The Journey of the Marked (The Miyran Heir Book 1) (29 page)

“However you managed it, thank
you,” Kenrya said. “How did you even find us?”

“Luckily, we heard the Gaelan
horn.”

“The what?” Kenrya asked. The other
marked ones looked just as confused.

“The Gaelan horn. You possess it,”
he added, turning to Azetan.

Azetan pulled the horn from his
bag. “This is a Gaelan horn?”

“Yes,” Cusilje confirmed. “I see
you are not aware of its purpose. How did you come to find it?”

Kenrya explained, “We met a group
of old men at the edge of the bristly bushes on the far side of the wetlands. They
traveled with us for two days and provided us with supplies. The horn was among
them.”

Cusilje chuckled, “Ah, the Lady’s
old men.” He looked from face to face and continued. “The old men of which you
speak, they are great warriors. Now, their age may fool you, but they were and
still are great warriors.” He flicked his finger in the air. “Many years ago,
after the Lady relieved them of their duty after so many years, they chose not
to return to their people. Instead, they assigned themselves the task of
guiding marked ones.” Hands spread in front of him, he continued, “you see,
many marked ones faltered at the wetlands and were lost. The old men provide
help not only on the path through the wetlands, but guidance on the various
dangers awaiting unsuspecting marked ones traveling alone in the forest.”

“Their guidance led us straight to Sah,”
Azetan noted with bitterness.

Cusilje corrected him, “No, you
must have taken the wrong path. They meant for you to take a wide crack in the
rock much farther along the path, where the old lady sometimes waits and where
the flowers are bold and lush. You would not have encountered Sah had you gone
that way, though she does move around the forest from time to time.”

Eros leaned toward Cusilje. “So we
went through the wrong crack in the rock? The opening the old men intended for
us to take is the one with the bright sun and beautiful flowers? The old woman
serves the Lady?”

“Yes, that is the one, the crack
with the bright flowers.” Cusilje agreed. “You met the old woman then? She
remains a mystery to us, as we have not encountered her, but several marked
ones have crossed her path. She seems to appear to those in need, but not for
all. At any rate, we shall find the old men and tell them of the new crack and
the dangers lurking there. Then they can ensure no other marked ones travel
that path.”

“And the horn?” Kenrya asked.

“Oh, yes, the horn!” Cusilje rubbed
his hands together. “The Gaelae supported the Lady fully and were her strongest
allies until the Graeliths destroyed them. Yes, yes, I see you know the tale. The
Gaelan village rested high on the mountains to the north overlooking the city,
which allowed the Gaelae to fly to the Lady’s aid quickly. They used the horns
to alert each other to danger or to call for aid. Though they no longer live
among us, the Gaelan horn only sounds for those in need that support the Lady. If
a Tyrnott tried to blow the horn, nothing would happen.” He smiled fondly at
Kenrya as he added, “Yes, we knew you needed help and we knew you loved the
Lady, as we do.”

Kenrya nodded. “Thank you, again. I
wouldn’t have survived otherwise.”

“Little did we know we were called
by marked ones — five, no less!” He clapped his hands gleefully. “The old men
carry only a few of these horns, as most were destroyed in the Graeliths’
attack. To be presented with one is a true honor.”

Azetan studied the horn in his lap.
He carefully stored it back in his pack, wrapping it in clothing to prevent
damage.

“Now you, young man” — Cusilje flew
to Tip’s side and landed on a large root next to him — “are the fastest
creature on two legs I have seen.”

Tip laughed. “Thanks. I grew up
working in the fields of Kentish. I ran a lot. The fields are uneven and rocky,
so I learned to run quickly without tripping.”

Eros turned to the winged creatures
and said, “We appreciate all you did for us, but we must keep moving. The
Graeliths following us will reach the forest soon.”

“Yes, you are right,” Cusilje said.
“Fortunately, Sah distinguishes not between friend and foe of the Lady. With
any luck, they will take the darker path.” He bowed several times then added, “We
leave you now. Safe journey!” He opened his wings and took to the air. The
little bunch of Bertog flitted into the sky.

