Page 33 of Aubade Rising

The whole day we hiked through the forest outside Cathair, I stressed.

What started as a simple stop in Eskar’s hometown snowballed into two back-to-back escapes, the second making us run for our lives.

Trekking through a lush forest which was just showing the first signs of welcoming spring should have given me time to ruminate on what happened in Cathair but the crunch of branches from animals and the frantic cries of hungry baby birds kept me on edge.

My jaw is tense and aching by the time the skies darken, my nerves fraying at every interruption or possible sound of our pursuers.

Whatever Eskar learnt about the Governor while replenishing his magic overnight, and while I slept unawares, he’s shaken.

I refuse to be kept in the dark any further but he won’t relent.

He promises to tell me as soon as we’re safely on a boat out of the city but as we press on I’m grumbling to myself and stewing in nightmares.

The river we’re following widens dramatically during the afternoon and by the time we leave the forest again, it’s a slow-moving tranquil ribbon.

Ahead, I can see the Thair River from the city – the one we used to travel inland from Porth.

It meanders in front of us. A single bird of prey flies overhead, calling out to the setting sun slipping out of the sky.

Dusk has fallen by the time Eskar steers us towards a wooden boathouse where the two rivers meet and flow back to sea.

The small boathouse is abandoned and dark shadows obscure its corners.

Eskar sets about releasing one of the small skiffs from its moorings.

Feeling useless, I have to wait and watch as he expertly unwinds the knots and prepares the boat.

Nerves jangling, I scout the treeline for movement through the glassless windows.

Satisfied our boat is ready, Eskar holds out a hand to help me climb on board. I stare at the boat, conscious of how easily we’ve become fugitives and now thieves.

“Can we leave some money? As payment…” I mutter, ignoring his outstretched hand and climbing in.

“For the love of…”

I don’t exactly clamber in gracefully and the boat is tiny, barely enough for two.

My foot catches where he’s stowed his rucksack under the seat and I tumble on to his chest. His arms wrap protectively round me as he twists, shielding me from the hard wooden side and preventing us both from falling overboard.

We collapse into the bottom of the boat, invading each other’s space, our faces so close I can feel his breath on my cheek.

I gaze into his caramel eyes to find them swirling with anxiety and his face wincing from the fall and apologise quietly.

He softens, mouth curling into a smile as he rolls me to the side and releases me from his embrace, tracing his hands down to my waist before lifting me up into the seat.

We both startle and separate at a loud bird cry overhead. The cry is a warning; it’s found its prey and is closing in.

Tossing a coin into the next boat, Eskar pushes us away from the small dock and into the river. We wobble precariously as the current carries us towards Cathair. I flinch and resist turning to Eskar in panic.

“Don’t move. You’ll make this harder than it needs to be.

” I freeze at the strain in his voice, turning my head slowly to see him shift until he’s wrapped a leg either side of my hips.

He reclines in the boat, far enough to dip his hands in the water and sure enough, our little boat fights the current.

We turn incrementally until we’re battling to stay in place, Eskar wielding his magic to counter the flow of water. We start to move upstream.

At night, the river is empty of human activity and water sloshes against our little boat, reminding me of my escape from Athnavar with Dervla.

However, here we aren’t suspended high above the countryside but floating within it.

Creatures scurry along the banks, calling to one another and the river reeds rustle, swaying as we pass.

I soon cool as the exhaustion from the day settles in and my aching limbs tighten, seizing.

Eskar is behind me, pressed firmly into my back.

The faint scent of beeswax from candles and woodsmoke lingers on his clothes, wrapping around me like his muscled legs, blocking the odours drifting from the riverbanks.

Once the stars fully settle in the sky I break our uneasy silence. “What did you mean when you said we wouldn’t make it out alive from the Governor’s house?”

He sighs and our boat slows a little, swaying in the current.

“When we arrived and I saw the official on the quay, it was clear someone had already tipped the Governor off about our arrival. Then when they insisted we came to dinner, it felt like more than a political power play. I did some digging when I was getting supplies but didn’t hear anything amiss. ” He pauses.

