The Journey of the Marked (The Miyran Heir Book 1) (31 page)

Arith woke long before sunrise. He
had learned from Ampal that Azetan’s father owned a café in the center of town
and worked there with his daughter Ynelza. As it opened early, he assumed they
would start their day long before others. Arith was staying with Ampal’s family
and crept out of the house quietly to avoid waking them. He first walked by the
open field with Ishta’s casket. He had picked a handful of pettias the night
before and planned to leave them atop the casket. Four Plintes stood guard and
would continue to guard the casket throughout the long ceremony. No mischief
was anticipated; the guards simply stood there as a show of honor and respect. As
Arith approached the casket, a smile lit his face. During the night, dozens of
brightly colored flowers, including a large quantity of pettias, had been placed
on the casket, the wooden stand, the ground around the stand, and whimsically,
on the guards’ outfits. He caught the eye of one of the guards who gave a brief
nod and wink. Arith placed his pettias on the top of the casket, then continued
to the center of town. He found a tree stump in the shadows across the street
from the café and settled in for what he hoped would be a short wait. No one
else stirred at that hour, allowing him to enjoy a moment of peace.

A short time later, Lifston and a
young woman that was likely Ynelza strolled into view. They approached the café
as they probably did each day. Yet before they entered, they scanned the
surrounding area, presumably looking for trouble. Arith watched Ynelza with
keen interest as her eyes worked their way methodically, analyzing everything
within view. When she reached him, her eyes stopped. He had thought the shadow
was enough to obscure him from view, though now he was certain she had spotted
him. She tugged at her father’s sleeve and motioned in Arith’s direction. If
the Krystic was indeed Prizene’s father, Lifston had good reason to be on edge.
The Tyrnotts had probably sent spies to the funeral. Thus, caution was
warranted.

Lifston was by no means a small
man. Despite Arith’s skill with a weapon, the outcome of a fight with Lifston
would not be in Arith’s favor. Hopefully Lifston would listen before acting too
rashly. Lifston popped into the café momentarily and emerged moments later,
striding toward Arith with a club in his hand. Arith stood, moved out of the
shadows, and held his hands up to indicate he meant no harm.

Lifston hesitated, then stopped. He
unclenched the club, letting it swing loosely in his hand. “You accompanied
Ampal when he arrived with Ishta yesterday?”

“Yes. My name is Arith.”

Lifston nodded in silence a moment,
then motioned for Arith to follow him back inside the café.

As Ynelza busied herself preparing
the outside seating area, allowing her to watch for any other intruders,
Lifston began brewing tea. “Tell me about yourself,” he said curtly to Arith.

“I hail from the city proper. I’m
staying with my friend Ampal and his family.” Arith thought perhaps the mention
of Ampal’s name would lessen the tension. It did not.

Lifston merely stopped his work and
gave Arith a harsh look. “And?” he prodded.

Arith tilted his head and contemplated
the man across the counter from him. Plintes were fiercely loyal to Anyamae and
since Lifston’s son had been marked, sharing information about the
undergrounders should be safe. “And I’m the leader of a group of fighters that
stand for Anyamae. Ampal belongs to our group. We try to protect those in
need.”

Lifston nodded once and returned to
his tasks. “My son, Azetan, journeyed to the city a few days ago.”

“Yes, I know,” Arith confirmed. “Ampal,
another undergrounder, and I, plus four marked ones, discovered him in the
western alleys. He fought three Graeliths single-handedly with another three
prepared to join the fight. We stood with him and defeated the Graeliths.”

Again, Lifston nodded. “Then you
are one of those that helped my son. Thank you. Tren, the Liput in town, is the
father of Tip. I assume you met Tip, as well?”

Arith absorbed this information. So
the Liput was Tip’s father. His suspicions had been correct. Lifston was well
informed, but what was the source of his information? Surely not Tren. Arith
was eager to learn more. He wanted to keep Lifston talking. “Tip was one of the
four, though he didn’t fight with your son that evening. He had suffered a
serious injury at the hands of a Graelith not two days before and was still
weak.”

“That’s consistent with all Tren
shared with me. He received information from a Sharmuse representing Anyamae. The
marked ones navigated the alleys with the help of the Hurfen boy here in town,
crossed the river, and were traveling with the Lady’s men.”

