Bird of Chaos: Book One of the Harpy's Curse Read online

  “So you left to find the serpent?” I said.

  “I intended to capture the serpent stone and sell it. I would use the money to buy my mother and sister a house somewhere far from Farsala. My mother packed my bag, pressed a purse of drachmae into my hand and practically pushed me out the door. I was fifteen years old and I had never been outside our village.

  “My coin did not last long and in Neos I had to find work mucking out pigpens. In the next town I felled trees and in the next was apprenticed to a blacksmith. I was in Orion’s Tavern when I heard of the stone. The conversation was rising and falling like bellows when the door opened and two travellers entered. They sat beside me: father and son. From their conversation I learned that they had travelled from the Alati Pan, abandoning their work as salt miners because the tax for each caravan had risen so high it was not worth a day’s work. They joked about travelling to Mount Atha; there was rumour of a serpent there. When I asked why they dallied at the pub instead of hunting for treasure they scorned me and said, ‘Mount Atha is on the other side of the Salt Plains, beyond a vast desert of gritty sand. It is hot and uninhabited except for the Tigrineeks. Slaves from the Spice Isles and travellers like us mine the salt by prying it out in great blocks. We ferry it by mule and donkey to markets just over the border in Caspius. But we could never survive without the Tigrineeks leading us in and out. Only they know where to find water and they would never show us the way over the desert.’ When I asked why not, the son, whose eyes were as blue as his father’s, spoke as if I was a dunce: ‘Because the Tigrineeks are barbarians. They would rather kill you than show you the secrets of their land.’

  “I could not believe that collectively an entire people could be so cruel. I was young. I loved my fellow man. I paid for my drink and excused myself. The next day I left for the Salt Kingdom in search of my reward.”

  Drayk leant back and stretched and for a moment I feared he would not continue his story. He swapped his spear to the other side.

  “Keep going,” I said, adjusting my weight from one side of my body to the other.

  “Patience, little miss, patience.” He cleared his throat. “So, I was waylaid by winter, sorry, cheimon, and had to take cover in Alaira, the Caspian capital. As soon as the weather was warm I followed the line of caravans making their way across the border to Ella, the Tigrineeks’ trade centre. Have you been there?”

  “I have never been outside Tibuta,” I admitted.

  “Let me tell you, in Ella flat dry earth stretches out in every direction. A dusty haze hangs over the earth, distorting the sun. I felt wedged between the heavy sky above and the infinite sand below. I found a tax collector’s hut in a dusty enclave on the edge of the salt flats. It was little more than a pile of twigs covered in animal skins. I paid the tax with the money I had earned as a smithy and joined the Alati Pan miners.

  “Every day we set out before dawn, a long line of men and camels plodding through the sand. We reached the salt pan as the sun peeped its head over the horizon. The heat was unbearable. My body was so hot it was cold. Soon I stopped sweating altogether. I was sure I was going to die, that I would fall to the ground unnoticed and my body would become a pile of bleached bones, my flesh consumed by the sand.”

  Seeing that I was rapt, Drayk embellished his tale, “My spotter, a Tigrineek who weighed and packed the salt, had skin like the night, flowing robes of hemp, long braided hair decorated with feathers and bare leathery feet that did not feel the heat. He carried a curved sword with a wide blade and wore a bone necklace. He would prod us with his sheathed blade if we were working too slowly. It was he who told us when we could stop, when we could piss—though I never needed to—and when we could return to camp. It was he who let us drink from a pigskin. He fed us balls of sticky rice and little else.”

  “But why?” I interrupted. “Why did you tolerate him?”

  “I knew I must if I was to possess a serpent stone. That is the nature of success, little miss. We cannot be distracted by our immediate discomfort. Our vision must span our entire lifetime and beyond if we are to achieve anything of any real importance.

