The Night Mage

by April Swanson

  “Even though my mother—”

  “Don’t pick at old wounds,” I snapped. “There’s no point.”

  “So you’re saying I should block out the past? Block out everything that’s bad and pretend life is rosy?”

  I paused to formulate my argument. I had no experience in this sort of thing, and one wrong word from me could ruin everything.

  “It’s not a case of blocking it out,” I said eventually. “But you put it to one side. There will always be good and bad in your life, in the world. But you must see the light instead of the dark. Focus on the sun, not the shadows. Be grateful for what you have, instead of dwelling on what you think you need. If you’re alive, you have reason to be grateful. You don’t need to be irritatingly happy every day, or optimistic to the point of foolishness; but…you must learn to be satisfied with what you have. If not…”

  “…I’ll never be free.”

  “Yes,” I said. “You’ll never be free.”

  He put an arm around my back and reached his other hand across the table, grabbing the paper and quill. “So this is what I have.”

  “That we’ve thought of so far,” I added. “We should add your own attributes to the list.”

  He pressed the quill to the paper, and paused. “Such as?”

  “You’re kind, caring, generous. You have a great gift for magic.”

  “I’m not adding the last one.”

  “You must!” I put my hand over his. “You have a gift! Magic can’t defeat the Mage, remember?” How had he forgotten this already?

  “I guess…”

  “Write it,” I commanded. “A gift for magic.”

  “Not a big one,” he said.

  I screwed my eyes shut and took a deep breath, before slowly saying, “I have witnessed you, time and time again, performing great magic. You will never reach the limit of magical ability, and there will always be others who can do more. But their talent does not diminish the size of your own gift.”

  He twirled the quill between his fingers.

  “Do you understand?” I asked.

  “Mm.”

  “Faol? You have to understand what I’m telling you.” Do I need to remind you what’s at stake?

  “I understand,” he said, and added it to the list.

  We added more items – well, I thought of them and he wrote them down – all through the morning and into the afternoon. By the time we were finished, my legs were numb from standing beside him.

  “So what now?” he said.

  “I suppose we wait for the Mage.”

  Truth be told, neither of us had any idea about what to do next. Would the Mage vanish as soon as Faol fully accepted his life for what it was, or would he face a final trial? I had a half-mind to ask Moranda, but I didn’t want to leave Faol on his own, and knew he wouldn’t agree to the idea.

  He slumped over the kitchen table with the paper in his hands, staring at the words. I had to keep checking his eyes, to make sure they were actually moving back and forth across the page. He tried to make dinner, but I pushed him back into his chair.

  “You focus,” I said. “And I’ll cook.”

  Long shadows spread into the kitchen.

  “It’s time,” I said. “Faol?” I gave him a shake. “We should go upstairs.”

  He roused, slowly. The sheet of paper drifted from his hands. “I’ll stay here.”

  “I don’t think that’s wise…”

  “You don’t believe I can do this?”

  “No! I mean yes, of course I believe! But we don’t know how this is going to work. Perhaps the Mage might not come at all. Perhaps it’s already defeated?”

  “I think we’d know.”

  “Probably,” I conceded. It had been a slim hope anyway.

  “I need you to go upstairs,” he said.

  “But you’re not coming with me?”

  “No, I’m not.”

  My stomach twisted with fear. He seemed so lifeless; how could he summon any power to defend against the Mage? And he was still recovering from the Mage’s own poison.

  But I had to show confidence. I couldn’t reveal a shred of doubt in his abilities.

  He kissed me on the cheek. A farewell kiss. He pressed the sheet of paper into my hands.

  “Don’t you think—?” I began.

  He shook his head, his mouth a grim line.

  “Do you believe it all?” I asked.

  “I understand.”

  “That’s not a proper answer.”

  “I believe it.”

  “You believe you are good enough just as you are, and—”

  “We don’t have time, Aideen. Go now, before the Mage comes.”

  I kissed him on the lips, though he did not kiss me back.

  “Go,” he repeated.

  Even though my legs ached and ached, I couldn’t sit still in his room. I listened for sounds of the Mage, and of Faol’s magic. If the Mage attacked and injured Faol, I knew I’d have a much harder time getting Faol to see the bright side.

  Was it possible for a person to change over the course of a day?

  No, I realised with cold clarity. Of course it’s not possible.

  I reached for the door, but my hand froze over the handle.

  If I go downstairs, he’ll know I have no faith in him. And where would that leave us?

  But he wasn’t ready. I knew he wasn’t ready.

  The Mage’s roar woke me from my wretched thoughts. The walls shook; a wave of magic pushed through my bones.

  And then footsteps on the stairs.

  I threw myself into a chair and arranged myself into a relaxed, natural position. Yet my heart beat frantically.

  Faol burst into the room and slammed the door behind him. The weight of the Mage bashed against the wood.

  Wordlessly, Faol traipsed towards the bed and pulled himself under the covers. I lit a fire. The crackling soothed me, helped distract me from the Mage. In the firelight, my poisoned hand burned like hot coals.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  We tried again, day and night, as our final week hurried towards its conclusion. I forced Faol to speak his thoughts aloud, instead of him sitting silent while I lectured him.

