Page 28 of Aubade Rising

The ferry ride up the coast feels endless and my stomach fights against every moment at sea.

The crew check on me frequently, laughing at my dishevelled state, curled round a bucket.

I’m well aware that we are sailing under flat conditions but my body reacts to the perpetual rocking.

By the time we reach the estuary up river to Cathair, I’ve not even opened a page of the book Haelyn gifted me before we left.

When we finally turn inwards from the coast, I can see land on either side of the ferry and the rocking subsides to a gentle sway.

Braving the ever-present nausea, I leave my room to seek daylight and find an unoccupied wooden bench on the upper deck.

Wrapped up tight in a scratchy woollen blanket, I try to ignore the pervading smell of sea salt that lingers in the air and watch the countryside pass by.

Growing up in Pentargon and then living in Athnavar, these wide-open landscapes are strange to me.

Fields stretch for miles, a mix of red-brown and yellow with the barest hint of green peeking through.

There’s a quiet here. My ears struggle to adjust to the lack of city bustle and I don’t see any other boats for days.

The river we sail is now blue and clear, with bright reflections that make my eyes ache as the sun rises higher in the sky each day.

Across the water, a large bird circles above the treeline.

As we progress inland the landscape changes, so do the trees: endless shades of green, some dotted with blossom and flowers and others, the evergreens, with a variety of leaves.

The colour contrast between the pale blue sky, the dark blue water and the vegetation makes my eyes feel like they’ve been hibernating for my whole life.

Taking in these views makes me feel truly alive.

When I’m certain none of the other passengers have noticed me, I take out the book Haelyn gave me.

It’s an encyclopaedia of attitudes. Compiled before living memory, it’s fascinating.

For the author to have been able to capture the nuances between Zephyrs who can make waves with wind, and Mordros who can manipulate water suggests there was once a time where magic was more openly accepted, more integral to our society and not reduced to tools of warfare and conquest, where Zephyrs and Aubades didn’t have to hide in the shadows, suppressing their magic.

The author’s clinical, overly detailed description of magical traits slows my progress.

Daylight dims before I make a dent in the large tome, each page covered entirely with a fine, cramped scrawl.

As darkness settles, the air chills and I stretch my stiff limbs.

There’s movement in the corner of my eye.

A few benches along sits Eskar. I don’t know how long he’s been there but when he sees me looking, he moves closer and passes me a blanket to curl under.

It’s soft and warm from his body heat. He retreats back to his bench in silence.

I tuck my book into the folds of the blanket, hiding it from his view.

I refuse to go through the next few weeks barely speaking, even if I don’t understand where we stand now.“I’m feeling much better now.” My voice struggles with speaking after so long, my throat sore from retching.

“I can see.” He drags his eyes from the invisible horizon to survey what little there is of me poking through the blanket.

“Why did you volunteer to come with me?” I whisper quietly, conscious we should be discreet.

He leans closer as if checking he’s heard me correctly. I look over expectantly and he sighs heavily, comes over and sits next to me, our blankets touching.

“The chance to escape the city, to see my hometown, to make amends with you – I have many reasons…” His voice cracks, painful and tired but his eyes are lighter as they scan my face.

“Your hometown?”

His voice softens, unlike anything I’ve heard from him before.

“I grew up in Cathair. It’s the most beautiful city in the whole of Trevesiga.

I’m not able to return as often as I’d like, particularly since I was appointed the King’s Verax.

Even if it’s a brief stop, I couldn’t miss that opportunity. ”

“Tell me about it.”

“You’ll see for yourself soon enough.” His smirk unfolds at this and my mouth smiles in response.

I have to restrain myself from quizzing him more and satisfy myself with savouring the contentment that falls between us. I sink further into my blanket, “Thank you for coming.”

He tucks the ends of my blanket under my feet and lets out a huge sigh, a half-smile on his face, “You’re welcome.”

Sitting together and watching the occasional pinpricks of light on the shoreline puncturing the darkness and sharing body warmth, my mind quietens. For once I’m not thinking about the travel ahead, my research or what we’ve left behind.