Tales Of The Void
Letters
A Short Story By:
Black Waltz 0
†††
When Magi’s sleeping problems became serious he finally accepted the fact that he was getting very sick.
It had started about three months ago during the last season of his exile. The time he was able to spend in blissful unawareness steadily dropped by unnoticeable minutes, over time, until the young ranger could on average spend about three hours each night staring at the ceiling or the stars until finally dropping off to sleep. He tried to tell himself that it was because of the time spent in Tenor, then Echuca, that bustling city and the alien expanse of sand. Those places were so different to his forest and his home. He tried to tell himself that it was simple homesickness, nothing more.
If not that, it could have been from the stress of spending nearly an entire year on the run. The Acheron Inquisition had been after his hide ever since that night long ago when Aria had gone up in smoke and flames. Being so far away from his family with not even a single line of communication had been extremely stressful, even something so simple as a letter could have been picked up and traced. Acheron would never do anything to his family, but he didn’t want to have to drag them into this mess.
It was only recently that the inquisition’s investigation had cooled down to other matters and he deemed it safe enough to go home. He supposed he should have been thankful for that, and he really was, but the sudden bouts of growing insomnia refused to go away. If anything they steadily got worse. Magi was perfectly fine and never tired during the day, which caused him to wonder and even fear where the hidden fount of energy was coming from.
But the answer was obvious, wasn’t it? He just didn’t want to admit it.
Bright moonlight streamed through the open window of his bedroom, paling the grey castle stones and the colour of Magi’s skin. After spending two hours trying to get to sleep he had finally given up and moved to the writing desk, leaving Mara to sleep peacefully all on her own. It was a warm summer night so he wore nothing else but an old pair of pants, enjoying the feeling of his bare feet on the cold stone floor. He had an inked quill in his hand, tapping it against a blank piece of paper lightly.
The fullness of the red moon was able to shed enough light so that he did not have to light a candle. Since the fire the presence of the full moon never failed to fill him with anxiety. Magi leaned back in his chair and sighed, looking up at the uninteresting ceiling. So many things to write about, but what? How could he continue?
In the Void the written word was the only legacy that a lost soul could leave behind. The only physical legacy, anyway. Magi always felt the need to write down everything important that had ever happened to him, ever, but eloquence wasn’t his strong point. If he ever bothered to keep a journal it would read something like; ‘went here, did that, must remember appointment with so-and-so, whenever.’ Hardly memorable reading material.
But some things just needed to be said, even if it was hard. It felt like there was a storm brewing and this was merely the calm. Magi was only a small part of it, a fragment along with Acheron, the bizarre company that Ravendor now kept and the lunar phenomena on the night of Aria’s destruction. He’d care more about it if his own inner storm wasn’t so prominent in his mind. Magi touched the quill to the tip of his tongue to wet it, then dipped it in the inkwell and started to write.
Dear Mara,
He started off firsthand, and then hesitated. Letters always felt different to write when the recipient was sleeping less than ten feet behind you, wearing a summer nightgown so light that it was barely a nightgown at all. After what they had done two hours earlier she probably wasn’t going to awaken until dawn. Still, if she did the first thing he would try to do was conceal the letter.
Magi wasn’t a professional writer or a poet, so he wrote very slowly. There was plenty of time so he took every moment of it. Eventually the words started to appear.
Happy tenth anniversary.
Thank you for giving me so many years of happiness.
I have always treasured every moment.
He paused for several moments, skipped a line and finished it off, his quill scratching on the parchment;
I love you, Mara.
Your husband,
Magi.
Such a short little letter, but he could do no better. Mara knew exactly how concise he was; hopefully she would be able to recognise the depth of feeling behind the words. Magi carefully folded the paper and slipped it into a wide envelope, then dated it. The date was grossly inaccurate. He put it on top of the pile of other letters, binding them together with a length of twine.
Seven letters; that was enough. He’d find somewhere to hide them where Mara would never look and then divulge the location to Ravendor the next time they met. When Magi hired him to perform the duty each Elmdynirim was trained to do.
He slipped the bundle of letters into a desk drawer and left the quill soaking in the inkwell. The young ranger tiredly ran a hand through his long hair. He was beginning to feel and understand how Sister Margaret must have felt in the weeks prior to her departure. Everything he had ever heard about the late stages of awakening came back to him. Some were wrong, but many were also right. It was something of a non-physical pain.
Magi rose and brought the chair over with him to sit beside their bed. He propped his arms and his chin against the backrest and quietly watched his wife of three years sleep. It made the notion that he couldn’t join her slightly easier to bear. Gods, Mara just had this quality that made her unique to any other woman. She had been a mouse as a young teenager but for every year she got older she just became more and more lovely. Magi just regretted that he’d never be able to see any more than this.
He closed his eyes briefly. The
church of
Acheron had strictly refused to acknowledge their marriage and the marriages of all lost souls and natives as legal. The chief reason why the grand cardinal had forbidden it was because of the inevitable break-ups after only a handful of years. It was far too cruel for the natives left behind. It certainly hurt the lost souls who had to abruptly say goodbye, too.
