"Now, we must address your punishment," the king stated.
"But," the old woman responded in panic, blood draining from her face, "you said you were not here to punish me."
At this, a sly smile crept across the Magpie King's face.
And so it was that the old woman was tasked to bake a new pie every day, just in case the king was happening by and took a fancy to sampling her wares again. The old goodwife was thankful that her baking was good, and that her king was a just one who had a sweet tooth.
It was the day of Jarleth's execution. Mother Ogma had made it very clear that Lonan was not to rise to the occasion, so of course he ignored her orders completely. He made his way to the village green supported by Niall Tumulty, and stood by Mother Ogma at the back of the crowd. Everyone was there, with Branwen and Clare taking centre stage. Inteus the tax collector had long since vanished, apparently leaving with much haste after Jarleth had attacked Lonan. His presence at the execution was not missed.
Most had recognised that the incident with the baby and the river had been an accident, but an accident born out of Jarleth's anger. However, the beating Jarleth had given Lonan was clearly intended to kill him, and in this small community, that was unforgivable. Worse still for Jarleth had been the revelations of his unusual Knack and how he had employed it throughout the years. Once these facts had come out into the open, many within the village jumped onto the bandwagon of claiming Jarleth's atrocities against them. Old Man Tumulty claimed that Jarleth had constantly cheated him when trading grain for metal work. Widow Weaver suggested that Jarleth had seduced and bedded her against her will. However, all were unanimous in their contempt for how Jarleth had employed his talents against Lonan and his family, and for that there could be no more fitting punishment than death.
The rain was torrential this morning, but Lonan could not help but have a light heart on such an eventful day. A quiet voice inside his head suggested he should be ashamed at taking pleasure in the loss of someone else's life, but Lonan took little notice of this. He hated Jarleth. He hated what the man had done to him, what he had taken from him. There was no doubt in his mind that removing Jarleth from the world would improve everyone’s lives.
Old Man Tumulty stood beside the condemned. There was a wooden tree stump on the ground before Jarleth. Another of the Tumulty boys stood beside him with a sharp axe in his hands. Nobody had offered Lonan the task himself, but he gladly would have taken it if he had thought his weak arm could have managed the weapon.
Jarleth himself looked terrible. He remained clothed in the tunic he had been wearing when beating Lonan to unconsciousness, still stained dark brown with Lonan's blood. He was unkempt, unshaved. The Corvae did not believe in giving condemned men access to amenities such as fresh water, unless anyone wished to volunteer to fetch it in their own free time. His head was hung low, and he was weeping openly.
Branwen stepped forward, ushered to do so by Old Man Tumulty. She was clearly reluctant to speak to her husband, but listened to Jarleth, not responding to him in any way. Jarleth soon became frustrated with her stoicism and began shouting. Eventually Tumulty ended the conversation by beating Jarleth roughly across his face. The condemned had tried to employ his Knack one last time.
Branwen stepped back, reclaiming Clare from her father. Old Man Tumulty gave the signal for Jarleth to be lowered to the stump. Two Tumulty boys held him down while the third got ready to swing the axe.
"Wait." The volume from his own throat surprised even Lonan. "Wait. I would like to speak to him."
Old Man Tumulty stared at Lonan for just a brief second, and then shrugged. The execution could wait for a few moments. Artemis knew that Lonan of all people deserved this.
He hobbled forward and knelt before the condemned man.
"I suppose you've come to gloat then."
Lonan thought for a moment. "No." He surprised himself with this reply. “I thought that… I was going to, yes, but now that I see you here…” Lonan’s brow crumpled. “This gives me no joy.”
Jarleth lifted his head, jaw resting on the tree stump, to stare at Lonan with a terror-stained face. "That was never really your style though, was it? You tended to run and hide from your fights instead of facing me. Only at the end do you have the guts to confront me, with the rest of the village behind you as backup." Jarleth’s eyes were wide and erratic now, not fixing themselves on Lonan as he spoke but darting wildly around the village green.
