The Journey of the Marked (The Miyran Heir Book 1) (26 page)

Anthony ensured Kalangia was secure
in the cage and left the hotel room, wandering through town until he found the
work-assignment station. Once the job coordinator learned Anthony was a pilot,
he was quickly assigned to the crew managing the dozens of air transports that
were arriving daily. Fortunately, there were large parcels of barren land east
of town to accommodate the vessels, but hands were needed to monitor traffic
and ensure no damage to any ships.

After receiving further
instructions, Anthony started walking toward the shipyard. He had visited
Banston many times in the past, but always enjoyed viewing the fascinating
paintings on each door. As he wound his way through town, he whistled and
paused to wish everyone a good morning. Several Plintes remembered him from his
previous visits and greeted him warmly. Others politely returned his well
wishes and thanked him for his support.

He crossed the edge of town and
continued past a large field. Usually, the Plintes used the field for sparring
matches and other sports activities. Apparently, it had now been claimed as the
location for group meals and events for the funeral. Given its proximity to
town and its barren flatness, it was a suitable venue. The only drawback was
the shattered target pieces that littered the space.

As various individuals slowly
walked through the field, Anthony stopped to watch. What were they doing? One
person bent down and picked something up, placing it in a pouch. Of course,
Anthony nodded to himself, they were clearing the field — very sensible. He
started to walk again when something else caught his eye. A man squatting
farther out in the field now stood and stretched. Anthony rubbed his eyes, for
surely he was mistaken. He strained for a clearer view. Maybe it was because he
desired the outcome, but he was almost certain the man was Liput. He rubbed his
chin and smiled. Isabelle would be most pleased if he had already located one
of the marked one’s relatives. After his shift, he would take a detour back
through this field and see if his hunch was correct.

He slapped his leg and walked
toward the vessels with a new spring in his step. He selected one of his
favorite tunes and whistled merrily as he went.

Tren and Jurf worked all morning in
the field southeast of Banston, carrying rocks and litter to a designated area
on the edge of the village. They scoured the field for broken pieces of clay,
blades without handles, and other objects used by the Plintes in training. A
leather container was provided to collect these items, which the workers in the
village would later claim to melt and craft into new weapons and targets.

At midday, Tren and Jurf joined the
other workers on their team to collect food and pots of water. The group then
dispersed across the field to eat and rest for an hour. Tren steered Jurf to
the far side of the field, away from town and the nearest group of workers. He
scanned the area before they sat down to eat to ensure no one was nearby.

As Jurf began stuffing food into
his mouth, Tren abruptly started the conversation. “Yesterday on the transport,
I don’t believe you told me everything.”

Jurf froze, his mouth still full,
and stared guiltily at Tren.

Tren nodded and raised his
eyebrows. “You see, Jurf, I’m a father. I have three sons, three clever sons. You
learn quickly how to tell the truth from a lie. I wondered whether I was
reading you correctly, but based on your current expression, I know you were
dishonest with me.” He paused and watched Jurf for a moment.

Jurf swallowed hard and looked at
the ground.

Tren wasn’t certain exactly what
Jurf knew. Gentle prodding would be the kindest tactic, but there may not be
much time before they were interrupted. A broad question should do the trick. “Tell
me the rest of the story.”

Jurf stared at his plate while
contemplating what to say. After a few minutes, he began tentatively. “You’re
right. I don’t remember meeting a Liput last fall. I ... I was in the
marketplace a few days ago when a Liput and a Krystic came running through the
stalls. The Graeliths were chasing them. I had never seen either species, so I
asked one of the vendors and he told me you can tell Liputs because of the
colored tips on their hair and the Krystics by the golden designs on their
forehead. He warned me against telling others what I had witnessed, which made
me hesitant to admit it, even to another Liput.” He shrugged dismissively,
picked up his sandwich, and took another bite.

Tren considered this information. “Tell
me more about the Liput. What was he wearing? Was he injured?”

“It happened so quickly. I think he
wore brown clothes, but that’s all I remember. He ran fast, so if he had been
injured, it must have been minor.”

Tears welled in Tren’s eyes. “Thank
you, Jurf, for telling me the truth. You heard me say that each of my three
sons had been marked. No other Liput has ever been marked. My oldest son
survived only two days. We never heard about our second son. We hope he’s still
alive. Our third son’s sixteenth birthday passed just six days ago and my
brother-in-law confirmed he left town because he bore the mark. The timing is
right, so you must have seen him. At least, you’ve confirmed he arrived in the
city. We knew a Liput was wanted for murder and we hoped above anything it was
Tip.” He cleared his throat. “Granted, murder is a horrible accusation, but at
least he’s alive … or was alive.” He looked at Jurf with a pained smile. “At
least you have given us hope.” He placed his hand momentarily on Jurf’s leg
before returning his hand to his own lap.

