Shadow Mage

by Sarah McCarthy

  Was that a hint of a smile? Was that a joke? Had she cracked him? “I mean, those are both great comebacks.”

  He didn’t say anything. She tried again.

  “I can see why you’d have a hard time choosing. I’ll pretend you said both.”

  He shook his head, but he was actually definitely smiling now. He glanced at her. “All right, let’s get this over with?”

  “Yay!”

  He motioned to the door. “You want to do the honors?”

  She readjusted her clothes a final time and smoothed her hair yet again.

  “You look fine.”

  “Respectable?”

  “Like you could light every single one of them on fire.”

  She frowned but squared her shoulders and knocked. Nothing. She knocked again. A few minutes later, the door was opened. An old man stood there, the rain beading up on his oiled leather hat and coat. He stared at them for several seconds, his eyes traveling up and down each of them.

  Merriny clasped her hands and gave a low bow, elbowing Cris to do the same, but he only stood dourly next to her.

  “Hello,” she said, attempting a smile. It was hard to smile at someone who was staring at you so expressionlessly. “My name is Merriny and this is my partner, Cris. We’re the mage initiates on our pilgrimage of service. How can we… be of service?” Crap. What were the lines again? She could have sworn that, whatever they were, they did not have the word service in there twice. Did they? The man was still staring at her dully. He stuck a finger in his ear and wiggled it around. She opened her mouth to shout the words again—and maybe try a different phrasing this time—but he nodded and pulled the gate open wider.

  “Right, right. Come in, then. Get us all out of this rain,”

  “Cris would be happy to—”

  “Not now,” the man snapped, slamming the gate shut after them. “Let’s get one thing straight, all right? You’re not to do anything without permission. And permission comes from the council, got it?”

  “Oh… yes… of course.” Merriny nodded.

  He led them through the town, such as it was. What they could see of it was small and muddy, on the banks of a rushing creek, which the man referred to as a ‘crik’. Their unwilling tour guide pointed out a small shed far away from the rest of the buildings which he said they could sleep in. It didn’t look like the roof would keep even half the rain out.

  Most of the buildings were log cabins of rough-cut timber. They passed two taverns and an apothecary.

  “These the mages?” A man called out from a dilapidated porch. He stood, holding a tin cup.

  “Yup, taking them to the council.”

  The man dumped the steaming contents of his cup into the bushes, hopped over the porch railing, and trailed along after them.

  “What kinds are they?” he asked their guide, not even sparing a glance for Merriny or Cris.

  “Dunno.”

  “I’m a fire mage and—”

  The man gave her a harsh, appraising look. “Wasn’t talking to you.”

  “Oh.” Tears welled up in her eyes, but she blinked them away. She was a mage, this was her first assignment, she wasn’t going to cry the first time someone spoke to her.

  “Don’t talk to her like that.” Cris said the words softly.

  “Scuse me?” the man said, leaning in. “Didn’t catch that.” He had an ugly look on his face.

  “You heard me. She was being nice. And she’s here to do you a favor. Without pay.”

  “We don’t need any favors.”

  Cris made a show of examining the decrepit town. “Of course not.”

  The man’s face reddened, and he took a step forward.

  Merriny put a hand on Cris’ arm.

  “Sorry, sir,” she said, stepping between them. “We didn’t mean to be rude. We appreciate the lodging you’ve offered us, and we’re here to work for our room and board.”

  The man sniffed, but whether he was going to press the issue or not, they never found out because three women in battered leather were striding towards them.

  The middle woman had curly grey hair, most of which was tied up out of her face in a bun on the top of her head. She planted herself in the middle of the group, staring from one man to the other, and then to the mages. Her light green eyes were sharp.

  “Thought I told you to bring the mages straight to us.”

  The man swept his hat off and inclined his head. The other stepped back a foot, and his hands went to his pockets.

  “My apologies, Madam Hill. Yes, these are the mages. Gen here just wanted to meet them.”

  “I’m sure he did.” She turned to Merriny.