A Sharmuse sent by Anyamae? Then
she was indeed directing these events for some reason. Arith was pleased to
hear the marked ones had found their way. He smiled at the news. “We left them
in the western alleyways. We were unaware they had reached the Lady’s men. I
appreciate the news. I wondered why the Hurfen was here.”

“This is a topic of much discussion
in town, as no one remembers a Hurfen ever visiting before. I haven’t spoken to
the boy, but his courage is already well-respected, despite the fact most know
nothing of his heroic deeds assisting the marked ones.”

“Remarkable,” Arith added. “I’ve
met many a Hurfen in my day, as I grew up in the western part of the city with
them. They rarely possess such courage. Perhaps I can speak with him.”

“Not to worry. They’ll be arriving
here shortly.”

“Who?” Arith asked, surprised.

“All of them — the Hurfen, Tren,
the Sharmuse, and the two Humans. Plus my dear friend Rinald, a Krystic. His
daughter, Prizene, traveled with Tip. I’m guessing you met her, too?”

“Yes. Wicked with a sword.”

Lifston laughed. “She always was a
bit feisty for a Krystic. Unfortunately, we never had the chance to introduce
the kids before they were marked. Amazing they ended up as companions.”

Arith doubted there was anything
amazing about it. Anyamae, he was convinced, was the key.

Lifston continued, “We agreed to
meet this morning before others woke to minimize suspicion. Rinald is staying
in a spare house we own. He should be along shortly.”

As if on cue, the door opened and
Rinald entered. He looked warily at Arith, until Lifston calmed him with a
raised hand and introduced them. Once Rinald caught wind of Arith’s
involvement, he enthusiastically shook his hand.

“Thank you for helping Prizene,”
Rinald said. “She’s such a strong-headed, independent child. I’m surprised she
turned to anyone for help.”

Arith laughed. “That description
sounds about right. You can imagine my shock when she detailed the exact weapon
she preferred to use.”

Rinald shook his head, but there
was no disguising the pride he felt for his daughter. “We tried to stop her. Told
her not to practice fighting, but she snuck around us and did so anyway. Anyamae
was right. Prizene chose this future.” He turned the cup Lifston placed before
him in his hands. “I just want to ensure she’s successful. I’ll do anything to
help her.”

Arith was about to reply when the
door opened again to reveal Tren and the Hurfen. Before they could finish
introductions, the two Humans arrived carrying a purple bird in a cage. The
woman, Isabelle, introduced herself and the others. Arith had heard of the
Sharmuses, but watched in amazement as the little bird was let out of the cage
and promptly shifted into a small Human-like being. Each shared information
they had regarding both the marked ones and Anyamae. Arith was particularly
interested in the news Kalangia carried, though it merely confirmed what he
already suspected.

Arith turned to Jurf. “Thank you
for helping Kenrya and the others. The alleys in the western part of the city
have long been treacherous for the marked ones to navigate. Your courage is
admirable.”

“Happy to help.” Jurf looked down
and blushed lightly, then raised his eyes to meet Arith’s. “The Graeliths
killed another Hurfen boy that night. They confused him with me, I think, and I
couldn’t help him. I never knew about the marked ones losing their way in my
neighborhood. No one ever speaks of the marked. Parents just hope their
children can escape it. I probably could have helped others, if I had known. I
have no regret about helping Kenrya and the others, though I do feel guilty
about the boy.” Jurf fiddled with his hands, then burst out, “I hoped maybe I
could help you in your efforts against the Tyrnotts.” He swallowed when Arith
looked at him and words tumbled out of his mouth. “I’m not much of a fighter,
but I’m sure I could learn. Prizene and Azetan told me about your group and
Prizene even gave me the money to travel here to find you.”

Arith heard Tren draw in a breath. Tren
stood and walked over to stand behind Jurf, placing his hand on Jurf’s shoulder
— the hand of a protective father. Their relationship intrigued Arith. Liputs
usually had multiple children, yet Tren had practically adopted Jurf as a
surrogate.

Before Arith could respond,
however, Rinald jumped in. “Prizene suggested you travel here?”

