They Mostly Come Out At Night (5 page)

"That would be nice, yes. Oh, and we're low on
agaric
toadstools if you happen by any."

"I'll grab them if I see them, but I'm heading up the ridge today. Don't catch many
agarics
up there."

Mother Ogma shot him a curious glance. "Anything I should know about?"

Lonan shook his head dismissively. "Just planning a little jump to see if I can fly."

Mother Ogma grinned. "You can't scare me that easily, dearie. A few years ago perhaps, yes, but not any more. Too much fire in you now to give in like that."

"How was last night? The roof looking okay?"

"I had a quick peek and couldn't spot anything, but you know what my eyes are like. Take a look for me when you go out, won't you?" She waited for him to respond and then added, "The village seems peaceful enough."

"Good for them," Lonan muttered under his breath, grabbing an apple from a small bowl of fruit and making his way towards the doorway.

Blinking to adjust to the daylight, Lonan took a quick turn around the cottage to survey the roof. No new marks seemed to have been added to the doors or window covers, but he did notice some deep indents in the straw roof that he would have to reshape later. It confirmed what he thought he had heard - something had definitely been up there last night. This was not an unusual occurrence in Smithsdown. The villagers hid themselves in the cellars because the dark of night was almost guaranteed to bring the monsters. Most of the time, locked doors and windows were enough to dissuade the invaders from bothering the village any further, although a keen eye could always find evidence of their prying. Indents in the thatching of roofs, scratches on window frames or signs of burrowing at front doors.

It had been a few years since a Smithsdown cottage had been broken into after nightfall, and the night that Lonan’s father was killed was the only time in Lonan’s life that any cellar doors had actually been breached - his family’s and Branwen’s. But even though the possibility of an attack was low, there were enough signs every morning to remind the village that danger was always very, very close.

As was his ritual, Lonan walked in the direction of his mother's house to catch a glimpse of his sister before heading off to forage. He gave a grin as a giggle signified his sister's safety from inside the cottage. After confirming Aileen was in good health, he walked around the outside of the settlement, continuing to ponder what he had seen last night. 

It had been Smithsdown that was being attacked in his dream, he was sure, right down to the fact that Quarry would be fool enough to leave the forge fires running. And he knew that something had definitely been on Mother Ogma's roof last night, but that was not unusual. He imagined that most homes in the village were disturbed in some small way at least once a week.

The villagers never knew exactly what threatened them at night. They simply referred to them as ‘the monsters’. Only a small handful in Smithsdown had ever caught a glimpse of the creatures and survived, and none of those survivors were left in a sound enough state of mind to recall an accurate image of their attacker. Lonan wrinkled up his nose and tried to remember what he had seen on the night that his own cellar had been breached, the night his father had been killed. Could that dark shape have been some kind of wolf man? The memory of that time had been so twisted within Lonan’s mind that he could not really trust it.

Lonan stopped and blinked.
Am I really trying to find evidence that the dream last night was real? A dream that had the Magpie King in it?

He allowed himself a chuckle at that thought. He had long ago decided that the Magpie King was a myth, a story tale figure like Artemis the trickster designed to make people feel safer in their beds while death stalked the streets.

If the Magpie King does exist, why can’t I remember anyone from the Eyrie contacting the village?
Lonan raised his gaze to the distant highlands in the north, to the sight of the ancient fortress that blended into the rock of the skyline. There were a number of villagers who had attempted the trip during Lonan's lifetime - the Eyrie was a day's worth of hard travel away, which made the risk of being caught in the forest at nightfall a real threat - but none of them had ever returned. The other Corvae villages were about the same distance away, and contact with them had been more fruitful, but the dangers of any travelling in the forest meant that contact with the villages remained sparse.

Despite Lonan's doubts, he could not help himself. The blacksmith's cottage was where most of the action would have been last night, where the Magpie King had attacked most of the Wolves. A quick peek at that part of the village would put his mind at rest, and then he could continue about his day as normal. He edged around to the south of the village to where his father's former forge lay. A quick scan of the area betrayed no sign of any conflict, although peering closer drew Lonan's attention to some grooves on the window frame that could have been claw marks…

Lonan swore at the sight of a scarred face at the window, which quickly vanished when it made eye contact with him.

"Time for me to get out of here," he muttered, but it was too late. 

He heard the sound of the front door opening and angry footsteps pounding dirt, moving around the cottage. 

"Artemis, give me strength."

"Lonan Anvil, you stay the hell away from my baby," came the angry shriek from Branwen. "Just stay the hell away from us."

Lonan bit back the retort that threatened to bark out in response, and instead waved his assailant off and attempted to move towards the forest.

Unfortunately, Branwen's cries had already attracted the attention of other members of the community, including her husband.

"Oh hells," Lonan swore.

Jarleth Quarry strutted out from behind his forge, leather apron and gloves still attached, and his puzzled face turned to a sly grin when he noted Lonan's presence.

"Alright forager, what have you done to upset my beautiful wife?"

Jarleth's snide comment seemed to have more of an effect on his spouse than Lonan, with Branwen flinching at the mention of the word 'beautiful', causing her to raise a hand to her afflicted face. Of course, Jarleth's irritation of his bride was all designed to make her angrier towards Lonan, who she blamed for scarring her.

Branwen took a step forward, pummelling her calloused hands onto a shocked Lonan's chest. "What did you do to us? Why did they come?"

Lonan stood stunned, taking the blows while puzzling through what was happening.
Is she talking about eight years ago? I know she still holds a grudge, but it’s not like her to explode in public like this.

More faces appeared as further villagers came to see what the commotion was all about. Branwen continued to beat Lonan.

