The Night Mage

by April Swanson

  “And you wonder why you’re stuck?” I said, and then wished I could reverse time. Before I could formulate an awkward apology, he replied,

  “When your mother dies, Aideen, you can tell me if you want to bury yourself in her old clothes and jewellery.” He brushed past me and held open the door. “This way. I’ve stored it all in one of the other turrets. It will be a long walk. I hope you’re not in too much agony.”

  As I followed him through the castle, I made a point to wince and gasp with pain at regular intervals. As always he walked in front, but I imagined a grim smile on his face.

  It made me feel better. If only a little.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  By the time we reached the dingy room where Faol had stored his mother’s belongings, my entire body was on fire. Only my scarred face was spared from the pain.

  We were in another of the four turrets, at the very top. Yet this one was much smaller than Faol’s living quarters, and in a shabby state of disrepair. Sticky cobwebs hung from the low-slung eaves, and the slim window was so grubby I could barely see the mountains outside.

  I knelt on the floor, almost crying out from the relief in my legs. Faol dragged out a heavy trunk, sending dust into the air. He shoved the lid open. I could smell old things, long forgotten. The past always carried a certain smell – dust, mingled with the trace of perfume and people. I couldn’t help but feel melancholic.

  Faol collapsed beside me and hung his arms over his crossed legs. I placed a tentative hand on his arm.

  “I can do this instead?”

  “No,” he said, staring at the trunk. “It has to be me.”

  “Would you like a moment alone?”

  “We don’t have time for sentiment.”

  “Faol…I think we can spare a few minutes.”

  “No,” he said firmly, and pushed up to kneeling to peer over the edge of the trunk. “There’s so much junk in here. I should have got rid of it years ago.”

  “It belonged to your mother.”

  “And my mother is dead.” He reached an arm into the trunk and pulled out a long red scarf. He tossed it on the floor beside me. I shook out the dust and folded it neatly.

  The pile soon grew. Faol cast the items over his shoulder and I organised them into little bundles. He must have grown up somewhere cold, for most of the clothing was designed for snow and ice. We didn’t speak. And as we sorted through it all, I imagined our positions reversed. Both of my parents were older than most – my mother was nearly 40 when she had me – and I knew I’d have to deal with their deaths soon enough. And then I’d be alone in the cottage. I didn’t mind the idea of solitude itself; it was their company I’d miss.

  If I never escaped the castle, then they would die without me ever knowing, and perhaps I could live my life pretending they were still alive and waiting for me.

  My hand lingered on a pretty white blouse that belonged to Faol’s mother. The embroidery around the collar was as intricate as his fine waistcoats. I realised he, too, had stopped adding to the pile, and had fallen back on his heels. I shuffled a little towards him.

  “A few moments,” he whispered.

  “Take all the time you need.”

  His hair fell about his face, hiding his expression.

  “I can’t imagine what it’s been like for you,” I said. “Seven years, alone in the castle. Even my company must be better than nothing.”

  “I enjoy your company,” he said in a flat voice.

  I attempted a laugh. “Even though I can’t do magic, and I complain and criticise, and now I have hideous marks all over my face.” I kept my voice light, skimming over the deep grief that lurked inside as a result of my scars.

  “Well, what about me? I’m…” He turned his head to the window.

  To his back, I said, “Generous, and kind, and caring. And you make excellent jam.”

  Slowly, he revealed himself to me again, and looked down at the floor. I wanted to take his hand. I wanted to cradle him into me and pull him from this awful place.

  “They’re not hideous.”

  “What? Oh. Well you would say that; you gave them to me!”

  My joke fell flat. And Faol returned to sifting through his mother’s possessions, but this time he handed me everything instead of tossing it over his shoulder. I couldn’t think of a single word to say. I kept an eye on the skies outside. We couldn’t be caught out a second time.

  Faol maintained a regular speed of handover. So when my hand stretched out expectantly for too long, I knew something was wrong.

  His breathing was shallow. He stared into the trunk.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked, and looked into the trunk for myself.

  I cried out with fright.

  Lying on the bottom of the trunk were three shrunken heads, tied together, barely human. Their eyes were sewn shut, their mouths open. Straw-like tufts of hair poked out of their tiny skulls and ears.

  As Faol reached in, I grabbed his arm. “No, don’t touch them!”

  “They’re safe.”

  The heads were connected by a single thread. They hung one beneath the other.

  “Why would she—”

  “What do you know about demons, Aideen?”

  “Little that’s likely to be true.”

  “A demon can possess a human being, to enhance their power. Demons live in the Otherworld, and we live in this world. When the two combine…” He pointed to the middle head. “This is the union of human and demon, an imagined, lifeless head, where the demon can reside without causing harm.” His hand was shaking as he held the heads, but he did not sound afraid. His voice was hard and flat.

  “Faol, you’re not telling me something.”

  “This,” he said, giving the thread a little shake, “is a new method of dealing with demons. Developed in my lifetime, by a master of the Mage Court. Can you guess who?”

  I certainly could, though I did not like my answer.

  “But what does it mean?” I asked.