As they gathered their packs,
Kenrya looked at the others and felt her cheeks redden. She owed Eros an
apology. Obviously, picking the path on her own wasn’t a good idea and she
needed to remain on good terms with the others. She approached Eros. “Eros, I
was wrong about the path. I should have listened to your instincts. I ....”

Eros waved his hand in the air,
sparing her any further apology. “Just glad you aren’t harmed. Honestly, I
don’t understand my instincts any more than you do. Anyone would be skeptical.”

“Thanks,” she said. Then, she
approached Tip and took a deep breath, for what she was about to say was even
more difficult than the weak apology she gave Eros. “Tip …”

He turned to face her.

“Thank you for braving the forest. If
you weren’t part of our group, I ....” her voice trailed off.

Tip smiled a goofy grin at the
compliment. He pulled on his pack, bit his lip, and seemed to be thinking about
how to respond for a moment. Then he put his hands on Kenrya’s shoulders and
said heartily, “Glad I could help!” He pulled his hands back and took two steps
away from her. Then he stopped and added, “You know, Prizene may have roused the
quasm and I might not be the strongest fighter, but at least we have enough
common sense not to try and get ourselves eaten.” A big smile lit his face. “Only
the really naive would make such a huge blunder.” He turned and started running
down the path.

“Naive?” Kenrya demanded. “Just who
are you calling naive?” She threw her pack on her back and with a smile on her
face, chased after Tip.

The others pulled on their packs
and followed at a slightly slower pace. Eros thought, and not for the first
time, they were lucky to be together.

Once Banston came into view, the
Lady’s warriors parted company with Ampal and Arith. A number of Plinte
fighters waited outside the village for the wagon and would come to their aid,
if needed. The warriors expressed their condolences to Ampal, again; their long
procession had been a slow and a solemn testament to Ishta’s bravery and
sacrifice. The Lady’s warriors that were Plinte then asked him to send
blessings to their families, to which he only nodded. If the warriors
accompanied the wagon into the village, they would be expected to stay, and
they were needed in Caldot. Thus, they parted ways and the warriors turned
toward the air transport station for a faster journey back.

The carvings representing Ishta’s
life now covered the full exterior of the coffin with stories that would be
told many times over the next few days. While Arith knew Ampal still grieved,
he recognized the emotional journey his friend had traveled over the last few
days and was pleased to see the grief lessened.

As they neared the village,
thousands poured into the streets, lining the roads from the outskirts of town
to its center. A grin danced across Ampal’s face, the first Arith had witnessed
from his friend since they discovered Ishta’s lifeless body many nights ago. The
wide variety of species present would magnify the honor bestowed on Ishta. Ampal’s
family would surely be pleased.

As the wagon continued along the
road, Arith slowly scanned the crowd. Not surprisingly, many species were represented
among the onlookers. He spotted at least a dozen Humans and Bruners, as well as
Skurks and a number of other species. Then he spied something most unusual — a
Human man and woman standing with a Liput and Hurfen! Hurfens rarely traveled
outside the city and Liputs generally only journeyed outside Kentish to sell
their wares. The Liput man actually had his arm around the Hurfen boy, as
though he were his son. The sight of the two together was most peculiar indeed,
and not just because the boy stood half a head above the man. Arith wondered if
the Liput might be related to Tip. He would be certain to seek them out during
his time in Banston.

He walked a few feet farther when
he stopped momentarily at something even more surprising. He glanced at Ampal
and, noticing he reacted similarly, prodded his friend along. Arith returned
his eyes to scanning the crowd, but returned his glance once again at the sight
that shocked him. Standing in the crowd was a Krystic male. The man stood six
feet tall with auburn hair that lay in waves back from his noble face. It was a
very angular face, the skin light and smooth. Standing next to him and
whispering into his ear was a Plinte, an inch or two shorter with dark skin and
short hair. Ampal leaned closer to Arith and whispered that the Plinte was
Azetan’s father.

