Shadow Mage

by Sarah McCarthy

  But maybe, even if they understood, they wouldn’t give up magic. How could these people want something that came at such a cost? If they knew, if they believed her that they were ripping apart the souls of other living beings in exchange for… what? Not having to carry water?

  The fighting erupted, and Kel tensed, pulled in on herself, terrified, horrified at the pain that was around her. The rage.

  “Kel, fight, we need you,” Ealish gasped, and Kel tried desperately to think of something she could do. Any second they were going to realize she couldn’t do magic anymore. It was only luck that they hadn’t realized it yet.

  Isabelle blasted a tunnel, a path through the mages, and Kel felt a surge of relief. All she had to do was run, make it through, make it to the door, and she and the others could lock the rest of the mages out. They could do what they’d come to do, and then everything would be all right.

  “Go!” Isabelle said. “Go, Kel, we’re right behind you.”

  Kel took a step forwards hesitantly, lost in the violence around her.

  Suddenly, everyone collapsed. Every single mage fell to the ground, and instantly there was silence. Kel looked up, and saw Finn looking at her from across the piles of bodies.

  There was a beat, a moment of confusion, and then he smiled.

  “Hello, little sister.”

  Kel’s heart went to her throat. She looked around at the fallen mages. She could feel Morthil draining their energy away. He stood taller, stretched his arms overhead and cracked his neck.

  “My gods, that feels good.” He gave a long, satisfied sigh. Kel’s breath was coming in short little gasps, but she made herself take a long, slow, deep breath.

  “Hello, Morthil.”

  “Well, bet you’re glad I showed up when I did. Looks like things had gotten a little out of hand.” He eyed the weapons, fallen from limp hands.

  “Please leave them alone, Morthil.”

  “They’re so much quieter this way, though.”

  “Please.”

  “They’ll just go back to fighting.”

  “If they do, they do.”

  “You just want a little distraction so you can do what you were trying to do.”

  Kel looked at the ground, watching the energy bleeding out of the mages into Morthil. She reached out, tried to stop the flow, but nothing came.

  Morthil eyed her. “What have you done to yourself, little sister?”

  “Nothing.”

  He leaned forward. “Well, well, well. And here I thought we were going to have a real fight. But it looks like you’ve already lost.”

  Kel shivered. What do I do? But no voice answered. No one heard her. She was completely alone. Is it really gone forever? Am I… this now? The thought slipped in, past the mental barriers she’d been constructing inside herself. She fought down the tears that threatened to rise up.

  Morthil grew taller as the power flowed into him. Finn’s familiar face elongated, the fingers lengthened. The eye grew wider and larger. Morthil put a hand to his mouth and coughed, and an eyeball popped out of it. He squeezed it back into its socket and blinked at her.

  “Always nice to have a piece of the body to get used to before you move in. Now.” He surveyed the grounds approvingly. “How about you and I take a walk?”

  What do I do? What do I do? Smoke? But still there was no answer.

  “All right,” she said, to give herself time to think.

  Side by side, they climbed the stairs to the battlements. The whole castle empty now. For several seconds they walked together, looking out over the walls.

  “So…” Morthil said. “This is a surprise. You’ve lost your magic. I confess I am disappointed.” He clasped Finn’s hands behind his back.

  Kel pressed her lips together, her heart pounding. I have to get away from him long enough to… To what? To get away? To get the mages through the doors and down the long ramp to the speaking pool? Without magic? I have nothing, right now. No way to fight him.

  She glanced at him, looking out across the trees.

  “Isn’t this going to get boring for you?” she asked.

  Morthil smirked. “That’s your big plan? Convince me to stop?”

  “You have all the power in the world. You’ve won. There’s no one who can fight you or stop you. What’s the point?”

  “Ask me that in a thousand years,” Morthil said. “Maybe I’ll be tired of it by then.”

  He held out a hand, palm down, and the trees began to shake. With great, earsplitting cracks, they splintered, falling to the ground. Clouds of birds flapped into the sky, wheeling and crying.

