The Mages of Royas Bay (Mages of Wrystan 1)

Chapter 20: Light

"Ari," he gasped, as silver tendrils burrowed painfully beneath his skin. "Ari, please."

"They will always come," the magic said through Arien's lips. "They all must die."

The silver light spread to the rest of the room, reaching for the mages first: the healers kneeling on the ground, the battle mages standing protectively over them.

"Arien, no!"

Hawk slammed into the boy who wanted so much to be normal. Who wanted ordinary friends. Who didn't want to be different. This boy who had seen so much, survived so much, and suffered every step of the way. This child who had been beaten, abused and abandoned, who thought he'd finally found his place and people to care for him, only to feel disillusioned and betrayed by them again and again.

That was the boy Hawk tried to find inside the magic. The boy who was capable of so much good, who would hate what his power was trying to do. A boy who'd rather save the world than destroy it.

Magic punched through Hawk, biting chunks out of every patch of skin that came into contact with Arien. Ice and fire, ravenous and starved, and lonely, so very lonely, it dug swiftly to the heart of him, uncovering his own golden light.

Hawk shut his eyes and braced himself. He wasn't ready to die. There was so much he wanted to do. He wanted to become a mage-squire, travel the four quarters of Wrystan, go beyond the borders, fight for ordinary people, become a mage-knight, serve his king. Perhaps more, if there was time and the chance.

Except there would be no more chances, there was no more time left. But if he had to die, surely this was as good a way as any. Going down trying to save a friend. To save more mages. To save a city.

His only regret was that Cyrus would die with him. There were no mage-beasts without their mages, and a mage alone was nothing more than a man.

Or a boy, a very lost, scared and lonely boy.

Silver light pulsed, brushed against the gold magic –

And stopped.

"Hawk?" A weak and reedy voice from the heart of the magic and yet outside it. The light softened, rippling into mist. "Oh, stars, Hawk."

The mist splintered into raindrops, the rain fell into a river and the magic flowed back out into the world. The light shimmered and shone, then slowly faded into nothing.

Hawk opened his eyes to the dark, dingy room and staggered as the boy in his arms collapsed. As he sank to his knees, he watched the copper chains about Arien's throat and wrist crumble into dust. Just as the former slave-trader had.

There were no chains left that could hold this boy now. He would never be a slave again. The magic had done its work well. Now all they had to do was clean everything up.

* * *

THE CLEANUP TOOK days. First there was the matter of the witch, Irissa, whose throat had been cut. Thanks to the swift actions of Kitten she had still been alive when the mages reached her. The cut was long but shallow, avoiding anything too serious. In time it would have killed her, but for now she was recovering in the Healer's Hall, determined to be unimpressed by whatever the mage healers could do for her.

Kitten was with her, being fed and spoiled by the nurses, and gradually overcoming her scuttling shyness. Her eyes still rounded when she saw Hawk, though.

The city was somewhat scorched by the whole event. Night Town had been gutted, but the rest of the city remained intact. The people of the lower city were a resilient bunch, though, and had rebuilt most of their homes before the first winter frost struck.