The Yarnsworld Collection: A fantasy boxset

by Benedict Patrick

  With his last available reserves of strength, Lonan raised his right hand. In it he clutched the black flower, hanging loose from any pot or soil, its white roots glowing brightly in the twilight.

  Lonan stuffed the prize into his mouth, biting down hard on its bitterness.

  Desperate, with claws outstretched, the Magpie King dived at his enemy.

  Lonan was not there for the Magpie King to make contact with. Instead, he had leapt high into the air, his wounds not causing him any more pain.

  At the height of his jump, well above the tops of the forest trees, it seemed to Lonan that he was suspended up there in the darkness, at once aware of his enemy beneath him, but also fully aware of the land all around. A family of squirrels squirmed together in a nearby hole, hiding from the noise of the forest outside. Further away, a young girl was crying in her sleep, locked in her cellar beneath a cottage. In the ground deep beneath Maedoc, an earthworm ate away at what used to be a rabbit, long since buried under generations of earth and grass.

  As Lonan began his descent, he focussed on his enemy again. Maedoc, mad though he was, was also a wielder of the Magpie King’s power, and had considerable more experience with it than Lonan. By the time that Lonan’s feet touched the forest floor, the Magpie King had disappeared. Lonan’s fist, intended for his quarry’s head, instead cratered into the fragile earth. Sensing the quickly beating heart of his enemy, Lonan raised his eyes to find Maedoc in the branches of a tree some distance from him.

  “Now two of us are kings,” Lonan shouted at his foe, mustering as much bravado as he was able to.

  “No,” came the gravelly scream back to him. “It is mine. All mine.”

  Maedoc leapt from his branch, again darting towards the villager, claws outstretched to make contact with the soft flesh of Lonan’s neck. This time, Lonan was prepared for him and did not make to escape the conflict, but instead moved quickly to the side, reaching out to grab Maedoc’s wrists as he did so. He made contact, fastening a firm, tree-root grip on his enemy. As he touched Maedoc, Lonan briefly took in the information his new senses gave him about his foe. The Magpie King’s bones were thin, but strong. Lonan could feel Maedoc’s blood pumping around his body, the thick oozy syrup struggling to push its way past Lonan’s tight grip. He was aware of the Magpie King’s skin folding, creasing in innumerable places as the old man in front of him struggled against the younger hands. At this moment, Lonan realised exactly who he was facing - an old man.

  He had only ever viewed Maedoc’s face in Adahy’s memories, but of course Maedoc would now be as old as Adahy had been after sheltering in mother Ogma’s cottage for so long. Maedoc had more experience with these powers, but Lonan was younger and stronger. Lonan’s heightened senses picked up another interesting detail. Maedoc’s sweat stank of fear.

  “I have you now, old man,” Lonan growled, sporting a grin that surprised him with its wickedness.

  Maedoc flinched back in response. He squirmed again, using his own incredible strength to break Lonan’s grip. Then the Magpie King ran.

  Adrenaline surged through Lonan’s veins at the sight of a fleeing foe, and he dived after his prey, scrambling on fours through the forest floor to keep pace with Maedoc. Broken branches and smashed bark betrayed Maedoc’s passage. Lonan allowed his new senses to widen out to the world around him. Birds flew away from the forest pursuit, having learnt long ago that such events in the forest were best to be avoided. A metallic taste in the air told Lonan they were close to Gallowglass, to the crying girl in the cellar. Lonan made a mental note to return here later, after his hunt, when he needed to feed.

  Lonan stopped dead in his tracks, disgusted by the thought that had crept unbidden into his mind. His forehead crumpled. It was beginning already, the price he had known he would pay for taking the Magpie King’s power. He was losing himself to madness, and quickly. He would have to deal with Maedoc swiftly, lest he lose control over his thoughts, as Maedoc had done so long ago. Resolved, Lonan dashed onwards, leaping up into the treetops to gain ground on his foe.

