Shadow Mage

by Sarah McCarthy

  “That’s wonderful. I’m so glad. I really do understand your concerns. It took me a long time to come around to using magic. I tried to avoid it for years.”

  “Indeed.”

  Finn wasn’t sure how to respond to this, but it didn’t matter. Sure, Armina had left, but if the Macai signed the treaty, he was sure he could get the Uplands to join, too. And who cared about Lake Iori anyway? They were just a small enclave, and they’d always been separatists. Finn sucked in a deep, joyful breath. This was it. He didn’t even need to see the rest of the treaties signed. As long as this one was, he knew the others would eventually follow suit. Keep it together, Finn. Just wait a second.

  “This is great, just great,” Finn said. He lifted his hand, but dropped it again, deciding Frewin wouldn’t appreciate being clapped on the back. He glanced around the room. “Let’s have the ceremony here, in three days’ time.” Cause maybe, just maybe I can get Artair on board before that, too. He doubled down on his grin-suppression. Only semi-successfully.

  Frewin inclined his head.

  “Do you have any other questions or need anything?” Finn asked.

  “I don’t believe so.”

  “I’d better start getting things ready, then.” Finn stood, extending his hand to Frewin. The man took it, his palm dry and warm as he shook it strongly. “I’ll have the draft of the treaty delivered to your rooms. You can look it over and let me know if there are any changes you’d like.”

  “Good.”

  Totally expressionless still. The man was deeply unsettling. But Finn could forgive that, because he’d also just given Finn everything he’d ever wanted.

  Forgetting his soup, Finn made his way quickly out of the room, barely making it through the doors before he leapt into the air. Ha! He broke into a jog. This is it! It’s happening. It’s really happening.

  He found Nate in the rooms they kept permanently available for him. He had visited often over the last ten years, staying for up to a week or two at a time. He insisted he didn’t mind staying in the guest quarters, but Finn wouldn’t hear of it and they’d made him a large, comfortable apartment with a balcony looking north to the Iron Mountains.

  He found Nate there, sitting at his desk writing a letter. When Finn came in, he wiped a droplet of ink off the nib of his pen and replaced it in its holder.

  “Finn, what can I do for you?”

  “He’s agreed,” Finn said.

  Nate’s eyebrows raised and he sat back in his chair, steepling his fingers. “Who?”

  “Frewin.”

  “That’s… surprising. Did he say why?”

  “He said he sees what we can offer, and he sees what kind of world we could build.”

  “Hmmm…”

  “I know, I was surprised, too.”

  “Well, that’s great,” Nate said, glancing down at his half-finished letter.

  “So, I just wanted to double check with you. Are you still planning to sign?”

  Nate turned his bright green eyes to Finn and looked at him seriously.

  “Yes. I have my doubts, though.”

  Kel hasn’t told you about her plan, has she? “We’ve figured out a way to deal with the Ael.”

  Nate nodded. “I know.”

  “And, you said it yourself, Westwend is thriving because of the mage improvements.”

  Nate nodded again, then pursed his lips and looked down.

  “Actually, I have another thing I’d like to ask, if that’s OK?” Finn said.

  Nate shook himself. “Sure, what is it?”

  “When I’m… gone… will you take care of Kel? And Isabelle?” He swallowed hard. These were the things he hadn’t been allowing himself to think about.

  Nate looked at him evenly. “Of course. But… Finn you know I’m against this.”

  “If there were any other way, Nate, I would take it. You know I would. And you know I’ve tried.”

  “I wish there was something else I could do.” The man looked down, and Finn noticed the grey in his friend’s hair.

  He reached across the table and awkwardly put his hand on Nate’s. “You’ve done so much already. None of this would have happened without you.”

  Nate squeezed his hand and then withdrew it, nodding and finally looking up. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but that’s what I’m afraid of.”

  41

  Finn

  After meeting with Nate, Finn went straight to his own rooms, pulled open the drawer, and lovingly took out the treaty he had crafted over the last ten years. He laid it on his desk, smoothed it carefully, and sat down to read yet again. Nate’s voice was still in the back of his mind, still interrupting his thoughts. And that old familiar doubt was beginning to creep back in.

  No. No. I’m done with doubting myself. He thought. Like you were done with lying to get what you want?

  He straightened the paper, started reading again at the beginning.

  Suddenly, heat flared in his chest. It felt like someone had driven a red-hot poker into his upper right chest, just below his collar bone. He dropped the paper, gasping and doubling over.

  Something deep within himself emptied out, leaving an empty void in the very core of his being, and he felt himself being sucked into it. The sensations from his fingers and toes became more and more distant, more and more numb. His vision reduced to pinpricks, like he was looking out at the world through a long, endless tunnel as he was pulled further and further inside his own body. He tried to scream, tried to move, but his body no longer obeyed his commands.

  In a flash of blinding pain, it was over. Finn was back in his body, lying on the floor, sweat pouring off clammy skin, his breath hitching in his chest.

  Not yet. But almost.

  The words echoed through his mind. The voice was not his own.

