Message Bearer (The Auran Chronicles Book 1) (11 page)

‘Problem?’

‘It’s just another world,
isn’t it?’

‘What, this? Boy, this is
just eye candy. It’s nothing. Nothing of consequence. Come back to me after a
few months with us and then tell me if you still feel the same way.’

They stopped by the side
door. Another of the goons stood there, eyeing them impassively. Caleb rang an
ornate knocker shaped like a lion’s mouth, the noise echoing round the inside
of the house. A moment later the door swung open, creaking on ancient hinges.
Another one of the goons faced them. He nodded them in. They walked past, Caleb
leading the way on a route he obviously knew.

‘Do they breed these guys
in some kind of vat?’

‘Some people are very
protective over their security. And considering the things of ours they have, I
find the levels of protection quite appropriate.’

Seb fell silent,
chastised. Caleb followed the plush carpet to a T-junction before taking a
left. They emerged into a large sitting room. A log fire burned, casting
shifting shadows on walls covered back to back with books. In the centre was a
large, burnished wooden table where more scrolls, similar to those that they
carried with them now, lay strewn upon its surface.

At first, as they came to
a halt by the table, Seb thought they were alone. Then someone coughed, and an
old man, his face lined with age, sat forward in a leather armchair that stood
in front of the fire. He had a large glass of some kind of spirit in his
shaking hand, which he lowered to a table as he rose. Caleb moved to help him,
but the man waved him away.

‘No. Thank you, Caleb,
but no. I need to move; otherwise I’ll just meld into this chair.’

The man hobbled over to
the table, his mouth curled into an "o" as he grimaced in pain, the
movement obviously an effort. He rested worn hands against the edge of the
table and let out a shaky breath. His head rose. Seb found himself looking at
eyes that were still very much alive.

‘And who do we have here?
Don’t tell me you’ve finally taken on an assistant after all these years?’

Caleb laughed. He tipped
his head to the table. Seb took the hint and lowered the satchel containing the
Night Song
onto it.

‘Something like that. He’s
going to be staying with us, and working with me. Seb, this is Mr Kollmorgen,
one of our most important customers.’

Seb hesitated for a
moment. Did he hold his hand out? Stand there and nod? Hell, was he meant to
hug the guy? Thankfully, Mr Kollmorgen seemed happy with a simple nod. The
older man smiled at him with white teeth that had no right being in someone
that age.

‘Seb, eh? Are you from
one of the Families?’

‘No. At least, I don’t
think so,’ Seb shot a pleading look Caleb’s way.
What do I say?

‘Seb is not of the blood.
But he is Latent. He had a run in with a mage infiltrator and her pursuers.’

Mr Kollmorgen’s raised an
eyebrow. ‘Oh?’

‘Something of nothing I’m
sure. However Seb was a witness. We’re keeping him close until we know it’s
safe for him to return.’

‘I see,’ Kollmorgen
replied. His eyes maintained that same look of concern, but if he sensed that
Caleb was holding back he didn’t push it. He shook his head, ‘There’s been a
lot of incidents recently, Caleb. A lot indeed. People are starting to talk.’

‘We go through times like
this.’ Caleb’s voice had taken on a chill tone.

‘Do we, Caleb? Have you
looked outside? Have you seen how many men I have here? How many soldiers I
employ at my own expense?’

‘You seem very well
protected.’

Kollmorgen slammed the
table, the sudden movement making Seb snap to attention.

‘I need to be, Caleb! The
artefacts I have, the information I possess. But this many men? In the old days
I had one. One bodyguard was all I needed. I had faith in the Brotherhood and
the Magistry to protect me in those days. But where are they now?’

Caleb shuffled in his
seat. ‘There are many priorities for us, we cannot cover and protect the entire
world. There are just not enough of us anymore.’

‘Perhaps not, and that I
can accept. But I’ve heard of two of my old friends being butchered in the last
six months. Men like me, with resources, with power. It all amounts to nothing
when you’ve got a sheol smashing through your door.’

‘I am sorry for your
loss.’

