He turned his attention to the city in the distance. While he had made this journey before, everything felt new to him in his now-changed circumstances. The thrill of adventure teased him as he debated which station would be the safest departure point. He was an easy target and friends like the Raptans would be scarce in Caldot. He only hoped he would be able to sense danger and avoid it.
He decided the Raca Station was the best choice. While the surrounding area was not perhaps the safest from crime, it was home to a wide variety of species, thus providing the best camouflage. He last visited this part of town half a year ago in the fall. With any luck, he could still find the marketplace from which he should be able to find the palace.
Tip gazed in delight as the city came into view with the massive mountains looming over it to the far north. The Liput learned geography in class, but Tip had never ventured anywhere farther than Caldot. He longed to visit the mountains that tapered in size as they journeyed northwest of the city, where they split into two ranges with the larger peaks continuing west, while slightly smaller peaks curved, eventually running south and gradually lessening in height toward the marshes far to the southwest of Caldot. The flat and dry lands to the east of Caldot failed to pique his interest like the mountains.
As the transport neared Raca, Tip’s heart raced and he found himself swallowing to moisten his dry mouth. The transport provided some security, but in the city he would be more exposed. He pulled his pack on his back and moved to the door as the transport approached the station. He glanced around to ensure no one else was nearby besides the Raptans, then turned to the older man. “Just curious …”
The man raised his eyebrows.
“Graeliths? Big and hairy with long snouts and claws?”
The man nodded.
“Thank you.” He closed his eyes and thought to himself, “And thank you, little purple bird. If I ever see you again, I’ll make you the biggest nest ever.” He looked at the man again, a lopsided smile on his face.
The Raptan said, with the same softness around his eyes, “Good luck.”
The transport slowed as it reached Raca Station. The conductor’s announcement over the transport’s speaker confirmed this was indeed the expected stop. Tip took a deep breath, nodded to the Raptans, and exited onto the platform. He glanced around; it appeared much the same as his previous trip. The station bustled with activity and a dozen people representing any number of species moved on and off the stopped transport. Then the bell sounded, the doors closed, and the transport continued on its journey. Tip watched until the transport traveled out of sight. Maybe he should have ridden all the way to the center of town. No, the traders had told him that Graeliths watched the central station. Raca was safer and by far the best choice.
“Ur ya lost?” an old, scrawny woman asked. She rested upon a battered box, flapping her toothless jaws together with a slap. Tip failed to recognize the species, but she was ugly. Her skin hung loosely from her body and what little hair her head still held stood straight up. She grasped what appeared to be a walking stick with frail, bony hands.
Tip muttered a negative response, mostly ignoring the old beast, and walked toward the stairs to leave the station.
As he descended the stairs to the exit below, the old woman’s sharp eyes followed him. Then she reached into her bag and took out a communicator.
Chapter 5
“Eros,” his mother called to him, “slower, my child.”
He turned to wait for her. When she reached him, she held out her hand and clasped his in hers. She squeezed his hand gently and spoke softly: “The marketplace will be there whether we run or walk. Use your eyes, Eros. You must always watch even the smallest of details around you.”
He grinned sheepishly. “But the details at the marketplace are more fun.” He began to jump and pull on his mother’s hand.
“Eros, child, you must learn patience.”
He turned his pouting face to his mother. After all, it usually worked. She smiled. “Very well, my clever little one, but don’t believe you have won my pity.” They started moving again through the dirty, narrow street.
Regardless of his mother’s words, he had obviously persuaded her with his sad face, yet again. Still, he wanted to please her and scanned the area around him. The dwellings on this narrow street were made of a dingy grey stone, bound with a grey mortar that appeared to include grassy sticks, which protruded from the walls. The wooden doors hung unevenly, allowing air to blow in from the street. He and his mother were in the part of town inhabited mostly by the poor. The whole story was hard to remember, but the buildings in this area had been damaged during the battles between the Graeliths and Miyran supporters. Any citizens with wealth had abandoned the sector and the poor claimed the remaining structures. They had patched holes with the grey substance and lived for a time without many of the comforts he knew. The Tyrnotts had restored power and other utilities to this area after the battles ceased.
While the sky was clear and blue today, the towering dwellings sat so close that they blocked all but the tiniest patches of light. A lone, scrawny mouse scurried across the street, stopping long enough to contemplate a nibble of something and discard it. A strong breeze blew at Eros’s face and a chill slithered down his back. He stopped and looked behind them. Though he saw nothing, something loomed in the darkness.
“What, child?” his mother asked. She gazed into the darkness behind them and then turned back to Eros. She placed her hand on the side of his face. “What do you see?”
“Something,” he paused, “dark. Something cold.” Another chill ran down his back as he concentrated on a dark alley not far away. His stomach fluttered. Something was there.
She glanced back down the street. “Come, child, we must make our way to the marketplace.” She tightened her hand around his and started again at brisk pace. He struggled to stay with her, and soon forgot the chill from only moments before.
