The Journey of the Marked (The Miyran Heir Book 1) (8 page)

“She was a real pretty little
redhead, sir ... Your Highness ... Majesty,” the man who owned the little
shabby diner explained. He had heard the redhead had escaped the Graeliths the
day before and thought it in his best interests, both physically and
financially, to inform the Tyrnotts. Little did he expect to be brought before
Nord himself! Had he known, he certainly would have worn more proper attire
than his old greasy apron and the shoes with the hole in the toe. He scratched
his balding head, then rested his hands on his round belly.

“A Krystic, are you sure?” Nord
queried. “They rarely bear the mark and certainly not a female. I fear you are
mistaken, old man.” He stared intently at the man, causing the man’s hands to
shake.

The diner owner fiddled nervously
with his apron. Tyrnotts weren’t unknown in his part of town, but never before
had he seen so many in one room. Each head held thick, jet-black, straight
hair, long enough to be brushed back into braids or bands, though some wore the
hair loose. Their eyes shone darkly such that he couldn’t distinguish between
the pupil and iris, and the pointed ears stood on each side of the head. He
observed that not a one displayed eyebrows or any other noticeable body hair
besides that on the scalp, which was common among the species. However, the
really unnerving part was the deep scar that lined the left half of each face,
several of them appearing to be the work of some sort of instrument or even the
mark of a Graelith’s claw. Sometimes the marking damaged the left eye and other
times ran down the length of the neck. The Tyrnott scarring marked the coming
of age. He heard if the boy or girl showed any hesitation, even a flinch, they
ripped out the child’s throat.

He swallowed slowly. “I never saw
the mark, as her red hair covered the area behind her left ear, but she left
the diner and joined a Liput boy. I work that diner day and night and have for
twenty years, and never once has a Krystic entered before. Never once have I
seen one on foot in our part of the city. They only dare to venture into the
lower district in their fancy day-transports. But a female Krystic, alone and
in my part of town on foot? She must bear the mark.” He looked to the other
Tyrnotts for confirmation his theory was sound.

Nord stared at the man for a time,
then walked across the room to speak to another Tyrnott. The man didn’t dare to
stare at the Tyrnotts, leaving him to glance nervously around the room. The
room was well lit, which meant the power here was strong, unlike his part of
the city. A number of objects decorated the room that must be priceless
treasures. The rumors passing throughout the city often focused on the wealth
and power of the Tyrnotts. The diner owner always thought they were exaggerated.
Apparently, he was mistaken. As long as the Tyrnotts kept peace in the city,
they earned their keep.

Nord returned, stared for a moment
at the man, and said, “Fair enough, old man. Marked or not, she knows the
location of the undergrounders. They fought with her against our men.” He
walked toward the man, who took one step back only to bump against another
Tyrnott standing directly behind him. He looked nervously up at Nord, who said
with a strained pleasantness, “Take these coins, my good man. If you see either
the Krystic or the Liput again, contact one of my men immediately. Natal will
provide you with a communication bracelet,” he added as he nodded to the
Tyrnott standing to the man’s left.

The man took the coins offered him,
not daring to count them at this time. He nodded multiple times and stammered,
“Yes, sir. If I see them again, I’ll certainly notify you at once. Thank you,
sir.”

Nord dismissed him with a nod and Natal indicated with a wave of his hand that the man should follow him through the door on
the side of the room. Natal escorted the man through the well-lit corridors and
provided him with a communication bracelet and instructions before showing him
back to the street.

The man stumbled out into the
daylight and the door closed swiftly behind him. Only then did he dare to look
at the coins in his hand. He squealed with joy, as it was more than he earned
in the diner in a week. He was most fortunate to be in Nord’s good graces. He
skipped down the street, determined to identify more of the marked.

*******

Natal returned to the chamber and
found Nord sitting in his throne-like chair, deep in thought. He knew better
than to interrupt Nord’s thoughts, as he still bore scars from his earlier
mistakes. He merely stood beside Nord and waited for the man to speak.

After time passed, Nord stood and
turned to Natal. “I want the Krystic.”

Natal stared at Nord for a moment
and, knowing his leader, he asked, “Dead or alive?”

“Alive,” he cackled with a faraway
look in his eyes.

“And the others?”

Nord sneered, “Kill them. Marked or
not.”

