Tough Love

A Short Story By:

Black Waltz 0

†††

As the light from the rising sun formed the first traces of red dawn from the east Sister Margaret watched it grow from the arched window of her bedroom, brushing aside the deep magenta curtain with her hand.

She had not slept the night before. Traces of her tiredness were visible in the very faint shadows beneath her eyes. It felt like weeks since she had managed to get a full night's rest, something ate at it like termites feasting away at the heart of a tree. Sister Margaret was a woman about to enter the middle years of her life, a kind charitable soul and the governess of a castle which had no servants.

And part of her self was dying.

She had felt it coming on, settling down around her for almost, gods, it must have been close to six months by now. In some small ways she had managed to prolong the inevitable a little longer than she would have liked to, waiting and suffering more as a terminally ill person refusing to give up and die. If the other people stopped believing in her she didn't think that she'd ever be able to believe in herself, literally. Sister Margaret barely believed in herself anyway. All that existed was the alastor now, and that was how it was meant to be. That much was clear.

Sister Margaret opened the curtains with a long sweep of her arms. Today was a very special day, it was the eighteenth birthday of her oldest child. She anticipated that it was time for her to grow up and finally leave the nest, able to do or be anything that she wanted now. Sister Margaret had waited and stayed only because she had wanted to see that day come to pass. She had spent a good portion of yesterday getting things ready, stocking the larder, talking to people, tying up all her worldly affairs and buying one last birthday present with all the spare savings she had left.

If somebody had paid close attention to her perhaps they would have noticed that something was wrong. Sister Margaret did not expect the children to see or to understand what was about to happen, she would have preferred it if they could ignore her passing without a second thought. It would be easier if they did not see. The only real task left would be to organize her replacement but it was not a task that she could properly manage. How could she possibly take a woman aside and ask her to be a mother to thirteen children completely out of the blue?

That was really the only thing she worried about now, but as she was to never see a sunrise ever again as a human being there was nothing more that she could do. The years had rushed by so fast.

She heard the door to her bedroom creak open and a familiar face peeked inside, the birthday girl who was also up at the crack of dawn and probably unable to sleep because of her special day. Sister Margaret couldn't remember her own childhood but she knew that it was something that all kids did, waiting eagerly for the presents and the impending celebration. Mara was clothed in her best and most favorite dress, one she had sewn herself and had been over the moon when it had turned out beautifully.

"Good morning, Sister. You're up early today." Mara chimed happily, stepping into the room. She was wearing a new long ribbon in her hair plaited from many smaller ribbons, lending to it a pretty multicolored effect. Carolyn and Dahlia had made it for her using the threads they had saved from previous present wrapping decorations over the years. She liked it very much, but she had wished that the two little girls could have waited slightly later to give it to her, instead of in the middle of the night.

Sister Margaret had to immediately suppress the urge to run away from her. One of the more notable symptoms of becoming an alastor was the increased need for isolation. The only times she could ever feel calm and safe nowadays was when she was utterly alone. When the alastor finally chose to come out it was her hope that she could be as far away from people as possible. As she stared out of the window she had been looking over the boundaries of the forest. It was lovely, the forest, and aside from the rangers it was virtually uninhabited.

To Mara it seemed like her matron was so far away in her own thoughts that she had not heard her speaking. It happened sometimes, she had been so scatterbrained lately. "Sister Margaret?" She said again in a slightly louder voice. "Good morning. Are you okay?"

"Oh. Mara." Sister Margaret answered hesitantly, thinking carefully before she said anything in case the wrong words came out. She glided over to the young girl, in her long habit she tended to glide rather than walk, and she took Mara's hands in her own. It was the strongest act of affection she could show in her position as governess. Anything more than that would be unseemly. "Good morning to you too, my dear. I'm fine, just somewhat lost in thought. You are eighteen years old today, are you not? You're an adult at last. How I have both longed and feared for this day."

