Page 2 of Aubade Rising

Completing an inventory of the damage took a lot longer than I wanted and my shoulders and neck are aching by the time most of the debris is piled into a corner.

Dervla was right to insist that the mess was cleaned up; my exhaustion made me sloppy and the mess could have easily been found and questions raised.

I retie my long ponytail ready for the windy walk home, thankfully clear of glass shards this time, when the earth begins to shake violently and all sound cuts out.

A pulse travels through my body and knocks me to the ground, vision blurring and ears ringing.

My hands and knees are grazed and dripping blood from broken glass I’ve overlooked.

Noise trickles in, but all I can decipher are screams and shouts of distress.

The vast flagstones on the floor have cracked in half, deep grooves running under my hands and towards the door.

Someone shakes my shoulder urgently, pulling me round to face them.

Dervla has returned and her dark skin is ashen as she pulls me to my feet.

Her mouth is grim and her hands are steady.

She’s remarkably calm considering we’ve been attacked.

Thick smoke creeps round the doorframe’s corner, curling towards us.

“We need to stay hidden.” She repeats it twice more and I realise, through the ringing in my ears, she’s waiting for my response.

I manage a small nod before my vision fractures again and I lean on her shorter frame for support.

She keeps a tight hold on my waist and pulls us out into the courtyard, away from the main entrance.

As soon as I’m able to walk unsupported, she picks up the pace, leading me deeper into the older wing of the Academy, where the faculty work, along winding corridors I scarcely knew existed.

A few shell-shocked people brave the corridors too, stumbling around, all injured.

Through the acrid stench of burning smoke, a cloying sweeter smell of burnt meat permeates and my stomach roils.

Dust and mortar fall from the ceiling and my vision flickers with black spots.

Through the shattered windows, I can see fire spreading from the buildings around us.

We don’t stop for anyone, avoiding eye contact and Dervla is walking faster and faster, almost running. We reach the bottom of a narrow flight of stairs and Dervla checks we are alone and looks at me with a sort of nervousness I haven’t seen on her face before dragging me into an unmarked office.

It’s empty and a thick layer of sticky dust grips my shoes to the floor.

She strides across the room to the dark wooden panelling.

I don’t see how she does it but a door opens and she gestures to me to go through.

Confused and still dripping blood from my hands and knees, I venture through the doorway, into the total darkness and Dervla seals us in.

“You’ve channelled today?” she whispers fervently. “We’ll need your light.”

I don’t think to question her, even though using my magic in public is a capital offence, and summon a flash of light from my palm. Our faces are illuminated and before her pupils shrink and adjust, I catch a fleeting glimpse of fear in her brown eyes.

She looks at the flickering ball of light I’m holding. “We need to hurry.” It’s not clear whether the rush is because she doesn’t believe my magic will last or if she thinks there’s someone chasing us. I’m too afraid to ask.

She pushes me ahead to lead the way through the damp stone tunnel as it slopes gently downwards.

We move in silence for no more than a few minutes before the tunnel opens into a small, underground quay.

This must be an offshoot of the river that surrounds the city, as the water smells clean and fresh.

Dervla passes me, sinking her hands up to her elbows into the flowing stream. I assume she’s channelling until I hear her muttering under her breath and moving her hands in a complicated series of movements. I realise she’s wielding magic.

She halts abruptly and turns to face me, the glow from my magic highlighting the concern on her face. “We need to get out of here. I’m going to take you to Pentargon but it will be risky.”

“To the capital?” I’m confused and frustration rises despite my fear, “but my home is here, my work.”

“Sage, there’s been a massive attack on the city.

Until we know more, we need to get somewhere secure.

I need to keep you safe and this is our best option.

” Eerily calm, she keeps her hands in the water, channelling now, and drawing immense amounts of power if the sweat on her face is anything to go by.

The light in my hands stutters and extinguishes completely.

Dervla grabs for my arm in the darkness, startling me, “Listen to me carefully. I’ve sent a message to Pentargon and I’m going to ferry us there via the aqueducts.

I travel this way all the time but I’ve never done it with someone else before and it will be draining.

If my magic fails, keep floating. People will look for us, eventually.

” Her grip is vice-like and feels like a manacle round my wrist.

“If you fail?” A wave of dread rises from the bottom of my stomach.

“If my magic runs out.”

“But Pentargon is days away!” I can’t fathom the amount of magic required to wield for that long.

“Not using the aqueducts.” She guides me forcefully to the water, taking my lack of resistance for compliance and I stumble.

