They Mostly Come Out At Night

by Benedict Patrick

  The woman took a few moments to digest this information before looking to the Magpie King in confusion. "But then, how?"

  "There is a safe path through this part of the woods, known to all Corvae." At this, the Magpie King nodded and his people spread out before him, amongst the deadly thorns, awaiting the beginning of the trial. "They shall be your eyes for this task. They shall instruct you on how to move through the forest unharmed."

  The cunning man laughed again at the presentation of this challenge. "Another ploy," he counselled his companion. "They could not lose you on the cliff, so they seek to kill you here and blame it on your own fumbling. What will the rest of us do once you, the greatest of us, have fallen? They will force us to leave these lands."

  But the strong woman remembered the kind words of the Magpie King on the cliff on the previous day, and she accepted the blindfold gladly. The soft cloth blocked her vision and she took tentative steps forward.

  "Hold, sister," came a voice to her right. "The way forward is not safe," came her instructions by the unseen Corvae. "Instead, walk towards my voice, and continue on that path until you reach my son."

  Taking a deep breath, she turned to the speaker and walked towards him, and continued to do so until a new voice instructed her to do otherwise.

  This continued for many hours. The strong woman was passed from father to brother, from wife to grandmother, a long chain of forest people guiding her to safety. All went well, and her confidence began to grow. As it did so, her pace quickened, eager as she was to regain her sight.

  "Sister, no," came a shout to her left. She felt a small shove to her side that caused her to side-step slightly, and she then stood rigid with fear. Beside her, she could feel the earth tremble as a body collapsed, frantic convulsions and pain-wracked gurgles signalling the end of a life.

  Panicking, the woman lifted a hand to her blindfold.

  "No, sister."

  She recognised the deep tone straight away.

  "Your task is almost complete, but all would be forfeit if you stole back your vision now. A Corvae has fallen here, but in doing so she has saved your life and the fate of your people. Honour her - turn towards me and walk, slowly."

  The strong woman turned to the Magpie King and began to walk. She rejoined the chain of voices, which eventually led her to the edge of the thicket. She was greeted by the cheers of her people, but this time her sense of victory was muted by the sadness surrounding the Corvae at the loss of one of their own.

  The day of the final trial arrived. This was held back at the temple, in front of the assembled outsiders and a host of Corvae larger than any the outsiders had yet seen. The Magpie King stood at the head of the gathering with his wife at his side, a look of stoic sadness on both of their faces.

  "The trial of love," the Magpie King began. "This is the most difficult of all tasks, yet can be completed by any assembled here." His voice rose at this, allowing all to hear. "Think hard about everything this woman has done for you," he counselled them. "She is not the only one who can provide for her people."

  He allowed a pause for this to register with all assembled, and then continued. "For the trial of love, the Great Magpie demands a sacrifice. For countless generations, the Corvae have lived here without malice towards each other. Yes, we have had arguments, but we never forget that we are one people. If you are to become Corvae, the Great Magpie demands a sign that your people are capable of this too." He scanned the audience now, his gaze resting on nobody specific, although all felt that his speech was intended for them and them alone.

  "The Magpie demands that one of you sacrifice your bonds with the Corvae. The rest of the people assembled here will join us with our arms stretched open in welcome. They shall become Corvae, they shall live and find peace in the forest."

  "But one shall be cast out, exiled from the forest. Your knowledge that this sacrifice will save every other outsider here is the only balm you shall be offered."

  "Preposterous," the handsome outsider shouted in response. "Do you really think that any of us would be foolish enough to give up so much and never benefit ourselves? My people, listen to me. Do not be taken in by these false promises. We have the ability to force our way into this forest without any sacrifices needing to be made."

  A great murmuring broke out among the gathered outsiders. Although many of them were in agreement with the cunning man, many more were raising their voices to address the Magpie King. They were looking to save their friends, their family.

  The strong woman turned to the Magpie King, and for the third day in a row a look of fear was etched on her face. "Do not let them volunteer first. Let me take this final burden."