“Well,” Jurf explained, “Prizene
and Azetan together suggested it. I was going to travel by foot until Prizene
offered me the coins. Your daughter is very kind.”

Rinald’s eyes moistened. He didn’t
seem to know what to say.

Arith had already concluded that
Jurf would be a strong addition to the undergrounders. Assigning him to help
marked ones in the western part of the city was ideal. He rose from his stool
and stood facing Jurf, holding out his hand. When Jurf grasped it, Arith said “Welcome
to the undergrounders.”

Jurf jumped out of his chair still
holding Arith’s hand. “Really? Just like that?”

Arith placed his left hand on
Jurf’s shoulder. “Just like that. Many marked ones perish in the alleys in the
western part of the city. Your knowledge of those streets is invaluable, though
I warn you, the job will be dangerous. We’ll teach you to defend yourself and
others and perhaps you can assist us in guiding marked ones through the city.”

“Great!” Jurf exclaimed, rubbing
his hands together. “I can travel with you whenever you’re ready to leave.”

Arith smiled at Jurf’s enthusiasm. “We’ll
depart in a few days, after the funeral.”

As several separate conversations
started, Tren approached Arith and said, “Thank you for accepting Jurf. I was afraid
you might turn him away. He has a good heart and strong courage, but I fear
he’s naive.”

Arith reassured Tren, “I was once
young, too. I remember the strong desire to help. He has much to learn and may
stumble at first, but will definitely be an asset.” He paused for a moment. “I
was surprised to find a marked Liput. How did your community react to his
marking?”

Tren explained, “When my first son
was marked, the town was horrified. My second son’s marking was still a shock,
but they weren’t as surprised. By the time Tip’s birthday arrived, everyone
assumed he would be marked. I tried to prepare him. That was difficult to do
since we couldn’t ask for help.”

“Three of your children have been
marked?” Isabelle asked as she joined their conversation.

Tren replied, “We only had three. Each
has been marked.”

“Unusual,” Isabelle said in a quiet
voice as she mulled it over. “I’ve never known Anyamae to mark more than one
child per family.”

“One child?” Tren’s jaw dropped
open. “We just assumed it was commonplace for multiple children to be marked.” Arith
shook his head to confirm what Isabelle said. Tren just stared at them in
bewilderment. “I don’t understand.”

Arith was beginning to understand
Tren’s relationship with Jurf. Tren had three sons, all marked and forced by
their community to leave home. Tren had adopted Jurf in place of his children. But
why would Anyamae mark all three of his children?

“What happened to your other two
sons?” Isabelle asked Tren.

“My eldest son was killed two days
after the elders forced him from town. We received no news regarding my second
son, so we don’t know whether or not he lives.”

“I met a second marked Liput some
years ago,” Arith told him. “I don’t know if he was your son or not.”

Tren looked at Arith dumbfounded. He
shook his head as if to clear his ears and said, “Did you say you met
another
marked Liput?”

“Yes,” Arith replied hesitantly.

Tren’s reaction was stronger than
he expected and loud enough to disrupt the conversation between the others. They
now turned their attention to Tren, who threw his arms around Arith. He took a
step back, grabbed Arith’s shoulders, and excitedly asked, “When? Was he all
right? Tell me about him, all you can!”

Arith was startled by the reaction.
“He was fine. He managed to find his way to the city without incident. We
accompanied him to the western edge of the city and he continued on from there.
Why?”

“The only Liputs ever marked were
my sons,” Tren said gleefully. “The boy you met was Tip’s older brother, Sri.”

Isabelle placed an arm around
Tren’s shoulders and gave him a hug. “If he made it to the city, I’d bet he
made it to the camp.”

Tren beamed at her. Then his
eyebrows knitted together as he pondered, “I wonder why Anyamae marked all
three of my sons. You said it was unusual?” he asked Isabelle and she confirmed
this again with a nod. “She must have had a reason.” He looked questioningly at
Arith.

Arith drew in a deep breath as he
considered the question. Should he share his thoughts? How would Tren react? He
looked at Tren and the desperation in the man’s eyes was more than he could
bear. Good or bad, he had to know. “I can think of only one reason why she
might mark all three. Tell me, does Tip possess any unusual skills?”