“That makes no sense. Please, go away. Go and die somewhere else. We don’t want you here.”
“He does,” said the mage. “He wants me.”
“He does not.” I shook my arms to try and rouse him, but he didn’t move.
“He wants me,” the mage repeated. “Do you know who I am?”
“I asked but you never answered me. You’re a mage.”
“A mage. A mage! Not just a mage. More than a mage.”
“A master, then.”
She threw her head back and screamed with laughter. “A master!” She snapped her head forward and jammed her face in mine, butting her chin against the top of Faol’s head. “The masters bow before me. I will destroy them one by one. They are nothing! I am the one they fear. I am the terror of the night, the shadow in the day, the black heart, the dark mind, the festering rot.”
I fought my shaking mouth, and said, “Then I know you’re lying. Because Faol would never want those things.”
Her black eyes grew wider. “Faol? A pretty name. I will take it for myself.”
“No! You can’t have his name. He is one with me, and I say no.”
She raised a dark eyebrow. “Stop me, then. Hold onto his name if it means so much to you.”
I held Faol as tight as I could. I focused on the link between us. But beyond that, I had no idea what to do.
His chest expanded beneath my arms, and then sank.
“It is mine,” said the mage. “I will use it one day.”
The tears fell down my cheeks. “Please. Don’t. Please don’t use his name. Please.”
But she shook her head. “You gave it to me. Do you know who I am?” she asked again.
“The terror of the night.”
“Yes,” she said. “I am the terror of the night.” She took a step back, grinning. Her hair floated on the surface of the pool, reaching out towards Faol.
“You will not have him,” I said, and squeezed my eyes shut. I dived down, to the place I shared with him, and I wrapped my hand around the poison and pulled as hard as I could.
The weight crashed into me, dropping into my arms and legs. My thoughts clouded. My head ached.
I looked down at my hand. The blackness spread from my fingers to my wrists. It was greater than before.
Faol sucked in a breath and jerked in my arms. The other mage had vanished. The weight of the poison dragged me down, down into the water. Faol’s hands grabbed my arms. I closed my eyes. Felt the rush around me, the return.
Cal and Scaly watched from the edge of the pool. The sky was dusky pink.
Faol bucked forward and threw up black liquid. It hissed as it hit the water. I leaned into him, crushed by the weight. His hands moved beneath the water and grabbed the back of my knees. He carried me to the stairs. We lay on the hard stone, side by side, breathing hard.
I cried again. And this time I couldn’t stop it.
“I gave her your name,” I sobbed. “I didn’t mean to!”
He rolled onto his side. His hair dripped into my face. “It’s okay,” he said.
“It’s not okay!”
“It is.” He leaned his face into mine. I could tell he was exhausted.
“Faol?” said Cal. “It’s late.”
“It’s late,” he repeated, monotonous, and he lifted me into his arms. I protested, but the Mage’s fire had made me sluggish.
Faol staggered up the stairs. He lurched side to side, tottering dangerously close to the edge.
“Put me down,” I mumbled. I hit my hand against his chest, weak as a baby.
“No. Never.”
I didn’t have the strength to wriggle my legs out of his hold. I knew then that I wouldn’t be able to walk.
We made it to the door, and back inside the castle. I silently begged the castle to make our route short.
Take us home, I pleaded. Keep us safe.
Faol swayed through a long hallway, clattering side to side against the walls. A door swung open on the right: his study lay on the other side.
We made it to the top of the turret, and into his room, and we collapsed on his bed in our cold wet clothes. And as I slept, I sensed the link between us. And because of that, we made it through the night.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
The poison had grown stronger in its absence. I fought hard not to wince with every movement, every turn of the head. Only my face was free from pain.
Faol woke briefly in the morning, then fell back asleep. I left him breakfast beside the bed and went in search of Cal.
I found her on Faol’s chair in his study, gazing out the window, with Scaly by her side.
“What are you thinking?” I asked her.
“Nothing,” she replied. “I’m enjoying the view.”
“I need to ask you something. About Faol’s muses.” I leaned against the desk. “When I arrived his hair was forest-green. Who was he trying to copy then?”
“Kiro,” Cal said immediately. “She was a mage from the last century. Very powerful.”
“Do you know where I could find more information about her? Did Faol have books about her in the library?”
“He has them here,” said Cal. “He kept all his favourites here. See the bottom shelf.”
I followed Cal’s directions and found a book titled The Life and Death of Mage Kiro. I settled on the floor and opened the book in my lap. Cal chose that moment to vacate Faol’s chair.
“Have this if you like. I’m going for a bounce.”
The pair of them left me alone in the study. I thought about sitting in the chair, but the pain of moving half-way across the room put me off.
The opening chapters of the book discussed Kiro’s early childhood. She’d grown up in a mountain village and shepherded goats. Then one day a master passed through the village, saw the girl, and trained her from an early age.
In the margin, Faol had scrawled, So early. Not fair.
Yet Kiro must have been around the same age Faol had been when he’d first trained with Moranda. True, Moranda hadn’t taken him away until he was 16, but that must have been out of love for his father. She couldn’t take away his only son, not after his wife had passed.
