The Vulture King Read online

  “Now, I’ve had this bartering trip planned for a month. My pigs need ground nuts and medications. I also need to sell the rights to the piglets my sow just dropped. Unless you think I’m hiding the witch in one of these packs, which you are welcome to inspect, you’ll open the gate and move out of my way.”

  Believe him, projected Aram fervently. Believe him and don’t worry about us, we are nothing.

  Whether it was the command in Bayre’s tone or Aram’s influence, the men moved promptly to the gates and swung them open. As the three of them walked through, one of the guards raised a hand in farewell just before the doors swung closed behind them. Then they were walking away from the kraal into the bitter night air and finally Aram could breathe normally again. For the next few minutes he kept expecting someone to shout out for them to stop, for a troop of guards to come racing after them. But soon enough they were swallowed by the darkness and he knew that they had won free. He had to stop himself from shouting his relief to the heavens.

  An absolutely dreadful noise floated from the darkness ahead. Bina was singing, but her voice was a rasping, tuneless croak. Bayre’s laughter boomed out into the night. “That’s right, girl, sing your heart out. If anything is going to keep the scavengers at bay, the sound of your voice will do it.”

  Bina giggled and then began to sing even louder. Aram couldn’t help but grin to himself, it felt like an auspicious start to their journey, this unexpected merriment in the dark.

  Aram startled awake, rolling instinctively into a defensive crouch. It took a few seconds to realise the sound that had woken him wasn’t anything threatening. It was Bina singing, the same off-key song as the night before. Ryu, jolted awake by his rapid movement, blinked his eyes and Aram’s sight came into focus. The girl was crouched at the entrance of the slight overhang which protected them from unfriendly eyes from above. They had walked most of the night. Then, as the sky began to lighten, they’d found this shallow cave to take shelter in.

  It was now early evening and dusk was falling. They had slept the better part of the day. As he stared at the sky, there was a rare break in the constant cloud cover revealing the slivered moon hanging above them. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen it or the stars. He dropped down next to Bina and they stared up at the sky, mesmerised by this wonder.

  All too soon, the clouds rolled in again and the flat, heavy grey of the sky pressed down. The land spread out before them, a sere plain dotted with stunted vegetation. Nothing thrived in the Carrionlands, the lack of sun saw to that, but life refused to give up completely. Here and there, a twisted tree raised skeletal branches skywards, their gnarled fingers trying to claw back the suffocating fog. Fungi, lichen and ferns gave the landscape a blotchy pattern like the blue, moss-green and grey of rotting skin. Disease and death were all this land promised.

  Aram nudged Bina’s shoulder with his own. “I think I might have to start calling you little frog. Your croaking scared me awake.”

  Bina laughed but this time it was a sad, wistful trickle of sound.

  “My mother said it was a great unfairness that a girl who spoke from the throat of a bird sang so ill.”

  Aram felt sadness well up in him, a slick of deep, black oil coating his soul. He kept his emotions firmly under control most of the time but sometimes they escaped his tight grip and bubbled to the surface. He remembered his mother’s voice, equally as sweet as that of her nightjar, whispering she loved him. Then he remembered her screams as the cechua took her, and he had to shake his head to stop the visions. He imagined her death so often, it was as if he had witnessed it.

  He found the small, still place inside himself and repeated his mantra, the only thing that kept him going. The vulture king will pay. I will make him pay and pay again for every moment you suffered, mother.

  Once he had himself back under control he asked, “What happened to your parents then?”

  “Father died before I was born. Mother died of a sickness not so many moons ago. There was nobody to help us when the fevers came. By the morning she was gone.”

  Aram knew there were no words he could say to make this anything but the bitter berry it was. All he could do was let her know she was not alone in her suffering.

  “The cechua killed my mother. I was only six. I never knew who my father was. One day I am going to find a way to kill the vulture king and every one of his pox-infested birds.”

  Bayre’s voice rang out behind him. “Did you see her die, boy?”

