They Mostly Come Out At Night (19 page)

The baby stared at Lonan for a few moments, but then its lips curled into a wail.

"Yes, I imagine I do look fairly horrific at the moment. I don't suppose there's any chance I can get up?"

"Not in the slightest, dearie."

Despite Mother Ogma's protests, Lonan fought to shift himself into a sitting position. This proved to be impossible. He was able to move his right arm, the arm that had been crushed by the boulder, but it was agony to do so.

"Dislocated, that was really the worst that it got, other than cuts and severe bruising, obviously. A miracle all the bones didn't just shatter on impact. He must have just managed a glancing blow," Mother Ogma explained. "It should heal up nicely, although I daresay it's going to pop loose any time you take any bad knocks."

His torso was in worse shape. He had correctly surmised that the kicking had cracked some ribs. There was not really much that could be done for them except to ignore the pain until they healed, hopefully back in place. One of the boulder blows after he had been knocked out had, however, punctured one of his lungs and his weak breathing had been a concern for a long while.

It was very clear that Mother Ogma had been dodging the subject of Lonan's head injuries, however.

"Just give it to me straight," he ordered. "It can't be all that bad if I'm sitting here, talking to you both."

She looked away from him. "I have to be honest, I was shocked when you spoke to me. I've seen people with head injuries like yours never able to interact with the world again. Poor old Harlow, for instance. Lonan, your head was broken. That evil man had cracked your skull before the Tumulty brothers made it to him. Any sensible person could see you were as good as dead, dearie."

"Well, that explains it," Lonan muttered, now very aware of the sharp pains all along his scalp, "nobody ever accused me of being sensible. So, I beat the odds, right? Because here I am, walking and talking. Well," he continued, wiggling his toes under the bed sheets, "it certainly looks like walking shouldn't be an issue when the time comes."

"Yes," she responded, uncertainly, "it looks like a true miracle. Still," and at this she looked Lonan straight into the eyes, "let's not assume you've gotten off without repercussions. You may find that headaches come more easily now, and there might be memory issues too."

Lonan let everything sink in for a moment, now clutching Branwen's hand. "I've one piece of good news, though. The dreams haven't stopped."

"Dreams?" Branwen queried, looking at Mother Ogma to clarify. "What dreams?"

"Ah, perhaps this can wait until later-" Mother Ogma began, but Lonan cut her off.

"No, I want her to know. I shouldn't have to hide it anymore. Branwen, my Knack has appeared."

Branwen shook her head in disbelief, smiling. "Your...?"

"I'm not sure if we ever confirmed that it is a Knack," Mother Ogma intercepted.

"It must be. How else can you explain it? You were the first to say it, and it makes sense."

"What in the Great Spirit’s name are you both talking about?"

"Branwen, I see things in my dreams."

At this, Branwen turned to look at Mother Ogma in concern.

Recognising Branwen's fear he continued, "No, this started before the attack. In my dreams, I follow the life of a prince up at the Eyrie, Adahy." Then he directed his attention to Mother Ogma. "Except now, he's the Magpie King. He found the flower that gives them their power, and used it to tear apart countless Wolves and their leader. The Wolves have fled the forest now. We’re all safe."

Branwen clasped Lonan's hand tighter, but looked silently to Mother Ogma with tears in her eyes.

"I think you should rest now, Lonan," Mother Ogma said, rising from her seat to usher Branwen out of the cellar. "It seems we all have a lot to chat about when you are back on your feet."

Lonan laughed. "I know what you're thinking, Branwen, but it is true. There haven't been any more attacks in the night, have there? Nobody has heard anything, have they?"

Mother Ogma smiled at him. "No, dearie, they have not. But you still need to rest. This will have taken a lot out of you."

Lonan looked at her sternly. After Branwen left, but before the healer took her leave too, he ventured, "How is she doing?"

"Her husband tried to kill their child, and she thinks the man who she is falling in love with is a raving lunatic. She has had better weeks," came the chiding response.

"Haven't we all?" Lonan countered, arranging the bandages on his head into a more comfortable position to allow him to get back to sleep.

He was not comfortable in these clothes anymore. Adahy pulled at his velvet tunic. Weeks ago, he would have been proud to have such a fine garment. They were even rarer now during this time of rebuilding. However, Adahy's life had taken dramatic turns since the night his father had found him crying up on the ridge. He was king now, with all the responsibilities the title entailed.

It had been up to Adahy to piece together any remains of his father's court, and to press the villages close to the Eyrie to supply young men and women to make up the low numbers at the palace. Most had been happy to come to join him. Life at court, even in a serving position, held considerably more promise for most villagers than anything their homes could offer. Even the thought of not having to hole themselves up in the ground every night was a huge draw. The Eyrie had done their best to convince the villages that this custom did not need to be followed through with anymore, but very few of them chose to experiment with different sleeping arrangements. There were still a number of villages that word had not spread to yet, but Adahy did not currently have the manpower to reach out to them, especially with other matters that had arisen since the Eyrie had come to life again.

He arrived at the door to his destination. Adahy stood there for a moment, using his other senses to put together the scene beyond the oak. His quarry was still there, although this was to be expected, as Adahy had locked him in this prison himself. The room also stank of neglect and blood, telling Adahy that matters had not improved in the days since his last visit. He knocked.

"Maedoc?" 

