Page 3 of Aubade Rising
She halts abruptly and turns to face me, the glow from my magic highlighting the concern on her face. “We need to get out of here. I’m going to take you to Pentargon but it will be risky.”
“To the capital?” I’m confused and frustration rises despite my fear, “but my home is here, my work.”
“Sage, there’s been a massive attack on the city. Until we know more, we need to get somewhere secure. I need to keep you safe and this is our best option.” Eerily calm, she keeps her hands in the water, channelling now, and drawing immense amounts of power if the sweat on her face is anything to go by. The light in my hands stutters and extinguishes completely.
Dervla grabs for my arm in the darkness, startling me, “Listen to me carefully. I’ve sent a message to Pentargon and I’m going to ferry us there via the aqueducts. I travel this way all the time but I’ve never done it with someone else before and it will be draining. If my magic fails, keep floating. People will look for us, eventually.” Her grip is vice-like and feels like a manacle round my wrist.
“If you fail?” A wave of dread rises from the bottom of my stomach.
“If my magic runs out.”
“But Pentargon is days away!” I can’t fathom the amount of magic required to wield for that long.
“Not using the aqueducts.” She guides me forcefully to the water, taking my lack of resistance for compliance and I stumble. In the deep blackness, I feel my way into a small wooden boat. A precarious little ferry, built for one. I feel Dervla climbing in behind me; we’re back-to-back, presumably so she can use her hands like rudders to steer us through the water with her Mordros magic. The boat rocks dangerously, water lappingat the edges and spilling into the bottom.
“Don’t move. If you rock the boat, I may not manage to hold us.”With that last discomforting instruction, I lock my muscles in place and barely breathe, desperately trying not to make this any harder for Dervla than it already is.
The tunnel keeps us in perpetual darkness. I can tell we are moving by the brush of air against my face and the rocking of our fragile ferry on the current. Ahead I hear harsh screams and shouting. My eyes adjust and squinting hard I see a warm, orange light which glows brighter as we approach. Still floating, we emerge from the tunnel onto the main river, slipping into the faster current. I look up at the burning banks of the river to the chains of people frantically passing up buckets of river water to quench the fires. It’s an impossible task. There aren’t enough buckets, or people to help.
The ancient city is made of stone for the most part, but the residential areas are all wood and have been hit the hardest. We wind through the city and I see more and more devastation. The anguished screams are at odds with the rhythmic sloshing of the water as we rock and shudder through the eddies. I close my eyes, clenching my teeth to smother the guilt of abandoning the people in need and resist the anxiety that rises to the surface when I think of the currents beneath us. We’re not out of danger yet either.
Out of the city we leave the main river and divert into the aqueduct system. These towering stone structures are the pride of Trevesiga, the visible reminder of the Mordros superior magical and engineering abilities. The imposing aqueducts ensure every citizen has access to clean water and apparently, I’ve now been permitted to learn, allow the Mordros to travel and communicate over large distances.
I can breathe a little easier once we’ve navigated into the aqueducts with their high, impenetrable walls. Despite theunforgiving speed of the currents, the water is at least calmer and flatter. A strong breeze glues salty tears to my cheeks which stings as we pick up speed. Overhead, I hear the harsh hunting call of a bird of prey.
The waning moon breaks through the drifting clouds at points throughout the night. We travel in silence, muscles cramped and barely moving. The bird continues to call out, following us, hidden in the darkness. I hope it’s Kaens, Dervla’s kestrel. They’re never far apart and I hate the thought of her pinned under the rubble, wings savagely broken.
Sleeping is impossible in this floating prison. The constant wind and slapping of water do not provide much comfort as the night wears on. I try not to think of the attack, of the sheer power of the blasts and the people of Athnavar we’ve left behind. Shame at running away, at not staying to help, starts to eat at me. I consider turning around, asking Dervla to take us back but what would be the use? I have no resources to help, no place to shelter anyone. My home was in the middle of those burning districts, surely burnt to the ground now. Time passes slowly, the winter night stretching ahead of us.