  Kel gasped, and again reflexively tried to reach out, to stop what was happening.

  “Shouldn’t have over-exerted yourself, should you?” Morthil commented, lazily igniting the forest. “Why you let one of them… oh. I see. That’s how you found out how to…” He shook his head, turning to look at her. The side of his face illuminated by the rising flames, he looked strangely sad.

  “I was wrong, I see. I thought… When Faraern told me I had a sister, I thought finally I would have an equal.” The heat from the burning forest was incredible, the roar of the flames deafening. “But you’re weak. You didn’t deserve any of the power you had, and that’s why it’s gone now.”

  The red light flickered in his eyes. “Or was it overconfidence? You thought nothing could truly hurt you?”

  Kel’s stomach went cold. Every muscle in her body tensed. Her mind went desperately from one option to another. She thought of pushing him over the edge, but he was too tall, too strong, and even if she managed it, he would only fly.

  Morthil was looking at her, deep disappointment on his face. “Well… it was a nice thought while it lasted. Maybe there will be another, someday.” His eyes travelled down her body. “There’s barely anything left of you.” He shrugged. “Goodbye, Kel.”

  A wave of dizziness washed through Kel, and she felt her legs start to go weak. Her mind began to go numb, a dark mist rising in her vision. Something, the last of something, was being pulled out of her, and she collapsed.

  No.

  She tried to fight it. If there was something to take, that meant there was something left. There had to be a way. She gasped, struggling to draw in breath. Her arms shook, and she looked up at Morthil, blinking, trying to focus on him.

  But he wasn’t looking at her, he was looking over her shoulder, at something behind her.

  The draw stopped, just for an instant.

  Shuddering, a cold sweat covering her skin, she turned to look behind her.

  The sky had gone dark.

  Over the roar of the flames, there was the flapping of black wings. Thousands and thousands of crows filled the air. Among them were other birds, too. Eagles and hawks, long delicate herons, and sharp-beaked sparrows and even fluttering hummingbirds.

  There, at the top of the steps, about fifteen feet behind her, stood Smoke.

  Kel gave a gasp that was half a sob of relief.

  Smoke gave a quick nod, then jerked his head down towards the gardens, towards the door where the mages slumped unconscious.

  Kel sucked in a deep breath.

  Thank you, she thought, even though she knew he couldn’t hear her.

  The crows attacked. Thousands of them, swarming around Morthil.

  Flames exploded through them, and gale-force winds ripped them apart. The air was filled with cries and feathers and blood.

  Kel ran. Her legs shook under her, cold sweat was pouring down her face and arms, and she could barely see straight, but she ran. She didn’t want to leave them, she knew they were going to die, all of them, and quickly, but there was nothing she could do. She had to get to the door.

  Ants. Beetles. Mice. The gardens were full of them, clustered around the mage bodies.

  “Thank you,” Kel said aloud, gasping. She pointed to Isabelle, to Illiam, and a few other of the mages, and they picked them up, carrying them behind her as she ran to the door and wrenched it
open.

  The cries of the crows were already fading. She could feel Morthil coming for her. As soon as the bodies were inside, she slammed the door shut and locked it, knowing it would barely slow him down.

  She sprinted down the incline and into that watery cavern. She yanked the copper out, and the light glowed. Up above, she could hear Morthil pounding on the door, heard him tear through it like tissue paper. In an instant he would be here.

  She thrust the bodies into the pool, with only the closest destination in mind. A red light glowed from the tunnel behind her. Morthil shot into the room just as Kel slipped into the pool. She heard a brief scream of fury, and then there was darkness.

  The mages hit the ground, scattering dry bones this way and that. Kel was on her feet and at Illiam’s side instantly. He was just waking up, shaking his head woozily.

  “Illiam, quick, you have to close the speaking pool. Cut it off from the rest.”

  “What?” He shook his head, and Kel wanted to shake him.

  There were several speaking pools, and they could have gone to any one of them. Even now Morthil would be moving from one to the next. Any second, he would be here.

