"It is my birthright," the prince repeated. "My father was the Magpie King, and his father before him. Our line goes back beyond our history, and I am next to shoulder this responsibility. You hold the power I require to protect the forest."
"I care nothing for little kings and their history. You say you shall protect the forest. Why should I believe you? Magpie King upon Magpie King has uttered this promise in the past, and still there is fighting, fear and death. No, I think my gift shall remain with me."
Adahy was at a loss. He had not expected claiming the flower to be easy, but similarly he had not been expecting such a wall of resistance. A task, a riddle, a challenge, maybe, but not a flat out refusal. "Is there anything I can offer you to change your mind?"
"An offer? A trade, perhaps? I do so like trades. But what have you got to offer me?"
Adahy searched his mind. He had come here without anything of value, not expecting to need it. He had nothing except the cloak on his back. Perhaps... "I offer you this cloak, sown from the gathered feathers of Magpies throughout our great forest. Such a garment takes years-"
"Pah." At this exclamation the voice in his ear turned more guttural, and his paranoia told him that there was more anger in the Pale Lady's words than there had been before. "What would I want with a bird man's cloak? Will it let me fly like a bird? Do not tell me it shall keep me warm. No clothing in the forest exists that could perform such a task. Do not tell me how fetching I shall look draped in it. I above all others know of where that path ultimately leads. Pah to your cloak."
Adahy searched his mind. The stories of the Pale Lady were so sparse, he could not gleam any details from them that could aid him now. Tales such as hers normally involved unusual prices such as a first-born child, a traveller's Knack or one's very soul. He was unsure about which of those prices he would be willing to pay.
"Great Lady, I struggle to think of anything I have with me that would match the value of this flower. Please, aid our negotiations by telling me the currency that would interest you."
"Why young Adahy, the only currency that is worth trading in. Blood."
As if she had uttered the final lines of a spell, at the close of that sentence the window exploded, shattering inwards in a hail of glass and fur. Adahy was too late. The Wolves had found him.
The prince made a desperate leap for the source of his father's power. Unfortunately, one-on-one, he was no match for the beast in speed or size. The lone Wolf easily intercepted the boy mid-air, sending him spiralling back across the room, sending cracks up the wooden wall where Adahy impacted upon it. Despite the death that was moving towards him, Adahy's look of fear was saved for the Pale Lady, terrified of her reaction to the violation of her home. She simply hung in the air beside the fireplace, watching events unfold before her.
"Will you not help me?" Adahy pleaded. As if in response, the Wolf darted forward to rake a claw across Adahy's chest, leaving a deliberately shallow wound, but one still deep enough to cause the prince to cry out in pain and fall to his knees. His assailant gave him a backhanded blow that sent him to the floor. Only when his cheek was lying flat on the wood did he see a new figure silently skulking in through the now-exposed wall. It was Maedoc, his trembling showing how absolutely terrified he was. Like Adahy, his eyes remained fixed on the Pale Lady, completely ignoring the Wolf when faced with her presence.
Then Maedoc nodded his head, eyes still fixed on the floating apparition.
Is he communicating with her somehow?
Almost against his own will, Maedoc painfully made his way up to the fireplace, extended his hand to the flower, and picked a single black petal from it. He faced the Wolf, which by now had one of its hind paws placed firmly on Adahy's head, beginning to push it into the floor. Maedoc placed the petal on his tongue. Adahy stared at the whipping boy as the boy with the mauled face chewed, and then charged at the Wolf.