“But then when they found my apartment… I knew he would be behind it.”

“Who’s he?” Before Eskar can respond, a shadow darts in front of our boat, startling me before Eskar can respond. My heart thunders in my chest.

“Lord Bal.”

“The old Almanac?” I can’t help terror from invading my voice.

“Yes. He was always close with the Governor and his wife. With his assets frozen and the King unsteady on the throne, I think he has sought sanctuary here, biding his time, rallying support.”

“Support to overthrow the King? And what? Put himself on the throne?” The thought of that cruel calculating man wearing the crown, having unlimited power chills me.

“To overthrow yes, but he wouldn’t want to rule. Power is more easily gained when you are not bound by position. He’ll be waiting for the right figurehead to manipulate and eliminating threats in the meantime.”

“We’re threats?”

“Worse, we’re personal. You, for causing the King to exile him and me for failing to leave with him. He would have delighted in trapping us.”

“And the Governor is on his side.”

“The Governor has always chosen him over me.” Bitterness leeches unexpectedly into Eskar’s voice and I turn to catch his eye, widening my eyes in a silent question.

“He’s my father. But he owes his position as Governor to the old Almanac.

And never lets me forget it. They have both controlled me for years.

With Lord Bal exiled, the King could remove my father from the position at any point, but he hasn’t bothered to yet.

The position is everything to my father,” he mutters dejectedly, turning his face from mine in the darkness.

I sink back into him, offering what little comfort I can in the face of his despair.

We continue on and I sit, useless, at the front of the boat, tasked with shouting if there are unexpected obstacles or debris we need to avoid, struggling to see in the dark, only stopping when Eskar, shaking with exhaustion cannot carry on any longer and daylight creeps over the horizon.

I flatten some of the water reeds, making a small gap for us to lay down once he finishes channelling from the edge of the river. It’s going to be rough travelling from here: no fire and nothing to protect us from the elements. I hope it doesn’t rain.

Eskar finishes replenishing his magic and joins me.

“We’ll travel at night and take turns sleeping in the day.

It’ll be harder to sneak up on us in daylight.

” Conscious that still leaves Eskar to do most of the work, I settle in to take the first watch as dawn breaks, resolving to let him sleep as long as possible.

The boat trip to Tanwen is significantly less pleasant than our ferry to Cathair.

It’s small and cramped. Eskar is silent as we travel inland the next night, focusing on overcoming the current as he wields.

Unlike yesterday, the weather is dark and gloomy and, when dawn comes, it is miserable.

Visibility is limited, trees block most of the light on each side and the sun is too weak to penetrate.

The trees have changed since we left Cathair.

On the first night they were varied, with berries and blossom and had plenty of space in between.

Now they are pine: uniform, densely packed and towering.

My body protests from a lack of rest and the cramped conditions but I don’t say a word; this is my expedition after all.

We stop to make camp again in the morning, Eskar drenched in sweat and sickly pale.

I sit by the small fire he’s permitted while he sits in the cold river to replenish his magic.

Judging by his gritted teeth, he’s not mastered warming the water.

He returns, skin wan and shaking and I offer him my cloak and hat to help him warm up since we will be in shade until the sun rises fully.

The next three days are the same, starting at dusk, stopping at dawn.

We don’t see a soul as we battle the current upstream, lit by a waning moon.

On my watch, during the day, I don’t see anyone on the river either. The lonely landscape is packed with wildlife, the river teeming with fish. At one point I see a raft of otters with pups diving around them. They regard me curiously as I peep through the reeds.

Every so often, we come across a tributary where another river joins ours and runs back to Cathair.

These must produce stronger currents because Eskar flinches and plunges his hands deeper into the water.

With every tributary we pass, our river channel gets smaller, the banks closing in.

Through the trees, I often find eyes looking back at me, unblinking.

I tell myself they belong to deer, but when I mention it, Eskar’s face becomes more drawn with worry.

We stop lighting fires after that and I don’t get much sleep.