  “We appreciate your coming.” She held out a strong, tanned hand, which Merriny shook. “You two ready to get to work?”

  The heat flooded back into Merriny’s chest and she lifted up onto the balls of her feet. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “You can call me Hill.” She nodded over her shoulders. “This is Anna and Ellen.”

  “Pleased to meet you,” Merriny said, smiling, and the other two women smiled in return, although there was an anxious tension in the corners of their eyes.

  Hill shot a look at their welcome party. “Gen why don’t you get back to whatever you were avoiding doing. Marn, get back to the gates. We don’t want any unwelcome visitors.”

  She caught Merriny’s worried look.

  “Some of our neighbors aren’t too happy we agreed to this. But that’s their loss. I’ve seen what you can do.”

  Merriny bowed. “Finn doesn’t let anyone out on pilgrimages unless they’re ready. Magic is easy to… make mistakes with.”

  “Right. So, what has he sent me?”

  Merriny was confused for a moment, then realized what she meant. “I’m a fire mage, and Cris is a water mage.”

  “Well, fire we can use, certainly.” She eyed Cris. “Not sure about water. You know much about mining?”

  Cris shook his head.

  “Ellen’ll take you by the sluices, you see if you can find anything to improve.”

  “All right.”

  She gestured to Merriny. “You come with me.”

  Merriny followed the woman, jogging to keep up as she splashed through the muddy streets.

  “Can you make us some of those lights, then?”

  “Oh, yes, I can make you as many as you need. Well, as many as you have glass enclosures for. Did Finn let you know to—”

  “Yes, yes, we’ve scraped together quite a few. You’ll have to tell me if they’ll work for you.”

  “And, I can make little flames you can use to light fires more conveniently, and hotter, contained flames for forges or kilns. Again, you have to have the right enclosures for that. If you don’t, you’ll need an earth mage at some point.”

  Hill nodded along. “Can I request one of those?”

  “Yes.” Merriny hopped over a puddle. “But there aren’t many. A lot of fire and water and air, fewer naturalist and earth mages, and they’re all busy out at the larger cities—I mean, no offense or anything.”

  “I’m under no illusions that our shit town warrants your best.”

  Merriny’s stomach turned over, and she felt a blush growing on her face. She followed Hill in silence to a large barn at the far end of the town.

  About thirty townspeople were clustered under the roof out of the rain, shuffling their feet in the straw. Some of them carried glass balls or bowls, or large burlap sacks, and a huge pile of glass and bits of pottery sat in the middle of the room. Merriny cracked her knuckles, looking around at all the eyes staring at her. I wish Cris were here, too.

  “First thing,” Hill said, gesturing to the enormous pile. “Make as many of these into lamps as you can.”

  Merriny nodded and approached, taking the chair that someone set out for her. “Oh, sure, no problem at all. I can make… probably most of these into lamps.” There was a broken bit of crockery that was questionable, but Merriny wasn’t going to let them down. She
licked her lips, stuck her tongue between her teeth, and picked up the first glass. It had at one time been a water glass. Her mind was buzzing, but she took a long, slow, deep breath, settling into that calm place in her heart, and an instant later soft pink flames licked up the inside of the container.

  She thought she heard something, like a cry of pain, and cocked her head in alarm, listening intently, but she must have imagined it, because it didn’t come again, and no one else seemed to have heard it.

  “Is it always that color?” someone asked.

  “Oh! Sorry, no,” Merriny said, shaking off the anxious, unsettled feeling in the pit of her stomach. I’m just nervous. I’m imagining things. “Would you like another color?”

  “Yellow?”

  “What about blue? That might be cool,” a man said, and Merriny nodded.

  “What are you going to be able to see in blue light?” the woman next to him said.

  “Didn’t say it was useful, just said it might be cool,” the man shot back.

  “I can do whatever colors you’d like,” Merriny said.

  “Let’s stick with regular yellow for now,” Hill said. “Let’s not get carried away. There will be more mages. Let’s just see what this one can do first, all right?”