The creature went careening off through the wall into the hallway, with Maedoc soaring after it, screaming while he pounded his enemy with his bare fists. Adahy picked himself up, wincing through the pain. His heart fell when he looked at the gap in the house where the window used to be. Three pairs of eyes stared back at him. His head turned again to the flower sitting atop the mantelpiece. The Pale Lady moved aside, raising her hand in a welcoming gesture. He sprinted across the room to grab the bloom. As one, the Wolves leapt through the gap in the wall towards their prey. In the hallway, Maedoc's tortured screams were accompanied by wet impacts as his punches broke his enemy's bones and jellied its flesh. Adahy opened his mouth and tasted the sweet tang of the black flower's nectar. The three Wolves arrived at their target, their necks already broken as they sailed past him and fell in a heap to the floor. It took seconds for Adahy to realise he was the one who had, by instinct, committed their murder. Already, the power of the Magpie King flowed through his veins.
Maedoc stumbled through the opening he had created mere moments earlier, giving a soft moan as he stepped. He raised his hands to hold his head, blood mixed with torn flesh and hair dripping down his face. Adahy ran to his friend to help him stand.
"Ah, the mayfly hero and the Magpie King. My Lords." The Pale Lady bowed to the pair and then left the room.
"Did you see me?" Maedoc gasped, wheezing as he breathed. "I killed it. Took it apart with my bare hands." The whipping boy's breathing was getting rougher now, and his pupils were tiny pinpricks inside of his deep brown eyes. The flower’s poison was already working on him.
"Yes," was Adahy's reply. "Now we have a chance."
He slung his friend's arm over his back and helped him move outside, through the window. The night remained as black as ever but Adahy could not help but be assaulted by a sense of discovery as he looked upon it with new eyes. He could hear a family of thrushes sheltering in a nearby oak. Across the clearing, he could spot the broken leaves and twigs that signified the path the attacking Wolves had taken to reach the Lonely House.
"What’s the plan now, then?" Maedoc gasped.
Adahy's feet were picking up vibrations in the ground, caused by heavy animals pounding in the dirt several miles away. More Wolves heading towards them.
"Revenge," was the simple answer the Magpie King gave as he leapt into the night towards his prey.
An extract from the teachings of the High Corvae.
This is a tale of the early days of the forest, before the outsiders came. The Magpie King had already performed many of his great acts, such as raising the Eyrie with his bare hands over twelve nights, ridding the forest of the last bear in revenge for their insistent singing, and freeing the river from the red otters. He had made many friends and enemies in his short reign. The Leone, the lion people, had proven to be strong allies against the Serpents to the south. The Muridae were inquisitive, if not yet helpful. And the Wolves were already beginning to infect the dark heart of the forest. But what weighed most on the Magpie king's mind at this time was the presence of the Tytonidae, the owl people, in the hills to the north.
It was King Reoric of the Leone that had first brought their existence to the attention of the Magpie King, making them more than just the bedtime cautionary tales the Corvae gave their young.
"Eerie is what they are," the gruff warrior had said. "Only ever seen 'em alone, just one at a time. Always at night too." The large man had taken a swig of ale at this point, to calm his nerves. "But the Owls shine in the moon, so you can see 'em from miles off. Never let you get close enough though. Just a jump and then they're gone, poof." The last part had been meant to startle the Magpie King, but the wise ruler had sensed the rise in the Lion's heart rate before the attempt, and had merely smiled in response.
He met one of the Owls not long after this conversation, during another of his great adventures. She did not spot him, at least not at first. It was night, as King Reoric had forewarned, and she was invading his forest. The Magpie King was perched high in the trees, scouring the land before him for food when a ghostly white shape floated th
rough the bare winter branches to a lake, and there cupped her hands to drink. As strong as it was, the Magpie King's heart laboured heavily at this sight. He thought at first that this emotion was fear, stoked by the Lion's tale and the rumours of his own people. His eyes took in her mane of thick white hair, expecting a pruned hag's face when she turned her head. Instead, he was treated with smooth skin, radiant in the moonlight, and purple eyes opened wide as she scanned the treetops. Their eyes locked for a brief moment, she leapt, and then was gone.
