Focus, Aideen.
I dragged my eyes across the same line again and again. I realised I was chewing my tongue like a soft toffee. My arms and wrists still hurt from the massage I’d so kindly given him.
“Aideen.”
“Shh.”
“How very mature. Come here. I think I’ve found something.”
“You come here,” I said.
He glared at me, but got out of his chair and came to stand beside me. “Budge over,” he said.
I scooted to the very edge of the chair and he squeezed in beside me. He laid the book on the table and pointed to the middle paragraph.
“Read that.”
“Tell me instead. I’m quite sick of reading.”
He huffed and said, “She talks about her student training, and being unable to sleep at night because she was so frightened of a monster.”
I pulled the book towards me. “The nights are the worst,” I read aloud. “I think it hides beneath the bed, even though I check every night and lock the door. When I sleep, I do not sleep for long, and I wake in a cold sweat. I hear things. I’m afraid to look in the mirror. I’m afraid to go out alone. Even the simple powers of my own wand frighten me now. What if my own magic aids the monster? Its claws are long and sharp. I don’t think I have the heart to face it. Yet I fear I shall never be free. I fear it shall hunt me until my own death.”
“I’ve read ahead,” he said. “There’s no mention of her completing her training. For all we know, she’s still out there.”
“But”—I checked the date on the first page—“this book is fifty years old. Moranda’s given you a final deadline. Wouldn’t this student’s master do the same?”
“I don’t know the codes of the masters. All I know is they decide who qualifies and who does not. This student could be dead. Or trapped in a castle of her own, with only the Mage for company.”
I shuddered. “I hope she’s dead. I mean—”
“I understand,” he said grimly. “I hope she’s dead too.”
I felt colder than before, even though one side of my body was pressed into Faol. “You were right,” I whispered. “This doesn’t help us at all. Perhaps we should change tactics?” I closed the book. “Faol?”
Slowly, he rose. “Aideen. Move to the back of the library. Hide under the table. Don’t move.”
“Wh—?”
My words died. Through the window, the sky was red, day bleeding to dusk. We’d been so absorbed we hadn’t even noticed.
“Aideen. Now.”
He did not look at me, but honed his eyes on the library door.
Outside, something scratched at the wood, begging to be let in.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
I stayed beside Faol.
“I can’t stop it,” he said. “My protection only covers my room. I told you to hide.”
“It’ll find me.”
He barged in front, shouldering me out of the way. “You’ll only be a distraction if you stay here. You have to hide, Aideen.”
The Night Mage threw its weight against the library door. The wood groaned.
“Be careful,” I said, and lightly squeezed his bicep. I ran to the back of the library and ducked into one of the alcoves. The Mage, of course, would find me easily, but at least I was far out of Faol’s reach. He could swing his magic around without restraint. I hid just around the corner of the alcove and watched his back. His wand was in his hand. It was a stubby thing, doing little to encourage confidence.
The Mage crashed into the door once more. And this time, the wood burst apart, splinters flying out into the library. Faol didn’t move. And neither did I.
The Mage had grown since the last time I’d seen it, hurtling after me through the long hallways of the castle. Its black horns almost reached the arch of the ceiling. Its maw was as big as a barn, and filled with shard-like teeth. One clawed foot stepped forward, and a crack split in the stone, running across the floor. A shelf of books collapsed.
“You do not frighten me,” said Faol, quite convincingly.
The Mage growled. I could smell its terrible rotten breath from my hidden position at the back of the library. I didn’t want to think what it was like for Faol.
Faol raised his wand-arm and uttered a spell of harsh, foreign words. An icy draft swept through the library, sweeping around him. And then the air broke into bright orange flames. The Mage took another step forward, in no hurry at all, sending another crack through the foundations of the library. The ground shook beneath my feet; little pebbles of stone broke away and floated up into the air. They whizzed towards Faol, and I cried out to warn him, but instead of striking they joined the flaming wind.
I poked my head out a little further. Faol was so tiny in front of the Night Mage, but he seemed brighter than ever; his flames chased away the darkness.
The Night Mage howled, worse than any wolf, and some of the pebbles dropped to the ground. I held my breath. But Faol did not seem fazed, and he summoned a great wave that crashed through the back wall of the library, rushing past and sprinkling me with water. It, too, joined the circle whooshing around Faol. Somehow, the water and flames co-existed, twisting together in fat ribbons. Yet for all the circle’s beauty, the Mage continued its slow advance. With its next step, a crack ripped across the ceiling, right over where Faol was standing.
“Faol, you have to move!” I cried.
But he did not listen, and conceded not an inch to the Mage.
The temperature dropped again. I held up my arm as a thin frost settled on my skin, pale and glittering. Something wailed in my ear, and I jumped out of the alcove with a scream. A ghost now stood in my place. I spun around, and watched in horror as more ghastly spirits appeared: men and women, with their mouths open and their jaws dropped unnaturally low. Their wails filled the library, drowning out the growl of the Night Mage and the crumble of stone. The ghosts moved towards Faol. I screamed as one moved right through me, turning my heart to ice. Soon I couldn’t even see Faol amidst the maelstrom of magic he’d created.
