They Mostly Come Out At Night

by Benedict Patrick

  Then Maedoc began to cry. No tears were able to force their way through his tear ducts, but his body heaved with the strong sobs of someone who had forgotten how to do so properly.

  "No, no, no..." was all the old man could mutter. Lonan remained unsure if whether or not this was a final repentance from a defeated man, or if Maedoc was simply in denial about what was about to happen.

  The Magpie King suddenly did his best to sit upright, using the last of his strength to grasp Lonan by the collar and get as close to his face as possible. "You will not. You will spare me. You not like me. Not yet."

  Lonan thought of Adahy, lying broken on the floor of the Lonely House. He thought of the queen, suffering through decades of lies and humiliation, only to take her own life after meeting the love that she had never known. He thought of Branwen and Clare and Aileen. He thought of his mother, and the bond that had been stolen from them because of a night time raid that would not have happened if not for the man lying in front of Lonan right now.

  He thought of the little girl from Gallowglass crying in her cellar, and of how hungry he felt when he thought of her.

  "I am like you," Lonan replied coldly, before easing Maedoc's chin upwards, allowing Lonan to sink his teeth into the weakness of the old man's throat.

  Lonan gave himself a few moments to savour his victory. Then he became aware he was being watched.

  His teeth still enjoying his red prize, he raised his head to see eyes peering at him from the darkness of the castle interior. Using his new heightened senses, he became aware of further movement on the castle roof. More figures were shambling towards him. The bedraggled cloaks and beak-like masks betrayed the identity of these onlookers. They were Maedoc's children.

  The abominations slunk out of the shadows in the moonlight, surrounding Lonan. Lonan had the power of the Magpie King flowing through him now, but he did not think that it would be enough to stop all of these creatures - almost a dozen in total - if they decided to take revenge for their father’s death.

  But something was holding them back. They were looking at the broken body lying at Lonan’s feet, and then at Lonan himself, inching forwards and then backwards in a circle around him.

  Fear. They were scared of the man who had killed the Magpie King.

  Lonan raised himself up to his full height, allowing the Children to see him in all his glory, chin and chest wet with victory. He threw away the body he had been worrying, and picked up the Magpie King's helm, holding it aloft for the Children to see.

  "Done," he stated simply, and then smashed the helm once off of the Eyrie roof.

  The Children stood still, unsure of how to act.

  "Done," Lonan barked again, hitting the helm off the roof once more. This time the beak of the helm broke free and rolled over to the closest of Maedoc's offspring, who eyed it curiously.

  "All done. Go. Go now. Now forest is mine." Lonan stated this loudly, and waited for any reactions from the Children. Some slunk back from his rage, but most remained standing, impassionate. To finally drive home his message, Lonan once again abused the helm upon the roof, this time smashing the headpiece repeatedly into the clay tiles. By the time he was finished, the helm and roof were in pieces. All of the Children had fled.

  Lonan was alone.

  A tale from the fireplaces of the Low Corvae.

  This tale takes place in the spring, after a harsh winter for the village. The winter had been difficult because the villagers had lost two young men in a short space of time. This had thrown a veil of sadness over them all, and sadness was not a good mindset with which to approach the long nights. However, the village survived, sheltering in their cellars, consoling each other in the darkness.

  One of the young men had been put to death because he had been evil. It was a shame to have to do so, but none could deny that his removal was a good thing. However, the second young man had disappeared. The majority of the village believed the man had been driven mad, and had wandered into the forest at night. Like many who chose to do this, he was never seen again.

  Except, that last part of the story is not true.

  On the first day of spring, the village bell rang to warn of night’s approach. On this night, all but one chose to retire to their beds at the usual hour.

  It was then, for the first time in her life, that the old woman decided to stay out for just a few moments to take a peek at the stars. She stood outside her doorway, gazing upwards at the clear sky, her fading eyes picking out the strongest lights twinkling above her. It was then that the healer encountered the young man.

  He dropped to the village green in front of her, causing her to fall back and cry out in fright.

  “By the Great Magpie. Lonan, dearie, is that you?”

  The young man who had once been her charge did not answer straight away. His hair was long and matted now, and he hung his head low so his face was covered in shadow. She could tell from one glance that a strength existed in the boy that she had never seen before. The old woman felt a coldness on her skin, and she wondered why such a familiar presence now conjured fear in her soul.

  “It is me,” the man answered eventually, not raising his head. His speech was slow and stilted, as if it had been some time since he had used words.

  “But, what has happened to you? And Harlow - Adahy - what happened to him? And the Magpie King?”

  At the mention of the forest’s protector, the man looked up at the old woman and hissed. She gasped at this, not so much because of the inhuman noise that he emitted, but because of his teeth. They had been filed to points.

  The man told the woman of everything that had transpired. He told her of the true Magpie King and his end in the Lonely House. Of the false king, and how he had been defeated on the Eyrie’s rooftop.

  “But, if that was so long ago, where have you been?” she queried.