*******

They finished their food and were
resting. Jurf felt miserable. Tren was Tip’s father and he lied to the man. His
food turned uneasily in his stomach. Jurf swallowed hard and tried to steady
his voice. “I’m sorry, Tren. I lied to you again.”

Tren turned his eyes to Jurf’s with
eyebrows raised.

Jurf swallowed again and continued,
“You see, I wasn’t in the marketplace the day Tip hurried through it. I was at
my job, working in a diner. A Krystic happened to be eating there that day” —
Jurf paused and smiled as he thought about Prizene — “and I happened to meet
her again the next night in my neighborhood. Sometimes I can’t sleep and I just
happened to see them outside my bedroom window. We’re not supposed to peek out
the windows at night, but sometimes I do anyway. She traveled with four others,
all marked.” Jurf glanced at Tren to see the man was intently hanging on his
every word. “One of the five marked ones was your son, Tip.”

The tears welled up in Tren’s eyes
again and he encouraged Jurf to continue. “Go on.”

Jurf sighed with relief and felt a
weight lifting off his chest. He had avoided even telling his mother the whole
story, as he feared for her safety if she knew. The story poured out of him:
how he had helped the others escape to the western part of the city and leaving
them at the new barrier the Tyrnotts had put up at the opening of the city
wall. He told Tren about the others who shared the journey with Tip and how
Tip’s injuries were nearly healed by the time Jurf had left their company. As
Jurf finished the tale, Tren leaned over and gave him a grateful hug.

He simply said, “Thank you.”

“Quite a tale,” they heard a voice
mutter behind them.

Telling the whole story had been
such a relief that Jurf had failed to notice a Human man had crept up behind
them. He was startled and jumped up, as did Tren, though he was uncertain what
to do. He looked at Tren, who appeared to be as shocked as he. The Human held
out his hands to put them at ease.

“Be calm. You have no reason to
fear me. My name is Anthony from the Forest of Kullac. While you should have
been more cautious of your surroundings, I can assure you no one else heard
you.” He looked from Tren to Jurf, giving them an assuring smile. “I saw you
this morning on my way to the transports and was hoping to speak with you both.
You must be Tip’s father.” He held out his hand to Tren who took it, then
turned to Jurf and patted him on the back. “And you must be the Hurfen we heard
about.”

“Maybe,” Jurf stammered. He was
confused and really nervous. What did this man know about him?

Anthony rambled on, “I’m here with
a friend named Isabelle. Her son is Eros.” He watched Jurf closely as he made
the last statement.

“I met Eros,” Jurf replied
excitedly. “He was the Human in the group of marked ones,” he explained to them
both.

Delight lifted Tren’s face and he
threw his arms around Anthony, as well. Anthony appeared surprised at first,
but then he reached up and patted Tren on the back. As Tren pulled away, he
said in a low voice, “I would like to meet this Isabelle.”

Anthony grinned and hooked his
thumbs in his pant pockets. “She’s been looking for you and other parents of
the marked ones. She has news from Lady Anyamae. We don’t yet know whether the
marked ones have reached the training camp, but we do know they were on the
right path two days ago. All five were alive and well.”

Tren clapped his hands together and
beamed at the other two. “At least I know one of my sons may survive. I have
hope.”

Anthony suggested they meet at his
and Isabelle’s room prior to the dinner gathering that evening. “Perhaps we’ll
hear more news by then.”

Jurf agreed to the plan, as did
Tren, and watched as Anthony left them, meandering across the field. What a
great day it was turning out to be. He glanced at Tren, who had spied some
scraps of clay and started back to work with a burst of enthusiasm.

Tren treated him well. His own
father had died so many years before that he enjoyed Tren’s presence. Yet, he
had to remember his main goal — to find the undergrounders. Maybe Anthony or
this Isabelle would have more news when he saw them that evening. He stooped to
pick up yet another metal blade. He hoped he could find the right time to ask.

Natal rested his hands atop the
edge of the low outer wall of the bell tower as he stared across the city. The
setting sun painted a cascade of colors across the sky. He closed his eyes and
drew in a long, deep breath, enjoying this rare moment of peace.

He was standing at the top of the
tower, which was attached to an old temple the Tyrnotts now occupied as part of
their dwellings. The temple interior was an ideal space for dispensing orders
to the men. Only one key to the bell tower existed and Natal possessed that
key. The other Tyrnotts never questioned the locked door and Nord never
concerned himself with such trivial matters. For Natal, though, the tower
provided a respite, a haven in the midst of the city where he could reflect on
the day’s events and gather his thoughts.