The few stars that have peeked through the clouds to keep us company begin to fade. Dawn comes but every moment is drawn out when there are no distractions. I seek apricity in the rare winter sun on my face when finally, it rises over the raised walls, replenishing my magic after the long, dark night. Distracted by its encouraging warmth, I startle when we reach a standstill. A small floating quay, attached to a stone doorway in the aqueduct wall, is out of reach.
“You did it.” I turn to smile at Dervla but she looks broken: her body curled inwards, hunched protectively over her hands, protecting them from the brutal wind. She raises haggard eyes to meet mine and I think she attempts to smile before collapsing backwards into the water.
I launch clumsily after her, every limb seized and aching. The icy cold rips the breath from my lungs and my feet struggle to find purchase in the frigid shoulder-deep water. The current is vicious. I cling to Dervla, holding her lolling head above the water but the current drags at us both, sweeping us away from the quay.
Guards appear on the quayside and the first leaps into the water and takes Dervla from me. He holds her hands in the flowing water and supports her head gently on his shoulder, her smaller body dwarfed by his muscular frame. Water flattens his dark hair over deep, caramel eyes.
“We need to get her to the waterfall.” The remaining men lift Dervla out of the water, carrying her through the doorway at the edge of the quay.
“Come with me,” he snaps, pulling me viciously behind him as he exits the water. He grips my forearm tightly, ignoring my shivers and steers me down steps wet with water dripping from Dervla’s clothes.
I glance through a small window in the aqueduct wall to Pentargon below. Resentment bubbles to the surface at being forced to return so unexpectedly to the city I’ve been avoiding for years.
Chapter 3
The same four walls stare back at me through the unsettling darkness. The incessant sound of racing water highlights the monotony of being imprisoned. I think I’ve been held here for days, left to stew over Dervla’s fate.
I recognised the insignias on the uniforms of our rescuers – they were from the palace. We were separated before Dervla regained consciousness and I was taken underground and escorted to this cell. My nerves were shredded after the first few hours.
Darkness has never been a friend to me and I’m left alone in a stone cell, shivering. The temptation to reach inside and draw out the tiniest bit of light, of warmth, nags constantly at the edge of my attention. My magic writhes inside, resisting being imprisoned and wanting to be released. I don’t dare let it out, not even the smallest fraction. That’s one way to guarantee I’ll never leave this cell alive.
Other than the echoing footsteps of guards changing shifts, I have no way of knowing how much time has passed. Initially I tried calling out to them, asking if Dervla survived, begging for food and water. But I haven’t received a single word of acknowledgement. A balloon of fear continues to swell in my stomach, compressing my lungs and making my chest ache.
Two guards arrive when I’m barely strong enough to stand. They fasten heavy, iron restraints to my wrists and secure them to the table that’s brought in behind them. My magic shrinks inside my chest, cowering at being trapped in this cell. Neither of them acknowledges me, nor speaks a single word, their actions well practised and efficient. My legs are left unbound but I don’teven consider trying to escape. I have barely a fraction of magic compared to everyone else. It’s not even close to a fair fight. Satisfied that I’m properly incarcerated, they leave.
The heavy door heaves open slowly sometime later, startling me. An older man, with a thick white streak in his hair, enters with the sort of confidence I’ve found, only occurs in people who are used to being obeyed instantly. He places a flickering oil lantern onto the table and my eyes take a while to adjust. He’s well dressed and small in stature, but the warmth from the light contrasts with the cruelty around his lips. He grabs the chains holding my restraints and yanks them towards him, the skin on my wrists ripped away by the motion as I slump forward in forced compliance.
My stomach growls again and reminds me how long it’s been since I’ve eaten. I risk a glance up at the man but find no pity in his eyes. I summon my strength to ask if Dervla is okay.
