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.
