The Night Mage

by April Swanson

  I pressed my palms against the wall of darkness and pushed with all I had. No fear. No thought.

  My feet twitched. Movement rippled along my arms and legs. Above me, Faol threw another ball of fire at the Mage. And this time, it howled in pain, and turned and ran to the battlements.

  The Mage can’t feed off me, I realised. I’d weakened its powers.

  To live is to die. I’m grateful for life.

  “Wait,” I said, before Faol uttered another spell. I reached up; pulled him down beside me. We didn’t have much time. “You must let me go. Let me go, Faol. We all must die in the end.”

  He shook his head violently. His lips were clenched shut, thin and pale.

  “You have to let me go,” I said. “I’ve accepted death. I have!”

  “No one can.”

  “I have. I have accepted the price for being alive. And I’ll happily pay that price, Faol, because without life I’d have never met you.” I squeezed his hands tighter. “We met. And to think, we might never have met. I am grateful for everything I have, for everyone I’ve known. And I’m grateful for every second we’ve spent together. I wouldn’t change any of it. I accept death, Faol. I have lived a good life.” I planted a kiss on his knuckles, and pulled my hands free.

  He said nothing, but stared at me with those green eyes. If it weren’t for his eyes, I might never have followed him through the wood and into the castle. I was glad to see them now.

  Something changed. One blink, and there was something new. Or something old had left.

  He got to his feet, slowly unfolding. I knelt between him and the Mage, waiting.

  The spells had fallen away, and the Mage sucked in a long, rattling breath. Its gleaming red eyes were honed on us both.

  “You have to let me go,” I whispered. To Faol, to myself.

  Faol took a step forward, putting himself between me and the Mage. His wand fell from his hand and clattered against the stone. I stayed silent, breath held.

  “I’m not afraid of you,” he said.

  The Mage revealed its full range of teeth. Its front fangs were almost as tall as Faol himself.

  “I face you because I have talent with magic. And for that I am grateful.” Faol paused. The only sound came from the draw of the Mage’s hot breath. “My mother and father loved me, and my master does too. I am grateful.”

  I watched the back of his legs as he stepped slowly towards the monster.

  “I have love in my life,” he said, his voice growing stronger. “And good health. And strange and rich experiences. I am grateful for it all. I’m grateful for every sunrise, and every moonrise.” He seemed to grow taller. The Mage could have slashed him in two with one of its claws, but it was oddly still, fixated on Faol. “I will not destroy myself or others with greed or jealousy, or anger or hate.”

  I planted a palm over my mouth to muffle my sobs. He couldn’t see my weakness… I couldn’t break the spell.

  You have to believe it, I urged, even though it tore my heart to pieces.

  “Death is another step in the journey,” he said loudly, for the moon to hear. “To be fully grateful for life, I must accept death as well. Life and death are bound. You can’t have one without the other.”

  The Mage growled, but stopped midway, choking. Its red eyes blinked.

  “I welcome death. Because to die means I’ve been alive. And there’s no greater gift than life. I see that now.” His head bowed forward; his voice muffled. “I am at peace. I feel it. I believe it. I really do. I am content, and happy. I am at peace.”

  The tips of the monster’s horns dissolved, carried away towards the moon.

  Faol laughed – the laugh of someone half-mad. “Have my name, Kiro! You can’t poison me with your violence! You won’t burden me with your ego!”

  The Mage threw its head back, exposing its thick, grizzled throat. A seam split down the skin. Black blood sprayed from the wound, turning to mist in the air.

  Faol spread his arms out wide, and I wept silently behind him. I could feel the poison leaving my veins, evaporating with the Mage’s blood.

  “I want for nothing,” Faol said quietly, peacefully. “I am enough.”

  I nodded behind his back. He was enough. I was enough. We always had been.

  The wound split down the Mage’s broad chest. A torrent of blood gushed from its innards, an explosion of black rain. It surged towards Faol and covered him completely. Drops sizzled on the stone around me, never touching.

  A loud hiss escaped from the Mage. And when the hiss was over, the blood was all gone, and Faol stood tall on the top of the castle.

  There was a long, low sigh.

  Slowly, like a puppet without strings, he crumpled to the ground.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  I was free. I knew it. I could feel it – the hold of the castle was gone, dead with the Night Mage.