  Up there in the twilight, Lonan allowed himself to revel in his new powers. He bounded from tree to tree, no longer scurrying along the forest floor, and he had the sensation of almost flying, launching himself into the starlit darkness above his home. He did not need to track Maedoc by scent or by sight now. The panicking man’s flight through the undergrowth below was like a thunderstorm to Lonan, a trail of dark clouds marking his passage. It was also clear to Lonan where Maedoc was headed. Rising up out of the forest ahead of them was the steep cliff that housed the Eyrie. Lonan had to stop Maedoc before he reached it. He was not certain how much of the palace staff remained there, or how many Magpie Guard still existed to protect their ruler. Also, it was at the Eyrie that Maedoc was most likely to find any of his offspring, and Lonan’s missing fingers still ached at the thought of his last encounter with them.

  An ant-like shadow crawling up the distant cliff betrayed Lonan’s quarry. Lonan did not slow in his approach to the cliff, smashing into that smooth rock face with brutal impact. Luckily for him, most of that impact was absorbed by Maedoc, not able to manoeuvre himself out of the way of his attacker in time.

  Not used to travelling at such speed, Lonan was dazed by the abruptness of the collision. This allowed Maedoc a moment of respite, and he used this advantage to grab Lonan by the hair and threw him upwards, aiming the young man like an arrow at the cliff face. Lonan took great satisfaction in hearing Maedoc’s broken bones grinding together as this feat took a toll on the old man’s shattered form, but then he himself smashed into the cliff. Lonan groaned, embedded in the stone by the force of the impact. He heard Maedoc laugh as he leapt upwards past Lonan. The villager reached out just too late to catch the escaping king.

  That small failure did not deter Lonan, and he plucked himself out of his hole and threw himself upwards, snatching at Maedoc’s heels, gritting his teeth in pain against his body’s protests.

  He did not catch with Maedoc until the cliff disappeared and the Eyrie’s smooth walls were the surface that they were running on. It was Maedoc’s feet that Lonan was able to grip, and the old man responded by turning on Lonan and slashing downwards with his filed claws. Lonan sensed the attack just in time and withdrew his grasp, losing his prey again and allowing Maedoc to make it to the Eyrie roof.

  The Magpie King gave a bark of triumph and aimed himself for a dark opening into the building. As Lonan dashed towards him he was vaguely aware that this was once Adahy’s window. The memory of those dreams was already dimming, being flushed from Lonan’s mind by the poison of the black flower. Lonan grabbed Maedoc by the scruff of his neck and threw him back onto the tiles of the roof with a wet crack. Maedoc made a weak effort to move himself, but Lonan was quicker and stronger. The villager landed with his knees on the Magpie King’s chest, pinning down all hope the despot had for escape. With angry effort, Lonan grabbed a hold of the battered metal helmet attached to Maedoc’s head, and ripped it off, breaking the leather straps and matted hair that had held it to the imposter’s face.

  For a moment, Lonan stood there, towering over his opponent, revelling in his success. Before him was the withering visage of Maedoc, a head that may well have been captive for decades inside that metal skull. His skin was grey and wrinkled, clammy in the places that sores had not spoilt it. The hair on his head and beard had thinned away to long, ghostly wisps that had entwined with each other to create a matted rat nest of hair. The only teeth that remained in his head were black stumps, and he now gaped at Lonan with an open mouth, dry tongue lolling out of it.

  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.

  Contents

  Title

  Copyright Page

  Chapter One

  Queen Alisi and the Whale

  Chapter Two

  The Legend of Nakoa

  Chapter Three

  The Inner Sea

  Chapter Four

  The Birdmen of the Broken Island

  Chapter Five

  The Lava Racer

  Chapter Six

  The First Canoes

  Chapter Seven

  Laka's Dancing Boy

  Chapter Eight

  The Disobedient Daughter

  Chapter Nine

  The Brothers and The Sea

  Chapter Ten

  The Taniwha Girl

  Where the Waters Turn Black

  Copyright 2016 Benedict Patrick

  All rights reserved.