The bone flute, p.23
The Bone Flute, page 23
part #1 of The Tears of the Stars Series
His brothers. His parents.
Grunna.
Before Talorc and Runa stood the Sea Mother.
She slithered closer to them, her myriad tentacles coursing across the cave floor. Talorc’s gaze roved across her, taking in the shoals of tiny, glittering fish that swam about her; the parts of her that were covered in barnacles, in giant starfish and tiny limpets and shrimp. Her face, that was somewhere between that of an octopus and that of an ancient woman, wrinkled and lined with tiny tentacles, wispy hair, wrinkled skin, beaks and lips and sets of darting eyes. Her tentacles danced endlessly, weaving living patterns of light in the air that looked like gateways to other worlds. She shone with her own luminescence; she was both terrifying and enrapturing.
In two of her tentacles she held dolphin-cloaks.
Your journey has reached its end, she said, her voice everywhere and nowhere. The skins you wear will no longer serve you.
‘Are we dead?’ asked Runa. Talorc noticed that the blood from her wounds no longer soaked her clothes. The colour had returned to her skin, the light to her eyes. Was this the purity of death, to exist forever in a state of perfection, the best of oneself?
If he was dead, so be it. To be here beneath the sea with Runa and his family and the Mother of them all, to watch life unfold across the sea until life and the sea were no more, or until his spirit was called to another body; surely he could not be discontent with that. No pain. No struggling. No choices.
And yet, his eyes kept returning to the cloaks.
Not dead. Not alive, said the Sea Mother. She drifted closer. You have served me well in ridding my waters of the Azawan. In return for your deeds, I offer you these. She extended towards them the dolphin-cloaks until they were almost close enough to touch, dangling just out of reach.
Talorc stared at the silver-blue skins as she spoke, the dead-and-alive eyes, the bulbous heads and tiny teeth.
Serve me as Silvers, she said. Move between earth and sea, life and death. Carry my messages, fight for me, watch over my children as Loth watched over you. Weave the strands of fate as I will them. For all you have done, I give you this honour.
‘I have a question,’ said Runa.
Ask it.
‘Is my father dead?’
Yes, said the Sea Mother.
‘Then we refuse your offer,’ said Runa.
The Sea Mother was still for a moment. Then black ink erupted from mouth, darkening the cave. Her tentacles beat against the cave floor as she hissed her fury.
You refuse? You refuse me?
‘With respect, and love, and in full knowledge of the honour bestowed upon us, we must refuse your offer,’ said Runa, glancing quickly at Talorc. ‘The past weeks have wounded the spirit of my people and broken the bonds between us. If my father is dead, and I take your cloak, then Orka has neither king nor queen. Those with a claim will fight for the throne, and yet more blood will be spilled on Orka. I must return.’
I did not offer that.
‘No,’ said Runa. ‘Yet if it is in your power then please give it. Otherwise, we will refuse you, join the ranks of the dead and be useless to you. Let us live, and when you need us, we will serve you as Silvers. But give us life first.’
The Sea Mother stared at Runa, her tentacles tensing and loosening. Talorc watched, waiting for her to lash out and snap Runa’s neck for her impudence.
Instead, the Sea Mother laughed.
Very good, she said, very good, child. To bargain with me, and to win. The minstrels of the dead and living will surely sing songs of this day.
I do desire you as servants. And I can give you life. But I cannot control how long it will last, and when I call you, I must have your oath that you will come. Know, too, that you will not be as you were.
‘You have my oath,’ said Runa. ‘Just give me time to rebuild my kingdom.’
We shall see.
‘I want the cloak,’ said Talorc.
Runa turned and stared at him.
‘What?’
‘You need to rebuild your kingdom,’ he said. ‘Your work is just beginning. Mine is over. My home is gone. My village is gone. My family are dead and I’m a fin-foot. A dry who can dive. There’s no place for me among our people or the katra. This place in-between is where I belong. It’s where I’ve always belonged. I want to be a Silver.’
‘But… but I need help,’ said Runa. ‘The Orkadi have fought one another… we’ve fed our kin to the Azawan. I’m queen and I’ve been found out as a spey. The katra want a blood-price from me. Some of the people won’t accept me, and the Skollish kings will see our weakness and try to take Orka. I can’t do this alone.’
‘How am I supposed to help?’
‘You’re clever. You can advise me.’
‘You’ll have advisors.’
‘By being my friend.’
‘You’ll have your husband –’
She kissed him.
After a moment that lasted an age, he kissed her back.
As he did so, he realised what he was doing.
He was making a choice.
The Sea Mother’s tentacles snaked around them, took hold of them and began to fill their veins with silver-tinged blood.