But Kiro’s parents had both been alive and well, and her master had whisked her away to a different mountain range, away from her family and friends.
And there, the master, Gretchen, had worked on Kiro’s magic day and night, training her first with the basic objects – wand, cup, stones, candles, that sort of thing – and moving to elementals before the girl had turned thirteen.
Fast, logical progression, commented Faol. Not beyond my skill set.
An entire chapter was dedicated to the details of Kiro’s tools, which incited clear jealousy from Faol, judging from the notes in the side; and another chapter listing all of Kiro’s reading material. Again, Faol was not happy.
“But your library was enormous,” I said, recalling the week we’d spent in there. “What more could you want?”
Growing up, I’d possessed a single book, which had been handed down for three generations on my mother’s side. I’d read that story again and again, cursing its dullness and idiot characters on each read through. But at least I’d had a book. There were people in the world with no books at all.
My stomach rumbled at lunchtime, which was the time Kiro had just completed her final training. The details were sparse – with no mention or hint of a Night Mage – and Faol raged in the margins about how easy she’d had it. I could tell from the ink used that he’d come back to this book again and again, adding more each time.
I made the painful journey upstairs, first to the kitchen to forage for food, and then to the top of the turret to check on Faol.
He was still asleep. Hadn’t touched his breakfast, either. I laid the back of my palm on his forehead. He was burning up. I pulled the covers down and opened his shirt. He didn’t stir.
I sat with him for a while longer, idly running my hands through his hair, before returning to th
e study. As I struggled down the stairs, I cursed my own stupidity for not bringing the book with me. There was no need to read in the study; I could have brought the damn thing up with me and sat beside Faol.
By the time I actually arrived on the ground floor, I was so exhausted I needed to rest before even considering climbing the stairs again. I collapsed to my knees and flopped against the bookshelf.
Nothing interesting happened in Kiro’s life for a few chapters. By all means she was a powerful mage, and Faol cooed over her talents every third paragraph.
And then she set her sights on becoming a master. And her biographer became rather cagey, talking sideways about Kiro’s long periods alone, and her fascination with darker magic, and prolonged trips to the Otherworld.
Demon, wrote Faol.
When Kiro was not elevated to master immediately, she grew more erratic in her behaviour. Faol scribbled down the side, Seeking a bargain.
The biographer never mentioned a demon, and grew more and more vague in recounting Kiro’s life and activities.
I began the final chapter, and it read,
Kiro destroyed the city in the last year of her life.
None survived the attack.
And that was it. The discussion then moved onto her legacy and all those she’d inspired, and alongside the text, Faol added his own thanks.
I held the book in my hands, rereading the first two lines over and over. She’d struck a deal with a demon, and allowed the demon to possess her.
And I gave her Faol’s name.
I remembered the dark eyes, the wicked grin, the gaunt face. I had no trouble believing the mage I’d met in the Otherworld was capable of terrible destruction. When I’d met her, had she already committed the crime, or was she building up to it?
Had she known at all what she was doing, or had it all been the demon’s doing?
The world of magic learned from Kiro, declared the book, and for that we are all grateful.
They had all learned from Kiro? Learned what? Not to blow up cities? Where I came from, that sort of lesson was assumed, not taught.
I am the terror of the night.
The terror of the night…
My eyes fell to the bottom of the page, and Faol’s final words.
I wish I were her.
I let the book drop from my hands.
At last, I’d worked it all out.
I knew how to defeat the Night Mage.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
I grabbed a quill and loose sheets of paper, along with Kiro’s biography, and hauled myself upstairs. I stopped by the kitchen and collected as much food as I could carry.
In his room, Faol was still asleep, and his head still burned. I sat beside him with the paper on my lap, and started from the beginning.
Moranda had said that only Faol could defeat the Mage, that he had everything he needed. And he had to believe in the solution. Really believe.
I wrote this all out, and then underneath, I wrote Kiro - possessed. City destroyed. Lessons learned.
Kiro had shown what could happen if a mage was possessed by a demon. Lessons had been learned. Every student needed to defeat the Night Mage, but Moranda had never said when this method of teaching had been implemented.
Kiro – Night Mage.
After Kiro, every student of magic had to defeat their own Night Mage, lest they become possessed by a demon.
The student we’d read about in the library, the one who was scared… They hadn’t been scared of the Mage specifically, but scared of everything. And a mage crippled by fear could one day ask for a heart of courage, to be like their colleagues and masters. And who could grant that wish except for a demon?
All students must destroy their own demons. Only once they’re of sound mind can they progress to mage status, and be trusted with powerful magic.
I looked down at Faol, and started on a fresh sheet of paper.
His mother… She’d wanted him to be the best at everything. She’d wanted more.
And so did Faol. He wanted more, to be the best. He did not see his own strengths, or appreciate what he had. And when he’d taken the poison from me, he’d clawed at the scars on my face – a reminder of his shortcomings.
Never satisfied, I wrote in large letters. Ungrateful.