Lonan thought again. "You see, I know how I should feel. I should be angry with myself for letting you ruin my life. For taking my father from me, my career, and Branwen. Perhaps I should be ashamed that in all these years I've never tried to do anything about it. But really, here at the end, I am sorry. Sorry that you ruined my life, Branwen’s life. But dammit, Jarleth, some stupid part of me is sorry for you too.”
Jarleth spat at him. "You can't get any of it back, you know. You'll never get your Knack now, and they'll never really trust you, even after what they know about me. And Branwen? Oh, I imagine she'll find her way into your bed eventually, but believe me - I have ruined her for you. She’ll never let you do the things to her that I did. I guess you don't have the… charisma I do."
Jarleth nodded his head towards Branwen and the baby. "And that is my child you'll bring up. Every time you look at it, you will remember that I put it in your woman's belly."
Lonan shook his head. "That’s where you’re wrong. That girl will be my daughter. She’ll grow up with the love and devotion from a father that she deserves, that you never would have given her.”
He wrinkled his nose, looking at Jarleth’s head on the tree stump, realising that in seconds this man who he had hated for so long would be gone. “This gives me no joy.”
Without giving Jarleth time to respond, Lonan turned and walked away, lowering his head in confusion and sadness.
Old Man Tumulty nodded to his son. A minute later, the green was empty, with everyone going back to their usual business.
"Well dearie," Mother Ogma opened conversation again as she pottered about in her cottage, "that's that then." Harlow drooled away in his chair as usual, the only resident of Smithsdown to not attend the event.
"Hrm," Lonan murmured, not entirely in agreement. "Do you know, I think I fancy a short walk before we close up for the evening."
Mother Ogma frowned at him. "I don’t know why I'm bothering to say this, but I really do not feel that would be wise in your condition. Do I have to remind you you’re lucky to be alive right now?"
"You certainly don’t have to, as I believe you reminded me of that fact not thirty minutes ago. Then, as now, I was very gracious for the attentions of your Knack, but I really must insist that I stretch my legs."
"I thought as much," she muttered, moving to pull her shawl on again, "let's make it quick then."
"Ah, this wasn't the type of walk that I was hoping to take accompanied."
She raised an eyebrow at this. "Heading to Branwen's? Don't you find that a little bit distasteful today? I think she'd prefer you to wait a few days, or weeks even, before calling on her."
"Now," he grunted, raising himself from his chair, "you're thinking of her as someone who’s mourning her dead husband, but I suspect she isn’t far away from feeling the complete opposite of that.”
Mother Ogma wrinkled her nose up at this, but waved him her permission. A few aching steps later and Lonan was at Branwen's door, waiting on a reply.
"Lonan?" she answered finally, in hushed tones. "Clare is already down for the night, I was going to join her shortly."
"Yeah, sure. I guess… I guess I just wanted to come and see how you were doing."
Branwen let out a sigh. "Bored. Frustrated. Exhausted. When anyone has come up to me today, they haven't known whether to console me or celebrate with me. To be honest, I don't know which reaction I prefer."
"But... surely you're happy he's gone?"
"It's not that easy, Lonan."
"Of course it is.
The man was a monster. He killed your mother, Branwen. Almost killed Clare. And let's not forget he tried his damned best to kill me after almost ruining my life for the last eight years. I don't get the impression your life with him has been a piece of cake either."
Her face turned red in anger, and she barked back, "No, but he was a man, Lonan. He had a place in this village. He put food on our plates. That's my job now. Clare and I have to look out for ourselves, and that's going to be bloody hard."
Lonan's cockiness dissipated. "But... that's my job now, isn't it? I thought that we..."
The look of shock on Branwen's face clearly told Lonan that he had read the situation all wrong. He had just assumed that their relationship would pick up from where they had left off eight years ago. What an idiot. Her face told him that the notion had never even occurred to her.
"Ah, sorry, I've been a complete fool, haven't I? You'd better lock up." Lonan turned to walk away.