The silence of the cave was gone. Instead there was the crash of the surf, of cooling water that swirled and struck against the cliffs, cleansing itself of the touch of the Azawan.
Talorc saw a cliff-face. Runa in his arms. The Sea Mother’s multitude of limbs about them, climbing the cliff. Death, life, the future, the past, all tangled together in the embrace of a god.
He heard shouts of wonder and terror as they crested the clifftop. By the light of the rising sun, the Sea Mother laid him and Runa down upon the clifftop.
The Orkadi fell to their knees and wept at the sight of her.
As quickly as she had arrived, she departed, leaving Talorc and Runa to rise, uncertain, to their feet, while the wounded men wondered at the truth of what they had seen.
Talorc whispered a prayer of thanks and turned to study Runa. The blood and dirt-stains were back, her hair was wet and wild, her eyes sunken and dark. Yet there was a new light in those eyes, a subtle sparkle to her skin and the faintest smile upon her lips. Two kinds of blood, the blood of a Silver and the blood of a queen, now ran in her veins, and he did not know which he saw awakening.
He looked to the surviving guardians, who had risen from their knees to face Runa.
‘Hail Runa, Queen of Orka!’ he shouted.
‘Hail Runa, Queen of Orka!’ they repeated, and bowed with him.
Some bowed lower than others.
The guardians were ready to depart. Messengers had been sent to the nearest village, bringing herb-wives and materials to make stretchers for the wounded and the dead. Other Orkadi had come as news of the night’s events had spread. They gathered around Anga’s body, watching as Runa held her father’s hand and spoke at length in his ear. Finally, Anga and the others were put onto their stretchers, men quietly vying for the distinction of bearing their fallen king. Word would go out quickly across the islands. The Orkadi would gather for the death-rite of the king and all those who had fallen that night.
The katra were nowhere to be seen. Surely, though, they would return to take what Runa had promised them.
Talorc left the crowd behind. He walked south along the clifftop until he could no longer hear their voices and stood, looking out to sea.
The low winter sun cast all in gold. The sea went on, and on, and he wondered again if it ever ended. Better if it didn’t. Grunna believed it was endless, and that upon it all things were possible and existed somewhere. Somehow it was more beautiful that way.
The sea was not at peace – it was ever restless – but he knew it would quickly heal itself of the Azawan's fire and darkness. How could it not? There was no power greater than the sea, and on some distant day he would become its servant. Until then, he just had to go on living.
Far out, he saw a pod of dolphins, cresting and diving, melting into the water like shards of sunlight. Something inside him desperately longed to join them.
‘Talorc?’
He turned to see Runa, sat upon Farla’s back.
‘It’s time to go back.’
He looked away, out to sea again. The dolphins had disappeared from sight.
Talorc turned away from the sea, shielding his eyes from the sun as he answered the call of his queen.
THE END
Author’s Note
Authors dread being asked ‘where do you get your ideas from?’ In my case, the answer is easy. I got the idea from an Orcadian legend, Asipattle and the Muckle Maester Stoor Worm. In the original story, a lackadaisical farm boy named Asipattle defeats a gigantic sea serpent known as a stoor worm, and in return, the king gives him the hand of Princess Gem De Lovely in marriage.
The story is one of many that I tell in my work as an oral storyteller. For ten years I’ve gathered and memorised myths, legends and folk-tales to tell to audiences in schools, libraries, prisons, festivals and wherever people will listen. It made sense for me to write a novel based on one of these stories, and I’d always felt that there was much more to the story of Asipattle.
Of course, I changed the story a lot. I changed Asipattle’s name to Talorc, and Princess Gem De Lovely was politely asked to leave in order to make way for Runa. I studied pagan magic in prehistoric Northern Europe, and brought in creatures from Orkney’s folklore that fascinated me; the trowies, the silkies and of course the finfolk.
It is believed that the finfolk may be a dim folk-memory of the Saami people of northern Finland, who could have crossed to Orkney, appearing out of the mist in their canoes. Local legend has it that the finfolk row ships without sails, and live on mysterious vanishing islands, or beneath the sea in a city called Finnfolkaheim. The stoor worm is probably derived from the Norse belief in Jormungandr, the serpent at the bottom of the sea who encircles the world, his tail in his mouth.
As I researched Orcadian prehistory, I learnt about the eruption of Mount Hekla in Iceland in around 950BC, and how the use of communal tombs gave way to individual graves. The eruption would have darkened the sky and caused crops to fail. What would people have thought about that? Would they have blamed witches, as people have so often done?
