He closed his eyes as he thought of his brothers and their fates. Trul had been killed, but what had happened to Sri? Perhaps he survived and joined the Miyran warriors. Sri defied the Liput stereotype. Granted, his mechanical skills were stronger than those of anyone outside Kentish, but for a Liput, his ability was only mediocre. Sri was relaxed and unflappable. Tip began now to appreciate how useful such a skill could be for the marked. He laughed as he remembered how irate his mother became when Sri refused to be ruffled by a neighbor’s complaint about some mischief he had created, like the time Sri and a couple of his friends diverted the watering channel to create a mud slide for the younger kids on a hot day. The crops grew thirsty, while several dozen children abandoned chores to ride the muddy slope. The barrage of complaints their parents received from both farmers and parents was unprecedented, yet Sri acted as though the water should have been diverted and never acknowledged anything to the contrary. Sri was capable of surviving. If Tip could locate Sri, he would send a communication home to his mother and ease her worries.
Focusing on Sri increased Tip’s confidence and restored peace within him. With his sense of purpose renewed, he continued without incident toward the main street, and found it thriving with shoppers in the late afternoon sun. He turned left, heading west toward the main marketplace, looking into the shop windows as he walked. The first window displayed wildly colored hats of all varieties, even ones which would fit the species with the tall, curly heads. What was the name of that species? He shrugged. It didn’t really matter. The next window showed lacy-looking outfits Tip was certain he would never wear. He wondered what one did with them and continued to stare until several young females passed by, giggling at him. He grinned back at them, then continued toward the marketplace.
This main street was wider than the previous one, allowing streaks of sunlight to filter through. Occasionally a city transport zipped by, spewing dark fumes out of exhaust tubes in the back. The longer Tip walked, the more he noticed the grimy black smudges on the windows and the increasingly bad smell. Compared to Kentish, the air here was stale and stifling.
The city suffered at the hands of the Tyrnotts, in stark comparison to its once-glorious past. His father had explained some of the history on their earlier visits to the city. The Tyrnotts taxed the city heavily and diverted many services and resources to their own benefit. However, because the Caldot population believed that the Tyrnotts restored and maintained peace after the Miyrans lost control, many accepted, and even supported, the Tyrnott rule. The citizens of Kentish escaped much of the Tyrnott influence due to their isolation from the city and their simpler way of life. The Tyrnotts couldn’t extort any excess from the Liputs if there was none. Still, the condition of the city seemed far worse than Tip remembered. Now that he must survive in these conditions, they seemed insufferable in comparison to Kentish. Hopefully once he joined the royal warriors, the conditions would improve.
He continued to take in his surroundings, walking swiftly toward the marketplace.
Chapter 7
Prizene peered out the cloudy diner window again and pushed her fiery red, curly hair out of her eyes. She always loved her hair, but now that she needed to blend in, it was a liability. She tucked a lock behind her ear and turned back to her broth.
She glanced toward the counter to see the odd-looking server, whose face appeared to be smashed-in, darting his eyes away from her. The other diners seemed just as strange as the server. They were quite fascinating, actually. As a child, Prizene dreamed of leaving the protective barriers of the northern foothills and meeting other species. Now that she had finally gained the incentive to leave, she needed to be careful. She rubbed the mark behind her left ear, then began fiddling with the locket she wore around her neck. At least the mark blended well with her red hair, such that only someone looking closely could see it. A Graelith was unlikely to even realize she was marked.
Was leaving home the right decision? Her father could probably have hidden her. As Krystics rarely were marked, the Tyrnotts likely wouldn’t have searched their home. She never would have been happy, though, cooped up indoors all the time. She had made an agreement with her friend, Traudin, after he was marked to find him in the city, and she intended to keep her end of the bargain. Traudin had lived two houses away from her. He was “difficult,” according to her father and stepmother, though he could always enliven their horribly boring social affairs. Traudin dreamed of being a Miyran warrior and used to practice warrior games constantly. Of course, he required a sparring partner, which was how he and Prizene became good friends. Prizene’s father was appalled and forbade her to play with Traudin. While she respected her father, she never stopped.