  “It means my mother was possessed by a demon. And Moranda defeated the demon, and likely my mother too.”

  I stared at him, as he stared at the heads. “Faol… I—” My eyes slipped to the shrunken heads, and I suppressed a shudder. “I’m sorry, Faol,” I said in a whisper. “But how do you know it was Moranda?”

  “Because my father said Moranda was the only mage he’d ever known. So she must have dealt with my mother.” He lowered the heads, and they met the floor with a sickening thunk. I wanted to grab one of his mother’s knitted jumpers and smother them. “My father never told me how my mother died. Now I understand why.”

  “We don’t know for certain.”

  “We do,” he said. “Moranda told me all about the three-head trick. No one survives.”

  “But we don’t know your mother was possessed.”

  “We do,” he said. “Because the top head belonged to her.”

  My stomach turned in on itself. “Belong—?”

  “It is her head. The one that used to sit atop her neck. I can’t remember her face, but I can see the resemblance with myself as clear as day. That is my mother. And what became of her.”

  “Faol…” I reached for him, and pulled him into me. His head flopped onto my shoulder like a rag doll, his body twisted awkwardly. I cradled his head with my arm. “Why is it here?”

  “Safety,” he mumbled into my shoulder. “To make sure the demon never escapes. The heads have to live somewhere.”

  “Let’s get you out of here,” I said. “I’ll make us some tea.” Was that all I could offer him? A cup of hot water?

  He lifted himself upright. His hair was plastered to his cheeks. “We need to take it with us. You’re right: if you saw my mother in the castle’s heart, then she must have something to do with the Mage. With these heads I can learn how she was possessed.”

  “This…” I began. “This is too awful.”

  “You’ll cope.”

  “I meant you.”

 
“I know.” His voice was hard again, impenetrable.

  “Let me carry them.”

  “No. Your arms are tired. You might drop them.”

  “I wouldn’t—”

  He pulled on the thread and lifted the string of heads. He held them by his side, not even wrapping them up to cover the faces.

  “This is my mother,” he said. “I’m afraid I can’t take any risks.”

  I chewed on my lip, forgetting the Mage, forgetting the scars all over my face, forgetting my family. All I could see was him, and the smothered anguish on his face.

  “We need to go back to my room,” he said. “Where it’s safe. I need to know what happened. And I’ll need you there with me.”

  “Me? What for?”

  “Because,” he said. “Just because.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Faol placed the heads on the floor, in the middle of his room. He pushed the chairs up against the hearth, the table too. He walked to the sky door and whispered words I couldn’t hear. I sat on the edge of the bed to rest my legs. I kept my eyes on Faol at all times. Couldn’t let them drop to the monstrous heads curled up on the floor.

  “Time is not straight,” Faol said.

  I recalled something Moranda had said, about the Otherworld. A world of magic and demons, where time is twisted, and names carry power.

  “In the Otherworld,” Faol continued, “time does not move in a straight line, from here to there.” He crossed the floor briskly, avoiding his mother’s shrunken head, and sat beside me on the bed, his back straight, hands folded neatly in his lap. “All of time is wound up in a ball. Everything that was, everything that could be, it’s all pressed together. You’re at once alive and dead and unborn.”

  “I’m trying to understand.”

  “I suppose it doesn’t matter if you understand it fully. I only wanted you to know where I’m taking you.”

  “To the Otherworld?”

  “Yes. To the past. To the moment my mother and the demon merged as one. The moment she was possessed. It’s possible because of the heads. Because of Moranda’s magic. She believes it’s crucial to understand how demons enter our world, so we can stop it from happening again.”

  “And both of us are going?”

  “I need you, Aideen.” He reached for my hand. “I need you beside me, to make sure I don’t falter. I’m frightened, Aideen. I’m frightened of what I might find.”

  And I was frightened too. Terrified, in fact. But I said, “I’ll be with you, Faol. If something goes wrong, I’ll scream at the top of my lungs.”

  He smiled – it had been too long since I’d last seen him smile – and said, “I have no doubt. Can you stand?”

  “I can stand.”

  “Are you afraid?”

  “No. I trust you to keep me safe.”

  “You’re a good liar, Aideen.” He lifted his arm, bringing up our entwined hands. “Don’t let go of this, no matter what happens.”

  “I won’t.”

  His face hardened. “There’s nothing left to say or do. I have to face whatever’s waiting for me.”

  “You are strong, Faol. You can do it.”

  We stood on the floor beside the shrivelled heads. I squeezed Faol’s hand with all my strength, no matter the pain in my arm. I wanted to believe I could do the same: face my own mother’s death. It was true I had some of my father’s steel, but possibly not enough.

  Faol began his spell. This time, there were no other magical objects, not even his wand; only the three heads on the floor.

  The room darkened. The details blurred. A shimmering door appeared before us. Colour licked the edges, pulsing all the colours of the rainbow – even more colours than Faol’s hair and wardrobe combined. When he stepped forward, I did too. And the door opened for us, revealing light of glittering gold.

  Together, we entered the Otherworld.