  “Please, you have to hurry. It’s made of shadow, you need to cut it off.”

  Illiam’s eyes finally focused on her face and he seemed to process what she was saying. He turned immediately to the pool and bent over it, closing his eyes.

  Deep in the water, Kel thought she saw a red pinprick of light, growing larger. Then it winked out, and the light was gone.

  He looked at her. “I… I think I did something? I’m sorry, I’m new to this.”

  “OK.” Her heart was thundering in her chest. Morthil would know, now, where they had gone. Even without the speaking pools, he could get here, and it wouldn’t take him long.

  “Nice,” Isabelle said, looking around. “Is he dead?” The other mages were waking up, too, now that they were far enough away from Morthil.

  Kel shook her head, trying to catch her breath. “No, and we don’t have much time. Are you ready?” She looked around at the other mages, just beginning to open their eyes. One by one, they nodded grimly.

  54

  Sarai

  Technically, first the pillar gave a heavy sigh. Then it spoke.

  “And what did you do to annoy Isabelle?”

  Sarai attempted to pull her hands out of the manacles. They only tightened menacingly.

  “I didn’t do anything to –”

  Another gust of wind twirled around the pillar.

  “You—you slept with Finn? That… that can’t be right…”

  Sarai choked. Then groaned. “No, of course I didn’t. But I told her I did. She must have…” she twisted her feet, but those manacles were locked tight as well. “She must have put some kind of…”

  “Trap on you, yes. Enjoying yourself with someone else, then, was it?”

  Sarai shuddered. “Not in the slightest.”

  “Ah. No, I see. Someone tried to murder you. Or possibly you hugged your grandmother or something—I hope she’s all right—but no, you don’t really look like the grandmother hugging type. You’ve got a much more murder-y look to you than that.”

  “Thank you,” Sarai said, resuming her struggling.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Trying to get free, isn’t that obvious?”

  “Yes, but why?”

  “Because…” Why even get free? What was the point of it all even? She glared at the pillar. “Because I don’t like being imprisoned, that’s why.”

  “Sure, sure, that’s understandable.” It went silent, letting her struggle for a few minutes in vain. There weren’t even any locks on this damn contraption.

  “You know, I was locked in a dungeon once. For over a year. Complete misunderstanding. Well, mostly. I mean, I did do the thing they said I did, but not for the reasons they—”

  “Do you know how to get me out of these things?” Sarai asked.

  “Yes.”

  “So… what do you want?” What did you bribe a pillar with? Lightning rods?

  “Well, I’m supposed to keep you here until Isabelle shows up to release you.”

  “Yeah… she’s not coming.”

  “Why not?” There was genuine worry evident in the voice, and the colors shifted quickly.

  “She’s fine, just a little preoccupied.” Sarai explained about the school, and the state she’d left it in, and suddenly she slumped in the manacles. Agnes could be hurt. She’d chosen Jeremy over her, and over all those mages, those kids, some of whom had been nice to her. And Jeremy—her stomach heated, her face burned, and she couldn’t bear to think about what had just happened.

  “You have the face of someone who’s going through something rather difficult,” the pillar said kindly. “You know, when I was alive, I was the oldest mage who’d ever lived. I am also now the oldest pillar alive. I mean, to my knowledge I’m the only pillar alive. Of course, there may be others. We pillars aren’t great at travelling, so it’s not a surprise that I haven’t met another. Come to think of it, what a great, lonely sadness it is to be a pillar. All of us must think we’re the only one. All of us, standing alone, bastions of hope or light or remembrance against an indifferent world of living beings…”

  “Right…” Sarai found herself forgetting what she was doing there.