"Not as much as I have." Mara exclaimed with a smile. This was an orphanage for children that she lived in and once a child hit eighteen years of age they were finally sent out to make their way in the world. It had happened to several children before her when she was younger and now it was her own turn to leave. She was full of mixed feelings and fear, because for the life of her she could not figure out what she wanted to do. Mara was a good, kind girl but she wasn't particularly skilled at anything, nothing good enough to base a livelihood upon.

Mara did not understand what Sister Margaret truly meant. That was okay, she would know soon enough. "We can keep you here for another two weeks and you can use that time to find your new job or home, and don't worry dear, no matter what you will always be able to return to this castle. The doors will always be open to you." She couldn't help it but her hand trembled in Mara's grip. Her chest felt tight, her head both weak and heavy. It was good that Mara had come to see her so early, she didn't think that she could last much longer.

"Are you sure you're okay, Sister? Your hands are shaking and your palms are all sweaty. Do you have a fever? If you feel ill I can talk to Ravendor for you when he comes to pick up the children and see if he'll take them for the evening too, so you may recover." Mara suggested helpfully. Sister Margaret pulled her hands away when she mentioned those uncontrollable shakes, holding them against her breast where her crucifix lay. She shook her head silently. "Are you sure?" Mara pressed gently. Ravendor wouldn't be around for another three hours but she could take care of the children until then by herself.

"It would be nice to rest today but I don't think it will do me any good. I have many errands which need attending to. You're very good at caring for the children, aren't you? One day you will make a fine mother." Mara smiled at being praised, but she was only being polite. Sister Margaret tended to ignore her own needs when it came to taking care of others. The trembling nun sighed and tried to still herself. "Would it be alright if you cared for them just a little while longer?"

"Of course. I'd love to help." The girl assured her.

She could feel the alastor trying to come out, trying to feed on her, to connect with her. The alastor did not destroy its host, in that one single sense it was non-violent, but instead it bonded with its host until dominant sense of self was ultimately destroyed. Sister Margaret had to focus to talk, to remember names, to remember anything now. This was it, it was happening. The strain was visible on her face, but it felt almost sort of cleansing in a painful way. "Good. Thank you. Mara. I prepared a birthday gift for you. It is wrapped up under my bed. I have to go now. Have things to do."

Brushing past Mara she moved to leave. She had to get out of the castle before the alastor came out of her, and before she forgot the directions on how to get out of the castle in the first place. Sister Margaret was almost past the threshold but Mara reached out and grabbed at her wrist, afraid. This was so unlike her matron. It felt like she did not intend to come back. "Sister," she breathed, concern in her light brown eyes, "please. Something is wrong. I feel it. Please tell me the truth."

Sister Margaret went still. It looked like she was about to burst into tears but she remained strong. It was like she was carrying a tremendous weight and all she wanted to do was get rid of it. As long as she got rid of it everything would be okay. She stared despondently at the stone floor. It wouldn't be right to run away from Mara without telling her the reason why.

Mara wasn't like the other children, she was old enough to handle the truth. "My dear." She began, but nearly faltered on the beginning alone. "One of the things you must learn now that you are an adult is that sometimes you must be cruel in order to be kind, and sometimes you must find the courage within yourself to let people go."

Once more Mara thought that Sister Margaret was referencing something completely different. She thought that she was talking about herself leaving the castle and going out into the world. It would be tough for her but it wasn't like she hadn't experienced it before. Many other children had come of age and left with Sister Margaret's blessing. Maybe she was tired of it now, for it was impossible to raise a child into an adult with love and not care. "Sister…" Mara repeated softly, unable to think of what else to say.

The older woman shook her head again. "It's not what you think. Today is the last day that I can stand to be human in this world. Last week I hired a ranger to visit this morning and dispatch an alastor who will soon be terrorizing the area. He knows what he must do." Sister Margaret took a deep breath. She could feel that Mara's grip on her wrist had intensified. "Mara, I know what alastors did to your family. You don't have to become involved. Just please let me go."

"No." She quavered. "No, I can't."

"You can't change what will happen. You know as well as I do that this is the way of the world." Her Sister reasoned kindly.