  She then stood up and shouted above the rising noises from the crowd. "It is me. I am to be exiled." She turned in desperation to look at the Magpie King.

  After a pause for consideration he nodded his approval.

  Within the hour the Magpie King stood atop his castle, his sharp eyes picking out the forlorn figure making her way to the forest border. Below him, two peoples mingled, becoming one. The sites for new villages to house the outsiders - no, the new Corvae - were already being planned.

  And as he watched a handsome, tall man slink around the borders of the campsites below, a bitter scowl on his features, the Magpie King wondered what exactly he had invited into his domain.

  His gentle sobbing told Mother Ogma that Lonan was awake. She waddled over to his bed and rested her hand on his head.

  "Now, dearie, nothing too much to worry about. A couple of fingers is a small price to pay for how unbelievably stupid you were last night."

  Lonan shrugged her off him, sat up and eyed his ruined hand. Sniffing he replied, "He's dead, Mother Ogma."

  "Yes, I have to say I’m rather proud of myself. Who would have thought I had it in me, at my age?"

  "No, not that monster. Adahy. He was killed."

  Mother Ogma's brow creased. "Now, dearie. Surely last night's events have helped you to see that all this dream nonsense has been leading you astray? That wasn't even a Wolf out there last night."

  "No!" He half-screamed his answer, causing Harlow to jump up in response.

  To Lonan's surprise, the old man continued to move, flailing around on his bedsit. Mother Ogma moved over to him again to calm him down.

  "No, Mother Ogma," Lonan continued in a lower tone when Harlow had settled again. "He was there last night. The Magpie King, exactly as I told you."

  She clearly did not believe him. "Then why did he not stop that thing from hurting you?"

  "That's just it. He told it to kill me. It was working with him. You must have got a good glimpse of that thing that ate my fingers - it even looked like how I described the Magpie King. Almost."

  "I don't understand then. If this Adahy is who you say he is, why would he want that to happen to you?"

  "He wouldn't. That isn't the kind of man he is. Was. He was a good king, Mother Ogma. He was going to make us safe…"

  "Perhaps it was the other one then? Maedoc?"

  "Seems more like him, but that couldn't be right. They were at the palace in my dream last night, the party was still happening…" Lonan slipped into silence.

  "What is it, dearie?"

  "My dream last night. The party was still going on. The party that began the night before."

  "That seems unusual, dearie."

  Lonan cupped his head in his hands and gave out a groan. "I've been a fool. They don't mean anything, the dreams, do they?"

  "Perhaps. But I've heard the dreams of madmen before, and very rarely do they remain so consistent. The Magpie King last night - are you sure it was him? He was the same as in your dreams?

  "Every last feather, yes."

  "Well then, there must be truth there. None of our stories describe him in such detail."

  "Yeah. Yes, that's right. That part still makes sense. But everything else is so different. No Wolves outside, but instead those… birds?" Lonan shuddered, clutching his ban
dages again. "And the timing of last night’s dream, that was all wrong. It should have been a day on from when I last saw Adahy, not just an hour or so."

  He raised his eyes to look at Mother Ogma. "I thought my dreams were showing me events as they happened. I was wrong."

  Mother Ogma sat on her bed, letting everything fit into place. "That was Maedoc last night, then. As the Magpie King."

  "Adahy did save us from the Wolves, but now there’s something else out there, attacking the villages. Something to do with the Magpie King. Something that dresses like him, answers to him."

  "Is there any way this Maedoc could have been hiding something like this from the prince, hiding that bird monster, and maybe more like it?"

  "No. Not a chance. There would’ve been nowhere to hide a secret this big. There was nothing like them at the Eyrie, Mother Ogma, not when I’ve seen it at night. This is something new."

  At that moment, they heard a commotion out on the green.

  "They've probably found the body by now," Mother Ogma muttered. "Stay down here, dearie. I'll go and see what’s happening." The old healer opened the cellar door to the daylight and went upstairs. Seconds later, she ran back down again.

