House of Vultures

by Maggie Claire

  “I’d rather die quickly than face this torture,” I reply as a pair of worn leather boots appear in my line of sight.

  “I’d prefer you didn’t die at all,” an infuriating voice retorts.

  It is a struggle to lift my head up to see who stands before me, sneering when his dark mask comes into view. “Still seeking my gratitude? Or are you just enjoying the view?”

  “There is nothing about this situation that brings me joy,” Condor whispers as he steps closer. He places the rim of a chipped cup on my lips. Gently pushing my head back, cool water rushes into my mouth. It is like finding an oasis after spending a week wandering in the desert. I drink greedily, not caring that it is Condor I owe for this kindness.

  “Give some to the boy,” I gasp when I have had my fill. Without a word, Condor follows my wish. He only returns to my side when Panther has finished. A fit of coughing overpowers me, and Condor grabs my waist, holding my body steady so I do not strain my shoulders by hyperextending against the binds. “Why are you helping us? Why aren’t you inside celebrating with the others?” I wheeze when he carefully lets me go. “I’m sure Falcon is throwing a killer party.” A giggle erupts from my mouth at my unintentional joke.

  “You must be hungry,” Condor mutters, ignoring my questions as he lifts a crust of dry bread dipped in stew. The savory aroma tantalizes my senses even before the food reaches my taste buds. I scarf down every scrap, begrudging each morsel handfed to me as if I am a helpless bird.

  “I suppose I should be grateful,” I admit bitterly. “If you care so much, why won’t you let us go?”

  “Mynah.” Condor closes his eyes as he whispers my name in a sigh. He raises his mouth to brush the edges of my mask near my left cheek. “I know you don’t see it right now, but I am doing everything in my power to free you. I cannot just undo the traitor binds; everyone in the House would be hunting us. They would be calling for my death too. And despite what you might be thinking, that would not benefit you. Right now, I am the only thing keeping you and the boy alive.”

  “Seriously? You’re going to leave us here because you’re afraid the House will forsake you, and you expect me to be understanding?”

  “I just need you to trust that I am still working in your best interest. When I calm Falcon’s bloodlust, you and the boy will be released,” Condor pleads, his fingers brushing my wrists with a soothing salve that numbs the scrapes around the cuffs.

  “How long do you think we can survive out here? Rather than stand up to Falcon—”

  “I don’t cower to that monster, Mynah! I keep her leashed! Do you not see that if she had her way, you would already be dead? She would not have stopped whipping you until your body was nothing more than a formless lump of bloody meat! The only reason she stopped is because I told her to give you time to think.”

  “Oh, so now I’m supposed to believe that you’ve been my savior all this time? Every whipping, every harsh beating I have endured at her hand—you were there to keep her from going too far?” I roll my eyes at the ludicrous idea.

  “She would have killed you fifty times over if I had not made her see reason. Everything I have ever done has been….” Condor stops suddenly, his hands tightening around my waist as he holds me close to his chest.

  “Let go of me!” I growl, using the only weapon at my disposal. Biting hard on Condor’s chin, the surprise of the attack forces him away from my side. “If you don’t intend to free us, then go back inside. I have nothing more to say to you.”

  With a hand on his chin to stop the bleeding, Condor turns to go back inside the House. When he speaks, his voice wobbles as though he is on the verge of tears. “I hope Wolf comes for you soon, Mynah. I truly don’t want to see you dead.”

  Puzzling over his words, I listen as Condor disappears. The taste of the stew and bread still lingers on my tongue. How can he be so harsh one minute and gentle the next? How can he justify everything that he’s done? Wasn’t he always the one sanctioning Falcon’s attacks? Hasn’t he always made my life miserable? He’s just as bad as Falcon, isn’t he? My mind grapples with Condor’s behavior long into the night, struggling to determine just exactly what his motives are.

  It is well past midnight when our next visitor approaches. “Lupe, what have they done to you now?” Wolf cries as he scuttles along the trees. He stops directly in line with me, his eyes glittering against the dark foliage surrounding him.