  Stomach churning, Finn took a long slow breath and pushed himself up. His arms and legs were shaking uncontrollably. Morthil. Was that what it was going to feel like? How long did he have? A week? Two? The treaty signing couldn’t come soon enough.

  Down in a deep dark cavern, somewhere in his own subconscious, Morthil sat on a crumbling throne, scratching at the armrest thoughtfully with one long black nail. Interesting. The things that little mage had in its mind. The fingernail snagged on a crack in the rock and detached from his finger, fluttering lightly to the ground like the discarded shell of a beetle. Morthil contemplated it dourly. It was well that he had his new pet, to make sure everything went as it should.

  42

  Sarai

  Sarai was getting nowhere with the books. She sat amidst a pile of them in the library. Three days and she’d made no progress. Knowing that those things she’d sensed were shadow was one thing, and had opened up her senses even further, but as far as she could tell, there wasn’t anything she could do with these newfound magical powers.

  “Hi Sarai, do you have a minute?”

  Sarai nearly jumped out of her skin, whirling around, knocking over a stack of books to see Kel standing there. The only person who could sneak up on her now. Why did she have to be both shadowless and quiet?

  Sarai examined Kel suspiciously. “Sure.”

  Kel knelt, smoothing her blue wool skirt over her knees, and looked at Sarai.

  “I’ve been thinking about it, and I realized I shouldn’t have asked you for your help.”

  Sarai’s eyebrows raised.

  “You just found out about this new part of yourself, and it makes sense that you wouldn’t want to give it up. It’s also possible, and this is Isabelle’s point of view, I don’t completely share it, it’s also possible that we should try to learn a little more about the shadow before we go trying to undo what Morthil did.”

  She met Sarai’s eyes the whole time she said this, and again Sarai could sense not an ounce of deception. She was either very good at lying or just very good. And in Sarai’s experience, no one was very good.

  “Isabelle and I talked it over, and we thought maybe you’d like some training from
us.”

  “Neither of you are shadow mages.”

  “No. But I’m… also something different.”

  Ah, that explains it. Sarai’s curiosity was piqued. “What are you?”

  Kel’s cheeks flushed and she looked down. “I’m half Ael.”

  “One of those monster things?”

  “They’re only like that because they’re in pain.” She took a breath. “But yes.”

  This is a trick, and a really obvious one at that.

  “Also, Isabelle is really a very good teacher.”

  “She seems crazy.”

  “She’s a good person.”

  “You seem to think most people are good people.”

  Kel half-smiled. “True.”

  “No, thanks.”

  Kel’s shoulders sank an inch.

  “Are you sure?”

  There’s no way I’m going someplace alone with the two of you when you’ve just told me you need me to help you destroy magic. I just got these powers. I’m not going to help you destroy them.

  “Yep.”

  Kel looked down at her hands in her lap.

  “All right. I understand.”

  She stood up and turned to go. Pausing, she hesitated, turning back to Sarai. “If you change your mind, let me know.”

  Right. Like that’s going to happen.

  Sarai watched her move off through the shelves, waited a few minutes, then followed her.

  “She said she’s not interested.”

  “I told you. We need to make her.” Isabelle tapped her chin. “Maybe we can find something she cares about?”

  I knew it. Sarai pulled herself farther into the bushes, watching Kel and Isabelle talking beneath the trees in a small alcove of the gardens.

  “No,” Kel said, her voice sharp. “We’re not doing that.”

  “I keep telling you. You’re going to have to do something you don’t like at some point.”

  “I won’t if I can avoid it.”

  Isabelle groaned and massaged her temples. A wind rustled the leaves around them, then abruptly cut off.

  “Right, I can’t even do magic anymore because some terrifying monster might appear. Awesome.” She sighed. “So, what do you want to do, then?”

  “Figure something else out, I guess. Investigate the shadow and maybe find another shadow mage.”

  “OK. Let’s go outside and experiment.”

  Isabelle turned to go, but Kel didn’t move. She only looked down at her hand. Isabelle stopped and looked at her.

  “What are you waiting for?”

  Sarai saw Kel’s throat bob.

  “I… I can’t do magic at the moment.”

  Isabelle’s mouth opened; she looked like she was going to laugh, then realized Kel wasn’t joking, and a look of horror came over her.

  “What? Why?”

  Kel looked up at her. “It’s fine. I… I think it’ll come back. I just… had to do something.”

  Isabelle was watching Kel’s face intently. Finally, she sat down next to her and put a hand on her shoulder. Kel’s shoulders shook slightly, but then she straightened.

  “It’s fine. But we can at least talk about it. What are all the things we’ve seen students do?”

  Isabelle looked at her uncertainly, but then moved away a few feet.

  “I mean, light things on fire, freeze things. Water. Things with air.”

  Kel nodded thoughtfully. “Right… right…”

  “Anything else that you can… usually do?”

  “There’s… there’s all those… and then…” She opened her eyes and looked at Isabelle. “I guess I never thought about it, but I can usually kind of… see inside people.”