  "He's back, Lonan. The tax collector is back."

  Lonan quickly wrapped himself and his wounded hand in a blanket and ran upstairs and outside to the village green to join in the throng surrounding the purple-robed man.

  "I have been sent back to support you in this distressing time," Inteus was addressing the people, "and to help to make funeral arrangements for the family."

  There were shouts of confusion with families asking the tax man to explain himself.

  He raised his hand for silence, then continued. "The Magpie King has told me that one of your number was attacked and killed last night. I have been sent to help you deal with this."

  "Who?" This bellow came from Old Man Tumulty. "Was anyone breached?”

  "It was the young man known as Lonan Anvil," Inteus announced in a consoling voice. "Alas, he chose to not confine himself to the cellars last night, and our lord reports he has paid the price."

  At this, there were shouts throughout the village, and Lonan could pick out Branwen's high pitched wail at the news. However, a few heads close by were beginning to turn in his direction.

  "Can you lead me to the body?" Inteus asked the crowd. A murmur spread through the gathered villagers, and they began to part, exposing a stern faced Lonan to the tax collector's searching gaze.

  "Well," Lonan addressed him, eyes full of anger, "it looks like someone's lord hasn't quite got their facts straight, doesn’t it?"

  "I-I don't understand," the outsider stammered, stooping down to gather his belongings. "I must consult-"

  "Oh, I think you must, but your consultations will be taking place a bit closer to home." Lonan ran the last few feet towards the man and grabbed his robes at the chest. Inteus buckled in fear and confusion.

  "Now wait just a moment-" Old Man Tumulty began to challenge, but Lonan interrupted by holding up his bandaged hand, the blood from last night's wound staining the white linen red.

  "I'm still alive, but something had a pretty good go at me last night. This man knows more than he’s telling us. I reckon my fingers have bought me the right to ask a few questions, so who is going to help this mess to the healer's cottage?" At that final sentence, Lonan's eyes fell on Branwen's, and he knew this time he had earned the anger she shot at him. He turned away, not wanting to let his emotions cloud his judgement.

  The Tumulty boys, always game for helping roughhouse a deserving soul, took Inteus from Lonan and helped to bind him to a chair in Mother Ogma's house.

  Lonan stood and watched as they did so, losing his thoughts in the gentle rocking of Harlow's chair. He glanced at the old man and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. Harlow was looking straight at him. The invalid had never before registered Lonan's existence in the years they had spent under the same roof, but now his accusing eye tracked Lonan as he moved from one side of the room to the other. This uncanny gaze added to the volatile mix of emotions currently assaulting Lonan, his insides pumping a heady mix of adrenaline as his survival instincts kicked in. If the Magpie King, whoever wears the helm, wants me dead, he’s not going to rest until the job is done. How am I, a Knackless villager, going to be able to stop him? This man must have some information I can use.

  "He's all yours, Lonan," Niall Tumulty told him, breaking Lonan's train of thought.

  "Thanks guys. Best that you leave, though. If this waste of space knows the Magpie King, and I think he does, the less you all know, the better."

  The men left with a little protest, leaving only the inhabitants of the cottage and Inteus behind.

  The visitor appeared to have regained some of his composure, despite his now uncomfortable position. "Well, Master Anvil, we are all very pleased you have survived. I am sure my lord will feel so too when I tell him."

  Lonan responded by punching the tax collector across the face. "Now, this is going to be slow and painful if we don’t understand each other, so listen closely. You remember your friend, Jarleth Quarry?"

  Inteus nodded, silently, shocked at the sudden violence. This was a man who had never experienced a good punch in the face before.

  "Didn't see him outside there, did you?"

  Inteus thought and shook his head.

  Lonan leaned in close to him. "That's because we executed him yesterday. For doing this to me," Lonan indicated the bandages on his head. "You see, Mister Inteus, people in Smithsdown take each other’s safety very seriously. And after this?" He held up his hand to display the stumps that remained of his two eaten digits. "Well, let's just say that this means you are going to have to work very hard to try and stay alive."