There was no answer, again as usual, but some shuffling beyond the portal told Adahy that he had been heard and that Maedoc had prepared himself accordingly. He opened the door.

The room was dark, as Maedoc seemed to prefer now. It was also littered with various odds and ends that the young man had chosen to interact with and later discard. Copious amounts of clothing lay shredded, food was half eaten and rotten, furniture was overturned at best, but mostly broken. Maedoc himself was sitting hunched over on the windowsill, leaning against the windows Adahy had had barred for his friend's own good. Maedoc remained in the black tunic he had been wearing on that fateful night at the Lonely House. In his hands he held a haunch of meat, lamb, which he was gnawing at while he eyed his visitor. Red liquid ran down his chin as he did so. Maedoc preferred his meat raw now.

Adahy's father had warned him that the black flower was only for those of royal blood. Only someone from the line of the Magpie King could consume it and remain sane. The signs of madness had been apparent from the first night Maedoc had received his powers. When the whipping boy had emerged from beating the Wolf into a bloody pulp, Adahy had assumed he had been physically injured in the fight, or possibly overcome with the gravity of the changes that had taken place in his life in those few short moments. As they had leapt through the trees together, Adahy guiding his friend's actions as Maedoc moaned and groaned, he had already begun to consider the fact that he would never have to be alone when going into battle, that his friend and servant would always be able to be by his side, providing companionship and backup. These thoughts had quickly subsided when he realised Maedoc was breaking into an extreme fever. This did not break until days after the reclaiming of the Eyrie when Adahy's duties had led him elsewhere. Maedoc's response to his minders had been violent and mindless, stealing the eye of one and crushing another's wrist. The new Magpie Guard had managed to confine him to this room, where Adahy had discovered him overwhelmed with remorse for his actions.

Since then the whipping boy's emotions had been in complete flux - sometimes violently aggressive, sometimes inconsolable, and rarely completely coherent. Most dangerously, Maedoc's physical attributes remained, making him almost as powerful as Adahy when pushed. Both of them had agreed that Maedoc was to remain confined to this cell until the madness passed, but Adahy secretly mourned the loss of his friend's support. The challenges of the last few weeks had involved wrestling through layers of bureaucracy and diplomacy, instead of actual physical wrestling which Adahy would have infinitely preferred. Ofttimes he would find himself feeling like a stranger in his own home, walking through the corridors and experiencing a multitude of unknown faces.

"How fare you today, old friend?"

Maedoc bared his teeth at Adahy, the harsh contrast of red blood on white startling even the Magpie King. It was going to be one of those days then.

"I'm tired too," Adahy responded. "They arrived today, the Owls. With my bride."

Prior to his death, Adahy's father had come to an arrangement with the head of the Tytonidae clan, the owl worshippers, who lived in the hills to the north of the forest. A union, to quell any thoughts of invasion from other tribes that may be pressing on their borders. Adahy had not had much education on foreign relations beyond the forest borders, and the previous Magpie King had not spent much of his time attending to such matters, focussing more on local issues. However, Adahy was aware that other tribes existed. The Mice he knew better, and the Owls. He had also heard talk of Lions and Snakes, although had much less information about them. He had overheard his father speaking to advisers about the Wolves as well, alluding to the fact that they may have been similar to the Corvae at one point too. Adahy could not fathom how anything could have changed humans into those monsters, but this thought alone warned him to be mindful of dealings with other tribes. Indeed, if any outside force chose to take action against the forest in its present state then they would find little significant resistance. There was only so much that one man could achieve, even one empowered as the Magpie King. When his court began to piece itself together again, one of Adahy's first acts was to send a messenger to the Tytonidae to hasten his betrothal.

"Get a peek at her then?" The growl from Maedoc was unexpected, but welcome.

Adahy shook his head. "Not really, and the same can be said for her of me. Tradition dictates we must greet each other in our ceremonial garb, so instead of a potential husband, she was greeted today by the Magpie King." He smiled at his friend. "Can you imagine any woman who would fancy a lifetime of that?"

Maedoc sneered at him. "You'd be surprised. Late at night, after a bit of wine, the kitchen staff would often debate about what your father would be capable of in the bedroom. Probably thinking of you like that now."

Adahy turned red. "Any lady then. She must have been terrified."

"You worried she's a hag then?"

Adahy shrugged off his friend's crudeness. "No, she was comely enough, from what I could tell. Dressed in white, soft feathers. Her headdress showed her mouth and her chin. They seemed ... delicate? Firm? I don't know. I certainly get the impression she is attractive."

"What's your problem then? Fair play to you - most men go through a lifetime not getting to touch anything like that, let alone play with it every night. With a face like this, I'll have to content myself with waiting for the scullery maids to get drunk and lonely."

Adahy shuffled uneasily.
What is my problem with the match? She is clearly attractive, that much is certain, so why was that not enough? The meeting had been so… formal. Andromeda's father had done all the speaking for her, and so very few words passed between the two of us at all.

"I want to know what she's like. What kind of person she is. If she's really interested in this marriage at all. You could help me with that, if you would sort yourself out and pull yourself out of this state."

At this, Maedoc began a low, manic laugh. Adahy rolled his eyes. He was clearly going to get nowhere with the man - when he started like this the laughing could go on for hours at a time.

"Forget it," he whispered, and got up to leave.