Page 10 of Aubade Rising

My shoulders, hunched from the hike up here, drop as I breathe the smell of freshly sawn wood. The laboratory is everything I could have asked for. I run my fingers over the new workbenches that don’t wobble and turn to Dervla, whose grin matches mine.

“What do you think?” she asks. “A small step up from sweeping lab floors for extra credit?” She will never let me forget how I lambasted her for walking over my freshly cleaned floors the first time we met.

I’ve never been a natural networker and foolishly agreed to clean floors for one of the more senior academics in the hope he would take me on as an assistant after I graduated.

He didn’t. In fact, he made it his personal mission once he was promoted to Principal to get rid of me.

Dervla frequently stepped in to prevent that happening.

I like to think she took a shine to me because no one else in her life would ever talk to her like that. She says she has a weak spot for adopting irritating strays. Agree to disagree.

The airy, open outhouse with its high, vaulted ceilings has been transformed with all the testing equipment and tools I could ever need.

The shining worktops are unmarked and everything is clean and organised.

My every specification has been met and it only took her a matter of days to achieve.

I knew she was influential but this is some feat.

Dervla sees the gratitude in my eyes and shakes her head.

“This wasn’t just me you know. You, or rather your position, commands a certain level of authority too.

The Academy was only too happy to lend equipment to the new King’s Alchemist. Donations have been flooding in too.

You have your choice of research topics to return to once our work is completed.

You’ll never be out of work again.” My joy at the laboratory dims and I chew my lip.

This isn’t a gift – the laboratory is a golden shackle.

“Are you ready to begin? I was hoping you had some new ideas to try out whilst I’ve been away.”

My chest feels heavy. It’s only been two weeks since the failed explosion in Athnavar and barely a week since she rescued me from the dungeons.

I’ve been hiding in my rooms, summoning manuscripts from the library and meticulously trawling through them, looking for anything that might explain why my theory is failing but I’ve got nothing to show for it.

“There’s a flaw in my theory. I just don’t know where it is yet. Everything I’ve read so far tells me it should work. Or at the very least it shouldn’t explode.”

“Was the explosion in Athnavar the first attempt?” she asks.

“Yes…”

“Well then, let’s try again whilst I’m here. What’s the worst that could happen?” Her rueful smile is too relaxed for my liking. I survey the pristine space, calculating how I could minimise the damage.

Dervla perches on a workbench while I get to work setting up the experiment. Either the experiment will explode again or I’ll be able to spot something different which could give me a new lead. Worst-case scenario, cleaning and sweeping all afternoon beats another day spent hiding in my room.

Once I’m ready, we stand clear of the experiment and share an anticipatory glance.

There’s always something exciting about the moments before you start a new experiment: you could be on the edge of a breakthrough, to achieve something that no one else has before you.

My magic bubbles under my skin, ready to play.

I take two deep, calming breathes before summoning everything to my palms and thrusting it towards the lump of quartz in the middle of the room.

The light blinds us and our hands grasp for each other. Dervla shudders next to me as a shockwave passes through us and then there is an echoing boom.

My new laboratory is covered in shards of quartz and fine dust rains down from the ceiling. Disappointment highlights the empty hollow where my magic lives. I don’t know why I let myself expect something better this time.

Dervla sits dazed on the floor. Shaking my head impatiently to clear my vision and stop the ringing in my ears, I try to explain that I expected this to happen.

She doesn’t look particularly relieved at my assertion, picking debris from her hair and clothes.

The lab hasn’t fared too badly, the benefit of preparing properly.

At least this time I had the foresight to move all essential equipment out of range, but I’ll need to do something to stop the smoke from causing permanent damage.

“So that’s where we are so far. In theory everything should work but…” I’m distracted by a final falling thread of debris; red hot, it scorches the workbench where it lands.

“Sage, you are one of the smartest people I’ve ever met.

No one else could have developed this theory.

I don’t even understand most of it, though you’ve explained it enough times over the last two years.

But sourcing the right material? That isn’t your area of expertise.

Perhaps it’s time to reach out to an expert.

” Dervla struggles to form the words, leaning heavily to one side as she stands.

I glare at her, anger rising up my body.

“An expert on materials, not a fellow researcher,” she corrects hastily. “I know a geologist who might be able to help with the material that we’re trying to imbue with magic. He might be able to recommend another material, other than quartz, or help source purified samples.”

I grimace; she has a point about sourcing samples to experiment on but I am hesitant to try and explain the theory to an outsider, as it poses a risk that they will work out what we’re researching.

“It’s worth a try. With the rebel activity and you being a target, we need to solve this as soon as possible.

I’m not suggesting we tell him any of the details, but I really think we need his help.

” For the first time, I see worry lines on her dark skin.

I suspect I have the same now as well. I nod carefully; at this point I’m out of other ideas.

“I’ll write to him today.” She continues, “Can I ask a question? Why do you transfer your magic so violently?”

I stop sweeping up the debris and turn to face her. “I don’t understand?”

“Watch.” She closes her eyes and a wave of serenity encompasses her features.

A ball of water materialises between her outstretched hands.

It’s large and as I peer closer, instead of being solid like the acorn of power I house, hers resembles a ball of watery yarn.

Each strand of magic is carefully constructed and woven together, the ball of magic spinning lazily.

My mouth drops open at the sight. It’s beautiful, seeing pure Mordros magic calmly rotating in front of me.

Dervla barely moves, keeping her eyes closed, her posture relaxed. “Everyone in the Mordros is trained in it from birth. It’s called the Gallos, which means control. Without it, we would have no way of managing all of our power.”

“Then why have I never heard of it?” My eyes are glued to the ball of magic in front of me.

“It’s not common knowledge. We learn it as children and it becomes as instinctive as breathing.

The threads are a basic building block of magic.

We can layer them when we need to wield more but they remain as strands inside us, ready to be employed when needed.

I think that’s what you should be doing, gradually building up the magic, instead of blasting it. ”

“Another Mordros secret.” I sound bitter, ignoring the glimmer of excitement her suggestion creates.

“Yes, I suppose.” She’s not apologetic, just matter of fact. The ball of magic makes a final rotation then fades into her hands.

“Most of the Mordros prefer to home school their children; knowledge like this is passed down so I don’t think it would occur to anyone to share it.”

I can’t halt the sneer which flits across my face, forbidden knowledge striking a nerve.

Dervla rolls her eyes, exasperated. “Yes of course it’s because the Mordros are superior. Nothing to do with preventing children with access to that much magic being allowed to run around unsupervised.” Icy sarcasm drips from every word.

“I’m sorry,” I reply. I guess incorrect assumptions are irritating to everyone. I return to cleaning but Dervla surprises me: she picks up a broom and starts to sweep.