In the end all Mara could do was obey her. What else could she do? Cling to her and hope that nothing would happen? The thought did indeed cross her mind but it wasn't practical, Sister Margaret had organised herself and wanted to go. Mara dropped her hand, letting it fall to her side. She wasn't stupid, she knew what happened to lost souls over a time, but she just couldn't let herself believe that it would ever happen to her matron. "I won't follow you. Sister?" Mara asked as she started to cry.

"Yes, Mara?" The reply was strained.

"Thank you. For everything. From myself and the rest of the children, too."

Sister Margaret just looked at her for a few moments, simply amazed how much of a difference a few simple words could make. She had only really wanted two things in her life, to remember who she was and to make people happy. One out of two wasn't so bad in the end, and if she could have sacrificed one to realise the other she would have been happy right where she was. A sharp pain her in her chest, like the cramping of a muscle that she did not know was there reminded her of her urgency. She had to go. "Don't forget your gift. It is under the bed. Take care."

She fled from the room. Mara wanted to chase after her but she had promised not to move. She heard Sister Margaret's hasty footsteps as she ran down the castle corridor, and again down the winding stairs. Mara chewed a nail nervously and decided to count up to sixty. After that, no matter what she did there would be no way to catch up and stop her. Each number passed by her lips slowly, the girl periodically wiping the tears away from her eyes. If only she could have known about this sooner, perhaps she could have dealt with it better.

A minute elapsed, and then another one, then a third. Mara was beginning to feel odd standing there with no purpose, nothing to do. She wondered how far Sister Margaret might have gotten by now, if she looked at the window would she see her running away? Where would she go, anyway?

Mara found herself walking over and kneeling beside her matron's bed. Sister Margaret had said her evening prayers kneeling here a thousand times over, praying to a god that she no longer knew or remembered. It must have been so lonely and frustrating for her, finding faith but not having the faintest idea whom to direct it to. She had said something about there being a present for her down beneath the bed frame, but any excitement Mara could have had regarding her birthday had long since evaporated.

She got down on her hands and knees and stuck an arm under the bed, blindly feeling around for something that might be a gift. Mara sniffed a bit to calm her tears and remembered how some of the little boys in the orphanage liked to turn the spaces under their beds into forts during wintertime, playing fun and noisy games of castle wars. It was the most cliché place to hide things but Sister Margaret knew that Mara was no snoop, not unlike some of the other little troublemakers she could mention.

The tips of her fingers brushed by something soft, wrapped in cloth. Mara scooted a little closer to the bed and reached further, upwards, feeling something expressly hard instead. Nothing else seemed to be under there but dust so Mara wrapped her fingers into the cloth and pulled, the other wooden object drawn out also. The girl sat back on her knees and inspected what she had found. One was a long thin shape bound tightly in a deep grey fabric and the other was a neat wooden box about three feet long. A symbol was carved on the front of the box. It seemed familiar but it was one she couldn't place.

No, wait. She did know what it meant but she could not understand why it was there. It was the sigil of the local smithy from the nearby village of Aria, some of Sister Margaret's bigger cooking utensils bore that symbol on their undersides. This did not look like a box made to store a brand new egg whisk or a cooking pot however, it looked like a container for something quite valuable. Mara lifted the lid to discover what it was.

It was a short sword, double-edged, made from reinforced steel. It had been forged in such a way to match the length and strength in the arm of a young woman. It looked brand new, like it had never been used before, and she could guess what its reason for being forged must be. A sword to hunt and kill a monster. It was not a request, it was a choice, but Mara knew what she must do.

"Sissy…"

The young woman held the weapon in both her hands, bowed her head, and wept.

†††

Sister Margaret ran from the gates of the castle as fast as her legs could carry her, recklessly, not caring if she tired or if it hurt. Her composure was coming undone and she cried between each desperate breath, afraid to look behind her at her old life in case it slowed her down. She wasn't sure that she'd recognise the castle anyway, everything had smeared out into a blur. All she knew was that she had to get away, had to keep on running until she fainted or until the alastor awoke and sealed her fate.