Has Jarleth done something?
Lonan raised his arms to fend off Branwen’s fists as he puzzled the source of her rage.
Maybe that 'beautiful' was the last in a string of insults? I wouldn’t put it past the man at all.

"Just what is going on here?" a gruff voice from the gathering crowd addressed the trio. Old Man Tumulty emerged from the growing throng, his thick white beard and bald pate announcing his identity. "Branwen, this rascal bothering you?"

"Oh, nothing to worry about, Mr Tumulty," Jarleth responded, arms open wide in a welcoming gesture at the sight of the village elder. "We're used to this one by now." He turned to regard Lonan, but also to hide the spark in his eye caused by his Knack being brought into play. "It's just that poor Branwen is more tired than usual with the wee 'un, and after everything last night."

"Wait, what?" Lonan said immediately. "Something happened last night?"

"Now listen here, you… rogue. Why can't you leave this family alone?"

"Did anyone else notice she came over to me? No, anyone?" Without waiting for a response to his question Lonan continued, pointing his finger at Jarleth. "Now, what the hell happened last night?"

"I said leave them alone, dammit." The rebuke from Tumulty was accompanied by a slap to Lonan's hand. "What happened to ye, Lonan? I remember such a nice little boy from my visits to yer father's forge. Why'd ye have te change?"

"Well, you are getting pretty old. Maybe your memory isn't as good as it used to be." Lonan could not help but lash out as he rubbed his stinging fingers, but catching Jarleth's wicked grin moments later made him instantly regret it.

This is exactly what that bastard wants - more reasons for the village to hate me.

"I knew your father well, you little pissant, and I can tell you one thing - he'd be ashamed to see you here today."

Lonan looked Jarleth in the eye as he answered Tumulty’s retort. "Well, finally we found something we both agree on." He turned to Branwen again and did his best to be as sincere and to sound as commanding as possible. "What happened last night?"
Please, you used to trust me. Just answer my question. Magpie Spirit, let her hear me.
For the first time in many years, Lonan looked Branwen directly in the eye.

She gasped slightly, and Lonan hoped that this meant she had realised that he had no clue about what had happened last night. However, it was her husband that responded.

"We were breached last night. Only the house, not the cellar of course, but it brought up… bad memories. You know what I'm talking about, right? Well, Branwen has been suggesting all morning that you might have had something to do with it - why would that be? I've been doing my best to calm her down. Guess you chose the wrong time to go sneaking up behind our cottage."

All the while during this speech, Lonan could see amber glints in Jarleth's eyes telling him his Knack was in play. Branwen seemed to remain unaffected this time, her face displaying confusion and guilt more than anything else. Lonan could not help the small grin that crept across his own face at the realisation that he was winning over Jarleth’s Knack. For the first time in eight years, Branwen was listening to him instead of the man who stole her away.

You’ve made a mistake,
Lonan wanted to say, forgetting all about the dream last night.
For so long, you’ve made a mistake. It’s me you should be with, me you loved.

However, at this moment Lonan became aware of aggressive changes in the body language of many of the surrounding villagers. The larger male villagers. This is what Jarleth did, he changed people's minds, this was his Knack. The worst thing is that Lonan was the only one who knew. Every other deluded soul in the village was convinced that Jarleth had developed a metal-working Knack. Convinced by Jarleth, of course.

Time to cut and run.
"I'm sorry to hear about last night," Lonan responded, looking straight into Branwen's eyes again. "I'm glad you're alright."

I have to leave now, but I won’t give up on you again. It should be my hand that comforts you, not his.

"Well, I appreciate the sentiment, forager," came the reply from Jarleth, Branwen too conflicted to make any response. "Just as much as I'll appreciate you staying away from my family in these difficult times."

Lonan gave Branwen a final nod, turned, and walked towards the forest. As he disappeared into the trees, the gossip mongers began their work.

Breached?
That was the word that rang through Lonan's head as he plodded deeper into the forest, climbing up the wooded hills that lay to the south of Smithsdown. His thoughts turned back to the coincidences that existed between the dream last night and the state of the village this morning.

Had the blacksmith’s cottage been breached in my dream? None of the characters mentioned it, but they were really more focused on saving their own skins. Except for the Magpie King, of course. By Artemis, if I believed in an all-powerful protector that watched over the villagers and kept us safe, then I’d want it to look like that guy. He was immense, so fast, and in the end he was really damned scary. Definitely the most terrifying thing about that dream.

There had been evidence of commotion around Quarry's cottage, of course, but nothing that had given Lonan the impression that anything had gotten inside.

But it wasn’t really me watching the events last night. It was the prince, Adahy. Adahy hadn’t noticed a breach, but maybe he wouldn't have. Would a prince notice if one or two villagers got caught up in a struggle? He certainly didn’t have much of a reaction to those guardsmen that died protecting his life. Or the whipping boy, Maedoc, who lost his face to give the prince some extra time to shit himself. The forest was in trouble if this guy is going to end up looking after it.

Lonan chuckled as he caught himself thinking of the figments of his imagination as real people. The more he thought about it, the more he was able to tie the elements of his dream to aspects of his waking life. The assault on the cottage was obviously a mental reaction to seeing Jarleth working his father's forge yesterday evening. And the whipping boy's face was clearly to mirror the damage caused to Branwen when she had been attacked as a child. The attack Lonan had caused, as far as the rest of the village was concerned.

Lonan had not always been hated. As the son of the local blacksmith, he had been well received by all in the village, even as a young boy. In fact, the only person who had ever held any spite for him had been Jarleth, but since Quarry had never strayed far from his mother’s arms, Lonan had never felt any threat from one boy’s jealous looks.