  “The Children. They are out there, some of them. The smarter ones have fled the forest, but some stayed. I have been dealing with them.” He shook his head and grunted. “How is the village?”

  “Fine, fine. Difficult winter, but we endured. Your sister misses you. Seems to be developing her mother’s Knack, and I know she’ll be excited to show you.”

  The man shook his head. “No.”

  “But dearie -”

  “There was another. A woman.” The young man seemed agitated as he spoke, pacing in anger now. “I have trouble with my memories. Her name?”

  The healer paused before answering softly, “Her name is Branwen, dearie.”

  “Branwen. How is Branwen?”

  The healer looked away from him at this. “She… She is fine, dearie. Her and Clare. She is being looked after well.”

  The man raised his head and was silent for a moment as he sniffed the air. “Callum Tumulty. He is with her.”

  The woman’s eyebrows raised. “Has looked after them both all winter, he has. Nothing funny, mind. There’s a bit of an age gap there and she’s been in mourning, but I dare say if you gave them time…”

  The man nodded, but said nothing more.

  “Dearie. You’re not coming back?”

  He shook his head again. “No. Much to do. The Children are almost gone now, but there are other dangers.”

  “They’re gone? So it’s true then, the night really is safe?”

  “Yes.” The young man looked away from her now and smiled sadly. Catching a glimpse of this look, and without the moonlight highlighting his teeth, she found herself finally able to remember what he had looked like before all of his misfortune. “Most of the evil in the woods is gone, and as for the rest…”

  He turned back to look at her again. “I can protect you now, you see. And Aileen. And Branwen.” He whispered her name, then raised his hand and flexed his fist. “The power in me, I can keep everyone from harm.” He tightened his fist, his hand shaking in concentration.

  She looked back at him again, forehead wrinkling in confusion. The boy’s eyes were darkening, the mask of humanity
that he had briefly worn for her was slipping. He caught her look of confusion and relaxed himself.

  “But these abilities have a price. The madness, I cannot control it. Sometimes I think I do not know what is real and what is not.” He looked at the healer again, and studied her face, puzzled. “He ate people, you know. Maedoc. I was disgusted when I found their remains. But now? Now I find myself thinking, why not? We are all meat, are we not?”

  The boy looked at the old woman for a while, taking in her shock and disgust, then shook his head.

  “Take back the Eyrie. It is empty, and our people need each other.” As the man muttered this to her, he backed away from the light of her doorway. “And relight my father’s forge. None have the Knack for it, not yet, but it might be rediscovered given time. I wish I… It should have been me.”

  He paused for a moment, and the healer was aware of a thick sadness that weighed down on the young man’s heart, a product of everything that had been promised to him and then taken away. If not for the rising fear in her belly at the young man’s words she would have hurried across the green and wrapped him in a comforting embrace.

  Then he smiled for a final time. “You are safe now. She is safe. As long as I keep my distance, she can have some of the happiness she is long overdue.”

  The figure who should have been a blacksmith melted into the night, and the healer hurried to close her cottage door and descend into the cellar.

  “The Magpie King protects you,” he whispered softly, before returning to the forest to hunt.

  A Tinker’s Tale.

  That was the original working title for They Mostly Come Out At Night, back when the story was so very different. Despite how different it was, some key elements still remained. It was set in a dark, almost borderless forest. Wolves haunted trade routes between villages, making travel dangerous. The Magpie King hadn’t arrived in the tale yet, but something more important was already front and centre – it was a world of stories.

  Most of the Corvae stories are inspired by real-world traditional tales and folklore. You might have spotted that a lot of the tales the Low Corvae tell each other have strong ties to the Brothers Grimm and their research in central Europe, all the way down to my choice of wolves as one of the big enemies in the book. I’ll always miss the scene in which I had a Wolf dress up as Mother Ogma.

  That might be a lie.

  The High Corvae have much stronger ties to Native American culture, which provided the Magpie King and his people with a very different background to the villagers.

  Of course, with such a rich tapestry of storytelling to draw upon, not everything made its way into the finished novel. So, I have a few extra tales from the Corvae for your reading pleasure, two of which were referenced in They Mostly Come Out At Night. The first is Stone Soup, which is a straight up retelling of the famous folktale, but with my favourite trickster taking the lead. The second is Artemis and Wishpoosh. The name of the monster beaver from Native American culture is so perfect, I couldn’t bring myself to change it.

  And the third tale? Well, that’s The Pale Lady. If I’m being honest, I’m not very sure where she came from. She wasn’t inspired by other stories out there. She never even appeared in any of my outlines for the book. The Pale Lady just seemed to creep into the novel during the writing process, with every redraft making herself more and more essential to the overall plot. The Pale Lady is also a direct sequel to The Coming Of the Outsiders, one of the most popular tales of the Corvae with early readers of the novel.