"Wait." Branwen was still at the door, face white. "Lonan, you don't want me. Not now. I'm another man's wife. A murderer and a liar. I've had his child." She laughed, indicating her face. "By Artemis, just look at me. You should aim higher."
Lonan did not join in her humour. "You know, I hated walking past this house. This forge. The fact that he had taken my father's job and home from me stung. I felt ill coming close to this place. I would go into the forest to scream at the world in frustration at how nobody else would believe I was innocent of your mother's death. But Branwen, nothing hurt me more than the looks you gave me each day. That what we had as children so quickly turned to hate. And when he married you..."
At this, Lonan spat to the ground. "His biggest crime against me was taking you."
Branwen paused, looking at the man before her with new eyes. Casting a glance to the horizon, she ran out of her home, threw her arms around Lonan's neck and kissed him. Her lips were rough, the cheek of her ruined face felt alien and ragged against his own, but at that point, Lonan knew he was the happiest man in the forest.
“I love you,” he whispered finally, into her ear. “I always have.”
She pulled away from him, smiling through her tears, and opened her mouth to speak.
The evening bell rang.
Branwen pulled reluctantly away. "You should head back now. We can talk about this in the morning." The smile she gave him made his heart sing.
Lonan chuckled. "You know, there's no reason to wall ourselves up anymore. Don't you fancy spending a few hours looking at the stars in the night sky?"
Branwen drew back in fear at the very suggestion. "You can't be serious?"
"I told you about my dreams, didn't I? The Magpie King has won, Branwen. The Wolves have gone. Night is safe for us now."
Her uncertainty was plain to read. "Lonan, promise me you won't do anything silly tonight. You haven't been well..."
Annoyed, he responded, "They’re real, Branwen. I've been having the dreams for a while now, before the accident."
"Promise me, Lonan."
He threw up his arms in mock frustration. "Fine. You win this one, our first argument. But I'll get you out in the night soon enough," he added with an evil glint in his eye.
"Goodnight, Lonan." She smiled and then was gone.
He could not stop himself from grinning. Everything was coming together now. With Jarleth out of the way, Branwen's affections were returning to him. His own status in the village was already well repaired. Lonan was convinced the forge would default to him soon. He knew Knacks did not normally come after the age of eighteen, but if he pushed himself hard enough...
A selection of thuds signalled the closing of cellar doors. One ahead of him alerted Lonan to the fact that Mother Ogma had closed her door without him.
That cheeky little minx. She had assumed he would be staying the night with Branwen. What secrets did that suggest about the old healer? He always thought Old Tumulty gave her strange looks when her back was turned. Ogma’s door was shut, but it would not be too much of a bother for her to open it for him again.
Except, why should she have to?
He knew he had promised Branwen he would not stay outside in the night, but it had been a foolish promise to make. Lonan knew fine well the danger of the Wolves had disappeared from the forest. In his dreams, Adahy leapt from village to village, desperately seeking physical combat to distract him from the rigours of diplomacy, but there was nothing to be found any more. No movement had been reported by anyone in Smithsdown since Lonan's dream showed the den mother's fall.
And Lonan wanted to see the stars again.
They had never been completely foreign to him, of course. In a cloudless sky in the late evening, the brightest stars were often visible. Lonan had also spent a lot of the past few weeks looking through the eyes of the Magpie King, who walked beneath the stars regularly. However, it was another thing entirely to lie on your back on the village green and stare into a wealth of sparks on a dark canvas. Lonan began by counting them, but quickly realised he had not the numbers in his head to complete the task. By Artemis, I did not expect there to be so many - where do they all hide when the brightest pop out in the evenings? Another mystery I’ll gladly investigate in the future.
The young man shivered. Hadn’t expected it to be so cold, but I guess winter isn’t far from the forest now. Perhaps, for that reason only, it might be best to find shelter indoors tonight.
Lonan picked himself up off the ground and froze. There was movement, over by the forge. Something shifting in the shadows.