Kollmorgen waved a
gnarled hand. ‘Don’t be, don’t be. We all know the risks, the price we could
pay for the knowledge we have.’ He leaned across the table, pressing a long,
yellowed fingernail against the wood. ‘But this is different, Caleb. The sheol,
they are after something, seeking some object or some
one
,’ he said, his
voice trailing off as his gaze shifted to Seb. ‘I wonder what it is that’s so
important?’

The silenced lingered.
Kollmorgen staring at him, Seb wishing the world would swallow him up as he
looked at anywhere but the old man. Caleb simply simmered, his jaw tense as he
looked back across the table. A knock at the door displaced the tension, and a
young man in a white shirt and black pants entered the room, carrying a tray of
drinks. He silently placed the tray on a small table by the fire before
vanishing back into the corridor. When Seb looked back, the tension had left
Caleb. Kollmorgen let out a deep breath and forced a smile.

‘These are conversations
for another time, my old friend. However I do have one concern that remains.’

‘Yes?’

‘You.’

‘Me?’

‘Come now, don’t play
games, we’ve known each other too long. It does me no good favours to see you
turning up like this, alone.’

‘I’m not alone.’

Kollmorgen gave a patient
smile. ‘It’s not safe anymore. The sheol, they pour through the cracks like
water through a dam. It’s like they’re queueing at the tears, waiting for a
chance, any chance, to come through. People die, normal people, the Unaware, in
a war they have no right being involved in. And you. You, my friend. You come
here.
Alone
. Carrying artefacts of value beyond imagining, and where is
your escort? For Christ’s sake, Caleb. I remember when you’d have an entourage
with you. One of those Brotherhood warriors is worth five of my ex-special
forces goons and you know it. Where are they, Caleb? Where is
everyone
?’

Caleb made as if to
answer, and then apparently decided against it. His chest deflated as he
slumped into the chair.

‘I don’t know, Brian,’ he
said, formality dropping. ‘The Magi are few in number, far fewer than they
would like people to know. The Brotherhood is fractured. Many of them doubting
even the Oath now. Unsure if they’re still bound by it. I stopped receiving an
escort two years ago, and to be honest, I prefer it that way. I’d rather have
my own company than some miserable bastard who just stares blindly forward and
has all the personality of a rock.’

‘It’s not their
personality that you use them for,’ Kollmorgen pointed out.

‘True, but I can look
after myself.’

Kollmorgen sighed and sat
back. ‘I don’t suppose you’d let me give you a couple of my men would you? On
my payroll?’

Caleb snorted. ‘Thanks,
but you already know the answer to that. Listen, times are bad, I agree. But we’ve
been through this before; we go through these peaks and troughs. It’s nothing
new. Now, shall we get back to the matter at hand, it is why we’re here after all.’

Kollmorgen surrendered,
raising both hands. ‘Of course, of course. Leave it over there, with the
others.’

‘You don’t want to see
it?’ Seb said, the sound of his own voice, mute for much of the meeting,
startling the two men who jumped as if they’d forgotten he was there. They both
looked at him. Any thoughts that it was just his own internal monologue quickly
dismissed. Caleb glowered. Kollmorgen seemed merely amused.

‘I know what is there. I’ve
been waiting for the manuscript for close to two years. I very much doubt that
a further few minutes will make much of a difference. Do you?’

‘I guess not,’ Seb said.
In his experience you believed something when you saw it, not just because
someone said it was so. Obviously not so here. He gently took out the manuscript
and laid it on the table before backing away.

‘I think that concludes
our proceedings here today, does it not, Brian?’ Caleb said. He stood and drained
his cup. Kollmorgen rose too and held out his hand.

‘I believe so, Caleb.
Thank you, once again. And no hard feelings I hope? You know it is only out of concern
for an old friend that I speak so boldly.’

‘I understand, and no
apology required. You’re just getting soft in your old age.’ Caleb smiled.

‘Perhaps, or just more
aware of my own mortality. Farewell old friend, and you, Seb. Look after him.’

‘Yes, Sir.’

***

They left, Seb lowering his head as he
went. Kollmorgen watched them leave, the smile not leaving his face, but his
eyes betraying a lingering sadness. As the door closed, another opened behind
him, one of the goons standing to attention.

‘You okay, Sir?’