  And quickly, the gold vanished. The edges of the world returned. We stood in a dark cave. On the ground, before us, was a woman. Her hair was long and fiery – the same shade as Faol’s. When I saw her face, I saw the same features, shrivelled and shrunken. Faol’s hand stiffened in my grip.

  In her arms, she carried a bundle of grey swaddling. A shadow towered over them both.

  “What do you want?” the shadow asked. Its voice was deep and gravelly, and it sent a shudder through my chest.

  “A gift,” Faol’s mother replied. “For my son.” She bowed her head and held out the baby in its blanket. “He is a good boy. I want only the best for him.”

  “And what is the best?” the demon growled.

  “To be handsome, dashing, and adored by all. He should be strong, too, yet limber as a deer. And he should be talented: the best at what he does. Give him a long and healthy life, full of joy and happiness. He must know no sorrow, no failure, no loss.”

  The demon laughed so loud that she pressed the baby back into her chest.

  “You truly wish all this for the child?”

  “I wish it,” she said.

  “His course might already be set on this path.”

  “It’s not. I have looked into his eyes. He is a good boy, but I want him to be great. Worthy of songs and toasts among the finest of folk.”

  “There will be a price,” said the demon.

  “Name it,” she replied, showing no fear.

  “It cannot be named. The price is not named, and neither is the prize.”

  “You mean you can’t give this to me? I was told you were the most powerful demon of our age, able to grant me any wish.”

  The demon laughed again. “Flattery will not work with me.”

  “I don’t intend to flatter you. Have I been hoodwinked? Are you not the most powerful demon?”

  “I am. Yet you ask a lot. There is no guarantee.”

  “But you will take payment regardless?”

  “I will,” the demon confirmed. “Does the boy have a father?”

  “He does. What business is it of yours?”

  “Why is the father not by your side?”

  “He’s a simple man. He wouldn’t understand. I fear my son will become him.”

  The demon shifted side to side, nothing more than a hovering shadow. I dared not look at Faol, nor say a word. I could only hold on tight, offering a shred of warmth in this cold place.

  “Why does the boy have a simple father?”

  “You don’t understand the ways of our world,” said Faol’s mother. “Choice is a rare gift for someone like me.”

  “Someone like you?”

  “A child-bearer.”

  “I want to understand the ways of your world,” said the demon.

  “I can show you.”

  “Yes, you can.”

  The demon swooped forward, smothering mother and child. Neither screamed or cried or whimpered. I thought the bones in my hand might break. The demon swelled into a dome of darkness. I held my breath.

  This: this was the very moment of possession. How many had witnessed such a wicked act? How many people wandered with devils in their hearts?

  And what about the baby caught in the middle of it all?

  The demon broke in two, and shifted until there were two women standing in the cave. One held a baby, one was cloaked in black.

  “It is done,” said the demon.

  “We’ve seen enough,” said Faol, pulling me backwards.

  I kept my eyes on the bundle of blankets until the cave vanished into darkness. The brightness returned, and then we were standing back in his room in the castle.

  “You can let go now,” he said. “I’m sorry if I hurt you.” Stiffly, he knelt down and collected the heads, and placed them in the corner of the room. He opened his chest of drawers and pulled out a fresh sheet.

  “So we won’t have to look at her anymore.”

  Even with a sheet covering the heads, I didn’t know how I would sleep in the same room.

  On cue, the Night Mage howled. From one demon to another.

  �
��Lie down, Aideen. You’re exhausted.”

  “Only if you lie down beside me. We have to talk about this.”

  “I don’t see much to discuss.”

  “I think you should lie down anyway. There’s room for both of us.”

  He glanced to the chairs by the hearth.

  “Faol, I don’t think you should be alone tonight.”

  He nodded.

  As usual, I climbed into bed fully clothed, all except for my boots. He did the same. The bed was large enough for an appropriate gap between us.

  I curled onto my side so I could face him. The light of the crescent moon brushed the tip of his nose and mouth.

  “My father wasn’t simple,” he said.

  “Of course he wasn’t.”

  “She resented him. He never told me much, but I learned more from others. I think she was pressured into marriage.”

  “Many are.”

  “What about your mother?” he asked.

  “She’s different. She loves my father. But she waited a long time, and turned down many offers. She always told me it was best to wait for love. It always works out best in the long run.”

  “Your mother must be brave,” said Faol. “Where I come from, a woman can’t do much until she marries. And people think less of her until she does so.”

  “The same is true where I am from. And most places, I think.” I wondered how Winnie was getting on with her dashing husband, in her extravagant life in the city. I hoped it was all she’d wished for.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” he said.

  “Do you?” I replied, doubting it.

  “You’re wondering why her wish was never fulfilled.” He turned his head to face me. I frowned. “All those things my mother bargained for? I am none of it.”

  “You’re handsome,” I observed.

  “I’m not. Nor am I dashing or talented or worthy of song. When a demon dies, its magic dies with it. Perhaps I embodied all my mother wanted, before Moranda killed us both. We’ll never know.”

  “Faol, your mother loved you.”

  “I don’t doubt it. She gave her life to a demon to make me more successful.” He turned his body too, so we both faced inward.