Yet his heart was good. And he’d suffered cruelly. And he cared for me, even though I was not a mage or anyone of interest, and my face was marked with outlandish scars. He’d risked his life to protect me.
He’d been happy to stay with me in this castle for ever more.
I kissed the side of his face. “You can do this,” I whispered. “I know you can.”
It was not lack of talent that stopped him, but lack of gratitude.
I shook his shoulder, excitement growing inside me. “Faol, wake up.”
He groaned through his sleep. I put down the paper and quill and used both hands.
“Faol? You have to wake up. I know how to defeat the Mage!”
His eyelids opened slowly. He rolled onto his back, looking up at me. I cupped his face and said, “I know what to do, Faol. I figured it out!”
His grogginess fell away, and he pushed up to rest on his elbows. His face broke into a wide smile. “How? How did you do it?”
“I… I put it all together.”
“You’re brilliant! Tell me what to do and I’ll get started immediately.”
“It’s simple,” I said. “You don’t even need to use magic! You don’t even have to move. Faol, the Night Mage is your demon. But, I mean it in a metaphorical sense.”
He frowned at me. “The Mage is a real demon.”
“Okay, so it’s both real and not real. The Mage represents your biggest flaw, the one that makes you susceptible to possession. And so all you must do is overcome your greatest flaw!”
As my smile grew, his faded.
“Tell me about my flaws,” he said.
“Only one.” I took his hand. “You have to be grateful for all you have. You have to stop wishing for more, or comparing yourself to others, or blaming everything for your own imperfections. You’re not perfect, Faol, and you never will be! You’ll never be as powerful as Kiro, but that’s okay! You are you. And you must love who you are, and you must love the life you are given.”
He pulled his hand away. “So, according to you, I defeat the Mage by accepting I’m useless and lacking talent, and then go to Moranda and thank her for all these years alone because it’s taught me valuable lessons or some such?”
“You’re not useless—”
“Of course I am! I couldn’t even cope with the Mage’s poison.” He sat up, presenting his back to me, covering his face with his hair.
I put my hands on his shoulders. “You took me to the Otherworld and joined with me. I can feel you inside, Faol. Do you think anyone can do that? And you offered to do it. You were never told! Don’t you see? You have a good heart, and you can do magic, and—”
“But I’ll never be good enough.”
I pressed my forehead against his shoulder blades. “You don’t understand—”
“Because my intelligence is that of a farm animal?”
“No. Stop it! You don’t understand: you’re good enough now. You, right now, are enough. You always have been, and always will be.”
He swung his legs off the side of the bed. “You’re making no sense.”
“Please, stop for a moment and think about it. Think about your mother, Faol. If you were to leave this castle, always wanting more, as your mother wanted more—”
“You never knew my mother.”
“And neither did you! I know enough, Faol. Can you tell me, honestly, that you would never one day seek the power of a demon?”
He was silent. I clambered across the bed to sit beside him.
“You see?” I said quietly.
“So… I’m to accept who I am. Be happy and grateful, in spite of my imperfections and injustices?”
“Yes.”
He turn
ed to face me with tears in his eyes.
“So tell me,” he said, “how do I do that?”
CHAPTER THIRTY
I got him out of bed, and washed and fed, and he straightened his back after I told him off for slumping. We sat in the kitchen with a pot of coffee between us. I held the quill, poised over another sheet of paper.
“Let’s begin by listing everything good in your life. All the reasons you should be grateful.”
Faol folded his arms on the table and stared into his coffee cup. “You,” he said.
I blushed as I wrote my name on the paper.
“But,” Faol continued, “I’m killing you. So soon you’ll be gone as well.”
“No. That is precisely the attitude not to take. Think only about today. Right now. I’m here, so I’m going on the list. What’s next?”
He shrugged his shoulders (which had already returned to their slump).
I fought to keep a hold on my patience. “Fine. I’ll help you out. You have Cal and Orla”—he snorted—“who are your friends, and who came all this way to save you. Strong friendships are rare, Faol. And you have two.”
“I wonder what they’ll think if they ever change back?”
“You don’t know the future, so stop worrying about it! Okay, what next? You have Moranda.”
This time, Faol laughed.
“Moranda is looking out for you, Faol. She wants the best for you. I believe she is a good person. And she’s training you to be a mage. Do you know how lucky you are?”
Faol indicated the walls of the castle.
“But think how many are trapped within walls without any magical training? And you’re stuck in a castle. There are worse places.” I took a sip of coffee; pushed away the voice that said he can’t do this.
“Now what else? Your parents. You had parents who loved you and wanted what’s best for you.”
“They’re dead. How can I be grateful for dead people?”
“Because all of time is wound up in a ball!”
He shook his head. “You know you don’t fully understand it, Aideen.”
“Yes, I do. Your parents are dead but they live on in you. And everything they did for you shaped the person you are today.” His lip began to curl, so I got up and walked around the table. “You’re a good person,” I said, holding him firmly by the shoulders. “You should be proud. I know they would be.”
The Night Mage Page 14