  I’m giving these stories away to everyone who signs up to receive my author newsletter. As a nervous and excited debut indie author, being able to get in touch with you through this newsletter is my lifesblood, and knowing that you want to stay in touch is the inspiration I need to keep telling more stories. These extra tales from the Magpie King’s forest are my small ‘thank you’ for showing your interest in future novels from the Yarnsworld.

  Head HERE now to get your stories and to stay in touch.

  Looking forward to talking to you soon – hearing from readers makes all the tears, sweat and lack of sleep worthwhile.

  Benedict

  The following is an early preview for the next Yarnsworld novel, Where the Waters Turn Black.

  Be ready to travel to the other side of the Yarnsworld, to a remote string of tropical islands called the Crescent Atoll. Kaimana is a young ocarina player, who recently discovered the lair of a taniwha - a mythical monster - on an island her troupe of performers were visiting. However, her disturbance of the beast caused the locals to demand that the troupe leave the island in shame. As they travel in their large canoe to the next island, Kaimana’s companions are not happy with her…

  Moods remained dark the next day, but only towards Kaimana. The rest of the troupe joked with each other and talked with excitement about their arrival tomorrow. Most of them were not outwardly rude about her exclusion. Only Eloni and Poli kept giving Kaimana blatant looks of hate.

  Kaimana remained at the stern of the boat, sometimes playing on her ocarina and working on her song, but mostly staring at the sea and the wake of the canoe.

  I had no choice. I needed to know if it was real. A mystery like that would’ve torn me apart, eventually. If I’d ignored the taniwha cave, I’d be making this journey with a heart heavy with sadness, instead of one inspired to song.

  I was doomed as soon as I set foot on that island.

  Kaimana looked lazily at the water beneath the canoe. The islands of the Atoll all lay on a ring of rock that the goddess Leinani had cast up from the sea bed during a fit of anger in her younger days. This ring was clearly visible from the islands and from any vessels that sailed upon it. Here the waters were not very deep at all, and strong swimmers like Kaimana’s mother and sister made their livings by swimming to the sea bed, finding nature’s treasures and bringing them home again. The clear water was easy to see through, and Kaimana could make out the colourful forms of different fish swimming between the rocks and coral beneath her. Every so often larger shapes such as rays and sharks would glide by, causing the smaller fish to scatter. She had seen a few sea turtles during her years with the troupe, but these were rare sights to be treasured.

  The troupe never sailed close to the deeper Inner or Outer Seas. There, the water was a much darker blue, almost black, and the bottom was endless as far as Kaimana was aware. Much larger animals lurked in those depths, and those dark waters were dangerous to travel on. The Inner Sea surrounded Leinani’s volcano, giving the people of the Atoll another reason not to travel there. The Outer Sea was endless, and impossible to navigate once sight of the islands had been lost. Kaimana felt much safer here on the Atoll ring, where it was easy for her to see everything that was happening below the water’s surface.

  She glanced beneath the canoe, and realised the seabed was silent and still. In a place normally rife with life, this was unusual. Kaimana’s eyes narrowed as she studied the waters behind the canoe. Often small fish would run when larger predators were close. It was not uncommon for smaller sharks to prowl the waters of the Atoll ring, yet the fish of the Atoll were used to these animals, and Kaimana did not expect to see them cause such a panic.

  Her eyes settled on a larger patch of water some distance behind the canoe. This dark pocket probably marked a gap in the Atoll ring, a pocket of the sea bed that had somehow fallen down or crumbled away, or maybe had not formed in the first place when the islands had been made. These gaps – caves, really - provided underwater shelter for larger animals that lurked in the Atoll waters.

  Maybe movement in that chasm startled the local wildlife. It might even have been a larger animal crossing from the Outer to the Inner Sea, like an orca? That’s pretty rare, though.

  Most of the time these larger animals chose to cross the Atoll by the larger trenches on the east side of the ring, where the sea god’s temple had been built. His people kept a close eye on the comings and goings of larger sea animals, and tended to have a
good idea of what dangers existed in the Inner Sea. However, sometimes larger animals chose to cross the shallower waters.

  Kaimana’s eyes narrowed as she stared at the hole in the floor of the Atoll ring, hoping to catch sight of something that could have cleared the sea bed so quickly.

  Then the dark water moved.

  Kaimana sat up straight. She had expected to see a fin, or perhaps a movement of colour in the distance that might be the tell tale sign of something large, but far away. The water moved again, and this time Kaimana was sure that the entire patch of black was moving. That dark shape was more than three times as large as the troupe’s canoe, a canoe that could be home to fifteen people at once, if required.

  It could have been a shoal of fish, tightly packed together. It could have been a trick of the light, a large rock on the sea bed reflecting the sun in such a way to suggest movement. But a rising panic in Kaimana’s stomach told her that it was something else.

  The dark mass moved towards the boat, and the bile in Kaimana’s stomach rose along with it. The shape was massive, much larger than any normal sea-faring animal. Kaimana knew it was the taniwha before it opened its green glowing eyes and peered up at her from the shallow waters.

  “It’s here!” she shouted. “The taniwha’s followed us!”