So I read, and imagined, and wrote the story you have just read. But that’s not all; I like to get hands-on with my research. So I learnt scuba diving, and free diving (diving without an oxygen tank), and went beneath the waves in Thailand and Indonesia. Since my finfolk resemble Komodo dragons, I went to view wild Komodo dragons on Rinca Island in Indonesia. And to write better combat scenes, I spent six months training Muay Thai (Thai boxing) in Thailand. Not to mention plenty of time sitting in pitch-black tombs on Orkney.
What Next?
If you’ve read this far, I’m going to assume you liked the book. If that’s the case, I have good news: the story isn’t over. There are a couple of sequels (maybe more) on the way. In the meantime, I’ve got loads of other stories to share with you. I have a weekly podcast, House of Legends, on which myself and some of the world’s best storytellers tell the myths, legends and folktales that we love. I’d love it if you subscribed, which you can do here.
I’ll soon start running retreats, where you can join me and some top tutors to work on your writing or storytelling in wild, beautiful places. And if you want to write your first novel – and are absolutely, totally committed to doing so – you can get in touch with me about book coaching here.
I have a readers club, called the House of Legends Club. By joining you’ll be the first to get news on the podcast, books, retreats and live events, as well as exclusive discount offers and some creativity and productivity tips to help you with your own projects. You can unsubscribe at any time, and it’s quick and easy to do so. As soon as you join, you’ll get my free ebook, Silverborn & Other Tales, in which Grunna and Talorc tell stories by the hearth-fire late at night. Find out more here.
Other than that, feel free to email me to say hello or to talk about sea monsters. I’d love to hear from you. And please do share The Bone Flute on your social media, and leave a review on Amazon. Reviews help me and they help other readers.
Daniel Allison
Acknowledgements
I’m lucky enough to have wonderful friends and colleagues who have helped me immeasurably along this journey. Thank you to Feren for curling up on my desk on cold, dark winter mornings; you made writing so much more fun. Thank you to Tom for sharing your knowledge of Orkney and your hospitality. The staff at the Tomb of the Eagles Visitor Centre were kind enough to let me in out of season, show me around and even give me a lift from the bus. If you’re in Orkney, and you’d like to see Sariad’s bone-house, don’t miss it.
Thank you to my beta readers: Claire, Philip, Lally, Ryan, Elisabeth, Peter, Mara, Imani, Suzanne, Rhiannon, Dallas, Renn, Ian, Katie, Annie, Jesse and Bari. Ian, thank you for sharing your knowledge of curraghs and your editing suggestions. Sean, thank you for the coaching that helped me believe I could do this and so much more. And thank you to all of my Thailand tribe not mentioned yet, for the year that changed everything: Liz, Cassie, Pok, Steve, Julia, Aimee, Craig, Alex, Christina and everyone else at Diamond Muay Thai.
A huge thank you to Fay, Sarah and the team at Jericho Writers for believing in The Bone Flute and offering your support. It has been invaluable.
Mum, Peter, Rachel, Paul, Maia, thank you for your support in everything.
Daniel Allison
Free Download Offer
As the winter winds shriek and their family sleeps, Grunna and Talorc sit at the hearth-fire, telling the tales of ancient Orka. Stories of trowies, silkies and even the mysterious Silvers.
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Coming Soon
From
Daniel Allison
Finn & The Fianna
A New Retelling of the Celtic Legends - available 2020
The stories of Finn MacCoull and his warriors were once told at every fireside in Scotland and Ireland. After centuries in obscurity, this collection brings the tales soaring to life again.
Within these pages are Diarmuid, whom no woman can help but love, and Ossian, a warrior-poet raised in the woods by a wild deer. There is Grainne, ancient ancestor of Iseult and Guinevere; and Finn himself, whose name was once a byword for wisdom, generosity and beauty.
Enter a world of feasting and fighting, battles and poetry, riddles and omens; join Finn and the Fianna in their never-ending quest to drink deeper and deeper of the cup of life.
'A master storyteller whose words are visions... this is Celtic myths & legends at their fantastic best!'
Jess Smith, Author of Way of the Wanderers
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House Of Legends Podcast
If you loved the Bone Flute, you’ll love House of Legends. It’s a weekly podcast on which I tell my favourite myths and legends; the kind of dark, weird and brilliant stories that inspired me to write this book. I also use the podcast to keep readers up to date with what I’m working on and my upcoming live events.
You can listen on iTunes here.
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Contact me for details here.
About the Author
Daniel Allison is an author, oral storyteller, podcaster and book coach from Scotland. The Bone Flute is his debut novel, inspired by the myths and legends that he tells to audiences throughout the world. Daniel has lived in India, Nepal, Uganda and Thailand and is currently living in Edinburgh while writing the sequel to The Bone Flute. He loves cats and hates celery.
You can keep up to date with Daniel by subscribing to his podcast, by writing to him via his website or by joining the House of Legends Club here.
Daniel Allison, The Bone Flute