  “But enough about me, what about you?” the pillar said. “You know, in life I had a bit of a tendency to go on and on. You can’t do that as a pillar. People will just wander off. Well, you can’t, obviously. But other people—and animals—do tend to. So, I’ve learned. You’ve got to ask other people about themselves a bit, too. And people do have interesting stories. I met this one man—”

  “Thanks for asking,” Sarai said loudly, and the pillar went quiet. She didn’t want to talk about it, but she also was afraid that if she let the pillar go on, she would get wrapped up in what it was saying and forget completely what she was doing here. The pillar’s words had an entrancing, almost soporific effect, and as it started in on each story, she’d found herself getting sleepier and sleepier, almost like she was dreaming what the pillar was telling her.

  She told the pillar about Jeremy, about what he’d done, about how she’d left people that she’d almost thought were her friends to go save him. That she’d given up on the choice she was supposed to make. That she could have killed Finn and possibly saved everyone else in the process, but that would have meant giving up magic. And she didn’t want to do that. It was the one thing that made her special.

  “Oh no, heavens no,” the pillar said. “That’s not what makes you special at all. Turning into an inanimate object will really make you appreciate what about yourself is actually yourself and what isn’t, let me tell you. Take me for example. I was a water mage. Can I do water magic anymore? No. I also travelled all over. I had some adventures let me tell you. This one time—”

  “You were saying, about what parts of yourself are you?”

  “Oh, right you are. Well, yes. I’m a storyteller. Turns out that was what I was. And a teacher. I helped a lot of people. I taught Finn and Isabelle, and they’ve gone on to teach others, too. The point is, I thought, a lot like you did, that I was a mage. And a bit of a clever trickster, in my youth, you know.” She wasn’t sure how, but she got the sense that the pillar had winked at her. “It sounds like you’re going through kind of the same thing. You’ve just met all these people, and you’re wondering if they like you for who you are, and you’re not willing to accept that maybe your magic is mostly useful for helping other people, and that you can’t do much with it alone. And, honestly, why wouldn’t you feel that way? You’ve met a lot of terrible people to be honest. What was that guy’s name, did you say? Jeremy? I’ve met people like him. Only care about themselves. Turn on you as soon as you’re no longer useful to them, they will.

  “But the point isn’t that you have to do it all on your own, or be the most powerful… the point is to pick the ri
ght people.”

  “Well, wish I’d known that a few hours ago.”

  “Even if you had, it wouldn’t have made a difference.”

  “Wonderful.”

  “You needed to choose Jeremy. You didn’t know what kind of a person he was. Now you know! Certainty is a wonderful gift, let me tell you. It doesn’t come along all that often.”

  “Right. I have certainty that I chose wrong.”

  “In that instance. For some definition of ‘wrong’. Doesn’t mean you have to keep choosing that.”

  “Can’t really choose much of anything at the moment.” Sarai wondered briefly, if everyone at the Table died, would the pillar let her slowly starve to death as it told her stories?

  “No, no. I’ll let you go. You just looked like you needed to talk. That’s all.”

  The manacles unclicked, and Sarai collapsed onto the ground. She stood, massaging her wrists and looking around her. She was in the middle of a wide expanse of empty plains.

  “Isabelle has a… wind conveyance… over there,” the pillar said.

  “Where?”

  “There.”

  “This way?”

  “No, no, to my right.”

  “What?”

  “Oh right. This is so difficult sometimes. Your left, then back two steps.”

  “Oh—”

  She took a few steps, and something caught her by the ankle, whisking her a hundred feet into the air before she could finish her sentence. Behind her, she could hear the pillar shouting “Come back soo—” before its voice was lost to the wind.

  This is an insane way to travel. This person is insane, Je—Sarai caught herself, swallowing around the lump in her throat. Agnes. Isabelle is insane.

  Yep, but creative, huh? She could hear Agnes’ laughter in her voice and smiled.

  She was hurtling over the treetops now, and the mesa with its ruined tower came into view, the monsters grouped around it. Only they weren’t grouped anymore. The barrier had fallen, and great glowing monsters were crawling all over the Table, tearing it apart stone by stone.

  Oh gods, Sarai thought as she careened over them. Were those bodies, lying prone down in the garden? She didn’t have time to look before she blasted in through an open window in the remaining portion of the tower and found herself in a small room with a coat rack.