  The blackness spread up my arm. And every time he caught sight of it, he winced.

  “I’m making you worse,” he said. “I should be healing you. Why can’t I do this?” He held up the now-crumpled sheet of paper. “Why can’t I accept my faults?”

  “Stop seeing them as faults,” I said for the hundredth time. “You’re approaching it wrong. If you compare yourself to every other mage who’s ever lived, of course you’ll find gaps in your ability. What you have to do is focus on your talents.”

  I’d said this over and over. And he listened, and said he understood, but the message never got through.

  “Stop looking at my hand,” I said.

  “I can’t help it. I should have protected you—”

  “We’re going round in circles!” I cried, and pushed away from the table. I marched out the kitchen as powerfully as my broken body would allow.

  He did not follow me. Perhaps that was a good thing. We both needed space from each other.

  I walked through the halls of the castle until I found a jewelled mirror.

  “I know you said you wouldn’t come,” I said to my reflection, “but we know how to stop the Mage. And Faol is doing his best, but he needs more time. He can’t change at the drop of a hat. ”

  I leaned against the mirror and waited. When the mirror brightened, I leapt back in shock. Not because of the light itself, but because—

  “I didn’t think you’d come,” I said.

  “So, you’ve worked it out,” said Moranda.

  “I have. And he’s been trying so hard, but these things take time. We only have a day left!”

  “Faol has had seven years—”

  “I know, but he was alone! A person can’t do these things on their own. You let me enter this castle because I could h
elp him, isn’t that right? Well here I am, and I’ve helped him. Now he has to help himself, but he can’t change in a few days. No one can!”

  “You can,” she said. “You’ve changed.”

  “Scars don’t count.”

  “I wasn’t referring to the scars. You arrived here more concerned with other people, with what you didn’t have. Didn’t you wonder why the Mage strengthened once you entered the castle?”

  I frowned, remembering my initial days. “Faol thought I worked for you…”

  “Which we all know isn’t true. The Mage can feed off others too, which is why isolation is preferred. You fed the Mage, Aideen, with your own lack of gratitude.”

  “Oh…” I said, recognising the difference between me and the Aideen who’d entered the castle. Now Faol had to follow in my footsteps.

  “Aideen, it was not me who decided the Mage is a necessary test for all students – though I do agree with it. Neither do I set the time limits. Seven years is the maximum. Masters are responsible for finding the next generation of mages; we can’t spend forever on the same hapless students.”

  “Did you tell Faol this when you sent him here?”

  “No,” she said. “But do you think that would have helped him, or only driven him mad? A ticking clock is only useful in certain circumstances.”

  “But—”

  “I assume you know about Mage Kiro?”

  “I do.”

  “And you know what happened to her, and the destruction she wrought upon the world?”

  “I do…”

  “So you understand why Faol cannot be free unless we know for sure he will not succumb to demons.”

  “Yes,” I said quietly. “But I don’t understand why I have to die too.”

  Moranda’s face softened. “It is an unfortunate turn of events. If I could remove the poison, I would. But only Faol can banish the Night Mage.”

  “What will happen tomorrow?” I asked.

  Moranda sniffed, and said, “If Faol does not defeat the Mage, its powers will grow too great. The Night Mage will become invincible, and Faol will never overcome his demon. He will spend the rest of his life in the castle, where he can do no harm to others.”

  “Can’t you extend the deadline?”

  “As I’ve said, it is not me who makes the rules. This is old magic, put in place to protect the world from dangerous mages.”

  A tear slipped down my cheek. The world of magic seemed so cruel and unfair.

  As if reading my mind, Moranda added, “Magic is powerful. When you’re dealing with magic, you have to be especially careful. These are the rules. They are not open to debate.”

  I nodded to show I understood. “And what will happen to me?”

  After a pause, Moranda said, “The poison will continue to spread. Soon, it will kill you.”

  “Do you know how soon?”

  “After tomorrow, the Mage will accelerate in strength. With its increased power, the poison will spread faster. I can’t imagine it will be long.”

  “Days, weeks?”

  “Days,” she said. “Perhaps a week, at most.”

  “I don’t want to die,” I confessed.

  “No one does. But it comes to us all in the end. Only the living can die. Think on that, Aideen of the wood.”

  I went to Faol’s garden of silver and bells. I sat among the snowdrops and thought about life and death and what it meant to experience both. If I could go back to the day of my birthday, would I have done anything different, knowing what I knew now? I prodded the black skin of my arm, facing its full horror, and decided no, I wouldn’t.

  I’d have liked to have spent more time in the garden, but the day was already approaching its end. My legs felt stuffed with iron, my head filled with potent wine. I bumped into Faol on the stairs of the turret.

  “I was coming to find you,” he said. His outfit today was blue and grey. His hair seemed longer, falling deeper into his eyes. He helped me up the stairs, saying nothing.

  I didn’t tell him about Moranda. I didn’t tell him how long I had left. He’d find out soon enough.

