Page 31 of Aubade Rising

Thoroughly absorbed, Eskar’s return takes me by surprise. When the door opens, I flinch and drop the book to the floor. He looks different too: his hair is much shorter, face clean shaven. I don’t recognise him and clearly from the look on his face the feeling is mutual.

“Nice work.” He stares intently at me. I blush at the unexpected compliment before helping him unpack the food he’s carrying. It’s still hot – heat seeps through the brown paper.

“Anything of interest?” he gestures at Haelyn’s book as I start to eat the pasty, not bothering to find cutlery or a plate.

“Actually, yes. Did you know Aubades once had attitudes too?”

“No, I didn’t, but then… I guess it never occurred to me what anyone else’s attitudes were. Mine was enough to handle on its own.” There it is again, a trace of bitterness mixed with something I can’t place.

“Do you know anyone else’s attitudes at court?” I pause mid-bite.

“No, I don’t make a habit of sticking my nose where it doesn’t belong; it’s very personal.” Conversation closed then, he opens his parcel and eats.After a few mouthfuls, he adds, “You should ask Dervla, though, when we get back; she knows what everybody’s is.”

“Hmm, maybe I will. In the meantime, I want to learn more about my magic. Perhaps I have a previously undiscovered attitude. Something that will make up for my limited capacity.”

He smirks a little at my statement and the usual irritation I feel at seeing that half-smile doesn’t materialise.

“How do you know if you have an attitude?” I ask.

“Nowadays, once you’ve mastered controlling your magic, the Gallos we call it, your attitude comes forward as the way your magic is most inclined to behave.

Your attitude is central to your being; it’s as easy as breathing and requires pretty much none of your capacity. Attitudes are generally limitless.”

So, in theory he could torture thousands upon thousands of people. My stomach turns.

“So that’s another incentive for you to keep working on it then.

” He must have heard from Dervla how I’m struggling with mastering the Gallos and he’s laughing at me.

Strange, I didn’t realise they discussed me behind my back but I push that thought to one side for now.

Huffing, I sag back into the sofa, my newly cut hair tickling my neck as it swings around.

“I just can’t visualise it properly. Every time I create one strand perfectly, it slithers away as soon as I focus on creating the second. ”

“Will it help to see mine?” He leans forward from the sofa opposite.

“I’ll try anything at this point.” He raises one of his eyebrows and his nostrils flare slightly, teasing me.

I roll my eyes at his insinuation; he laughs and sits back.

A crease appears between his eyes as he centres himself.

Taking a deep breath and moving his hands purposefully, he summons a pulsing, woven ball of magic through his palms and allows it to hover in front of his chest. It’s smaller than Dervla’s but from what I can tell the colour of the water is mostly the same.

Frowning a little now, a single strand separates and floats through the air, as if pulled by an invisible needle.

It reaches towards me and I let it rest on my open palm, sizzling where it touches.

It doesn’t hurt but my magic takes over my conscious thoughts with an instinct to draw the power inside me.

As it disappears under my skin, the connection drops.

Eskar looks at me in alarm and the ball of power dissipates back into his hands.

“How did you do that?” He’s stricken, face chalky, eyes wide in panic.

“I’m not sure,” I answer and I feel different: my magic dances and writhes in my chest. There!

I can see it! A single thread slithering across the surface of my usual sphere, different from the rest. “I think I just absorbed some of your magic.” From the look on his face, that’s not what he intended.

“But how?” The crease between his eyebrows deepens. “I was just trying to show you how to separate your magic.”

I take a moment to examine the new magic within me. Given what he’s told me, I can feel the new thread of magic has become fuzzy on the edges, trying but failing to blend with the rest of my magic, like oil and water.

“Honestly, I have no idea. It was instinctive. As if my magic summoned it.” My stomach rolls at the strange sensation and I suck air in through my nose to counter the rising nausea.

He pauses, the fragile trust we’d established on the ferry ride fracturing. “Well, what do we do now?”

“I don’t know. I was going to try and send it back.

But since I don’t know how to control my magic like you do then maybe I’ll just hurl it all at your head and hope for the best.” It’s petty, I know, but I pride myself on my intellect, my knowledge of the world and this has floored me.

How have I stolen his magic? Yet it happened so naturally.

He rolls his sleeves up to his forearms and braces his hands on his knees. “If it’ll make you feel better to try and incinerate me magically then let me have it.” His teasing fails to cover his unease and I don’t know how to take it. “Come on, I dare you.”

This is a ridiculously stupid idea. I could hurt him. And I don’t know how I feel about showing him my magic either.

“Don’t you want to see what happens?” His overconfidence is needling me just in the right place.

I glance at the sky through the window; there’s just enough evening light left that I’ll be able to recharge if needed.

Inhaling deeply, I draw my magic to the surface.

This time I can see how to shape it, to mould it to my will.

It goes gladly, as if the strand I took from him is pulling back towards its original owner, taking the rest with it and leaving me with a familiar void in my chest.

He opens his hands to catch the ball of light and hisses when it touches him.

Red welts appear on his palms as if he’s placed his hand on a hot stove.

I rush forwards, cradling his hands in mine, examining the damage before I pull him to the sink and run cool water.

His shoulders sag in relief as the water splashes over them and I shudder.

The water dances across the back of my hand where I’m still holding Eskar’s. It hums and I flinch. The void in my chest feels a little smaller. A little less empty. There’s a single thread of magic inside my chest, but it’s not mine. It’s a strand of Mordros magic.

The last rays of sunlight flicker across the city rooftops and in through the high windows. My hands reach out towards the fading light and I draw it to me as darkness falls. I did it! I started to master the Gallos, but at what cost?

“There’s still a piece of your magic linked with mine,” I whisper, as the redness on Eskar’s hands fades. The magic from him is deep in my chest, hiding behind my own.

“I can feel its loss – a part of me is missing.” He rubs his chest as if it aches and his face is twisted tight, tension drawing his eyebrows together.

“What have I done?” Shame flushes my face red as I stare down at my hands, turning them over, looking for a clue.

“I’ll return it as soon as I work out how.

I’ll need to keeping working on the Gallos first because it’s pretty tightly woven in there.

I can’t separate it.” My magic is shielding it, becoming intangible and slipping away when I try to extract the rogue strand.

I grunt with frustration as he points out it normally takes a few weeks to fully master the concept.

“A few weeks? I’m supposed to live with this piece of magic inside me like a parasite for a few weeks?” I’ve never hyperventilated before but I expect this is what it feels like.

“I’ve got to live with it missing. I’d say that’s arguably harder.”

“Well, what do we do now?”

“You practise weaving your magic into separate strands. You work on mastering the Gallos quicker than any Mordros has ever done. And you do not leave this apartment.” He peers out of the window.

“I’m going to get us supplies so we can leave this city before we cause another disaster. ” He’s rattled, really rattled.