  Aram spun to face the man, face slack and eyes wide. “No, I didn’t watch her die but I heard her screams. Why would you ask something like that?”

  Bayre came and crouched down with the children. Eyes gentle and voice soft he said, “Your mother was Veldera too, I assume? Otherwise the cechua wouldn’t have come for her. The birds don’t actually kill Veldera. They take them to the king.”

  Aram shook his head so hard his neck cracked. “No! You don’t know what you’re talking about. I heard her screaming. They killed her, while I hid like a frightened rabbit.”

  “You were a small boy. There was nothing you could have done. But hear me now and know I speak the truth. The king captures Veldera, he doesn’t kill them. Well, at least not right away, and there are those who would say a clean death would be a mercy. There is a chance your mother is still alive, Aram, though how much of the person she used to be remains, I couldn’t say.”

  Bina said, “But they had me in a cage to be sacrificed to the birds. That’s what was going to happen, wasn’t it?”

  “Yes,” said Aram fiercely. “The cechua would have come and torn her apart, just as they did that corpse.”

  “The birds would have taken Bina to the king. People assume the cechua kill Veldera, but he has a purpose for them. They are of no use to him dead, but alive? Ah well, that’s another thing…”

  Bayre’s voice trailed off and Aram jumped to his feet. “You’re a liar. My mother is dead, and she has been for five years.” He ran out of the cave and into the darkness.

  He could hear Bina’s voice behind him, asking Bayre, “Shouldn’t you go after him? He’s very upset.”

  “He won’t go far. His need for answers will draw him back soon enough. We’ll eat something and wait for him to return.”

  We’ll see about that, fumed Aram as he stormed away, maybe I’ll just go off on my own again. Bayre’s a liar and you can’t trust liars. Not as far as you can kick them.

  Aram marched away from the cave, his veins alight with righteous fury. How dare Bayre lie to him about something like that? His mother was dead, he knew in his heart she was--murdered by the king. That knowledge and the desire for revenge were all that kept him going day to day. Nobody was going to take that away from him, nobody.

  As he strode into the cold, black night, his temper started to cool along with his skin. What if it was the truth and his mother was still alive? He had wasted all these years, waiting to grow up so that he could take revenge…and perhaps she’d been alive all along? His head swam and he dropped to his knees. Maybe she had been waiting for him to come find her, to set her free? He dry-retched, heaving and gagging as his body desperately tried to offload the guilt churning in his belly. Maybe he had unknowingly failed her because he was young and stupid and hadn’t understood what was going on?

  No….NO! Bayre was lying, he had to be. Aram struggled back to his feet and turned back towards the cave. It was difficult to find his way as Ryu didn’t see that well in the dark. In his anger he had simply stormed into the night without paying attention to where he was going. The sound of Bina’s scratchy singing, carrying through the still air, had never been more welcome. It guided him back to the cave and the man who held the answers he both craved and feared.

  As he ducked beneath the overhang, Bayre looked up at him, face unsmiling and eyes steady on his. “You ready to listen now, boy?”

  Aram nodded, although he still stood with his fists clenched at his sides.

  “The king
has ruled for centuries in this land. You ever heard of a Veldera who lived that long?”

  Aram felt as if the ground had started trembling under his feet. Everything that was certain was now unstable and unknown. “The king is Veldera? But he hates and kills Veldera. What you’re saying just isn’t possible.”

  “Of course, he is, Aram, how else do you think he bonded with those beastly, great birds of his? But you are absolutely right that he loathes all Veldera. His heart is filled with nothing but hate and a desire for power. Whatever humanity he once had is long gone.”

  Bina’s small voice piped up, “But how is he still alive then? He should have died ages ago?”

  Bayre’s eyes stayed fixed on Aram as he spoke. “That’s what he uses other Veldera for. Somehow, he found a way to tap into the radix of other magicians so his own never gets depleted. He uses them until all their power is drained and then he moves onto the next one.”

  “What’s a radix? You’re not making any sense.”

  Bayre’s brows drew sharply together. “Don’t you have any idea how Veldera power works, boy?”