And still the Night Mage approached. It could have attacked immediately and ripped us both to shreds, yet it chose to wait as Faol drained himself of magical power.
“It’s not working!” I cried out to him, but my words were lost among the ghostly wails.
As one, the spirits grabbed their cheeks and pulled down, dragging their jaws lower, dragging the skin off their bones. They pulled and pulled until their jowls reached their elbows. I’d never seen such a hideous sight in my life.
A bright light exploded in the middle of the ghosts, in the spot where Faol had stood. Everything – the ghosts, the fire, the water, the wind and pebbles – shot forward in a ball of colour, aiming for the heart of the Night Mage. As the magic spun forward, Faol was revealed again. All the brightness had been drained from his skin and hair and clothes, leaving only a husk behind.
Faol’s magic careened into the Mage. Veins of ice-white spread across the monster, reaching down its gruesome arms and gnarled legs. The Mage lunged forward, and before I could scream, Faol summoned a golden shield. The Mage dropped its jaw and roared. Black flames burst from its mouth, directed at Faol. But Faol’s golden shield glowed brighter, and the flames licked around the edges, leaving him unharmed.
Unfortunately, the shield’s protection was no use to me.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
I wasn’t aware of what happened next, or the events that followed in the days after. I think the pain was too great to bear. I think my body was protecting me from the full extent of the trauma.
When I finally came round, I found myself in Faol’s bed, the covers tucked in around me, my arms wrapped in bandages and lying stiff by my side, like those of a corpse. My legs were dead weights, sinking into the bed.
Faol was in the chair by the fire, not his usual one, but the one that faced the bed. He was dozing lightly.
I tried to move, but my body was too stiff and heavy.
“Faol?”
&n
bsp; He woke immediately. His eyes snapped to me, to my own open eyes. In a second he was by my side, fussing over me like a hen.
“I thought you’d never wake,” he said.
“Now I have, I think I’d rather be asleep again.”
“I can give you something for the pain.” And he rattled around in the drinks cabinet, returning with a goblet of smoking red liquid. He propped more pillows and helped me raise my head.
“I can’t—” I ground my teeth together. Sweat trickled into my eyes.
“You can,” he said. And with his help and my own grunt-work, I managed to sit up in the bed, albeit at a lazy angle. He tipped the goblet to my lips, as I’d done to him on my very first night in the castle. The potion was warm and sweet and smelled of apples. “Drink it all, Aideen.”
The liquid trickled all the way down into my belly, and from there the heat spread out to my arms and legs, quickly masking the worst of the pain.
“What happened?” I asked.
He winced. “It was all my fault.”
I couldn’t really argue with him. “I should have stayed with you.”
“I know that now,” he said shortly.
“I’m the one who should be angry, Faol. Look at me.”
Another shadow passed across his face.
“What?” I asked. “What more could you inflict on me?” I touched my cheek. Felt scarring on the skin. “How bad is it?”
“I did the best I could. You were burning up. I didn’t know what to do—”
“That seems to be a common theme.” I found more scars on my forehead and chin. Who knew what I looked like now. At least I had no beauty to mourn.
“Does it hurt?” he asked.
“My face? No.”
“Good. I did all I could to protect your face. I’m sorry I couldn’t do the same for the rest…”
“Shall I be horribly scarred on my arms?”
He shook his head.
“Why not?” I managed to lift a bandaged arm. “They seem to be in worse shape.”
“I didn’t attempt to heal your arms. Not after—”
“What?” I asked, with a growing dread.
“Not after I healed your face.”
“Faol,” I said, “give me a mirror.”
Without speaking, he went downstairs and returned with a silver handheld mirror. He stood by the bed, stiff and tall, as he handed it to me.
I sucked in a breath, involuntarily. My face was marked in greyish whorls. I looked like I’d been tattooed by someone with ghastly taste.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
I swallowed the growing lump in my throat. “You’re the one who has to look at me.” I held out the mirror for him to take. “Was this your magic?”
“I was trying to save you.”
“And you did,” I said, my voice choking. “And for that I’ll thank you.”
“You should have stayed in the alcove,” he murmured.
“I did stay in the alcove until a hideous ghost appeared and scared me out. And then I remained where I was because I was worried about you. I thought you’d overdone it again, surrounding yourself with all that— All that whatever it was. That magic.”
He stood like a sentinel beside the bed. It was then I noticed he was still in the same clothes he’d worn in the library.
“You should have a bath,” I said.
“I apologise for the smell.”
I couldn’t smell anything unpleasant – only the scent of him that still lingered in the bed – but I said, “And so you should.”
“I’m sorry, Aideen. I’ll carry this guilt forever,” he said. “But, there’s no need to be so critical. I’m aware of my flaws.”
He sounded just like my mother, who often criticised my tendency to be overly critical. But if I could come to terms with my own wealth of shortcomings, then so should everyone else. He had, after all, scarred my face. And though I wasn’t fond of my face, it was still my face.