The Magpie King had more pressing matters to attend to and did not pursue on that night, despite a most urgent curiosity to do so. In a time when peace returned to his land, his mind turned again to the white-haired maiden that haunted his waking thoughts. Wise as the Magpie King was, it took him many turns of the moon before he would finally admit why this figure remained close to his mind's surface. When he realised that this was the woman he wanted for his wife, he resolved to do all in his power to claim her.
The Owls were figures of great superstition for the Corvae. The Magpie King's people believed that the Great Magpie comes at the moment of their deaths to carry their souls to their final reward. However, the White Owl was another figure of death, one with many unknowns attached to it. Legend had it that if an owl arrived to claim one's soul instead of a magpie, the soul of that departed person shall never join those of his ancestors. Because of this fear, and despite the fierce loyalty of his people, the Magpie King could find no volunteers from his warriors to accompany him to the hills to the north, not even from his personal guard. He was, however, visited by an old peddler woman with some sage advice for him.
"We are frightened of them, m'lord, but they fear us too, else why run off? Do not let her know who you are. Disguise yourself as one of their own."
The Magpie King, never one to dismiss the wisdom of his elders, pondered her words deeply. Not able to find any further companions or any more advice for his quest, the Magpie King headed north to find his bride.
After many months of searching he finally happened upon one of the palaces of the Tytonidae, a tall stone building built around an ancient oak that stood alone on the hilltops. Climbing to the top of the structure, his heart skipped a beat when he peered inside to see the white-haired woman that haunted his dreams sitting at a banquet table, breaking bread with a large company. Obsessed, the Magpie King spent many hours listening to the conversation. It transpired that it was the princess of the Tytonidae that his heart had chosen, and that her father was sick to death of her constant rejection of fine suitors.
The Magpie King heard the old man exclaim, "Finding a husband for my daughter is impossible. Let he who can complete an impossible task take her hand. Listen well - any man who can spit upon the fire of my hearth and ignite it may have my daughter as his wife."
At this proclamation, the banquet hall doors burst open and a tall man walked in. He was dressed in the white fabrics of the Tytonidae, but whereas most owls were fair of face and hair, this man was dark and mysterious. Silently, the dark man strode to the hearth of the owl king and spat into the dying embers there. Immediately the fireplace burst into life with tall flames spouting to the high ceiling. The owl princess gasped, but could not refuse a promise made by her father to the court. The couple were quickly wed in a ceremony involving a silver cord joining their forearms together, and the princess retired to her bedchamber with her new husband.
The dark man was, of course, the Magpie King. Upon hearing this opportunity, he had quickly clothed himself in a disguise he had fashioned and had filled his mouth with a poison that was deadly if consumed, but ignited with anger at a naked flame. He was a gentle and courteous lover to his new wife, but as he slept, his disguise slipped away and the princess could see that this man who had bedded her was not of her people. Her scream woke the Magpie King and the rest of the castle, and in a panic, he fled from the building.
Despite his victory that night, the Magpie King was not yet satisfied for he wanted the princess’s heart, not just her bed.
Some months later, word reached the palace of a newcomer to the area, a rich man from one of the furthest Tytonidae settlements who had established a new lodge close by and had invited all in the palace to a great feast. All chose to attend, servants, nobles, king and princess. The hunting lodge was vast, and on this night all manner of game and greens were served to the welcome guests. Their host, a man of fair complexion but unusual mannerisms, was gracious to all, but paid especial attention to the young princess.
As night began to turn into morning, their host called for stories, beginning the round with a tale about a black squirrel eating the sun like a nut. Guests took it in turn, until only the princess was left. She smiled, and then said in her honeyed voice, "I have a tale, but this one must be whispered. Come close, my wonderful host, so I may whisper into your ear."
With great excitement, the host, who was of course the Magpie King in disguise, pushed his way to the princess's side. She leaned forward as if to speak softly to him, but then grabbed his disguise and tugged it off to the great shock and disgust of all onlookers. The Magpie King shot the princess a look of fury, and she responded with, "You shall not fool me twice, crow."
