The Empty Court

 I needed a new legend of a war between night and day for an RPG scenario I'm trying to write, and this is what sprang to mind today. I hope you like it.

The Empty Court

Oíche sat upon his throne of night, turning his invisible face to look over the young world below him. They could not see him, he knew, and their world was darkness for half the day. It had been this way for many days.

As he watched, Oíche realised that many of the animals ran in fear when the light of day faded and the darkness of night took hold. As he wondered what might be the cause, he saw Chonaic, the spotted hyena, rising from her den to hunt.

“Chonaic,” he called, “I need to ask a favour.”

“Anything for you, King of Night,” Chonaic said, her mouth in a broad smile.

“I’ve noticed many of the animals run and hide as night comes around. I wanted to know if you could look at the sun as it rises and see what changes to make it so.”

Chonaic was a wiley beast and saw in this an opportunity. She showed nothing in her eyes, but smiled all the wider and promised, “Yes, my King. I will find out what frightens the animals so.”

Chonaic spent days dreaming of easy carrion to feed on, and so she called on Sionnach and Broc to aid in her quest. They schemed and planned and after a few days, Chonaic came back to Oíche with her head hung low.

“What is it, Chonaic? You seem sad.”

Shaking her head, Chonaic began, “Oh, mighty Oíche, King of Night and Darkness, it is sad what I have to tell you. An Grían says horrible things about you. She tells the animals in Soilse that you are a dangerous King and that we, the animals of Dorcha, are savages that would slaughter them all given the chance.”

Oíche was shook. “How could she say such a thing? She has never even met me.”

“Don’t just take my word for it. Broc, Sionnach, tell him what you heard.”

Broc came forward in obeisance. “She calls you ‘Blood Drinker’ and says that we bring the blood of the slain to your altars at night to feed your hunger.”

Oíche wailed in anger.

Sionnach, snuck out from behind the others, confident in their plan. “Do not let her hear you wail. She tells the animals of Soilse that you turn into a beast that hunts without mercy, howling in the darkness.”

“ENOUGH!” cried Oíche, “I will put her lies to rest. Gather the dawn walkers and the dusk stalkers to meet on the edge of night. I will not bear this insult. We will make her regret every word!”

The three looked at each other, dreaming of easy Carrion, and ran off to call forth the armies of dawn and dusk. Meanwhile, Oíche called out the night creatures and told them where to find the day walkers as they slept. He commanded them to go into the dens and sets of the sun worshippers and cut them and hurt them. Broc taught them how to smell out a set.

The war was bloody and lasted for days. Through it all, the maddening cackle of Chonaic was heard throughout the field of war. Not even rest could be found as Broc had taught the Dorchadas to dig out the sleepers, and through it all, Sionnach ran the length and breadth of the battlefield, hunting, feasting and running again, always one step away from the teeth and claws of the Soilse.

An Grían was unprepared, but she knew something Oíche did not. The other gods had been working hard to introduce other creatures to the world. They were called “people”. They were as varied in form as the animals, with tall and short stature, long and stubby ears, broad and long and flat noses, some with horns, and others with tails. Some even borrowed the forms of animals.

The gods did not want to bring their people into a world at war and so they intervened. They stopped the bloodshed and commanded the Queen of Day and King of Night to come to the table to end it forever.

As Oíche laid out the accusations that had been made, An Grían was astounded. She claimed to have never said such things. The Gods, seeing the perpetrators attempting to hide, called forth Chonaic, Broc and Sionnach.

“Chonaic, you have lied to the King of Night and encouraged him to spill the blood of innocents, while you wallowed in carrion, your cackle heard throughout the field of war. We promise, we will put the fear of your laughter in the hearts of all the people and they will ever be wary of you, driving you out and destroying your people.”

“That is unfair. Can I not have one people to eat?”

“Very well,” said the Gods, for they understood the hunt, “we will mark one tribe of people that you will always find them, but they will not die without fighting.”

Cowed, Chonaic backed away.

“Broc, you have taught the Dorchadas to dig out the sets of the innocent and kill them while they sleep. The same will happen to you. The People will know your places of rest and will drive you and your descendants out.”

“Will you give me no way to defend myself?”

“What we give you is a blessing and a curse. It will make them hate you more but will make them fear you more. You will carry a blight that will make them and their livestock ill. They will avoid you for it, but not for long. As the blight spreads, they will dig up your sets and push you away from their lands.”

Sionnach hid, as always.

“Come out Sionnach. You can’t run forever. The people will eat up your hunting lands, making them small. You will be forced to live next to them, eating their filth and hiding from their noise. They will not hunt you, but they will not love you. You will live on the fringes, taking scraps only. Even your own descendants will curse your name.”

Oíche nodded. “I think these punishments are fair.”

The Gods turned to him. “You have yet to be punished.”

“You would punish me for my mistakes?”

“No, Night King, we would punish you for your rage. You let it out so quickly, killing many and creating a frightening world. Those things you feared will be real. The people will be frightened of you, but only for a while. Your dominion over the new world will be lessened. Not half a day shall you have, but only one hour in three. In that time, many people will hide from you, reminding you of your foolishness.”

Oíche had to swallow his rage. He could not let it out now, or he would prove them correct. “Let me at least be stronger some days. Let me have this pride.”

The Gods went into counsel and thought on how they could leave Oíche with some of his pride. When eventually they returned, they had a solution.

“Behold,” they said, “we have turned the world on it’s axis. It will drift from day to night as always, but for a part of the year, night will hold greater sway than day.”

Oíche looked pleased, as he felt as though he had gained more than he had lost.

“However,” the Gods continued, “your own people will not tolerate your dominion. When the light of day is weak the world will be cold, and life will run from it. Even your own subjects will hide, sleeping for days to avoid the cold and the hunger. You will gaze down on the barren world, King of the Empty Court.”

Oíche’s rage exploded. “Then I will curse your people. I will blight them with my rage and they will rise up and slaughter their own. I will curse them with the blood lust that was expected of me and they will drink deep from their own. I will make them hate the light and they will hide from it. You will all remember the day you hurt me.”

Oíche left the gods, returning to the Invisible throne.

An Grían raised her voice at last. “His temper is frightening. I don’t know how I can protect a world such as this.”

The Gods smiled. “Fear not. We expected his rage. Take this,” they said, and handed her a silver flute. “When Oíche is at his strongest, you can play this flute and begin to destroy his sway. The power of life will spring forth and your light will fill the world again and though he may try to hide his intentions, you will see him over the edge of the world. He will try to hide, no doubt, but his domain is smaller now and he will not hide for long. You will see him more often than he will hide.”

And so it continued. The light of An Grían showed the schemes of Oíche and even when The Empty Court held sway, the Song of Light would pierce the deepest cold and bring forth the spring of life.