Her destination was the forest. Everybody would be safer if she headed for the forest. She had told the ranger she had hired that when the hunt began she would do everything in her power to make sure her alastor wound up in there, for rangers were as comfortable in the forest as sharks were at hunting in the ocean. Sister Margaret wanted things to be as quick and as easy as possible. She knew that she would rather die than live as a monster and threaten innocent lives. She would rather die.

Her regret was the girl she had left in the castle, the one with the long brown hair. Sister Margaret could not remember her name. She wished that she had not made her cry. As pain spiraled down her limbs and shot back up to her heart, a combination of the ache from running long distances and the alastor itself she wept as well. If only she had had more time. If only things could have been different.

A dark green blurred line was a stripe across her teary vision. The boundaries of the forest. Thank God.

Her last thought. Thank God.

Sister Margaret ran until she could no longer feel her legs, until her memory was dislocated from her human soul and passed on to the consciousness of the monster. When the alastor finally came free and screamed to the sky its birth-cry, there was not an iota of humanity left in its voice.

Birds rose from the treetops in fright, small burrowing animals dug themselves deeper into the ground. The scream was heard for miles around and it was bone chilling, frightening.

The creature lumbered on.

†††

Magi Magemere had been awake since the very beginning of the daylight hours. When one spends most of their time living outdoors the presence of the sun tended to dictate their entire daily schedule. He was a fair-haired ranger trapped in his early twenties and he had spent about three years living as a servant of the forest, an alastor hunter by trade. He was walking along the road from the southern end of the forest, avoiding the slight water puddles formed from the rains they had experienced two days ago. He was dressed in dark greens, some slight leather browns, cloaked and armed with a bow and arrows. He traveled on business and personal matters alike.

There was a slight chill in the morning air. The breeze blew back his cloak and streamed through his long hair. Later on in the day this road might see some activity as it was one of the safest routes to get to the southern village of Bybble, a week's journey on foot away, but for now he was the only traveler walking on the road after the rain.

Last week he had met with an old friend in Aria to catch up over a drink at the tavern. He had expected an hour or two of casual chat, instead she had introduced herself as his next new client and victim. As it was Sister Margaret, how could he refuse? As she had been instrumental in saving his own life once, how could he not do the same for her?

Three years ago he had come into the world as a confused young man wearing an unidentifiable uniform. He had had no direction, no future. It seemed like forever since then and nothing had come before it, nothing at all. The alastor that lived inside of his body was still just a fledgling remnant, a whisper of what would come that grew with time. He had plenty of it left, so he was not worried. Looking up he could see the small shape of the castle in the distance, backed by the mountains to the west. The forest was to the east and the south, a pleasant reminder of home. He would be heading back into the forest soon enough.

In truth he could have stayed inside the forest where he felt more comfortable and hunted the alastor from there, but he thought it best to check up on the castle and its inhabitants to make sure they were okay. Magi had friends living in there, and the disappearance of Sister Margaret as the backbone of their family was sure to create a disturbance. He also slightly hoped that maybe he had been alerted as a false alarm, that maybe he would enter the castle and be greeted by the kindly nun herself.

He knew that something special was supposed to happen on this day too, but he couldn't quite remember what it was. Well, he was sure to find out soon enough. The land of the Void was beautiful in this season, as it was in all seasons, but autumn was particularly beautiful in Magi's opinion. Outside of the forest, which was eternally green, the trees standing proudly in the sweeping fields were turning a crispy golden brown and were losing their leaves. They were a little too close to the center of the Void to expect anything like snow later on in the year, but once they hit the heart of winter the mountains to the west would become entirely encrusted in snow.

Magi had never asked to come into this world, just like Sister Margaret and many of his other friends, but he liked it here and fancied that it was a much nicer world than the one he had come from. He was useful here and when everything was said and done he believed that he was happy. Were it not for the alastors roaming all over the archipelago he would have dubbed the Void a perfect world, so he hunted them ruthlessly to turn the Void into that world.