Her mother had fallen victim to random violence when she was less than a year old. At least that was the official story. Her father believed the incident was prompted by the Tyrnotts, though he lacked proof and the ability to challenge them. She learned early in life that their world wasn’t safe and that she had to protect herself. She developed good fighting techniques and, unlike most delicate female Krystics, was able to deftly wield a number of bladed weapons.
The one important detail Traudin and Prizene failed to decide was exactly where they would meet. Certainly, she carried enough coins to survive for a time in the city, but she needed a place where no one would notice her. She had been wandering the city for days, debating what to do. This neighborhood thrived with the bustle of shoppers and, though this wasn’t the safest part of town, she could easily lay low here until she decided her next step. Luckily, the weather was still cool enough that she could cover her head to blend better with the crowds, but warmer weather would arrive soon.
She sipped the rather bland broth as she watched the passersby outside the diner, noting the many different species. Then one caught her eye — a skinny boy with fluffy hair that bounced when he walked, brown hair with bright green tips. The boy was intriguing, but the two Graeliths moving at a steady pace not far behind him were even more so. Were they following him? As the boy wove in and out of the crowd, so did the Graeliths. As he stopped to view goods in a shop window, the Graeliths stopped as well. No one else mirrored the actions. It must be the boy they were after. His hair was full enough that even if he were marked, the mark would not necessarily be visible. Still, he carried a full knapsack and his clothes weren’t common to the city. He wore heavy brown pants and jacket with lots of pockets and a thin, cream-colored, flowing shirt. He must have ventured to the city to join the royal warriors, as many outbounders did each year. Whether or not he was marked, he was an easy target.
The boy turned and paused for a moment. Perhaps he noticed the Graeliths after all. But wait — he was simply stopping to help a female citizen lift a parcel onto a city street transport hovering a foot above the ground. The woman smiled at the boy and patted his shoulder before the transport’s doors shut. The boy watched the transport zip away down the street. Surely he could see the Graeliths now, but if he did, he showed no concern. He turned and continued down the street, the Graeliths moving along behind him.
Prizene smiled as she thought about his generosity. He showed such kindness to help another when no one else would. She gulped one last spoonful of her broth, pulled on her jacket and bag, and tossed coins onto the table, catching the server’s eye as she did. The server nodded, as she opened the door and made her way onto the busy street.
Chapter 8
Five days’ walk from the southwest wall of Caldot, far beyond the town of Banston and east of the Western mountain range, lay the forest of Kullac. Darkness was falling when Anthony finally arrived at the small log cabin deep in the forest. It was the house Isabelle had shared with her son, Eros, before he departed for Caldot. He rapped on the door, and almost too quickly it was opened by Isabelle. She anxiously motioned for him to come inside.
After closing the door behind him, he followed her into the kitchen. He watched her pick up a knife and fork to continue carving a roast. She was an attra
ctive woman with strawberry blonde hair tied loosely with a string. Her clothes fit well and showed an athletic body not unused to rigorous work. Even without facial enhancements, she still radiated a charm he fought to resist. He stretched and sat at the little table. He ran tough, calloused hands through his thick, dirty-blond hair and rubbed his hands over his stubbly beard. Closing his eyes for a moment, he rested for the first time since leaving with Eros.
“Did Eros make it to the city?” she asked curtly.
He took a deep breath and expelled it slowly. “Yes. I dropped him at the edge of the southwest side. The level of activity in that area should provide some security for a Human boy alone.”
Anthony reached for a piece of bread and began eating, as he had traveled a great distance that day and was hungry. Given his cargo, he had taken a circuitous route to prevent anyone from tracking his flight path. As he ate, he watched Isabelle. Her shoulders were drawn up, as she hunched over the roast, carving in a kind of frenzy. He sighed, arose from the chair, and walked over to her, resting his hands on her shoulders. “Izza,” he said more gently. “He was well prepared. You taught him enough to survive, more than most parents. Take comfort in that.”