They reached the end of the narrow street and walked into the sunlight. The warmth spread across Eros’s face and his excitement grew. They crossed a small square and walked down a few steps to arrive at the bustling marketplace, where stalls lined a much larger square. Traders sold everything from food and clothing to mystical pendants and trinkets. Eros gazed across the busy square, knowing that his mother would expect full details of no less than three species, and at least one of those must be new to their game. She would expect him to not only be able to describe them, but also provide observations about their lives. Today, he would surely impress her.
First he spied a Cloonus man and his young daughter. The shoulder-length, flipped-up hair and long, flowing robes were easy to spot. Of course, on closer inspection, he would be able to see the flat nose with not only two nostrils like his, but a third one between the eyes. This allowed them to stay submerged in water with only the top nostril exposed to air. The man was arguing with a rather large trader Eros had seen before. While the man argued, the little girl selected a pendant from the trader’s stall and slipped it into her robe. A clever game, he supposed.
His mother urged him on with a slight tug on his hand. They visited the marketplace every few weeks. Today, they were looking for a particular herb his mother needed for one of her lotions. She specialized in creams and lotions that cured a number of ailments, as well as improving conditions such as dry skin. The marketplace provided traders with a vibrant place to sell their goods, and today it seemed to be bursting with many different species. At some point during the day, he expected to see Aria, the woman who sold his mother’s wares. Aria frightened him, but was never cruel. She was one of the Ilacious. Her braided hair wrapped elaborately around her head in a design which varied every time he saw her. She exhibited an upturned nose, round eyes, and sharply arched eyebrows. Her thin lips always smiled at him, but her flat, long tongue that slipped in and out between her teeth unnerved him immensely. He shuddered and hoped that Aria would be away when they reached the stall.
They r
ounded one of the larger stalls in the middle area and Eros stopped. At the next stall, he saw a large creature with darkened, almost seared-looking skin and narrow ears ending in tips that stood up straight on each side of its head, near the top. The eyes were a pale yellow and the mouth was a grim straight line. Eros shook at the sight of the creature. “What is it?”
His mother knelt beside him and held him against her. “That man is a Thelios. Their tough skin protects them from flame, which explains why they often work with metal. Don’t be frightened, my child. You must not judge solely by appearance. While the man looks fierce, the Theliosse are well known for their generosity.”
The man finished his business and started walking toward Eros and his mother. Eros continued to stare, unable to look away.
As the man neared, he smiled at Eros, showing a mouthful of crooked teeth. He squatted in front of Eros and said, “First time to see a Thelios, my boy?”
In response, Eros could only nod. The great man laughed a deep, boisterous laugh. After several roars of laughter, Eros found he couldn’t keep from laughing himself. He broke into a wide grin, covered his mouth, and giggled at the jovial man.
“My boy, you are a delight! I haven’t seen such a look of dread in many years.” He smiled warmly toward Eros and tousled his hair. Then the Thelios stood and spoke to his mother.
Eros continued to scan the marketplace for other species. A young Greot was at a stall not far away. The man’s head curved upward then spiraled to a tip, with no hair showing other than the eyebrows. The young Greot appeared to be examining food supplements, but his gaze darted in various directions. The clothing he wore was slightly ragged, but the tailoring was of a good quality, based on what Eros’s mother had taught him. This seemingly poor man was probably part of the Miyran army; his well-tailored clothing and alert senses made that fairly evident. Eros prided himself in being quite skilled in identifying disguised warriors.
While he watched the Greot, a shiver crept up his spine, just as had happened when they were walking to the marketplace. He looked to his right and around the Thelios, then to the left. There, under a broad cover on the other side of the street, a large form with glowing eyes stared at them from the darkness. By the size of the form, a Graelith stood there. The Graelith stared, not blinking or moving. Was this what had been following them on the dingy street?
The Thelios stopped talking with Eros’s mother, glanced at him, then looked in the same direction. He yelled at the Graelith, “You there! Leave this place. Your presence here is not required.”
Eros watched the Thelios reach into his pocket and pull something loose, the tip of which was shiny silver — a weapon of some kind. He looked back toward the Graelith to see the creature growl and snort toward the Thelios. Then, to his surprise, the Graelith turned toward a small alleyway and began moving away.
The Thelios knelt beside Eros again. “You’re an unusual child. Strong senses and a brave heart. Yes, I think you are bound to be a great warrior, strong and steady.” He patted Eros’s head, smiled warmly at his mother, and continued on through the marketplace.
Eros considered the Thelios’s words. “A great warrior,” he repeated to himself and imagined himself swinging a mighty sword.
*******
Now, here Eros was, more than ten years later and clinging for his life to a ladder. Some great warrior he turned out to be. The Graelith had thrown the stinging powder in his eyes without much effort and he had known better than to fall for that trap! How foolish he had been. All during his childhood, he had dreamed of being a royal warrior and defending the province and his mother. He had wanted to be like his grandfather before him, who had died in the battles shortly before Eros’s birth. Yet his life had almost ended today. He was no warrior. Had it not been for the girl, he would have perished.