  “Wolf! Get out of here!” I hiss through my pain. “You aren’t so stupid that you don’t understand what’s happening. They are using me as bait, and it’s luring you right into a trap. Go back to your pack, Wolf!”

  “How are you planning to get out of this exactly?” He asks, sidling closer to the fencing, eyes watching the House for any signs of movement. I hold my breath, waiting for someone to shout in warning that their prey has finally arrived.

  “I’ll figure something out,” I answer feebly, trying to rattle my binds, but only succeed in reopening the wounded, chafed skin around my wrists. “You have to take care of yourself, Wolf. Don’t try to save me and get yourself caught! I can handle the traitor binds.” I could not bear it if you and your pack died because of me.

  A knife whirls through the air, its tip sticking into the wood holding my hands in place. “When you get loose, go to the cave where we took care of the boy. I’ll find you there and we’ll make our plans.”

  I slice through the ropes on my left wrist in quick swipes, wondering if Wolf got lucky or knows that I am left handed. Then I make quick work of the other binds and slink over to Panther.

  “Why didn’t Condor do this for us?” Panther whines as he stretches his weary limbs. “If he meant what he said about caring about you—”

  “Either he was lying or he is a coward. It hardly matters,” I growl, shoving Panther low into the overgrown grass. “Right now, we need to get as far away from this place as possible. Follow me!” Within minutes we are gone, racing away from House as fast as our bleeding limbs can carry us.

  Careful to seem deliberate, I turn our path toward the River Sangre, away from Wolf’s true hiding place. Breaking limbs, leaving muddy footprints, and dripping my blood on the path, we leave a false trail in our wake. I can feel Panther’s confusion, but he does not voice any questions, trusting my plan without actually knowing it.

  The river appears before us as I lead us beside its shores, the crimson algae already having receded. The water gleams with its normal blue-green hue, rolling steadily with churning whitecaps. Reaching for Panther’s arm, I shout over the roar of the raging waters. “Stay in the water now, Panther. The shoreline doesn’t have a strong current but be careful. Let the waves wash away the signs of our travel. It will confuse any who try to follow us.”

  We hurry west as far from Wolf’s true location as possible. I intend to stop only when we reach the delta at the beginning of the ocean. Stay safe. Protect the boy, Wolf, and all of his pack. Do not return to the House of Vultures. The mantra echoes through my mind with every slap of my feet against the rocks.

  A tall, willowy form looms out of the brush ahead of me, her familiar streaked mask blocking my path. Of all the members of the House that I suspected would come after me, Bittern is the last one on the list. Since no weapon is raised against us, I decide to stop and approach her cautiously. Hands raised before me, I call out, “Bittern? What are you doing here?”

  “I am supposed to tail you, to find out where Wolf keeps his House.”

  “Pack,” I immediately correct, feeling silly at the distinction as soon as the word leaves my lips.

  “Whatever,” Bittern heaves, catching her breath after the strenuous journey she has made in an attempt to find us. “You are running away from civilization instead of toward it, so you are leaving Wolf behind as well?”

  “I am not going to Wolf’s pack right now, no,” I answer, feeling sorry for Bittern. No doubt Falcon will find a way to blame Bittern for my choices. “I am sorry, Bittern. Look, don’t go back to Con
dor and Falcon. They will only take out their anger toward me against you, and I do not want you to get hurt.”

  “They can do whatever they want to with me. Go wherever you need to, and Condor will never know from my lips.” She throws up her hands as she starts to walk away.

  “Why?” Panther challenges the retreating woman. “You hate everyone—I’ve witnessed that in the little time I have spent with you. So why would you help us?”