The tears burned hot behind my eyes, begging for a release I would not give.
“I’ll go,” he said, breaking my thoughts, probably spotting my grief. “Is there anything you need? Are you hungry?”
“No. And I’m fine. As fine as I can be expected. I’ll be up in no time. I just need a little longer to recuperate.”
“Take all the time you need,” he said, and disappeared downstairs.
Alone, I sniffed away a sob. Foolish, foolish man that he was. No, not a man, but a boy. And a boy with much to learn.
Cal bounced up onto the bed, giving me quite the fright.
“Yikes,” she said.
“No worse than you,” I replied.
“True, true. Faol did his best. He always tries his best.”
“I suppose so. If only his best were good enough. What will I do, Cal, when I return home with a face like this? How do you cope?”
Cal grinned, her tiny white teeth popping over her bottom lip. “You have to appreciate the little things. I am small and blue and bouncy, but I can still enjoy a hot bath, or the fresh light of morning, or watching Faol fuss over which outfit to wear next.”
“I suppose…”
“There’s always something,” said Cal. She bounced onto my stomach.
“I’d rather you didn’t…”
“Can you get up?” Cal asked, still bouncing. “Faol’s done nothing while you’ve been asleep. Five whole days. It’s time to get cracking again. You’re almost half-way through the month.”
“I’m certain I won’t be able to help in any way. He’s better off without me.”
“Nah. Definitely not. He’s improved since you got here. I’ve been stuck with him for years, remember? Come on. Get up.”
“I can’t get up with you hopping around on my belly.” Cal bounced off and landed neatly on the floor. “Go down and tell me when he’s out the bath. I’d like one myself.”
“Only if I get to share it with you.”
The problem with the castle – in addition to the resident monster – was its refusal to stay in one place. Faol’s own turret remained stable, but after stepping off the last stair, there was no guarantee the layout would be the same as before.
“Cal? I need your help.”
“Third on the right, second left, keep going, knock politely.”
“You’re not coming with me?”
“No. It’s time for breakfast.”
“It’s long past break—”
Cal was already bouncing back up the stairs to the kitchen.
My legs were stiff and sore, but moveable after the hot bath. My arms were quite painful, but there was nothing to be done about it. As for my face, well, I couldn’t see the damage without a mirror, so that would be a problem for other people. At least my face was interesting now.
I followed Cal’s directions and came upon a door ajar. Through the gap, I heard Faol arguing with Moranda.
“…the library is destroyed! Its powers have increased yet again. I need more books, master. And a new wand.”
“The answer is n—”
“Aideen is scarred for life! And now every time I look at her I am reminded of my inadequacy. How can I defeat the Mage with that weight crushing my shoulders?”
“As ever, Faol, you have all you need to defeat the Mage. You have a little over two weeks remaining. I suggest you use your time well.”
I heard a faint pop, and then a string of foul curses. I nudged the door open. Its long creak heralded my arrival.
Today, Faol wore a storm-blue shirt and trousers, with a powdered lilac waistcoat. And his hair was blue too. Matching his shirt.
“Your hair…” I said, before he had a chance to speak. I kept to the door, away from the mirror. “A new muse?”
“The old one was clearly not working.”
“I’m sorry if I was a little sharp before,” I said, unplanned. “And I hope the sight of my face doesn’t pain you too much.”
“Your face doesn’t— I… I mean it does, but not because— Not
in the way you think. How much did you hear?”
“Not a lot. Enough to know that aid from Moranda is not forthcoming.”
“It never is.”
There remained a large distance between us. But if it were to close he would need to come to me. I’d need time to adjust to my patterned face before facing one of those wretched mirrors.
“The library is utterly destroyed?” I asked.
“Mostly. How did you— Oh. You heard.”
I swallowed. I should have kept my mouth closed.
“It’s destroyed,” Faol repeated, filling the silence. “After you…were injured, the Mage retreated, wrecking the library in the process.”
“So your magic worked?”
“To an extent. I chased the Mage away. But too little too late.”
“Faol, I order you now to stop chastising yourself for what happened to me. I can do that for you if you really wish for further punishment, but the greatest punishment will be lifetime imprisonment with me and the Mage. That’s no life for someone as fine as you. So I won’t tolerate any more of your moods. Not until we’re free.”
After a pause, he said, “You can be quite direct.”
I shrugged. “I get it from my father.” He was always forthcoming in his assessments. Particularly of me.
“And you will see him soon. I promise.”
The thought should have made me happier, but it did not. I crossed my arms and said, “Can I make a suggestion? You might not like it.”
Faol crossed his arms too; said, “Try me.”
“I think we need to look more into your own mother. If you can think of no other candidate, then it’s likely she was the woman I heard in the castle’s heart. Do you need me to scream?”
“That won’t be necessary. What could my dead mother have to do with the Night Mage?”
“I don’t know. But I think we should explore all avenues. Do you have possessions of your mother? Something we can work with?”
“I guess,” he said. “I have a few trunks of her belongings. They were delivered to me upon my father’s death. I’ve never really looked inside.”
The Night Mage Page 8