  Sarai’s stomach tightened. That sounded familiar.

  “What? Like… their organs?”

  “No… more like… their… not quite their thoughts, but their feelings, especially the ones they push out of their awareness. I can see their magic, too.”

  Isabelle’s eyebrows raised. “Interesting.”

  “Yes. I can see their shadows. But… I don’t think… I don’t think shadow actually does anything on its own. It’s just the undercurrent of the other magics.”

  Just the undercurrent of the other magics. Sarai’s fingers dug into the dirt beneath her, and she looked down, something she didn’t quite understand welling up inside her. No. That can’t be all it is. But in the back of her mind there was a niggling doubt. A thought that maybe what Kel had just said was true. When had she ever done anything else?

  You’re no good for anything real. Just assisting other people. She tried to ignore the voice, to shake it off. And you’re too much of a coward to take jobs on your own. Or to tell Jeremy how you feel.

  Isabelle and Kel were still talking, but Sarai wasn’t listening anymore. She sat back on her heels. Slowly, she backed away, crawling through the underbrush until she was far enough that she could stand. Then she ran the rest of the way back to her room.

  43

  Kel

  Kel was sitting by herself in the silent gardens. It was late. The middle of the night sometime. She couldn’t sleep. Didn’t want to sleep, because the dreams would be back. But sitting here in the empty garden was almost worse. She kept listening, wondering if that lost part of her was going to come back, but it hadn’t yet.

  She pulled her knees up, propped her arms on them, and lay her forehead down, the twigs of her replacement hand scratching at her face and snagging in her hair. But she didn’t care. Everything was silent, and for a few minutes she let herself cry, tears spilling over her cheeks. She lifted her head, wiped some snot on her sleeve, and looked up at the stars shining through the dark tree branches.

  Somewhere, she heard a soft click. A door open and close. Then footsteps approaching.

  Hastily, she wiped her face, hoping it was dark enough that whoever it was wouldn’t be able to tell she’d been crying.

  The footsteps were quick and quiet. They came closer and closer, and then around the corner came Illiam.

  Kel’s face hardened. Wonderful. Exactly the person she wanted to see.

  “Kel?” Illiam stopped and looked down at her where she sat with her back leaning up against the rockery wall.

  “Hi, Illiam.”

  She couldn’t freeze him this time. At least he didn’t know that.

  He didn’t come any closer, just eyed her warily.

  “Is everything OK?”

  “Everything is fine.”

  He stood silently for several seconds.

  “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  She wasn’t falling for that again.

  “No, but thanks.”

  He was silent for several more seconds, then he scratched the back of his neck.

  “Um, look. I’m… I’m really sorry about the beetles. I really am.”

  More false apologies. “It’s OK.” She wished he would just go away.

  “No, it was dumb. Will you please let me try to make it up to you? Tell me what’s wrong? I promise not to do anything without your permission.”

  “Thanks. You can’t help, though.” The air was cold, and Kel rubbed her upper arm with her good hand.

  The silence stretched long between them.

  “OK,” he said at last. “Please, let me know if you change your mind.”

  Thankfully, he left her in peace, and she buried her face back in her arms and cried.

  44

  Illiam

  The moment had come, as Illiam had known it would. The opportunity to help.

  The lock was heavy, and magically reinforced, but Illiam melted the inside mechanisms down until it turned, allowing him inside. It had taken a good deal of spying to find the correct door, to find out how Finn was contacting his benefactor.

  Of course they had the same benefactor. That had been clear the moment they’d met. Morthil had alluded to his other protégé, and Illiam had known immediately that his mentor was the failed student. The weak mage who had not se
rved Morthil well. Not that Illiam served anyone but himself. No. But he honored his agreements. That was one of the first rules of receiving gifts from the more powerful. You honored your agreements because what was given could be taken away. Without honor, there was nothing. No power, no destiny.

  He was not afraid as he descended the spiraling path to speak to the demon. To make another request.

  45

  Sarai

  A few days passed. Sarai found herself spending more and more time in her room. She didn’t feel like eating, and she dodged Agnes’ attempts to find out what was wrong.

  When Finn announced there would be a banquet and a ceremony where Frewin would sign a treaty agreement, she figured she should go. Professionally. But she didn’t want to.

  It was too bright. The light stabbed into her eyes like knives. The sound of chattering students, gossiping and speculating loudly as they chewed with open mouths and scraped their forks against their plates and slopped piles of potatoes into bowls, grated against her ears.

  “Are you sure you don’t want anything?” Agnes asked for the fifth time.

  Sarai looked grimly at her empty plate. The food looked even more amazing than usual, Samuel had pulled out all the stops for the ceremony, but Sarai’s stomach was a cold, hard lump. Even the thought of trying to stuff food into it made her nauseous.

  “No, thanks.”

  “I thought you loved food.”

  “I do.”

  “Not feeling well?”

  “I’m fine.”

  Agnes gave her a sympathetic look and pulled a bag out of her pocket. “I’ll save you some for later,” she said, snagging a pie and a few pieces of fruit.