  I lay in his bed, exhausted. I watched the sky darken.

  I didn’t ask Faol if he’d made any progress.

  He undressed and climbed into bed beside me, and I rolled into his arms. He held me close.

  “What maddens me most,” he said quietly, “is I have no lack of motivation. I know what I must do, and I know why I must do it, but I can’t. And then I think ‘What’s wrong with you, Faol? Are you really that inept? Why can’t you be more like…’ And I know such thoughts are only detrimental, and so I scold myself again. And then my anger turns to Moranda, and to my parents, and to Kiro, and to you for coming here and giving me a real reason to live.”

  Despite the pain, I shifted so I could look him squarely in the eye. “No, Faol. I’m not your reason to live. You’re your reason to live. This past month I’ve lost everything in my life, but I’ve gained something new, and I’ve seen your pain and your difficulties, which have made me appreciate the life I had before – the one I used to resent. And I’ve realised that life is always going to change, and there will always be good and evil, people we love and hate, people who come into our lives, people who leave. You can’t predict what happens next. The only thing you can rely on is you, and how you see the world. You can be positive, or you can be negative. It’s really that simple.”

  “I don’t want to be a drain,” he said. “But…I fear that’s who I am.”

  I smoothed a blackened finger along the line of his cheekbone. “I don’t believe it. The Night Mage lives outside of you. It’s a monster you can attack and destroy. I don’t know much about magic, but if you were truly incapable of defeating your Mage, I don’t think magic would have ever sought you out. Magic doesn’t want to destroy – it’s the demons who wish to do that. So why would magic use you as its vessel?”

  “I’d like to believe you,” he said, “but that’s not how magic works. Why is it so difficult for me? I feel I’m being torn in two. I feel there is a monster inside me.”

  I rested my head again on his chest. I didn’t have an answer. I’d said all I had to say.

  The moon rose on our final night, and we both watched it pass across the sky, and waited for the cold light of dawn.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  As Faol dressed on the final day of his student training, I kept thinking about what he’d said, about being torn in two.

  Why was it so difficult for him? When the stakes were so high, why couldn’t he see past his own anger and self-loathing, and his tendency to lay blame at someone’s feet?

  “Coffee?” he said, pretending today was the same as any other day.

  We drank our coffee and ate our breakfast, lost in our own thoughts.

  At noon, he said, “I’m still trying.”

  “I know you are.”

  Cal and Orla entered the kitchen; Orla buried herself among Faol’s hair, and Cal bounced between the table legs.

  Why had Faol’s magic backfired so spectacularly? If he’d been trying to get them out the castle, why had their bodies changed so dramatically? Why had Orla lost her voice?

  It were as if his own powers were working against him, determined to cause the most damage.

  I drew a finger down my cheek. “Faol? When you healed me from the Mage’s fire, did you know I’d be left with such visible scars?”

  “No. The Mage has injured me before, but I’ve always healed myself without leaving a mark. The Mage’s strength increased when you arrived, whereas I have only weakened.”

  “Weakened? Why?”

  “My training has ground to a halt. And I’m tired.”

  He certainly looked tired. Not even his sapphire-blue waistcoat could bring him to life.

  I poured us another coffee.

  “You’re not satisfied with my explanation,” he said, frowning as he held out his cup.

  “Do magical scars usually look so garish?” While I�
��d almost grown used to the grey whorls across my face, I knew they were shocking.

  “Not usually,” he said. “But I’m not a mage, Aideen. I’m just a student.”

  I glanced down at Cal, as she bundled around the kitchen. She almost looked like a child’s toy, but with added claws. But once she’d been a woman, Faol’s friend, who’d risked her life to save him.

  Everything he did seemed to be designed to self-sabotage. He was destructive to himself and others, despite his intentions.

  The Otherworld is the world of magic and demons, where time is twisted, and names carry power.

  And I understood.

  “I gave her your name,” I said.

  “What?”

  “I told you… I gave her your name. Mage Kiro. In the Otherworld.”

  He paled. “You— You gave her my name?”

  “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to. And I told you immediately—”

  “I don’t remember you telling me. I was sick from the Mage’s poison.”

  My hands trembled in my lap. If only I could go back in time and keep my stupid mouth shut. “I gave her your name… She took it. I tried to stop her but I wasn’t strong enough. She…she wants to destroy. The demon inside her only wants to destroy. And she has your name…”

  Faol’s expression continued to sour. “If she has my name, she can bend me to her will. Doesn’t matter if she’s dead. You met her in the Otherworld. You gave her my name.”

  It was all my fault. “I’m so sorry, Faol. I didn’t mean to.”

  He avoided my gaze. “All this time, Kiro had my name. Kiro, possessed, had my name.”

  All my fault. And yet, there was hope. I reached across the table for his hand. “Anything you try to achieve only destroys you. Kiro planted destruction in your heart. No wonder you have struggled for so long against the Night Mage. But do you understand what this means?” I shook his hand. “Faol? This means it’s all Kiro’s doing. Claim back who you are. Who you really are.”