Page 1 of Aubade Rising
Prologue
Years of my life. Total isolation. Set-back after set-back. So much potential smothered. So many voices silenced. But a tidal storm is coming. Strong winds of change are gathering and new sunlight will burn away the stagnant waters.
Chapter 1
Irrevocably changing the world is a fool’s dream. For most people anyway. But not for me. I’m teetering on the edge of something incredible. The sun flickers out from behind heavy clouds, coating my face with a weak winter warmth. My meagre magic stirs. It knows what’s coming. Waiting any longer is impossible. I promised Dervla I wouldn’t do this without her. But as the sun vanishes, leaving me cold, I falter. If this experiment doesn’t work, if my theory doesn’t hold, then I don’t want a witness to my failure. I straighten my spine. It will work; it has to.
A small lump of quartz, veined with copper, weighs heavily in my palm. I place it on my workbench and retreat across the laboratory. My theory is simple: I’ve been searching for a material that can absorb magic, to hold it in stasis until it’s called upon to be used. For Aubades like me, with such little magic, succeeding means we will be able to stand on equal footing with the Mordros, our rulers, and demand they lift the many restrictions which keep us bound to poverty. But I’m getting ahead of myself. Magic is forbidden in Trevesiga and it’s critical I keep this research secret. I steady myself with a deep breath and lock the laboratory door. I turn back towards the workbench, failing to quiet the bubbling excitement from my magic as it fizzes in my chest. It’s been years since I’ve dared to let it out.
My hands rise, twisting in shapes learnt in secret from my mother before she died and I call my magic forward. It comes gladly, filling my palms with white light. I shove it towards the worktop, aiming for the stone sat on it. The magic sizzles through the air and into the quartz. The bright light vanishesand I hear my heartbeat loudly in my ears. Smoke starts seeping through the copper veins towards me and I dart behind a large storage cabinet. The room shudders and I’m thrown against the wall.
The fall-out from the blast leaves me covered in a fine metallic dust. Eyes watering, head throbbing, ears ringing, I flex each of my fingers in turn and flinch at the numb hollowing in my chest where my magic is housed. It’s completely empty. I’ve failed.
The workbench, at the epicentre of the destruction, suffered the most. Its top has disintegrated along with one of the legs. The three remaining legs smoulder, covered in dark ash, an awkward triangle of kindling. The storage cupboard behind leans unsteadily to the left, threatening to fall over. Its doors have been ripped away and measuring instruments warped by the heat spill onto the floor. Vast swathes of scorch marks radiate across the stone walls. Every window has been blown out, shards of glass sprinkled on the floor. I feel grateful to be alive.
My hand presses against my sternum, grounding me, my lungs push against it while adrenaline washes through me. Deep breaths. I inhale the metallic dust and struggle to suppress a coughing fit. It’s important to focus, to be certain nothing else will catch fire. I stumble towards the workbench legs, grabbing my cloak from the cabinet to smother the embers. My throat burns as ash billows at the movement.
I need a cover story for the destruction. Some disturbance is expected in a research laboratory but I can’t get away with such a substantial explosion; the broken glass windows alone will draw attention. Thankfully, it’s late enough in the day that the neighbouring labs are empty; no one bangs on the door tocheck on me but the smell of smoke will raise questions in the morning.
I peer blearily out of the empty window frame. The last few rays of sunlight are disappearing over the domed roof and towering spires of the Academy. My hands move in repetitive, practised motions, summoning the last few seconds of sunlight to me to replenish my magic for the night ahead. A warmth spreads through my chest and my magic hums contentedly, happy to have been utilised for the experiment instead of being suppressed as usual. My magic doesn’t care about failure, it only cares about escaping the tight leash of control I’m forced to maintain.
My legs shake as I attempt to sweep the shattered glass into a corner; cleaning up feels overwhelming. I wrap myself in my spare cloak, leaving the one covering the workbench legs well alone, and turn the collar up to protect against the winter gales.
The laboratory is a chaotic mess: very little is salvageable. Tomorrow I’ll make a note of what needs to be replaced and how much it will cost. It won’t be cheap and I’ll need approval from my sponsor, Dervla.Once the door is closed on the destruction, I check it’s firmly locked before leaving.
To say today was unsuccessful is an understatement. It’s been a long time since I’ve had an experiment fail and, even then, they don’t blow up half the room.
Defeated, I head down the worn, stone steps out of the Academic’s wing and almost make it across the central courtyard before a man’s voice rings out.
“Sage, a moment,” the please is conspicuously absent. Honestly, it’s not even really a request; it never is with Principal Alemond.
I stop walking but refuse to concede any distance and walk back towards him. His nose twitches as he recognises my counter power play. Intentionally irritating him has been one of my fewjoys. My latest scientific paper gained quite a bit of notoriety in the Academy and it rankles me that he takes credit for the initial idea. So I relish no longer pandering to his rank and stand my ground where I can.
“The explosion just then. Should I be concerned?” A simpering smile accompanies his shout, louder than needed. He remains fixed in place, his words reverberating intentionally. We both refuse to take a step towards each other.
“A small miscalculation.” My refusal to apologise irritates him more.
“I hope you can afford to repair the damage. Athnavar Academy is a historic building and we must treat it with care.”
I deflect with an internal eye roll. The Academy is barely older than the founding of Trevesiga, maybe one hundred and fifty years at most; granite stones and wooden rafters, nothing precious. Just a home for second-rate, under-achieving academics.
“If it’s too much of a disturbance, I could always follow up with the Academy in Pentargon? They did seem keen to accommodate my new research.” It’s a cheap shot, name-dropping the illustrious Pentargon Academy, but he started it and it feels good to take my bad day out on someone.
The conflict is visible across his face, and, if I had been in a better mood, I would have enjoyed watching him struggle whether to take the bait and continue this argument in public or to acknowledge I have bargaining power now and leave me alone. There’s no one around right now but the Academy is never truly empty. He takes it.
“I do hope this isn’t a sign that you’re a bit of a one-hit wonder. With all this additional attention, there are a lot more people to disappoint.” Smugness radiates from him in greasy, thick waves.
“One-hit wonder? I hardly think Sage needs to prove anything anymore.” A voice from behind me, soft on the breeze butdripping in derision. It belongs to Dervla Cairbre, my sponsor and the only person who holds Principal Alemond in a lower regard than I do.“She is working at the frontier of scientific development. Not many Academies have researchers that can claim the same.” Casually examining her meticulous fingernails, I notice a touch of irritation in her tone.
“Good evening, Ms Cairbre,” he greets Dervla with a false smile, almost a grimace.
“Goodnight to you too, Principal,” she says, effectively ending the conversation. She turns and links arms with me, steering me back towards my demolished laboratory.
All thoughts of running from my disastrous day and having an early night are abandoned when Dervla surveys the destruction and picks her way through the room, somehow managing to avoid spoiling her clothes.
“Clearly you decided to go ahead without me. I take it this was the result of our pet project then?” She lifts one dark eyebrow and gestures to the chaos. “How much is this disaster going to cost me to fix?”
I sink against the dented storage cabinet and fold my arms, “I haven’t added it all up yet but it won’t be cheap.” All of the laboratory equipment will need to be replaced, not to mention finding someone to fix the windows without asking too many questions.