Interesting.
Arith furrowed
his brow. The Krystic was likely related to Prizene and was speaking with
Azetan’s father. Perhaps the Humans with the Liput were related to Eros. Lady
Anyamae’s plan eluded him. However, he was now certain she had brought the
marked ones together for a reason. Not only were the marked ones special, their
relatives were as well. They had probably already made contact with each other.
Arith hoped that at least they were being cautious. Most citizens in Banston
would not appreciate the significance of the Krystic and the Liput, since the
particular mixture of the marked ones was not widely known, and would simply
accept the visitors as they would any others. However, Nord may have sent spies
that would be watching the parents and their interactions, which made vigilance
critical. And what role did the Hurfen play? He exchanged a look with Ampal and
knew their thoughts were running along similar lines. They quickly nodded at
each other. He would find a way to communicate with the others.

The marked ones journeyed
uneventfully southwest through the darkened forest until the light grew dim
enough that they believed night would soon be upon them. They selected a
clearing to serve as their campsite for the night’s rest and settled into the
heavy mist that had been building.

Despite the fact none of them had
bathed since leaving Caldot, Kenrya smelled particularly foul in comparison to
the others. She was surprised no one said anything, since they had to be
suffering more than she did. Maybe they felt bad after she had almost been
eaten by Sah. She commented under her breath to Eros that she wished there was
somewhere to wash off the slime. Luckily, he recognized this part of the forest
from a time his mother had brought him here. He closed his eyes in
concentration, then looked around and spotted a rise off the side, behind which
he remembered there was a small pool of water. He led Kenrya there and returned
to the others.

She scrubbed her pants and vest in
the pool. Her shirt felt clean, so she left it and the small pack on her back
while she worked on the other garments. The water was lukewarm, which made the
process faster. She pulled the wet clothes back on and returned to the group to
dry by the fire. The others were quiet as she approached, busily collecting
additional wood or preparing food. They ate in silence as well. She looked from
face to face — exhaustion was their constant companion now. The journey the
next day would hopefully be brief and with no sign that the Graeliths or fanes
were nearby, they relaxed by the small fire after finishing the evening meal.

Azetan broke the silence as he
turned to Prizene. “How did you know about the flibbits ability to grow? I
vaguely remember them being mentioned a few times, but nothing was stated about
any special gifts.”

Prizene fiddled with the locket she
wore, then brushed her hair out of her face. “My father insisted I learn about
the Miyrans and their supporters. Whenever he was home in the evenings, he
always shared one of the Miyran tales he remembered from his school days. All
of the stories were taught at one time, but not now.” She pulled her knees to
her chest, wrapping her arms around them. “I always loved those stories.” After
a moment, she looked at Azetan and continued, “The flibbit was one of the
tales. I guess, then, we have my father to thank.”

Azetan nodded. “I’ll definitely
tell him that if I have the chance to meet him. Maybe you can share some of the
stories at the camp?”

“I’d be happy to do so.”

Silence settled across the group
again. Kenrya’s instincts had told her not to become too close to the others,
but another part of her wanted to trust them. She struggled with this inner
battle and decided to at least appear interested in the others.

Taking the plunge, she turned to
Tip and said, “Tip, tell us about Kentish.”

Tip hesitated, then tried to
clarify the request, “You actually want to hear about where I grew up?”

Kenrya shrugged. “Well, only if you
want to tell us.” She brushed off his shock as though it were he that was
acting out of character.

Tip stared at her suspiciously for
a few moments. He must have come to some conclusion, as he explained, “Let’s
see ... I’m the youngest of three brothers. We live in what I guess you would
call Kentish proper. Most of the homes are built side by side, but with enough
room between the rows to allow plenty of sunlight.” He smiled with a faraway
look in his eyes. “Our home is small, though it always seemed big enough for the
five of us. We would work in the fields or on machines in the morning and then
study in the afternoon. I spent most nights building machines and engines or
repairing broken equipment.” He shrugged. “Nothing much, but I enjoyed it. I
miss my mother’s cooking, especially her pies. Sometimes we would go to a
little restaurant owned by my mother’s friend and eat there. The food was never
as good as at home, but others from town were always there. I miss it.”