  “Because I really just don’t care. Sorry to disappoint you, Panther, but your choices mean very little to me.” Bittern snarls at my companion, brimming with an anger that always seems near the surface in her personality. “Did you ever wonder why I named myself Bittern? It was because it sounded like I felt. Bitter…hateful, angry person that I am. I lost everything when the windstorm destroyed our lands. My husband. My two children. I watched as it tore their bodies limb from limb, and I was helpless to listen to their screams. I stood there, waiting for death. At that moment the winds were coming for me, I was grateful that I would be joining loved ones in the afterworld. I wanted to die.” Bittern’s voice raises with her agonizing confession. “But that windstorm paused, and I could have sworn I felt the eyes of some rabid creature dwelling inside it. Then, rather than overtake me, the storm turned aside. I was left alive, and I carry the deaths of my loved ones every day. There is nothing that Condor or anyone else can say or do that can hurt any worse than what I have already endured. I’ve got nothing left to lose! So, get away from here. Run wherever you want to go! I’ll just report that I lost you at the River Sangre. I don’t care what happens then.”

  A swell of pity surges inside me as I reach over and hug Bittern close. I’d never known that story about her. If I had, I might have been kinder when she acted snobbish. I might have been more patient when she refused to help Warbler in the kitchens. So many past mistakes swirl through my thoughts when I stare at her mask. “I wish I had known, Bittern.” I mourn the loss of her family as if they were my own.

  She quickly shrugs me off and whispers, “Be well,” as she disappears into the forest, her hand wiping at her eyes as she goes.

  “Shall we cross the River then? We can travel along the banks on the opposite side to get to Wolf,” Panther suggests, staring out over the vast expanse of rushing water.

  “Not yet,” I answer, a plan forming in my mind. “Wolf knows there is trouble brewing with Condor. He knows to be careful. I think we should continue on to the Pith. Condor overheard that we were intending to come here. Let’s go see what is actually here before he attempts to find it too.”

  We hasten on until the night begins to fall, stopping only when the sun peeks over the distant mountain ridge. Panther drops along the banks of the river, his voice almost drowned out by the rushing whir of the waters. “I cannot go any farther, Mynah. Please, my feet are killing me!” His eyes droop shut before his head hits the ground. I drag him along the shore until I find a dead tree that is hollow at the center. Carefully I wedge the boy into its wooden embrace. I cover the entrance with moss and dry brush, then find a cleft of rock that will cover me for the night. I drop underneath it to sleep with fitful, nightmarish dreams.

  Chapter 8

  The song of a lark wakes me as the sweet sound resonates through my makeshift bedroom. The first thing my bleary eyes notice is the rock ceiling a foot from my head. I am outside. I have left the House of Vultures. The events of the previous day flood back to me. Shimmying out of my hiding place, I rush to Panther, hoping he fared as well during the night.

  “‘Bout time, Mynah,” he mutters as I uncover the hollow tree where I had left him. “I’ve been awake for an hour needing to take a—”

  “I don’t need to know the details,” I interject as I pull him out of the trunk, back to standing on solid ground. Spotting a small bush that appears to have fruit on its limbs, I hurry away from Panther. “Do what you need to do, and I’ll get breakfast. Just stay close enough to shout if trouble comes.”

  The raspberries stain my hands as my overeager fingers pinch their flesh. The juices dribble down my knuckles, and when I taste it, I groan at the pleasure of its sweetness. My stomach garbles its delight as I scarf down my portion, too hungry to wait for Panther. When I finish, I wander farther away from the River Sangre, letting my mind drift with the water’s rushing murmurs.

  A crack of a twig on my left startles me into awareness. Then I hear the distinct sound of footsteps hustling through the brush on my right. Slowly circling, I inspect the forest for any visible signs of danger, but I see nothing. The forest is alive with noises, and I suspect there is communication here that I simply cannot understand. A rattled hiss like that of a large cat, a soft coo like a bird, the clicking beetle’s alarm signals, and many more animalistic noises envelope me. They’re not animal though, I’d bet. The calls are mimicked, mere imitations of the real sound. It’s like they are made with human voices. This far south, it could only mean one of two things: the nameless unchosen or the Minor Houses.

  “I’m not here to hurt any of you. I’m just passing through this land.” I announce, feeling foolish for speaking without seeing my intended audience. I raise my hands over my head in a sign of good faith. “I have a few weapons on my person, but I am not drawing them. I am not hunting nameless or the Minor Houses.”

  “You’re not alone either,” a female voice answers me from high in the trees. “You failed to share that in your explanations.”