  “In Ella we slept on mats out in the open. There was nowhere to wash so we lay in our own filth, the sweat and grit congealing on our bodies. At night we could hear the kylons sniffing in the dark or howling to one another. I endured it because I saw hope on the horizon. I was walking back from the edge of the enclave when I saw her.”

  “Who?” I said.

  “My spotter’s daughter. Hope. She was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen—except for you, of course your highness—with her hair done in hundreds of tight, tiny braids with beads at the end. She was wrapped in a dusty robe and beneath it she was nude. She looked up at me and our eyes met. I smiled at her. I had discovered my salvation.

  “I had seen the girl accompanying her father to the salt pan before and he often made her go without water or food. I knew all I had to do was show her kindness.

  “The following day, when her father passed me the pigskin I waited until his back was turned and offered it to her instead. She was surprised but she was desperately thirsty. She took the skin and poured the water into her mouth.

  “Later she came to thank me. I was mesmerised. She was the softest of creatures, the lightest, and the supplest. She averted her eyes when she spoke to me as if she revered me like a god.

  “After that I did my best to win her confidence because I wanted the serpent stone. I also wanted her as my own. You see, I was falling in love with her—”

  “But you couldn’t own her,” I said, cutting him off. “She would own you if you were to become her daroon.”

  “Not in Caspius. In Caspius it is different. Shall I continue?”

  I nodded, flicking my short hair out of my face.

  “One night we had just returned with a pack of mules from the Caspian border and I was lying on my back looking up at the vast sky when she appeared, like a goddess, at the end of my mat. ‘Walk with me?’ she said and how could I disobey? I was bewitched. I jumped to my feet and we wove between the sleeping mats to the edge of the camp.

  “We sat in the sand, which was hot from the day’s baking. I knew I should kiss her, I wanted to kiss her.”—I giggled—“But something stopped me. I cleared my throat. I had to tell her the truth. A goddess like that could not be sullied by my lies and manipulation. So I told her. ‘Kali, I have something I must ask you,’ I said, then told her about my father the statesman, about my desire to buy my mother’s freedom and my sister’s, my poor poor sister. ‘It is my dream to go to Mount Atha and seek the serpent stone.’ I said and she was quiet for a very long time. ‘You want me to lead you across the desert?’ she said and I could hear the distrust in her voice. I told her I wanted her to come with me. I told her about the land beyond the desert, about the vast open grasslands, the rivers and the mountains. I described the wonderful life we would have together if she could only trust me. It was the water, in the end, that made up her mind. She said again and again, ‘There is water for everyone?’ and I replied, ‘And some left over.’

  “Kali agreed to show me the way across the desert if I built her a hut by the water.”

  “And did you?” I said, eagerly leaning forwards.

  “I did. I was very much in love.”

  “What happened to her?”

  “She died after a wonderful life in our house by the water.”

  “And the stone? Did you get the serpent stone?”

  “Would I be here if I didn’t?” Drayk said, but not unkindly. He pulled out a tiny red stone secured around his neck on a leather thong. “The giant serpents of old came out of the clouds from the Elysian Fields. They were bigger than any serpent you have ever seen. As big as a whale”—he said this, using one hand like a snake moving through the air—“they could topple an entire forest with a swish of their long curling tails. Their skin was black and scaly and on their breath was the fire.”

  “They were demons?” I said.r />
  “Not demons but not good either. Their atrama was certainly grey and their appetite was insatiable. These beasts, good or bad, were hunted ruthlessly because inside each one of them the Ooruk monks had hidden a stone that gave immortality.”

  “And you hunted one and killed it? Did your wife Kali help?”

  “She remained at the base of the mountain but I hunted the serpent and I killed it. I am not proud of it, now that I know better. There was no valour in it. The tales would have you believe it is almost impossible to kill a serpent. But why would the creatures be extinct if they were so difficult to kill?” Drayk’s gaze was fixed on his shoes. He shook his head, as if clearing it. “It was winter and the beast Nemea was hibernating. I snuck up behind it and put my spear through its eye.” He jabbed on the ground with his spear. “Then I slit its throat. The serpent lay beside me in a pool of its own blood, its tongue lolling from its great mouth and its nostrils still smoking. I ripped each of its scales off one by one to get at its chest. I held its heart in my fist, bigger than a man’s head. It was still warm and pumping but I sliced it open and removed the stone embedded in the flesh.”