Lonan could feel his heart rate ramping up, his mind whirring through the possibilities. A Wolf? But Adahy had been so sure they were gone now. What about Adahy himself? That made no sense either. Why would the Magpie King feel the need to hide himself from a villager?
The shadow by the wall shifted slightly, tilting itself in Lonan’s direction. It was clear that whoever or whatever was sheltering over there had seen him now.
It would still not be impossible for Lonan to get to safety. Mother Ogma's cottage was within his reach, and he was convinced she would not have fallen asleep yet. However, Lonan's morbid curiosity was fighting that notion. Also, the dark shape was closest to Branwen's cottage...
Lonan shifted closer to the forge. Something moved in the darkness again. Definitely too large to be a woodland animal. Unless it was a bear, of course, but Lonan was not foolish enough to believe in such a beast. The way this shape was hiding, he was convinced it was just as scared of him as he was of it.
"Hello?" he whispered gently.
Then it leapt at him.
The blackness was swifter than anything Lonan had seen before. He did not have a chance to even make a move, and when it hit him it did so with the force of one of the Tumulty brothers driving a fence post into the dirt. Lonan hit the ground with a violent thump, sending needles into the fresh wounds of his head, arm and chest.
He screamed at this, and the shape screamed back at him. It was unnerving, inhuman. Lonan's bowels released, reminding him of Adahy all those weeks ago on the ridge over Smithsdown. The black shape screamed again, and he realised his initial assumption that it was inhuman was incorrect. The thing standing over him was clearly human, or at least was at one point. Its skin was a burnt black, like the end of a log left in a fire. Despite its strength the thing had no meat on its bones, its powerful arms were no more than ruined skin stretched over a thin frame.
Most distinctive, however, was its face. A metal mask covered its eyes and nose, drawing attention to its face's black chin and yellow teeth, which were filed to a point. Lonan should have been most horrified by its eyes. They were clearly human, but the whites had been turned a deep red as if they were constantly, deeply irritated. However, Lonan was transfixed by the nose of the mask. Or perhaps beak would be a better word, for the mask's nose stuck out and then bent downwards into a point. That and the black feathered cloak that the creature wore could not help but draw attention to its similarities to the Magpie King.
&nbs
p; "What in the hell are you?" Lonan gasped.
In response the creature screamed at him again, took his right hand in its mouth and bit off his ring finger.
It took Lonan a moment to realise he was now screaming too. The figure continued to shout, yet now there was a sinister mirth in its bellows. It was making fun of him.
"No, no," Lonan struggled underneath his attacker, but it was no use. Its strength dwarfed anything that he could muster even if he had been uninjured. In all of his fear, in what he now assumed were his last moments alive, he marvelled at how unfair this was. Everything had just started to go right. After years of misfortune and being plotted against, this was supposed to be his time.
"Adahy! Adahy, help me!" It was a last ditch attempt before he said goodbye to his life.
He was almost as surprised as his attacker when it worked.
From the black sky, as if leaping straight down from the moon, the Magpie King fell. He was exactly as Lonan had seen him in his dreams. The black and white feathers poured over his body, concealing it in a mist-like embrace, but most significant was the helm. The black metal beak, dwarfing the tiny mask of Lonan's attacker, pointed accusingly at the duo grappling on the ground.
"Adahy, my king - get it off, get it off me!"
The Magpie King rose to his full height and the attacking figure sank back from him, but remained hunched over Lonan. The Magpie King stepped forward.
"What did you call me?" His deep voice contained a wounded rasp that Lonan had not expected. It also took him a long second to realise that the Magpie King was addressing him.
"Adahy? I know it’s you. I - I have these dreams. For Artemis' sake, get this thing off me."
The Magpie King reached out and grabbed Lonan roughly by the chin. The first creature did not shy away from the Magpie King's closeness.
Something was horribly wrong.
"You dream of the Magpie King?"
They Mostly Come Out At Night Page 15