  Faol lay on the cold stone. I went to his side, and looked into his eyes. And the pain of grief stabbed with such strength I couldn’t breathe. Didn’t know how I would ever breathe again.

  His eyes were green, but they were not Faol’s eyes.

  His body was breathing, but Faol was elsewhere.

  And it was all my fault. I had given his name to Kiro, tossing it around as if it meant nothing to me, when it meant everything. My life was tied to that name, and now the name was gone, its purpose forfeit.

  I drew my fingers down his eyelids, and kissed his brow.

  “Thank you,” I whispered, hoping he already knew.

  I knelt by his side, with his hand in mine, and watched his chest fall up and down with useless air. I thought back on our short time together, and all the pain and excitement, and knew I wouldn’t trade a second of it. Not even the darker moments, the demons and fear and anguish. Not a second.

  “I love you,” I said, and cried again. It would be a while until my tears would dry. But they would. I’d move on with my life, because I owed it to him. I would welcome the new sun and be thankful for the dawn, and I’d do so until the rise of my own, final sun. I didn’t know how many years I would live on, but I would not think of my life as a timer running out of sand. Each day was its own. Each breath its own gift. I’d enjoy each and every one. And though the pain in my heart would never go away, I would embrace it too. Because my pain was only a mark of my love. The scar upon my heart was a reminder that my life had been touched by love, and even if that love was no longer returned, I could carry it by myself. I could enjoy the rising sun while embracing the ache inside.

  I had to. The alternative was not an option. To spend the rest of my days in grief and misery? To wallow in the past? That was no life. And I owed my life to Faol. I would not forget the lesson I’d learned in the halls of his castle.

  I tore my eyes from him and lifted them to the stars. No pain in the world could outdo the beauty of the stars. No one could gaze up at the night sky and not be stunned by its magnificence. My thoughts faded away, my hurt, my heavy, heavy heart.

  “I’ll never forget you,” I said, and kissed him again, for the last time. “Faol.”

  It was time to go. I had to find Moranda, so she could bring him final, resting peace. I had to find Cal and Orla and have their spells reversed.

  Faol would live on through us all.

  I rested his hand on his chest, and got to my feet. Tears streamed down my cheeks, dripping onto my clothes and into my hair. I didn’t try to stop them. There was nothing wrong with grief. It was simply another part of being alive.

  I took my first step towards the stairs, away from the man with green eyes.

  Don’t turn around. Look forward, not back.

  I clenched my fists by my side, and forced my feet to move. I embraced my grief. And it swallowed me whole.

  I reached the stairs. Something pulled on my heart.

  No. You have to move on.

  I tried to move my foot onto the first step, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t do it.

  “Come on,” I growled. “You
must!”

  But the ache in my chest was stronger than any poison of the Night Mage. I felt the tug backwards, back towards Faol, as if there were a cord between us.

  I spun around.

  “A bond,” I breathed. “My life is your life.”

  I ran to his side and collapsed to my knees. My mind was a torrent of thought and memory. I focused it all with blunt force.

  Think.

  I closed my eyes. “We become one. In the past, the present and future. You are mine and I am yours. Forever.”

  I searched inside and found the mark upon my heart – the mark that would always be there, that would always carry his name.

  “Faol,” I said. “Faol.” I placed my hands on his chest. “You gave me your heart, and you gave me your name. I hold it inside me, against my own. I’m giving a little back to you, for you to keep safe. Take your name, and hold it against mine. You have my name, Faol, and I’m telling you to take back your own.” I pressed down harder onto his chest. “Take it! My life is your life! I’m telling you to take it!”

  The pressure in my hand increased. And then his body lifted off the stone. My whole being trembled. His body rose and rose, until it was too high for my hands. I fell back and watched him rise.

  Magic sparked the air. I felt my heart in my chest, and all that it carried. I opened myself to him. What is mine is yours.

  His hair flew up around his face. A ribbon of water and fire and earth whipped around his body from head to toe, wrapping him in a cocoon. The light of the moon shone down upon it all. The cocoon twisted through the air like a feather in a breeze, and rose up and up, towards the stars. My skin burned. My heart sang. I stumbled to my feet. The fire turned to white-blue, sunshine yellow, emerald green.

  The cocoon burst apart in a shock of light. And his body fell to the ground, and landed on the stone where I stood.

  He unfurled, his head rising last, hair covering his face until the last moment.

  I looked into his eyes.