  I shuddered. “So now you cannot die?”

  “Now every time I die, I regenerate through the stone. I will regenerate again and again no matter how many times I am killed, but only until I reach my fortieth year and then I am reborn elsewhere. Now enough of that: it is time you learnt to fight, little miss.”

  “But why are you on this earth for so long?” I said, not ready to end the conversation.

  “Those of us who capture the stone are bound to the life that chooses us. We live and we die, and we are reborn. Our purpose, I believe, is to serve as best we can, to ensure past mistakes are not revisited. We see deep into the past and it informs our understanding of the future. We use our collective knowledge to guide people who can make a difference in this world.”

  “Like my mother?”

  “Like your mother. I have served her since I was fourteen.”

  “Really?’

  “Yes. I was reborn in Gregaria in this life. When I was fourteen, the King invaded Caspius so I joined his ranks but was captured and sold into slavery. I was bought by a Tibutan and chosen for your mother’s personal household. I was your mother’s…assistant…until my twentieth Name Day, when she discovered I was an immortal and realised my full potential. I did not have to serve as a mere hoplite. She made me chiliarch. Only one rank beneath strategos and a great honour considering I am a man. I hope to serve you too when the time comes.”

  I jumped down from the wall and looked up at the immortal. “I wish I was immortal. Then I would never have to be afraid.”

  “Promise me you will not wish too earnestly for what I have. It is a heavy burden to bear.”

  “I cannot promise that. It seems a wonderful gift.”

  “Your highness, people saw the serpent stone as you do. When I took the stone from Nemea’s heart I thought I was the luckiest man on earth. But I quickly realised that immortality came at a great price. Over the centuries I was reborn again and again. What a shock to grow up and discover you had lived before! With each new life I had to relearn all that I knew. It came back to me in pieces, like a dream, bit by bit in blurry fragments. Each time they named me Drayk or Philander or Ambrosios and as I grew I came to realise that Drayk was more than one person: he was many. I shared the consciousness and memories of my previous incarnations.

  “With the serpent stone I escaped death, in a way. But each time I reached my fortieth year I had to say goodbye to the ones I loved.”

  “That’s terrible.”

  “Yes, but it is the fate of all men to have to relive the lives of those who came before them. In a perfect world, like the Elysian Fields, we would start where our ancestors left off. We would add to their knowledge without having to waste time learning what they knew. We would live collectively, with one consciousness, one body of knowledge. But this is prohibited to us until the gates are open, when my immortality will be over and I can rest. It is our suffering. Only the immortal who lives to see the end of the world will understand everything that has come before him, but by then it will be too late.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It would be like standing in front of a great tapestry. When you are too close you can only see each thread, each minuscule stitch. But when you step back you can finally see the detail.”

  “I see,” I said, though I didn’t. Not really.

  “One day you will.” He cleared his throat, suddenly embarrassed that he had spoken so candidly. “Now we must start or your mother will have my skin.”

  “But what about Kali? And your mother? I thought you sold the stone?”

  “After I slayed the serpent, I descended the mountain to sell the stone to a gem merchant in Alaira. He weighed it, turned it over and peered at its swirling core. ‘This is a serpent stone,’ he said, throwing it back to me. I asked him why he would not take it. ‘Everybody knows you cannot use another person’s serpent stone. His immortality is gained in the taking of the serpent’s life, not in the wearing of the talisman.’ All I had done—leaving home, working as a salt miner, crossing the desert and killing the serpent—had been for nothing. Now we must start.”