Magi walked for a while until he came to the entrance of the orphanage castle, the thick wooden gates and blocks of stone constantly left open to friends and strangers alike. If closed they could repel an invading army with ease. Perhaps long ago they had done just that, but there had not been a full-scale war within the Void for almost a thousand years if historical records were to be believed. A few low parts of the gate had been painted brightly with many different colours, the ancient woodwork illustrated endearingly at child-height.

The castle was quite grand but not overly large. Within the gates there lay the front courtyard that somebody had tried to turn into a garden and had only marginally succeeded, a dirt cul-de-sac for horses and carriages, and a small cobbled area before the main door that was decorated with chalk. The central part of the castle loomed ahead as a fortified keep with easily a hundred rooms, and to the east and the west stood two tall towers that stretched far above the castle gates, lookout points that could see for miles around. Behind all that were the stables, where a few pet horses were kept. Magi knew this place well.

The ranger walked up the carriage track, skillfully avoiding stepping in a pile of horse dung that had not yet been cleared away. It would no doubt be dumped on the flowerbed and used as fertilizer. It always helped to recycle. One of the children from the orphanage ran out from the main door, dragging a blue woolen cardigan behind her in the dirt. It was a school day for them and all the morning which led up to them being sent off to the schoolhouse was a chore.

The little girl ran past him in her great escape just as Mara burst out of the door, uttering a stern; "Come back inside and finish your breakfast! We're running late!" Magi reached a hand out and grabbed the girl by the upper arm, the momentum of the child and the sudden resistance causing the girl to squeak in surprise and become lifted off her feet. She was amazingly light, but then again she was small too.

Mara slowed and then stopped in her tracks when she saw Magi. She looked a little frazzled, stressed out, but even so she seemed to be coping the with situation well. So it was true then, Sister Margaret really had gone away. It had been about six months since Magi had seen Mara last, it was notable how much she had grown. Her hair was longer and although she had not gained much in height she had kind of filled out a little in certain conspicuous places.

She as a native of Void had grown older, while he as a lost soul had stayed the same. Magi placed the struggling child down on the ground gently and did not say anything. He wasn't sure if Mara knew that he would be coming, and it must be a surprise seeing him here visibly armed. The young woman walked over to him slowly, her face unreadable. He sensed that maybe he should be worried, that maybe he should move away, but this was Mara, the girl who had once saved his life. When she got close enough he said; "Good morning, Mar-"

She slapped him hard enough to silence his tongue, hard enough to leave a mark that would last for an hour or so. Magi could have avoided the strike if he had been on proper guard but Mara was always as non-violent as a kitten. That single action was enough to tell him everything that he needed to know. It was quicker and more direct than a detailed briefing, actually. The ranger held his stinging cheek and looked back at the girl quietly. She was a lot stronger than she looked. That had really hurt.

Mara had hoped that the ranger Sister Margaret had referenced would be a complete stranger. She didn't want to think that the one charged with dispatching her alastor and had known about the nun's plan an entire week in advance would be an actual friend. She couldn't hate a stranger for hunting somebody that they did not know about. Instead of that Magi had turned up bright and punctual, ready for combat. What was she supposed to think? What was she supposed to feel? And why hadn't Magi contacted her in the past week and told her about it sooner?

Although Magi had not aged physically she could still see some small differences in him from the past six months, and a lot of changes since she had first met him three years ago. Living in the forest had made him slightly more muscular, stronger yet leaner. The cold impassiveness that he had always borne had grown deeper too, but there were relatively simple ways around that. Despite all this he had not been able to avoid her slap. "You jerk," she cried and tried to sound angry rather than heartbroken, "how could you? How could you agree to something like that? How could you not tell me about it?"

Had he been less tactful he would have admitted that he hadn't been thinking about Mara at all. He liked her very much but she was just one child out of thirteen. Well, obviously not any more as he looked down at her, but he had thought that way a week ago. The older man was at a loss for words for a few seconds, surprised, then he answered her questions bitterly. "This was a matter between one lost soul and another. It is not something that a native could understand. Sister Margaret asked for my silence, also."