He wondered about the girl. She used a weapon on the Graelith that made a zapping noise, but he knew of no such weapon. It must be illegal. While clinging to the ladder together, the strong smell of the street on her swirled around him. Great! Rescued by a law-breaker whose stench is unlike any I have ever smelled before. Though he questioned her motives, she had risked her life to save his own. He owed her his life and he must repay the debt. He pushed his nose into his sleeve and hoped he would be able to repay the debt sooner rather than later.
When was the last time he saw Jbetl, the Thelios? Throughout his childhood, they often ran into each other at the marketplace and spent time together in the Human settlement where he lived with his mother. Jbetl came to the settlement to repair and sell steel weapons and would often join them for dinner. He trained Eros to fight with a variety of weapons and also taught him the basic skills of welding. But then Jbetl just disappeared a year or more ago. Maybe the Graeliths had killed him, given his boldness — hopefully not. He never asked his mother, as this would inevitably cause her grief.
The girl nudged him softly and started climbing down the ladder past him. He listened for any sounds from the alleyway above and decided her instincts were correct; it was safe to move. He braced himself and stowed his sword. He waited for her to move below him and tap him on the foot before he started climbing down. With his eyes still burning, he found navigating the ladder challenging, even though dim moonlight shone through the openings to the street above. He felt carefully before moving down each rung.
After another ten steps, he reached down with his foot for the next rung and found only empty space. He placed his hands another rung down the ladder and felt in a wider circle for the step, but still didn’t find one. The girl patted his leg and reached up to put her hand under his arm. He must be at the bottom. He lowered himself to the ground and turned toward where he thought the girl would be standing, only to find she had moved behind him. Quiet and quick, he realized. The girl grabbed a fistful of his hair and pulled his head back. “The water is clean,” she whispered. He felt the sting of fluid on his eyes.
“Open them,” she commanded quietly. He tried, but the sting was extremely painful. She stopped and released his hair. “Keep trying to open them.”
“Trying,” he choked through the pain. He tried with all his strength to open his eyes and found he could at least squint. He couldn’t focus on his surroundings, though, and while he continued to try, she grabbed his hair again and poured more water in his eyes.
They repeated this several times until the pain in his eyes started to ease. He found his sight was returning with each repetition, as well. Finally, the eye cleansing stopped and he looked around. He was, as he had thought, in the underground passages beneath the city. The openings onto the alleyways above allowed slivers of light to reach these passages below, enough to see without benefit of an electric torch. Two things were distinctly noticeable: the smell of the passages and the smell of the girl.
He turned to look at her as she put the water back in her bag. She had jet-black hair, cut short, like a man would wear. Her white skin almost gleamed in the darkness of the passage, spoiled only by the fiery mark behind her left ear. Her ears fascinated him. They curled upward and back at the top, with dozens of feathery-like pieces along the back from the midpoint of the ear to the top. Her ears were fantastic. He searched his memory for the species his mother described as having such ears, as they rarely visited Caldot. Was it the Artuesee? No, their ears curled in the other direction and besides, hadn’t the Artuesee moved to the west side of the city? The Arlians? Yes, that’s right. The Arlians had been persecuted by the Graeliths and had become a difficult and reclusive race. When they did visit the city, they were well known for violent outbursts, prolific body markings, and obnoxious children. At least that would explain the smell. At that moment, she looked up from her bag and glanced at their surroundings. Her face was quite attractive, with strong cheek bones. She had piercings in her thin, left eyebrow with a tiny silver chain stringing the piercings together. She was intriguing.
“You done looking?” she asked, as she turned to look directly at him with intense, dark
eyes.
“I suppose so.”
“We should move. The Graeliths may still return.” Without a response, she turned and began moving toward the passage to his left.
He watched her for a few seconds and grimaced as a slight breeze carried her scent to him. Wonder how long I can hold my breath? Eros took a deep breath and followed.
Chapter 6
As Tip exited the transport station, he walked quickly toward the narrow lanes leading to the main shopping street. The narrow passageway was dark and damp. Each drab little house sat inches from its neighbor with the curtains pulled tightly across the windows. Occasionally a curtain twitched, as though someone was peering from behind it, but no one was visible and no one else wandered the streets. No children played outside and no neighbors gossiped like they always did in Kentish.
Tip missed Kentish already. He longed to be eating one of his mother’s delicious pies or even her stewed vegetables. The open fields were home to him, not these dreary, dirty streets. He stopped. Maybe he should just go back to the transport station. And then what? The council would never allow him to return. They would force him to leave yet again, and by then, the Graeliths roaming the area might know of the mark he bore. Risking the lives of his family and the others in Kentish wasn’t an acceptable option. Still, he really wanted to go home. He cursed the mark, as tears came to his eyes. The mark destroyed everything, everything! He crossed to one of the buildings and leaned heavily against the wall. There, he let the full force of his despair wash over him. First Trul, then Sri, and now him.
The Journey of the Marked (The Miyran Heir Book 1) Page 3