  Merriny made ten more lights, feeling a small trickle of shadow collecting inside her.

  It wasn’t anything she couldn’t handle, just a little heaviness. She did as she had been taught, as she had done a hundred times before, and focused on the shadow, keeping it in her awareness. There was that little bit of insecurity, that part of her that wanted everyone to like her. As long as she stayed aware of it, it wouldn’t become a problem. The first few years she’d used magic, it had slipped out. She hadn’t been aware of it, and her magic created vast, attention-getting problems. It was only luck that had kept her from seriously hurting people. But now she was aware of it, she could feel that part of her that wanted attention, wanted people to like her, and would do anything to get it, and she could keep that for herself, let herself try to get that some other way, rather than letting it climb into her work under her awareness.

  The townspeople were grouped around her, watching in stunned silence as she poured flames into their various containers.

  She picked up a chipped blue vase, filled it with a small, white hot flame for lighting tapers, and as she did, she suddenly felt a surge in the magic. The shadow trickling back into her bucked and writhed, but only for a moment. Then it was still again. Merriny paused, a cold sweat breaking out across her forehead. She set the vase down gently on the straw, swallowing hard. What was that? Am I that nervous?

  “Could I… could I have a glass of water, please?” she asked, realizing as she spoke that her throat was parched, her mouth dry. Hill waved at one of the men, who brought her a pitcher and a glass. She drained it in one go and immediately poured another, her hand shaking so badly she could barely hold the pitcher.

  “You all right?” Hill asked.

  “Yes, yes, I’m fine.” It better not get back to the Table that I choked after a couple of flame jars. So much for my first assignment. She set the glass down, taking a deep breath to still her shaking hands, and picked up the next glass.

  This time, she felt it even before she started to work. It was like a vibration in a cable, when a wind runner was on its way. Only, it was a vibration in the magic, swelling up from the deep wells within her. She paused, her hand still over the jar.

  “If that one’s no good that’s fine,” Hill said.

  “Oh, no, no, it’s—” Merriny moved her index finger an inch, curling it down into the jar, and flames roared up, a little bigger than she’d meant to, their heat licking out of the container, searing her finger. She dropped it, and it fell to the ground and shattered.

  “Sorry, I—” But she cut herself off. The little red flame was quickly growing in size; first it was a foot, then two feet. People shrieked and drew back. Someone—Merriny thought it was Hill—tossed a bucket of water over the flames, but the liquid vaporized instantly.

  What did I—but Merriny stopped. The thing was still growing, still expanding, even though she wasn’t doing anything. She had closed off the source of magic within her even before she had dropped the jar. Arms and legs were uncoiling, screaming faces appeared and disappeared in the flames as it grew.

  “What the—” Hill said, then swore.

  Merriny’s heart was hammering in her chest, her fists clenched as she stared up at the thing. It reached up and grabbed hold of the ceiling beams with burning hands, red like embers, and the wood ignited. The monster opened one of its many mouths and screamed, the sound furious and agonized.

  What do I do what do I do what do I do? In all the disasters, there had never been a thing like this. Never some creature with a life of its own. Cris. Cris. Where are you?

  Hill had her by the shoulder, was pulling her back, out of the barn, out of the thing’s reach as it tore the structure apart. Everywhere, people were screaming and running.

  “What the hell is this thing?” Hill shot at her, gripping her shoulder with fingers that tore into her, dug into her flesh like iron.

  “I…I don’t know,” Merriny choked out. “Cris. Find Cris.”

  But he was there already, his face white, in a dead sprint, running straight at the thing. Water exploded out of him, roaring through the air in a geyser which collided with the thing, sending up huge billowing clouds of hot steam.

  He was expending so much, Merriny could barely see him through the steam and the smoke, but she could tell he was overextending himself massively. He was bent nearly double, an anguished expression on his face as the thing came at him. It swiped at him with a single, massive arm of flame. Cris lifted his hands and a shield of water appeared around him, severing the arm as it swept at him, sending sparks and bits of flame like burning oil flying everywhere.