The tower loomed over all the
surrounding buildings and afforded him a clear view of the palace and the
highest mountain peaks to the north. His eyes traced the mountain range that
wrapped around the northwest side of the city and travelled southwest,
decreasing in height farther south. His eyes stopped on the mid-sized peaks a
few days west of the city. As yet, they had received no news from Gornith. No
news of the marked ones. Was one of the marked Isabelle’s son? The timing was
right.

They kept an eye on Isabelle after
she was dismissed by Anyamae. Given her father’s reputation as a respected
leader and powerful fighter, Nord had frequently expressed concerns about her
ability to rally the outbounders. However, Natal found her son of even greater
concern. He had firmly believed the boy would be marked and had enlisted help
in monitoring the pair. One of their contacts reported that the boy’s sixteenth
birthday was nearing and Natal dispatched Graeliths to find the boy and be
ready to capture him should the mark appear. He should have sent Tyrnotts with
them. While the Graeliths would be drawn to the mark, it obviously hadn’t been
enough given their inability to identify small physical traits. The boy had
escaped. He rubbed his temples, then stretched the tight muscles stiffening his
neck. As there was a Human boy in this group of five marked ones that Gornith
pursued, one with strong fighting skills, they had missed their chance. Two
Humans were unlikely to be marked in a single month — the one in this group was
likely Isabelle’s son. The group was probably nearing the training camp, which
was frustrating, as they would then be protected. Natal had once requested time
in the mountains to hunt for the training camp. Nord had balked at the idea,
though Natal failed to understand why. He shook his head in frustration.

Natal turned away from the
mountains to gaze into the tower once again. An enormous bell hung in the
center from strong iron rods in the roof. An intricately designed wrought iron
fence the height of Natal’s waist encircled the bell, protecting one from
falling through the opening under the bell to the tower floor far below. He ran
his hand along the edge of the bell, tracing the intricate design with his
finger. The workmanship surpassed any he had seen. He longed to know which
species had devoted such dedication to their work.

Resting his arms back on the outer
wall, he looked out over the city. He chuckled at the citizens breaking curfew.
He watched several hide, as a patrol of Graeliths marched past, only to
continue on their journey once the Graeliths were out of sight.

Turning his eyes to the beautiful
colors streaking the sky, he soaked in the glory of the moment, as his thoughts
turned to Nord. Why his sudden interest in the Plintes? Nord had dropped enough
hints that Natal had been able to piece together his current thinking — attack
the Plintes. But why now? Nord seemed particularly anxious about this new group
of the marked and it was influencing his rationale. While they were unusual,
they were hardly unique. Regardless of what Anyamae may have planned, this
group lacked the skill to significantly influence events, so how did Nord
transition from hunting a group of the marked to targeting an entire species?

Natal was closest to Nord, his
confidant. Both had been born on Zolei to high-ranking Tyrnotts. Natal’s father
was killed shortly after he was born and Nord, two years his senior, took him
under his wing. Nord had no siblings and Natal made a suitable playmate. Natal’s
mother remarried and bore a second child nearly ten years Natal’s junior to a
man that was weak, a man who should never have survived the scarring ceremony. His
mother died giving birth to Awno, his brother, and her husband died of illness
not long after. Natal and his grandmother then became caregivers for Awno. Once
his grandmother’s health began failing, she made him promise to protect Awno at
all cost — an act he would have carried out without a promise, though he promised
all the same. She had feared Awno would not survive the scarring ceremony. He
agreed. When the time grew near, Natal had hidden the boy.

As leader of the Tyrnotts, Nord
outwardly tolerated no exceptions to the ritual scarring, but he never
questioned Natal about Awno’s disappearance. As part of this unspoken
agreement, Natal would stand by his side against any enemy. Their relationship
had developed over time and while Nord was clearly in control, he trusted
Natal’s judgment and Natal could still sway his actions.

Natal watched the sun set the sky
ablaze as it returned to its slumber for the night. After all these years,
Nord’s sudden desire to destroy the Plintes baffled him. His plan lacked
foresight and seemed hastily concocted. Not to mention the fact that destroying
another entire species was unthinkable. Once again, Natal would need to find a
way to alter Nord’s intentions without his knowledge. In swaying Nord’s
actions, Natal found it most effective if Nord believed it was his own idea.

Natal smiled to himself. As
darkness fell across the city, he slowly devised a strategy that just might
work.