She stopped carving and laid down the utensils. After standing still for moment, she turned to face Anthony. She said slowly and with emphasis, “No, you don’t understand. The Graeliths came after Eros. They knew he was marked. Someone told them.”
Anthony took a step back and considered this, “Who knew he was likely to be marked besides you and me?”
“I told no one. You?”
“No, I never mentioned it to anyone. But, Isabelle, many in Kullac knew you were once marked yourself, not to mention your father. Didn’t you tell me you thought the Graeliths followed you sometimes in town? Perhaps they assumed he would be marked as well.”
She hesitantly agreed. “Perhaps. At least we were cautious enough to celebrate his birthday a week late each year. The Graeliths would have killed him for certain otherwise.”
Anthony smiled. “That’s the spirit. He’ll be fine. I’m sure of it. He’s a bright boy and very skilled. If any of the marked ones can find the training camp, I’m sure he can. Did you ever show him the location?”
“Only once, many years ago. I dared not take him again for risk of exposing its location to others.”
“Well, let’s hope he recognizes it, once he makes his way to the forest. Do you think I was wrong to drop him near the city?”
“No,” she assured him without hesitation. “That was the safest place. With the increased scrutiny of air transports, dropping him near the forest would have been too risky. The Graeliths likely patrol there now.”
“If someone did reveal Eros’s identity, why do you suppose the fact you were once marked has never been an issue other than keeping an eye on you?”
Isabelle looked at Anthony and laughed in self-mockery, “Who, me? A Miyran reject? Worth anything to the Tyrnotts or the Graeliths? No one would believe that.”
Anthony chuckled. Isabelle finished carving and brought more dishes to the table. He helped her and they sat down to eat. The conversation shifted to the routine details of daily life, and for the rest of the evening they avoided the topic of Eros’s journey.
Chapter 9
Prizene skirted around the two Graeliths and skipped casually down the street toward the boy. He still meandered along, stopping to gawk in shop windows. She caught up with him and linked her arm in his. Startled, he tried to pull away, but she tightened her grasp, propelling him along.
She gave him a warm smile to counter his evident surprise. “I’m Prizene. You passed a diner a few minutes ago where I was eating lunch. Don’t look now, but you do realize that two Graeliths are following you?”
He stopped suddenly and spun around. She groaned and placed her hand to her forehead. That was not a smart thing to do. Why didn’t I tell him more carefully? Her stomach tightened as she turned around. She grimaced. Sure enough, the Graeliths had stopped walking, their eyes were now riveted on Prizene and the boy. She swallowed hard. Then the Graeliths broke into a run, coming directly toward them. So much for her planned artful getaway. She grabbed the boy’s hand and took off at a mad dash. Luckily, he responded quickly and ran with agility. They dodged other shoppers, jumping over several boxes sitting at the curb. Prizene met the eyes of a few shoppers, hoping to find help. None was offered.
She looked over her shoulder, relieved to see that the Graeliths had fallen behind. The boy ran ahead of her, which cleared the path, making it easier for her to keep up with him. Within a few minutes, they reached the southeast corner of the marketplace, now thick with shoppers. The boy slowed momentarily and looked back toward her. His eyes widened and his mouth dropped open. It was a look that filled her with dread. Did she really want to know what was behind her? She blew out a sharp breath and stole a glance. At least five Graeliths now tracked them.
When his eyes met hers again, she saw the fear. She motioned him onward. They bolted into the crowd, zig-zagging their way through moving clumps of shoppers. She heard a loud crash behind them, but didn’t dare turn to see what had happened. She kept her eyes focused on the boy and stayed as close to him as she could. The crowd thinned ahead and they soon pushed through to the northwest end of the marketplace. The boy darted into one of the nearby lanes and she followed him. She wasn’t familiar with this part of town and hoped he knew where he was going.