  “My travelling companion will follow my wishes. You have nothing to fear from me. I am simply—”

  “We’ve heard that before from your kind. There are those among the Major Houses that hunt us despite their well wishes and empty promises. Your words mean nothing to us,” another voice cries, this one a male sitting low to the ground on my left side.

  “I cannot atone for actions that are not my own. But you have my word, none of you will be attacked by me.” I catch a glimpse of a tiny foot draped across a rock near my left knee. It is covered with moss and dirt as camouflage, and judging by its size, I suspect it is a child. Edging closer, I pretend to search the skies for the female speaker. When I am close enough, I pounce on the rock, grabbing the child by the ankle. The little boy squeals as he lashes out against me, but my hold is strong. Nothing will break my grip as I carefully pull the boy out of his hiding place.

  The tip of an arrow brushes against my nose. Another one tickles my neck. A third one lands at my feet, the tip narrowly missing the toe of my boot. I can feel many more weapons aimed at me, and I dare not breathe in fear that they will strike. “Let the child go,” whispers the man behind me. “We will not ask twice.”

  “I only wanted to use him,” I explain, unwilling to relinquish my leverage. “It was the only way I could draw you out.”

  “So, now what do you intend to do?”

  I twist my body toward the speaker, gazing up into his unmasked face and the horde of others behind him. Nameless unchosen. So many! I had no idea they were so populous or that they were banding together like this. “I will let the child go,” I mumble, easing my fingers off the crying boy’s ankle. He scampers away immediately, climbing up into a tree to join his mother. I see his teary eyes boring his outraged stare into my forehead.

  “What do you want with us?” The male that I assume is the leader of the group inquires.

  “Nothing,” I assure, my feet frozen in place. “But you should know that there is trouble in the northern parts of Cassé. The House of Lions has joined the House of Wolves, and war is coming to the House of Vultures.” Why did you tell them any of that? I chide myself. You owe these people nothing. Do you expect them to lower their guards just because you share the gossip? Stupid girl!

  Murmurs break out among the nameless as the news spreads through their ranks. “Why should we believe you? What if it’s a trap?” Someone shouts over the noise.

  Another voice cries, “Are you fleeing the Major House wars? Are you attempting to join the nameless ranks?”

  �
�I am merely sharing with you what I know,” I snap, searching for a clear route of escape. “I am not required to share my future plans with you.”

  “You’re not leaving this place unless we allow it! Can’t you see that? There are far too many of us for you to fight your way to freedom.” The leader aims his arrow straight at my heart. “So why shouldn’t I just kill you now?”

  “What have I done to you?” I snarl, my fingers inching towards my knife.

  “Your kind have hunted the nameless as if we are wild animals! Yet we’ve done nothing to deserve it! We weren’t chosen to join a masked house when the new order of Cassé took place. But we are not barbarians!” The crowds roar around me, working themselves into a frenzy.

  Soon they will be calling for my blood. “I’ve never hurt a nameless unchosen,” I defend myself, knowing it is a fruitless act. My mask condemns me in their eyes. “I have never hunted….” My words die as Creeper’s face appears amongst the crowd. His wide eyed, agonized grimace of pain. What would it take for these people to believe me? I have my answer the moment I ask myself the question.

  Slipping my fingers under the leather lacings of my mask, I carefully pull it away from my face. The warmth of the sunlight burns my cheeks almost immediately. This is how it feels to be a side-show freak, I imagine as I observe the wide-eyed stares of my audience. Not a word is spoken amongst them as they drink in the spectacle. I feel like a monster.

  “You say that we treat you like animals; but don’t you think of us as a different species too? ‘Your kind,’ you called us. Without this piece of dyed wood between us, am I really any different? Yes, there are people in the masked houses that have committed horrible acts against the nameless unchosen, but I am not one of them! Now I have told you that I mean you no harm. I shared information about the masked houses in an effort to keep you from getting caught in their crossbows. I bare my face to you as nakedly as I bare my soul to you now. All I ask in return is to be left in peace.”