Consumed with frustration, the Magpie King fled back to the borders of his forest, and there fell into an uncomfortable sleep. In his dreams, he was visited by a great white owl who demanded of him, "Why do you continue to pursue me?"
Knowing this was only a dream, and that here he could speak his true mind without betraying his weakness to anyone, the Magpie King responded in a whisper choked with sadness, "Because I am overcome with you. You are in every thought that invades my mind. Even if you forced me to chase you until the ends of my days, growing to hate me as I hate death itself, I would still continue to pursue you."
At these raw emotions, the haughtiness of the owl softened, and a smile formed across the human face that it sported just before the dream faded.
He awoke on the edge of the forest, greeted by the sight of his white-haired wife staring back at him.
"Why now?" was the only phrase that he could bring himself to mutter.
"Because I am no longer afraid," was his wife's response. "Because you were a gentle lover. And because the thought of a life with you excites me."
Together, they flew hand in hand back to the Magpie King's forest home, to rule over our dark land.
Lonan was the first to wake, probably because he had had so much sleep the day before. The cellar door was still closed and the lack of light creeping through the joins in the planks of wood suggested it remained dark outside.
Dammit. Why’d I have to leave the dream, just as things were starting to look up?
Despite his disappointment at waking so early, he could not help himself smiling. There was a new Magpie King. The power Lonan had felt from Adahy in those few moments before he awoke was unlike any sensations he had ever experienced in his life.
Artemis protect them, and please do not let that be my last dream of the prince. Of the king, now.
In his bunk, Harlow gave a grunt of unrest. Lonan expected it to wake Inteus or Mother Ogma, but neither appeared to stir. It must have been earlier than Lonan had thought for Mother Ogma to miss one of Harlow's infrequent noises.
He pondered the still figure of the visiting courtier, fully convinced the man was not who he claimed to be. Lonan’s dreams had shown him the fall of the Eyrie, and yet this man claimed to have travelled from it only a day ago. He could not be a complete charlatan - he did have details of the villagers and their Knacks, after all. Well, most of them, Lonan thought, grinning again. Mother Ogma said last night that my Knack was my dreams, and I’m inclined to agree with her. How else could I explain this ongoing tale of events that marries up so well with events in the village?
Perhaps Inteus had fled the Eyrie on the night of the attack, looking to use information from its libraries to milk the village of its resources in the name of a king he now assumed to be dead. The vi
llagers were also vaguely aware of peoples throughout the world who were not Corvae. Perhaps this man was sent to gather information for a foreign power, in preparation for an attack. With the Eyrie occupied, the forest would be an easy target for an outside force.
He studied the sleeping figure, lightly snoring in his purple robe and thin sandals, ill fit for a working man's life. Lonan's eyes rested on the parchment lying by the liar's bed. Taking a peek at the words would do Lonan no good for like most in the village he was unable to read. Still...
Aping the movements of the wild cats that he shadowed when out foraging, Lonan hunkered down on all fours and slowly crept across the room towards the man's bed. The floor of the cellar had originally been a thick clay, but decades of movement across it had beaten it into a flat, almost polished surface. Lonan's fingers stabbed into this clay due to the tension in his body. He moved forward within reaching distance of the parchment. His hand stretched out, planning to take only one sheet from the mess of writing that had been abandoned by the bedside. His fingers closed on the paper and Lonan's eyes moved upwards, expecting Inteus to wake now and catch him in the act. As the sleeping man remained undisturbed, Lonan slowly pulled the parchment away from its brothers. He clenched his teeth as the dry material cracked free of the folds of the roll, but still Inteus remained unmoving. With a wicked grin on his face Lonan turned around and walked straight into Mother Ogma.
"Gods, but you are loud," the old woman chided him, grabbing the paperwork. "And what do you think you are doing with this?"
"He's lying, Mother. I know you believe in my dreams now. The Eyrie has fallen. This man could not have come from there."
They Mostly Come Out At Night Page 10