  Aram’s jaw jutted forward mutinously, “Haven’t had much of a chance to ask anyone about it, have I? Seeing as most people would want me dead if they knew what I was. Should I have been asking strangers in the street to explain it to me?”

  With a deep sigh Bayre said, “I forgot how young you were when your mother passed, Aram.”

  He gestured to the boy to come sit down and Aram walked stiffly over to where Bayre had dropped to the sandy cave floor. Bina curled up on his other side and leant against his shoulder.

  “A radix is the well of magic each Veldera is born with. Some have only a small radix and so not much power. For others, like the king, this inner source is vast, a raging river of magic.”

  Bina giggled, “Mine’s more of a squirt.”

  Bayre smiled at her before continuing, “Veldera are born with all the magic they will ever possess. It’s a finite resource which is why most are so sparing with their power.”

  Aram thought he knew the answer to his next question but felt compelled to ask it anyway. “And once a Veldera has drained their…their radix, what happens to them then?”

  The silence stretched for a second and then two before Bayre spoke, so softly that Aram had to lean towards him to hear his words. “Once a Veldera’s radix has been drained, Aram, they die.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  Aram’s mind was whirling, sharp flashes and fragments of thoughts disorienting him. For so long he’d believed his mother dead, the only thing driving him forwards, his desire for revenge. Now he’d been offered a shred of fleeting hope, only to have it snatched away again.

  Bayre didn’t try to talk to him any further but calmly gathered up their packs. They headed out of the cave and back into the darkness. As they trudged across the barren plains, the only sound was the crunch of their feet against graveled sands. To Aram’s mind, the repetitive rasp of their footfalls echoed the slow, relentless grinding of beak on bone.

  He had never felt so completely and utterly helpless before. From the minute his mother had been snatched away, a flame had kindled inside him. It had burned strong and true that vengeful fire and it had kept him alive when most children would have given up and died. Now, knowing she might have survived her capture, he had to find her. But he didn’t have the slightest clue where to begin looking. He had always thought he would grow to manhood, then take his revenge on the king when he was strong and hopefully, brave. He had time on his side. Now, every second slipping by was possibly his mother’s last, and the frustration of not being able to do anything to help her made him want to scream till his voice gave out.

  Aram only noticed Bina had stopped walking when he barrelled straight into her. Up ahead, Bayre stood still, one hand raised in warning. Aram cocked his head, his ears were sharper than most people’s, but he couldn’t pick up any threat.

  “There’s something out there,” whispered Bayre. “I can’t tell what it is, but there’s just the one. We’ll keep walking but stay alert.”

  Aram fumbled inside his jacket and Ryu squawked in protest at being disturbed, then hopped up to his shoulder. He had a chance to sharpen and polish his knife at the waystop and he felt more secure with metal in his hands. The creatures of the Carrionlands were mostly scavengers but midwinter was a desperate time and hunger sometimes drove them into attacking. Bina also had a knife in her hand, a wickedly curved dagger with a razor edge. Nobody survived in the world long if they were helpless, but he’d allowed her size to fool him into viewing her as soft. The way she held the weapon indicated she wasn’t afraid to use it.

  Aram cursed his bird’s poor night vision. He understood why they weren’t travelling by day, but he was handicapped by the darkness. Now if only his bonded bird had been an owl, he’d have no problem in the low light. He strained his ears for any sounds, nerves making his fingertips tingle.

  A small slide of sand to their left had them all whirling in that direction. Bina hissed through her teeth just as Bayre said, “Aardwolf.”

  This was both good news and bad. Aardwolfs were solitary beasts, so in all likelihood there was only the one. However, the slope-backed, heavy-shouldered creatures were also cunning, with jaws that could tear off a man’s arm. They were known to hunt their own prey, particularly the sick and the young. Aram was sure the animal had its sights set on Bina, and he moved in closer to her.