  I reluctantly climbed down from the wall, picked up the spear and accepted the shield. I wanted to know the entire story now, to see the big picture that he spoke of, but it was his story to tell and already he had shown me much kindness, more kindness than anyone had shown me before. I wanted to return the favour by being patient, by being the best student he had ever had.

  Drayk stood behind me and I was disturbed by his proximity. I was unaccustomed to being so close to anyone except Nanny Blan and my father. He wrapped his hand over mine, adjusting my grip and put his feet between mine to kick my legs apart. “The correct stance is wide, knees bent, always in readiness with your stomach braced.”

  I flexed my weak muscles.

  “Now imagine there is someone coming towards you. He is going to kill you if you don’t get him first. Go!”

  I wiped my shoulder-length hair out of my face with sweaty hands, repositioned the spear and jabbed at my invisible opponent; my face was creased in concentration. I did not want to disappoint him and I thought I would, inevitably.

  “Keep the tip down and put all your momentum into it. Again!”

  I jabbed as best I could.

  “Well done!”

  Drayk’s praise ignited a tiny flame inside me. Over the years, it grew into a raging furnace.

  Chapter three

  I had climbed the wall around the arena to watch Drayk the immortal training new recruits for the Queen’s Guard. I was nine and my knees were scratched. I had dirt under my nails. The boys’ faces were hollow, their arms so thin they shook from the weight of their weapons. Each carried a Tibutan spear, a long, thin piece of reinforced wood painted black and gold, with a fierce iron tip. One of the boys was more nervous than the others. His hair fell in front of his eyes and he had to keep stopping to wipe it away. He kept looking to Drayk for approval, as so many of us do.

  “Again,” Drayk said and the boys began a routine of thrusting forwards with an underhand grip, parrying, retreating and attacking once more. “Good. Your footwork should keep you balanced. No, Antoine, the butt of the spear should not be braced against your back hand. Grip it like this. Again!”

  I coughed and Drayk turned. “Little miss.” Then to the boys, “Keep going.” He walked through the gate and waited while I jumped down from the wall. I followed him into the shade of the cloister that ran along the outside of the Barracks. The boys continued to fight, grunting as their feet shuffled and danced. They broke into pairs, the tips of their spears aiming for the centre of the whalebone chest plates. The tap-tap of iron against ivory provided accompaniment to our conversation.

  “Your Highness?” Drayk said patiently. It was not the first time I had come to watch him train. When I was not using cutlery and writ
ing thank-yous with Arkantha, or examining shifting maps with Galen, I was at the arena studying various battle moves.

  “Who are these men?” I asked.

  Drayk glanced over his shoulder. “These men are the best hoplites in Tibuta.”

  “Yes but where do they come from? And why are they scarred like that?”

  “They are destined to be members of the Queen’s Guard if they pass their final trial.”

  “Be frank with me, Drayk.” I stamped my foot. Thankfully I grew out of that habit.

  He stood looking down at me, a smile barely hidden. “I suppose you will learn soon enough. These are the few who survived. They were taken from their homes when they were boys. They have been training ever since.”

  “Survived?”

  “A boy must go through a number of tests to join Tibuta’s army. To prove he is as steadfast as any woman. He must slaughter a baby seal with only his hands to prove his loyalty. And he must endure months of solitude on the islands, where he has to steal to survive. If he is caught he is flogged—not because he was stealing but because he was sloppy enough to be caught. A man must learn a woman’s discipline and stealth. Anyone who fails leaves in shame. Those who do particularly well are chosen for the Queen’s Guard though none of the boys you see here will rise above hoplite. That privilege is, of course, reserved for the women of Tibuta.” He looked back at his men. “These ones arrived half-starved. It will be weeks before they are in any condition to fight. Some of them have been outside the Seawall for over a year. But they are good. That one”—he nodded at the nervous boy called Antoine—“killed a man with his bare hands rather than be caught stealing.”

  “And you had to do these things?”

  It was like a cloud descended over his eyes. He looked away. “Yes. I did. I have had to do many things in service of the queen.”