Sarah Z. Creates

Dreaming out how long-range communication might happen in my primary world (in really rough story form, of course!):

Erysa yawned widely before taking her last precious sip of lukewarm kaffe. Orvyl would be furious if she brought anything liquid into the office. Not that spilled liquid could possibly damage the tablets. They were magic and spelled to be resistant to all manner of abuse.

But Orvyl insisted, and since Erysa was only two months into her new job in the royal hub, she wasn’t about to argue with him. Even when her eyes didn’t want to stay open.

“Late night, hmmm?” Jona’s voice was far too low and gravely to startle Erysa. She turned to him with a sleepy smile that he echoed back to her. Of course, he was just coming off his guard shift, while she was just getting ready to start her transcription shift.

She shrugged, then leaned her head on his shoulder as he took a seat on the bench next to her.

“Not a late night so much as a very interrupted night, as you well know.”

Jona chuckled and dropped a kiss on her forehead. “Whose mom is keeping an eye on the Night Menace today?”

“Yours.” Erysa didn’t open her eyes. “She’ll keep him until after lunch. Hopefully you can catch enough sleep between now and then.”

“I guess that means no lingering for me,” he said and hefted himself up. She missed the steadiness of him.

“Unfortunately.” She wasn’t ready to say good-bye. It felt like she never saw him anymore. “I can’t wait for your turn on nights to end.”

“You and me both, heart of mine. I’ll see you this evening?”

She nodded and finally opened her eyes as his finger trailed down her cheek. She watched her bondling leave the mess hall reserved for palace servants and guards and tried not to let weariness inflame her frustration. King Regynald was an idiot who knew nothing and cared even less about how his whims affected others.

Her lips tightened as she tried to redirect her thoughts. Lord Solomon had it in hand, now. He would get things back to normal in short order.

She glanced at the clock and yelped. That time was far more energizing than her kaffee. She was late!

…

The night shift hadn’t waited for Erysa to arrive. The door to the office was closed and locked. Erysa wasted precious moments trying to find her bespelled key before finally opening the door. The key glowed a dull red, and she made a mental note to drop by the mage office for a replacement on her way home. Getting locked out because of a dead key was a sure way to send Orvyl into a tantrum.

Her key, unfortunately, wasn’t the only thing glowing red.

All thoughts of keys and Orvyl and schedules fled at the sight of the tablet that threw its ominous, dull red glow into the twilight of the message office.

Her feet dragged with something other than exhaustion as she crossed the room. That was Clarryon’s tablet. The words scrawled across its surface stabbed her.

“To: Lord Uryah, Royal Mage School, Domsydge
To: Lord Solomon, Quersyam Council, Croytyn
From: Constable Derak Shemson, Clarryon
Subject: Wilder; Ehslyng
A wilder struck our area three days ago. Clarryon survived with minor damage, but reports from surrounding areas indicated that ravened were loose. We have one survivor from Ehslyng who claimed that the entire town was destroyed. We dispatched a squad to survey the damage.
Those men have returned with the town’s medallion.

There is nothing left of Ehslyng to save.
Lord Uryah, I’ve sent the medallion to you for examination. Please dispatch an experienced cohort of mages to aid in the cleanup.

Lord Solomon, I will send an additional message with more details of the destruction as soon as I have them. I’m leaving after this is sent to personally survey the damage.”

Erysa had to read the message again. It didn’t make sense. Ehslyng … Ehslyng couldn’t be gone.

Only years of training kept her fingers securely wrapped around the angry red tablet. Her mind rebelled against this message, but her training took over.

She set the tablet on her station. Pressed the sigil to break the link to Clarryon’s current sender to save the original message. Walked to the bank of primed tablets, and slid one already tuned to Clarryon from its waiting station into the ready dock.

Returned to her station.

Tears fell unheeded down her cheeks. Paper and pen waited for her. Her mind raced and her heart tore in her breast, but her hand was steady as she transcribed the message from tablet to paper.

Ancestors be merciful.

The message seemed grimmer written in her own hand. She set the paper to the side and took a moment to cradle her head in her hands. One deep breath. A second.

She wiped her hands over her cheeks, trying to dry them.

That moment was all she allowed herself. Then she stood, stooped under the weight of the message she had to deliver.