  Bayre started walking again, though he kept much closer to the children. His head turned from side to side as he kept track of their pursuer. It was circling them in the darkness, probing for weakness. A whistling snort rang out, the chilling aardwolf laugh, which contained no humour, only palpable threat. The hairs on Aram’s arms rose to attention as the beast sniggered and hooted.

  Then a sudden rush of paws and Bina was bowled off her feet. Aram screamed and lashed out at a hairy flank. Bayre whirled his walking stick and cracked it against the aardwolf’s thick skull. It howled and snapped its jaws to each side. Aram couldn’t see Bina, who was trapped under the creature’s body. He took another swipe at its shoulder, but the animal’s thick pelt resisted his attempts to wound it.

  A strange, unearthly cry rang out—pain, fear and rage intermingled. The aardwolf collapsed and Aram stood panting, unsure what had just happened. Bayre grabbed the ruff of its neck and rolled the body to one side revealing Bina, covered in blood but with a manic grin fixed on her face. She had slit the beast’s belly open and now scrambled to her feet, knife still clutched in one gore-covered fist. She stood panting as Aram stared at her, his mind moving slowly as a fish through summer mud. Bina raised her face to the skies and howled, releasing her terror and triumph into the air. Bayre bent down next to the beast and started to hack off chunks of flesh. You didn’t let a kill like this go to waste, and Aram knew there would be meat grilled over the flames come sunrise. Although he understood the practicality of it, it also seemed anticlimactic in the light of what had just happened. The moment of terror was over with no fanfare and his mind was battling to grasp it.

  The old man looked up at the children. “We won’t stop long. The smell of blood will soon draw others. Aram, help Bina wash her hands and face. Her clothes will just have to dry as we walk. We haven’t got time to do anything about them now.”

  Aram fetched a leather skin and poured water into Bina’s cupped hands. Her eyes were bright and wild, her lips drawn back in a smile so broad it was almost a snarl. She cleaned her hands but didn’t speak one word. As soon as she was done, Bayre rose to his feet and motioned to them to start walking. Aram and Bina walked shoulder to shoulder behind the old man.

  After the flood of adrenaline, Aram’s legs felt shaky and weak. He burned with shame he had done so little to help his friend. He really was just useless. Bina had managed to kill a creature five times her size while he just flailed around helplessly in the darkness. What hope did he ever have of helping his mother, as pathetic as he was?


  Bina moved closer to him and grasped his hand. Sometimes there just weren’t words to express everything that needed saying. But a touch could convey your relief and thankfulness—that together you had made it through a nightmare. Aram clung fast to her hand, an anchor in the torrent as they walked on into the darkness.

  The following days and nights passed in much the same manner, though fortunately with no further attacks. They found shelter when the sun rose and marched through the darkness side by side. Often Bina would reach out a hand to steady Aram when he stumbled. Every evening when he awoke, he would find Bina cuddled up next to him, even though they hadn’t fallen asleep that way. If he had begun to view Kenna as a motherly figure before he left the waystop, he was starting to see Bina as the little sister he never had. Her croaky voice and laughter seemed to light the way as they walked, and he had noticed Bayre’s eyes crinkling with amused warmth whenever he looked at her. Even their birds had taken a shine to each other and often spent the night roosting close together.

  They had been out on the plains for more than a week before Aram thought to ask how far they were going.

  “It’ll be a while yet, boy,” Bayre threw over his shoulder. “I’ve been avoiding the kraals and well-travelled pathways, so we have a way to go still.”

  Aram’s magpie fluttered along above their heads, and he saw Bina pull out the necklace Bayre handed her a few days back. When he’d butchered the aardwolf, he cut off one of its spiked, black claws which he attached to a strip of leather. Bina had accepted the token silently and tied it around her neck, a strange, crooked smile on her face. Aram noticed she stroked it often, running one finger repeatedly down the nail’s wicked curve, almost reverently.

  “Have you ever travelled this way before?” he asked her and watched her hand clench onto her necklace talisman.

  “No. My mother and I used to stay down around the southern kraals. We moved regularly to avoid attention, but this is the farthest north I’ve ever been. What about you?”