The little girl with the flaxen pigtails and freckles looked up at the two adults anxiously. She hadn't intended on running into the midst of an argument, she just wanted to avoid going to school. Without Sissy around to get them ready there was no reason to go to school, although Mara had tried her best to do it in her place. She had wanted Sissy, not Mara. "Um…" She murmured, twisting the sleeve of her cardigan in her hands.

Magi wordlessly pushed the girl toward Mara. She seemed to have calmed down somewhat and she sighed deeply. Trust her Sister to organize it so that she couldn't get angry without seeming like a bitch. Slapping the ranger had made her feel so much better though, it had made a world of difference. Lost souls and natives were as different as men and woman, as night and day, but Mara resented being told that she didn't understand something because of what she was. "Pippy, please go inside and finish your breakfast." She said.

Pippy knew when it was best to be neither seen nor heard. She went back inside the castle obediently. Mara folded her arms and regarded the ranger coldly, as if she were telling him that he needed a better explanation than that in order to get himself off the hook. Magi did not understand why he was on the hook in the first place. He had done nothing wrong. "People die all the time from old age, Mara. The difference for lost souls is that to die honorably we must be killed, and when one is killed there must also be a killer."

"I've been living in the Void six times longer than you. I've grown up knowing that. What I don't understand is why does it have to be you? There are so many alastor hunters on the mainland so why you?" Mara lamented. She covered her face with her hands in an overly feminine gesture. Magi thought that maybe he should do something for her, something physical like a hug, but if he touched her he thought that he might get slapped again.

Instead he said one simple sentence. "Because she asked me to."

And how could she argue with that? She couldn't, not really, and that infuriated her even more. Mara just couldn't accept the concept that she would never see Sister Margaret ever again. It had happened so horribly, so abruptly that it was just like a murder in the night. She had tried to be so strong in the hours after her matron had left, feeding and getting the other children ready for school just like any other normal day, but she could not do this. She really couldn't. It was too difficult.

"I'm sorry, am I interrupting anything?" Ravendor asked them politely, from behind.

They both turned slightly to see the new uninvited addition to the conversation. A man in casual ranger garb was standing on the cobblestones, a grass reed in his mouth. He had not meant to eavesdrop but it was rather difficult not to, what with Mara nearly shouting and all. He could detect a delicate situation from a hundred meters away and thought it best to break things up before it got worse. His primary job as a schoolteacher made him very good at negotiation, child or otherwise.

Mara had been able to fight off her inner turmoil by feeling angry and attacking the daily chores with a dutiful kind of sternness, but she could not keep up that charade forever. Seeing Magi and piecing his reason for being there out of the information she already knew had caused it to slip, but having Ravendor coming out of nowhere and asking what was going on was just too much. She would not be able to explain it without breaking down.

She broke down. Mara abruptly burst into tears seconds after hearing Ravendor's confused question and threw herself into the teacher's arms, grabbing him in a tight hug. She had been all alone since Sister Margaret had left, able to talk to nobody old enough who would understand. It was a relief to finally see an adult again who was not as cold as Magi and was not so committed to her matron's demise. She cried against his chest and hoped that she would never have to think of these things ever again.

Ravendor was surprised. He came down to the castle every Monday, Wednesday and Friday to pick up the children and take them to his school for half a day's worth of lessons. His schedule was pretty much clockwork unless he was involved in an extended alastor hunt, and he expected to see all thirteen children dressed and ready to go in the courtyard each morning. Mara was an emotional wreck, the poor girl, and on her birthday too. His put an arm around her to stop her from shaking. "What in the Void is going on?" He asked Magi, concerned.

Magi placed a hand against his temple and sighed. Trust a woman to make a huge mess out of something that needed to be treated with impartial efficiency. Initially he thought this, but he could also see where Mara was coming from. They had all cared about Sister Margaret in their own ways. "Let's take her inside and give her a cup of tea. I will try to explain everything from there." He said.