“Always having food would be nice,”
Kenrya noted, as she sifted her fingers through her hair. “What about you,
Azetan? Tell us about Banston.”

Azetan raised his eyebrows and
narrowed his eyes as he gazed at her. Then he leaned his elbows on his knees. “Banston
is a town of rolling hills, three days’ walk from the southwestern edge of the
city. Our homes are dome-shaped and spaced apart.”

“Dome-shaped? Really?” Tip asked
with interest. “Ours are more rectangular.”

“The Plinte homes have
traditionally been dome-shaped. I guess our ancestors saw no reason to change
this when they arrived on Zolei, given the large area we occupy in Banston.” Azetan
spread his hands wide. “We study in the morning and then help our parents in
the afternoon or practice fighting. Not all Plintes are good fighters, but many
are. We all learn the skill of metal working. After that, we learn either
fighting skills or other trades to help the community. My sister hated
fighting, so she learned to make blankets, clothing, and other household goods.
She also helps my father in our café. We travel frequently to the city, both
with our families and as children alone.”

“Do you miss your home?” Tip asked.

Azetan shrugged. “Sure, though I
always knew this was my future. I have good memories of home, but this is my
life now. I don’t regret that.” He glanced at Tip, who had raised one eyebrow. He
sighed, and then added, “I miss my sister. We’re twins and have always been
close. Since she never developed fighting skills, the mark didn’t appear on our
birthday — a fact for which I’m grateful.”

Tip added, “Liputs rarely bear the
mark. The only ones are my brothers and me. No one else.”

“No others?” Azetan asked with wide
eyes.

“No.” Tip shook his head. “When
Trul, my oldest brother, was marked, everyone was shocked. The Elders forced
him to leave town. He was killed two days later and returned to us in a box. My
second brother’s marking shocked us less and he was somewhat better prepared,
mostly because of his independence. We never received word whether he survived.
My father hired traders to train me, just in case. I was never meant to be a
fighter, though.”

“Not every marked one is a
fighter,” Eros countered. “Each individual possesses unique skills adding to
the strength of the Lady’s warriors. Each skill is needed to fight the Tyrnotts
and Graeliths.”

Tip nodded, then asked, “Why do you
suppose the Graeliths hate us now? If they once welcomed the Miyrans and other
species here, why not now?”

“Something must have happened.” Eros
shrugged, then pointed to his chest as he continued, “I keep feeling like they
blame us for something. Anger, hatred, blame — it emanates from them. It’s a
good question, though. Maybe once we reach the camp, we can learn more about
that.”

Tip nodded in agreement before he
turned to Kenrya. “So, tell us about yourself. You never talk about your past. Where
did you grow up?”

Kenrya failed to consider her
questions might lead to this. At first she pulled away, then thought perhaps
she should share something. She looked at the familiar eyes upon her and the
tightness in her chest unexpectedly lessened. “I never knew my parents. A man
raised me for a while.” She paused, not wanting to share more about the man. Some
experiences were better kept buried. “He was insufferable.” She waved her hand
dismissively. “I fled to the city. Arith befriended me and I joined the
undergrounders. Not much to tell, really.”

“What happened to your parents?”
Tip asked.

She clenched her fists and felt her
pulse quicken in irritation. Then Kenrya looked at Tip. In his eyes, there was
compassion; he wasn’t trying to bait her. She shook her head and answered
honestly, “I don’t know.”

Kenrya turned to ask Prizene about
her background, when she heard the fane. A shiver ran down her spine. The bird
may have found the group. Between the darkness and the mist, she and the others
couldn’t tell if the fane was overhead, but it was close.

“Looks like we’ll have to travel in
darkness.” Kenrya pulled the electric torch from her bag and started packing
the loose items. “Can you hear Graeliths?” she asked Prizene.

“Not yet. Do you think they’re
close?”

“Bound to be, if the fanes are
here,” Azetan explained. “Let’s keep moving.”

They put out the campfire and
started moving slowly along the path.