  "Now listen, young forager, you really cannot be serious-"

  Lonan rolled his eyes and hit the man again.

  "Knife," Lonan requested, and Mother Ogma handed him a large chopping knife. "Now," he said in a matter of fact tone, "there are people in this village I want to protect. I will not hesitate to use this knife to get what I need from you. So, answer my question: why does the Magpie King want me dead?"

  Inteus looked in panic at the weapon. "But... he'll kill me..."

  "You do know I'm not planning on tickling you with this, don't you?"

  Inteus stared directly at the knife, refusing to answer. Taking a deep breath, Lonan stuck the knife into the skin on Inteus' forehead and began to draw a red line down the right side of the man's face.

  "Your dreams, your dreams," the man screamed, and Lonan removed the blade. "He does not like that you dream about him."

  "Why not?"

  "He would not tell me. He is worried about something you might have seen."

  Lonan nodded his head. "How did he know about them, the dreams?"

  "He didn't know it was you. He just knew someone in this village had had them."

  "How? How could he know something like that?"

  "It was his wife. She has sight, a gift of her people, she knows things. Queen Andromeda told him."

  A shriek came up from the other side of the room. Harlow lifted himself out of his chair, and then crumpled onto the wooden floor, flopping about like a dying fish, continuing with his moans.

  "Is he alright?" Lonan questioned as Mother Ogma ran to him. "What the hell got into him? He's madder than-"

  Then Lonan froze, another piece of the mystery sliding into place.

  "What is it?" Inteus questioned, straining against his bonds to see behind him. "Is that the old man? He wasn't on my records - who is he?"

  "It's just Harlow," Mother Ogma shouted back as she hauled the old man back to his seat. "He's been with me for years."

  Lonan remained unmoving. No. That’s not Harlow. Harlow the simpleton has no part to play in this drama. Harlow the invalid wouldn’t react in such a frenzy at hearing the name of the Magpie King’s wife.

  But Adahy would.

  For
the last ten years, Lonan had been helping to wipe up the dribbles and clean the bedpan of the Magpie King.

  Mother Ogma caught Lonan's shocked gaze, looked back at Harlow, and Lonan could tell that her mind was not too far behind his in putting the puzzle pieces together.

  Lonan directed his attention back to Inteus to distract him from Mother Ogma. "The queen knew I was dreaming? I must see her then. Where is she?"

  "The Eyrie."

  Lonan shook his head. "No good. We both know I wouldn't last a second at those gates. She must leave the castle sometimes."

  Inteus shrugged and then Lonan pressed the knife close again.

  "The temple. She has permission to visit the temple to pray. She does so regularly, under guard."

  Lonan raised his eyebrow at that last comment. Why the guard - to keep her safe, or to keep her under control?

  "Is she happy?" he asked, instinctively.

  "Sorry?"

  "The queen. Would you say she’s happy?"

  "I- it must be a great honour to be consort to the Magpie King." Lonan raised his eyebrow at the tax collector. "But... no. No, I do not think so. The Eyrie is… tense. It is not an easy life, to be so close to the crown. For any of us."

  No, Lonan thought, remembering his journey through Adahy's life. But I bet it’s a damned sight different now from back in the prince's day. He looked over at Mother Ogma who was now patting Harlow's - no, Adahy's - hand reverently.

  "I have to go," he stated bluntly. "To see the queen. Keep this one under lock and key until I’m gone."

  At this, Adahy stood up. It was a shock to see him do so, to see him so in control of his actions. It was like watching a piece of furniture come to life.

  "...Harlow?" Lonan questioned, not wishing to give away the true Magpie King's identity.

  "I think," Mother Ogma decided, "that our old friend wishes to come with you." Adahy stood, fixing his eye on Lonan, but otherwise not responding.

  Lonan shook his head with incredulity at the idea. "Not a chance. He hasn't been out of his chair in decades. He can't even think for himself - he’d get himself killed out there."

  At this, Adahy grunted and remained staring at Lonan.