Yet Magi never really regretted the decision that he and Mara had made. He had been alone long enough to never want to experience it again. He couldn’t stop himself from falling in love. Who cared if the church refused to acknowledge it? He did and Mara did, so that was enough for them. They had few regrets.
Few, not none. Magi straightened up in his chair a little as Mara stirred; perhaps sensing that he wasn’t in bed with her anymore. She sighed sleepily as she squinted up at him and propped herself up with a hand. Long, slightly messy brown hair fell over her shoulders and framed her face. “Oh… Magi, you’re awake. Can’t you sleep again? Dawn is still several hours away…” She yawned.
Mara couldn’t afford to stay up all night with him either, not with the kind of day-to-day life she led. With Ravendor abroad on a journey with that girl school was also out, leaving Mara with even less spare time. Frankly he wondered every day how she managed to do it. Magi smiled softly at her. “I’m sorry if I woke you. Don’t mind me.”
“Were you thinking about Acheron again? Or of Ravendor and BW?” Mara guessed, sleepily folding back the wrinkled sheets so she could push herself up properly.
“I think about a lot of things.” He admitted mysteriously, but the mystery was lost on Mara. She knew him too well. He just didn’t want to honestly answer the question, and that was fine.
“Come back to bed, dear. You can think just as well lying down than sitting in a chair. Maybe you’ll fall asleep after all.” She offered, scooting back just enough on the bed so he could join her. Mara was just so beautiful, especially when she was being charitable.
But somehow a small part of her secret heart already knew the hidden truth. She had had three years to wait for it, after all. When Magi had become a criminal and vanished for all those months he had come back different. The same lovable man as before, of course, but different. Were it not for the monthly letters from BW randomly mentioning where she had seen him last Mara would have been left totally in the dark.
Magi got up and sat on the edge of the bed. In the moonlight Mara could see the faint scar marks that the inquisition had laid into him. The way he sat suggested he had something very heavy on his chest. Mara became concerned. “…Magi?” She asked.
“I have never deserved you.” He said softly. There was sadness and strain in his voice. Mara had never really heard him sound like that before; it drained the grogginess from her mind almost immediately.
She didn’t quite know what to say to that. All she knew was that it wasn’t true. Mara crept up to sit behind him and draped her arms around his shoulders. “Why do you say that?” She murmured to him, getting ready to talk him out of this strange mindset.
“Because I am a discard. I have never been able to give you the time or attention you require. I regret how short this marriage is inevitably going to be.” Magi went silent for a short time, having to work up the courage to continue. When he did so he shifted slightly to look Mara in the face. “I regret not being able to give you children, either. I know that is what you want more than anything else in the world.”
Was that what was keeping him awake? The poor dear. Mara knew that Magi held some guilt over what he was and what he did, but she hadn’t thought it had been this bad. Magi was always a very consistent person, stoic and silent, but he felt pain just like everybody else. Mara remembered a time when Magi had been repairing something or other in the castle and had accidentally struck his hand with the hammer he’d been using. He had gotten up and locked the door in on himself just so he could scream and swear.
Perhaps he wasn’t around as often as he could be, but Mara had gotten used to that long ago. She was a very independent woman and Magi was just like a boomerang; no matter how far he travelled he always came back. Mara adjusted the shoulder strap of her nightgown and smiled kindly at him. “I knew exactly what I was getting when I agreed to marry you. I didn’t have any misconceptions of a perfect life.”
“But that is exactly what you deserve.” He commented quietly.
“That kind of perfectionist talk always gets people nowhere. I married you because I love you, and because you love me. You’re a ranger and you have responsibilities, just like I do as the governess of this castle. If you were around more often you would rarely see me anyway from the amount of work that I do. I look forward to seeing you all the more because of your travels.” Mara blushed. “As for the children I suppose you are right about that. I do regret it, but I have eleven adopted now and isn’t that enough?”
Magi had looked away while she was speaking and he said nothing, but when he briskly passed the back of a hand across his face did she realise that he was wiping away tears. Mara’s heart just melted at that. She had never, ever seen her husband cry. “I really do love you Mara.” He said at last, with only the tiniest tremble in his voice to indicate how much it meant to him.
“I know, dear. I know. Come here…” Mara cooed and pulled him towards her, wrapping her arms around her love and holding him close. In her experience with the children and with people in general a hug could do more for a person than mere words ever could. She felt Magi’s strong arms come around her slender frame and then gently squeeze. He kissed her and let the topic drop for the moment. Maybe for the last time. From here on out every time could possibly be the last time.
Mara convinced him back into bed. He’d finished his writing for the rest of the night. What did those letters mean to him, and to her?
To show that despite everything Magi was still afraid. They said; ‘Whatever you do, remember me. I love you, please don’t forget me.’
‘Don’t forget me.’
‘Please.’
- fin