  Nearby buildings were igniting, and, apparently finding Cris too much of a bother, the thing went for the rest of the town. It sent fireballs rocketing into storefronts, and more into the few clusters of people who’d foolishly stayed to watch.

  Merriny, trying to hold back sobs, her face twisted in horror, reached out, trying to yank back whatever it was, to control it, to stop it, but it wouldn’t listen. It was the first time fire hadn’t obeyed her. She broke out of Hill’s grasp, running towards the thing. Maybe I just need to be closer. I can stop this. I need to stop this.

  Whatever it was, it screamed in pain, wheeling about. Something she’d done must have affected it, because it paused, watching her warily out of three flickering faces, none of them familiar to Merriny.

  “Merriny, get back!” Cris was running towards her, trying to get between her and the thing as it advanced, flames dripping from the eyes of its many faces. He was staggering, she could see he’d way overexerted himself. The shadow was dragging at him, filling him, threatening to break out.

  “Cris, you can’t, you have to stop, you’ve done too much!”

  Cris skidded to a halt between her and the monster; he lifted his hands, and a sphere of water appeared, completely enclosing the creature. Instantly, there was silence, except for the rippling of the water, and the flames of the burning buildings. The creature inside lashed out against the shield, screaming as its appendages hit the water and vaporized. Sweat poured down Cris’ face, which was a sick shade of gray. Something inside him was flickering, wavering. His fingers curled, shaking.

  Merriny had never seen so much shadow in a single mage. The first thing Finn had taught them was how to tell when the shadow was collecting, when you’d taxed yourself too far. Stop. You always stop, because you can’t control what will happen, and whatever it is, it will be bad. You have to stop.

  “Cris, stop, you’re using too much,” Merriny gasped out, desperately looking for a way to help.

  Cris didn’t look at her, every ounce of himself focused on the creature. The great shield was wavering. Merriny had never seen something so huge from a wa
ter mage before; the amount of effort he was be expending must be enormous.

  “What can I do, how can I—”

  Before she could get the last word out, Cris’ chest hitched. A look of horror bloomed on his face, and then suddenly all the water disappeared from his body. For a second he was a brittle thing of dust standing before her, then he crumbled.

  Merriny dropped to her knees, her hand going to her mouth. Vaguely, she heard a roar from the creature. The shield must have vanished, but she didn’t look, only reached out a hand towards the dust, gently touching the black bead Cris had worn around his neck. Her shaking fingers closed around it, and she barely noticed as someone grabbed her shoulder and dragged her away.

  5

  Kel

  Kel took a step, her bare foot sinking half an inch into the silvery water. The water reflected the sky above. Pink, orange, indigo, streaked and whirled together, shifting and moving dizzyingly. She took another step, feeling the icy cold liquid on her skin. The water stretched to the horizon in every direction. All around her, for miles and miles, was only the silvery, colorful expanse. Not a single other creature moved. But the air was thick with thoughts, strange echoing voices.

  At first, they were quiet, as if very far away, or in another world entirely. One close to this one, adjacent, but wholly different. Perhaps just under the smooth surface of the water. A single shriek rose above the rest, a rending cry of such desperate pain that Kel started and found herself sitting up in bed, dripping sweat.

  Kel, what is it? Smoke shifted next to her.

  I don’t know. Something bad.

  Smoke curled up against her neck, his presence warm and comforting. She lay in bed for some time, and slowly her heart rate returned to normal, but she didn’t want to fall asleep. She was afraid to go back there, afraid to find herself asleep and in that dream again. She couldn’t say exactly why it scared her so much. But something, somewhere, was horribly wrong.

  6

  Sarai

  A sharp, efficient knock woke Sarai the next morning. She groaned and rolled over. Bright sunshine streamed into the room through a large, double-paned window and she glared at it and pulled the covers over her head. The knock came again, louder and more insistent.