‘Yes, fine, Tom, thank
you.’

‘Yes, Sir,’ Tom replied
in his south-Texan drawl. He made as if to turn and leave before stopping as
Kollmorgen called him back.

‘Tom.’

‘Sir?’

‘Send a team behind them.
Don’t get too close. Ensure they get back safely.’

Tom smiled. ‘Of course,
Sir.’

The rest of the day passed without
incident. There were only a couple more trips to make. Low value drops, Caleb
said. Semi-regular customers who kept the cash coming in. They left the last
one when the sun was descending over the horizon, the shadows long and
stretched. The temperature had dropped as the afternoon progressed, and they’d
wound the windows up for the journey home. Both noticed but never mentioned the
black BMW 4x4 that followed them all the way before vanishing ten miles from Skelwith.
They parked the van up in silence and trudged back towards the back of the
building where a more direct entrance to the Drain was positioned.

‘You okay?’ Seb said
eventually as they dumped their gear by the door. Caleb hadn’t spoken for the
best part of an hour, a tenseness following him since the meeting with
Kollmorgen.

‘What?’

‘You’ve not exactly been
stimulating company for the past few hours.’

Caleb took a tankard from
a shelf on the wall and blew in it. He put it under the tap of a barrel that
lay on its side and poured a long draught of ale. He slumped in a worn-leather
chair and took a long swig.

‘Put the fire on, Seb,
will you? My bones ache to the core.’

Seb threw some kindling
from the pile by the fire onto the glowing embers. A single flame flared to
life before quickly summoning its kin, lighting up the rest of the fire. A
warmth filled the room and Seb took the remaining seat, suddenly aware of how
heavy his eyelids felt.

‘He’s right, you know.’

Seb didn’t respond. He
looked across at Caleb, the old man seeming even older under the flickering
orange light of the fire. His grey eyes were narrow, focused on the flames. His
jaw moved in rough motions as Caleb ground his teeth, the noise sending shivers
down Seb’s spine.

‘Who?’ Seb said, although
he knew the answer already.

‘Kollmorgen. We don’t
have any protection anymore. In the old days I didn’t have to carry that bloody
phosphorous flare you saw outside. I had it, sure, it always pays to have a
line of last resort, but I didn’t ever fear of needing to use it. The
Brotherhood were strong then, their numbers plentiful. I’d have two with me and
I could have a dozen more if I so much as sneezed.’

‘But you’re a mage, aren’t
you? Why do magi need protection?’

Caleb smiled. ‘Am I a mage?
Yes, I suppose so. Am I a good one? Not at all. You will learn Seb that knowing
of the Weave and its powers is not sufficient on its own. The Consensus limits
our ability to act as we would like. In daylight, or near Observers, anywhere
where their collective will is strong, our powers are weak, and we are
vulnerable to attack. That’s one of the reasons why we had the Oath in the
first place. That’s why we called upon the Brotherhood.’

‘What happened?’

Caleb sighed and
shrugged. He sank deeper into the chair, draining the last of the pint in three
loud gulps. ‘Memories fade. We’ve lost sight of what we are, what we
were
.
The sacrifices made to bring us here. The Brotherhood no longer sees us as
their responsibility. We no longer honour the principles that made us who we
are in the first place. Was it even all worthwhile?’

‘Was what worthwhile?’

No answer.

‘Caleb?’

A low, rumbling snore
escaped Caleb’s throat. His head had dipped, his bottom lip pressing against
his shirt. Seb caught the tankard before it clattered to the floor. He put it
back on the table and took a shawl that was folded up on a nearby box. He
opened it up and placed it over Caleb, the old man snorting as he shuffled in
his chair.

‘Nice,’ Seb said.

He pulled the door to and
left Caleb to his troubled sleep. He found a bed covered in various items of
crap in a small chamber that adjoined the main room. He swept the items to the
floor and collapsed onto the bed, sleep racing to claim him. He tried to focus
his thoughts; he’d seen so much in recent days, his mind flooded with thoughts
and images. He imagined that if he focused he could make sense of what had
happened, but try as he might, his mind had only one goal. It had been a long
few days, and sleep came easily.