They made turn after turn. All the alleys looked the same — dank and dingy. She rounded the next corner after the boy, only to run into him. She stood on tiptoe and peered over his shoulder. Two more Graeliths were sprinting toward them from the opposite direction.
“Come on!” she yelled, retracing their steps and running back to the alley they had just left. They turned in a new direction and, halfway down the next alley, the boy hesitated and she stopped beside him. This passageway was long and narrow with no other openings besides the ones at either end and a few closed gates farther along. They had no options. Her eyes canvassed the length of the alley, but there was nowhere to hide.
“We should turn back,” he said, a quiver in his voice. He backed up and started to return from the direction they had come just as the Graeliths rounded the corner — seven of them now. They slowed and glared at Prizene and the boy, their mouths curled upward, baring their teeth.
Prizene and the boy turned and ran the remaining length of passage, trying the gates and finding each locked. At the end, the opening led to a small square. They stopped in the middle. She scanned the walls. “The only opening is the one we just came through.” She began backing toward the wall on the far side of the square. The boy followed her lead.
The Graeliths entered the square as a group and spread across in front of them. The square held a few trash bins, but nothing else. They were trapped. Tears threatened to spill from Prizene’s eyes. What could they do? The Graeliths growled and snorted, obviously enjoying the fear they provoked.
The boy pulled something from his pocket. She had never seen the device before. Was it a weapon? He pulled the lever on the top toward him, pointed it toward the Graeliths, and pressed the button on the handle. A short, red beam shot out of what was apparently a laser gun. Where did he find that? The force of the blast jerked his arm upwards, causing him to lose his balance and topple over a refuse can behind them, spilling trash onto the ground.
She turned toward the Graeliths; they were rooted to the ground and the growling had stopped. They were staring at a spot in the wall where the laser beam had removed a chunk of stone. As the boy quickly jumped back to his feet, the Graeliths briefly looked at each other, then turned wide eyes toward the boy.
He grabbed the handle of the weapon with both hands, and began firing repeatedly. The rapidly fired red beams took chunks out of the stone walls and ground. One of the Graeliths cursed and they began diving wildly in every direction. At first, the shots seemed random, but as she watched, the boy’s aim noticeably impro
ved. Finally, he hit one of the Graeliths along the side of the leg. The Graelith howled, then turned angry eyes toward his assailant. The boy stopped firing. He turned to look uncertainly at her.
She drew in a deep breath and yelled at the Graeliths, “Leave us alone!”
The injured Graelith let out a loud, terrifying roar. The boy jumped backwards in shock, lost his balance, and stumbled once again into the pile of trash.
Suddenly, two Graeliths fell to the ground, blood pouring from them. Five fighters had appeared behind the Graeliths with swords slashing. Who were these fighters? And why were they helping when no one else would? One Graelith blocked the attack from another fighter with a long-handled, serrated sickle. Another Graelith shifted, bearing only a nick to his snout, as a fighter swung his sword. Prizene grabbed the boy and pulled him behind the bins. He pushed the lever on the top of the gun and tucked it away inside his coat. She peered over the bins occasionally, hypnotized by the fierce fight with neither side gaining advantage.
One of the Graeliths landed a solid blow on the left side of a fighter’s head, knocking him unconscious. The remaining fighters occupied, the Graelith turned toward Prizene and the boy. He covered the square quickly. Prizene frantically looked at the boy. He was hunched behind a can, not watching the fight. “Your gun!” she pleaded with desperation. “Quickly!”
The boy jumped up, fumbling with the gun inside his jacket. The Graelith tossed the can aside and swung his right claw, cutting deeply into the boy’s side. Prizene had to do something. She threw her weight against the Graelith, knocking him off-balance. On her rebound she grabbed a nearby bin and slammed it into his head. The Graelith fell to the ground, motionless.
The Journey of the Marked (The Miyran Heir Book 1) Page 4
