Page 46 of Aubade Rising

The mist is thinner here. The outline of a tor towers above us but I can’t make out if it’s the same view as Ciaran showed me.

If it’s not and we’re heading deeper into the Haag, then we’re as good as dead.

With no food or supplies, I was banking on being able to make it through the moorland to Tanwen.

The view of the tor fades as we tumble down the hill.

Even in his weakened state, I struggle to keep up with Eskar until the ground flattens.

He pauses in a hollow at the base of the tor and we stare over the boggy quick mud vanishing into the fog.

As the stagnant, fetid air of the swamp washes over us, my stomach turns.

Each step is a risk; we cannot afford to get stuck.

At the first gorse bush we find, I dive upon the berries, pulling one from the nearest side. Luck is not on my side – I heave. My heart sinks as I calculate our direction. We’ve travelled down the tor away from Tanwen and now need to circle the base before we can make it out of here.

That’s more time to be caught in the open, more time for the rebels to send out scouts to find us.

I barely allow myself to think as we pick our way round the base of the tor, keeping the slope on our right.

Large boulders interrupt our path and I have the strongest sense we’re not going quickly enough.

Neither of us is prepared for this terrain and the rucksack of serpentine is bulky and unyielding.

Our slow pace raises my anxiety. The rebels are familiar with this terrain. If Ciaran is leading the hunting party then there might be a chance he can put them off our tracks, but if he’s not…

Every few minutes, we stop to test a berry and alter our trajectory. Before long I’m sick of the taste of both types, the noise of retching accompanies our heavy breathing as we continue our blind escape.

Several times I think I hear shouts and cries from rebels chasing us but I tell myself if we can’t see them then we’re hidden as well.Neither of us speak, not wanting to risk our voices carrying through the mists and revealing our location.

Finally, the berries lead us away from the tor.

I’m facing towards Tanwen when I notice parallel lines of grey stone laid into the ground.

Each slab is as wide as my hand and as long as Eskar is tall, laid next to one another, pointing towards the town – an old mining track we can follow.

This is how they must transport the serpentine into Tanwen.

It’s a risk, the rebels will know this route but, without food or water, we won’t last long in the fog.

Exposure will kill us just as easily as the rebels will.

As we leave the rebel base behind, the mists are dense. Several times I nearly lose Eskar ahead of me, his longer strides covering the ground more easily on the stone path. My breath is loud and I’m convinced it will lead the rebels to us.

We press on, running now the ground is firmer, despite exhaustion settling into my aching muscles.

Something tall and dark rises out of the mists, on either side of us – a dense tangle of thorns over ten feet high.

We’re being funnelled towards Tanwen. We’ve no choice now but to hope this will lead us safely there.

The mist abruptly lifts when we nearly stumble upon the town gates.

That’s it – the boundary of the Haag.I try to keep running, but Eskar pulls me back.

With the mists lifting, we’re exposed. He pushes me to one side, pressing us into the bracken.

Thorny spines poke through my clothes, scratching my skin.

“Follow my lead. Head straight for the boat. No stopping for food or water until we’re clear of the town. We can survive in the forest but I don’t trust anyone in Tanwen.” I nod, aware of my dry lips and thirst.

We approach the gates, keeping close to the barbed walls. Some of the tension slips away when I see they’re open and unmanned.

“Keep your head down; we need to make it through to the other side, find our boat and get out of here.” Eskar mumbles as we pass, hoods drawn tight. I follow suit, wincing as I notice the red mud spattered to our thighs, a clear calling card to where we’ve been.

It’s late afternoon, the streets are quiet and long shadows help hide us as we creep into the town.

We’re halfway along the first street when a strong hand on my shoulder pulls me away from Eskar.I stumble, and being off balance, my pursuer wrestles my arm behind my back, pinning me to their chest and pressing a knife to my throat. I freeze.

“You’re coming with us. Kitto warned us about you.”

“Not going to happen.” Eskar unleashes his magic on my captor and his accomplice. They scream, high-pitched noises ripping from their throats. This is different from before: their shrieks are short and brutal before both drop to the ground, dead.

Eskar is vibrating with the release of power and I run to him, to prove I’m okay, we’re okay. A thin film of sweat covers his forehead.

“There’ll be more.” He’s wound tight, pulling me close for a moment, furtively looking through alleys and side streets, before grabbing a dagger off the dead townsperson at our feet.

“Where are we going?” I call as he pulls us away from the main street, all pretence of hiding disappearing now the screams will have alerted the whole town.

“To the watchtower. They’ll catch up too quickly if we go by river.” The watchtower leads to the aqueduct. He’s going to try and transport us out, like Dervla did. She is the most powerful Mordros I know, and it nearly killed her.

“Can you do it?” He hasn’t been able to channel in weeks. I have no idea how much magic he has left and I’m intimately aware of the single strand buried in my chest, depleting him further.

“I’ll have to.” His mouth sets in a grim line, but if he burns out all the determination in the kingdom won’t make a difference.

He pulls me towards the watchtower; we break into a sprint as a band of rebels turns the corner behind us. Our change in direction confuses them for a second but it won’t be long until they reach us. All of them are armed.

The bottom of the watchtower is guarded by two rebels with swords out ready to attack as we hurtle round the corner towards them.

I push Eskar behind me, shouting at him to close his eyes as I launch what little magic I have.

Blinded, they swing at us but luck is on our side.

I pull us to the wooden doorway and up into the staircase.

Grunts of pain at the bottom tell me I don’t think they’ll be following.

I hope they managed to stab each other. Hands finding purchase on the rough steps, we climb frantically, desperately trying to extend our lead.

The open doorway to the quayside is blocked by another pair of guards and the commotion below means we’ve lost the element of surprise. They see us climbing and are ready. It’s too narrow for Eskar to fight them without injuring one of us – not that the townspeople have the same concerns.

The first guard raises his sword above his head and swings it to meet me.

I realise Eskar’s pre-empted him as the spasm ricochets through his body.

He loses his grip seconds before injuring me.

His sword tumbles, impaled between floors and Eskar grabs it.

Both guards follow suit, disoriented and in agony.

We avoid being knocked down with them, squeezing tightly against the wall as they tumble past. I don’t have time to see if Eskar’s okay after using his powers again. I push forward, pulling him behind me.

We reach the top. Thankfully the quay is empty and I bolt the door behind us.

“Please Sage, go. I need to get you out of here.” Eskar’s hands cup my face, tilting it unbelievably gently so I can look directly at him.

His caramel eyes swirl with regret and for a moment we breathe each other’s air before a crack at the door jolts us apart.

The door buckles and he pushes me towards the water with the bag of serpentine.

I’m standing waist deep before I realise he’s not following. At my shout, he turns back with a sad smile and his magic wraps round me, buoying me into the current.

Grasping the bag of serpentine tightly, the magic takes me. I manage to twist to look back at the quay to see the door has broken and it is being overrun with guards, dark shadows against the approaching dusk. Eskar stands in the water, channelling and ready to fight.