  “Faol?” I touched his chest, his cheek. “It’s me.”

  He slid his hands into my hair, holding my face.

  “We’re alive,” I said, for he looked like he needed reassurance. “Your hair…” I twirled the ends around my fingers. His entire head burned a rich auburn. “Faol? Say something?”

  He kissed me instead. And then he burst into laughter, and it was the laugh of a man with the joy of life alive in his heart.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  Faol finally made it to the Mage Court. And through the ceremony, where Moranda said a lot about duty and honour and abuse of power, and I sat with Cal and Orla among the other mages, the three of us grinning with pride, Faol looked liked he belonged in the golden halls of the court. His hair burned like fire, and I had a hunch that in a few years, there’d be students dyeing their own hair auburn and letting it grow long.

  If Faol looked like he belonged, Moranda looked like she ruled. Her robes were rich scarlet, and her diadem had three jewels instead of one. Her long grey hair fell to her waist, unbound.

  Faol knelt before her.

  “You have proven yourself in the eyes of the court,” said Moranda. “You have passed the test set before us all, and emerged the stronger. Your wisdom will serve us all in the years to come.” She touched his shoulder. I caught the ghost of a smile on her lips. “Faol, I name you Mage of Magic, loyal servant of the Court, and protector of the Otherworld. You may rise.”

  The other mages in the grand hall began their applause, and so we joined in too, making more noise than the rest combined.

  “I thought this day would never come,” said Cal. A streak of blue ran through her black hair. We all had our marks from our time in the castle, and my stay had been fleeting compared to theirs. “Don’t tell Faol I said that.” Cal grinned with her impish face, her sparkling blue eyes.

  “I always believed,” Orla whispered. She bore no reptilian marks, thank goodness. Her hair was a puff of black curls, and her face was longer and more solemn than Cal’s.

  “You were a lizard,” Cal pointed out. “What did you know?”

  Orla sniffed. “All the secrets hidden in the castle walls.”

  “Pfft,” said Cal. “You know nothing.”

  When Moranda had arrived at the castle, she’d thanked me first, but I’d pointed out that it was Cal and Orla who’d saved us in the end, and they’d both blushed and said it was a nonsense.

  After the ceremony and hand-shakes, I showed Faol the neatly-trimmed gardens of the Mage Court.

  “You’re right,” he whispered. “It’s suffocating.”

  There would be a small dinner that night in his honour – well, his and the other two students who had also just passed. Moranda had been vague when Faol had asked how long the other students had trained.

  “You have the most experience,” I’d told him.

  He looped his arm through mine as we strolled through the gardens. He’d already ditched his cloak and given it to Orla. His waistcoat was vivid emerald – the same one he’d worn on the day we met. Other mages ignored him – they were all fixated with the strange scars on my face.

  “What shall we do tomorrow?” he asked.

  “Tomorrow? I’m not sure. I assumed I’d be needed in the shop.” I’d already gone home, and with Moranda’s help, explained my absence to my mother and father. They’d reacted with both anger and pride. I wasn’t sure which reaction would last the longest.

  Faol paused and turned in to face me. “The shop?”

  “It’s my job.”

  “But…don’t you want to work with me instead?”

  “Work with— Work with you?” My frown matched his frown. “But how? What use could you have of me?”

  “I can think of twenty off the top of my head! Without you, I’d be dead. I can’t be a mage without you. Please say you’ll help me.”

  I laughed with relief. “Of course I’ll help you!”

  “Your parents will understand?” he asked, still frowning.

  “Yes. I’m sure they’ll survive without me.”

  He smiled at last. “Good. I’m glad that’s settled.”

  My cheeks ached from my own grin. I’d assumed he’d leave me to go off and do important magic, perhaps visiting a few times a year when he needed a break from it all.

  “So,” he said. “Tomorrow. What will it be?”

  I leaned my cheek against his shoulder. “I think,” I said, “we should wait for the sun to rise, and decide then.”

  He kissed the top of my head, and we walked through the gardens until the first stars appeared in the sky, and the cold nipped our fingers, and the night settled around us, while the sun prepared for the new day.

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  About the Author

  April Swanson is a Scottish fantasy writer specialising in fairytales, folklore and myth. She loves flawed characters, slow-burns, difficult decisions, and things that sparkle.

  You can browse April’s full catalogue at aprilswanson.com/books