In the deep blackness, I feel my way into a small wooden boat.

A precarious little ferry, built for one.

I feel Dervla climbing in behind me; we’re back-to-back, presumably so she can use her hands like rudders to steer us through the water with her Mordros magic.

The boat rocks dangerously, water lapping at the edges and spilling into the bottom.

“Don’t move. If you rock the boat, I may not manage to hold us.”With that last discomforting instruction, I lock my muscles in place and barely breathe, desperately trying not to make this any harder for Dervla than it already is.

The tunnel keeps us in perpetual darkness.

I can tell we are moving by the brush of air against my face and the rocking of our fragile ferry on the current.

Ahead I hear harsh screams and shouting.

My eyes adjust and squinting hard I see a warm, orange light which glows brighter as we approach.

Still floating, we emerge from the tunnel onto the main river, slipping into the faster current.

I look up at the burning banks of the river to the chains of people frantically passing up buckets of river water to quench the fires.

It’s an impossible task. There aren’t enough buckets, or people to help.

The ancient city is made of stone for the most part, but the residential areas are all wood and have been hit the hardest. We wind through the city and I see more and more devastation.

The anguished screams are at odds with the rhythmic sloshing of the water as we rock and shudder through the eddies.

I close my eyes, clenching my teeth to smother the guilt of abandoning the people in need and resist the anxiety that rises to the surface when I think of the currents beneath us. We’re not out of danger yet either.

Out of the city we leave the main river and divert into the aqueduct system.

These towering stone structures are the pride of Trevesiga, the visible reminder of the Mordros superior magical and engineering abilities.

The imposing aqueducts ensure every citizen has access to clean water and apparently, I’ve now been permitted to learn, allow the Mordros to travel and communicate over large distances.

I can breathe a little easier once we’ve navigated into the aqueducts with their high, impenetrable walls.

Despite the unforgiving speed of the currents, the water is at least calmer and flatter.

A strong breeze glues salty tears to my cheeks which stings as we pick up speed.

Overhead, I hear the harsh hunting call of a bird of prey.

The waning moon breaks through the drifting clouds at points throughout the night.

We travel in silence, muscles cramped and barely moving.

The bird continues to call out, following us, hidden in the darkness.

I hope it’s Kaens, Dervla’s kestrel. They’re never far apart and I hate the thought of her pinned under the rubble, wings savagely broken.

Sleeping is impossible in this floating prison.

The constant wind and slapping of water do not provide much comfort as the night wears on.

I try not to think of the attack, of the sheer power of the blasts and the people of Athnavar we’ve left behind.

Shame at running away, at not staying to help, starts to eat at me.

I consider turning around, asking Dervla to take us back but what would be the use?

I have no resources to help, no place to shelter anyone.

My home was in the middle of those burning districts, surely burnt to the ground now.

Time passes slowly, the winter night stretching ahead of us.

The few stars that have peeked through the clouds to keep us company begin to fade.

Dawn comes but every moment is drawn out when there are no distractions.

I seek apricity in the rare winter sun on my face when finally, it rises over the raised walls, replenishing my magic after the long, dark night.

Distracted by its encouraging warmth, I startle when we reach a standstill.

A small floating quay, attached to a stone doorway in the aqueduct wall, is out of reach.

“You did it.” I turn to smile at Dervla but she looks broken: her body curled inwards, hunched protectively over her hands, protecting them from the brutal wind. She raises haggard eyes to meet mine and I think she attempts to smile before collapsing backwards into the water.

I launch clumsily after her, every limb seized and aching.

The icy cold rips the breath from my lungs and my feet struggle to find purchase in the frigid shoulder-deep water.

The current is vicious. I cling to Dervla, holding her lolling head above the water but the current drags at us both, sweeping us away from the quay.

Guards appear on the quayside and the first leaps into the water and takes Dervla from me. He holds her hands in the flowing water and supports her head gently on his shoulder, her smaller body dwarfed by his muscular frame. Water flattens his dark hair over deep, caramel eyes.

“We need to get her to the waterfall.” The remaining men lift Dervla out of the water, carrying her through the doorway at the edge of the quay.

“Come with me,” he snaps, pulling me viciously behind him as he exits the water. He grips my forearm tightly, ignoring my shivers and steers me down steps wet with water dripping from Dervla’s clothes.

I glance through a small window in the aqueduct wall to Pentargon below. Resentment bubbles to the surface at being forced to return so unexpectedly to the city I’ve been avoiding for years.