massive gaping hole in the side of the building that opened out on the hillside, where, strangely, even more rubble lay, several yards from the mansion.

Then it hit him. A memory came. The battle for Skelwith. Marek had launched some kind of projectile at them that destroyed the roof. Thanks to Seb’s warning Cade and the other brothers had only just survived after leaping onto the grass below. The rubble had followed them down, and they’d only just made it out of the way in time. The side of the building had been ripped out when Farouk, Marek’s daemon soldier, had burst through the brick like it was nothing more than paper.

Seb shivered, but not from the cold. How the hell had anyone survived that day?

He crept further inside. The sheol were still nowhere to be seen but that didn’t stop a strange sense of dread from itching its way into his gut. His
sense
revealed nothing, but the feeling still persisted.

Seb squatted and half-heartedly moved some of the rocks out of the way. All of the books he found were beyond use. Even those that had remained intact had been washed through by rainwater, the ancient texts corrupted beyond reading.

Moving towards the perimeter of the room, where the bookcases had fallen backwards against the walls, he didn’t fare any better. Instead of the elements it was fire that had done its work here. The wood was largely black and charred, with nothing remaining of the books but shrivelled fragments of paper and vellum.

He had largely given up and was turning back towards the door when he caught sight of something in the bookcase in the far corner. This one had fared no better than the others - burned beyond use - but it was the second shelf down that drew him in. He stepped closer.

Odd.

The books were all there, still in place, but obviously ruined by water. But in the middle of them, obvious by its very size and shape, was a large book-sized gap in the middle.

What were the odds?

He ran his finger across the spines. Most he couldn’t read, but on a few the title was just about visible, including the book before the space and the book after.

Origins - After Temperos.

And after the space -

Origins - Finding the Weave.

His skin broke out in gooseflesh.

Where the hole was for
Origin: Before the Forge,
only a blank hole remained.

Someone had taken it. Someone had taken the book.