Natal nodded at the orders and left
the room to provide the team leaders with their new instructions. He ensured
the streets were heavily guarded this morning, as he guessed these marked ones
remained in the city last night. The Liput boy’s injuries were grave, if the
Graeliths’ reports were to be believed. Today, the marked ones would seek a
healer for the boy and then they would try to escape to the great forest where
the marked ones disappeared. A training camp existed in those woods and one day
they would find it. One day a marked one would unwittingly lead them to the
camp entrance. Until then, destroying the young marked one by one reduced the
chances of the Miyran heir reaching the palace. If that day should ever arrive,
it would bring an end to the Tyrnott rule and, more than likely, an end to his
life. That day must never come.

Kenrya strode into the cavern and
found Arith bending over the Liput, examining his wounds. “The first light of
morning shows through the vents. We must leave,” she insisted. “Has Lorashe
returned with news of an available medic?”

Arith looked up and nodded. “Just
now. She found an old Bruner medic who can attend to Tip. He lives a few blocks
from the marketplace. We can travel through the tunnels until we reach Gort,
the small street west of the marketplace, which leaves only a short distance to
cover above ground.” He turned to Prizene, who was awake. “Gather your
belongings and be ready to travel in five minutes.” Then he glanced toward
Eros, who had just entered the cavern and nodded his head in acknowledgment. Eros
walked across the cavern without even looking at Kenrya, which suited her fine.
He retrieved his belongings from the floor.

Arith turned back to Prizene. “Are
you able to use a sword?”

Prizene nodded. “I prefer a narrow,
straight one.”

Arith raised his eyebrows and took
a second look at Prizene before walking to the wall. He retrieved such a sword
from the collection of weapons and helped her strap it to her waist.

Arith crossed the room and spoke
quietly with Lutra. Each gathered large knapsacks, which apparently had been
packed during the night, and pulled the shoulder straps in place. Arith threw a
coil of rope over one shoulder and secured it to the knapsack strap. Both men
picked up several weapons and put them in place. Several others around the room
were similarly preparing for the journey.

Prizene shook Tip awake and she and
Kenrya helped him to his feet. Prizene first pulled Tip’s bag onto her back,
then adjusted the straps on her bag such that she could wear it across the
front of her body. Tip shook his head and reached toward her in protest, but
collapsed against the wall, weak from loss of blood. Kenrya wrapped her arm
around Tip and supported him until Lutra approached.

With Arith leading the way and Tip
stumbling along, supported by Lutra, the party started on its journey. Arith
had sent a team above ground to monitor the movement of any Graeliths in the
area and sent a few others on the morning transport to Gort. News of the marked
ones, a Krystic and Liput, would spread quickly. They expected an increase in
Graeliths, as well as Tyrnotts, in the surrounding area. With not just two, but
four marked ones, their cargo demanded such precautions.

Kenrya watched from the back of the
group as Tip’s unsteadiness threw Lutra off balance. Lutra finally bent down,
wrapped Tip’s arm around his neck, and hoisted Tip such that his toes barely
brushed the ground. Kenrya rolled her eyes at the pathetic, troublesome Liput. Tip
now resembled a big stuffed doll with his purple-tipped, fluffy brown hair
bouncing as Lutra lugged him along.

Her encounter with Eros earlier was
irritating. Why hadn’t he left her alone? Still, maybe she should have at least
said something to him instead of storming away like a sullen child. She had
missed the opportunity to discuss a plan to reach the great forest to the west.
As she walked, she habitually peered through the openings to the streets above.
While a few familiar noises filtered down, the streets were quieter than usual.
Arith’s prediction of an increase in Graeliths and Tyrnotts after yesterday’s
events was probably accurate. This meant more citizens would stay inside their
homes, which meant fewer crowds into which they could blend. At least she had
removed the weapon from the Liput’s coat. She had discovered it while checking
on him during the night. He would undoubtedly try to fire it in the middle of
the city, further risking their chances of reaching the training camp. Of
course, that was assuming the gun worked at all. When would he realize it was
missing? Perhaps not until she had a chance to sneak away from the group.

Slowly, Ampal scanned the
marketplace, reading the mood of the crowd and looking for enemies.

His team had been chosen by Arith
to secure the streets to the west of the marketplace. Ampal was the perfect
choice to be team leader, since the Plintes blended well. His people were among
the early settlers on Zolei, were well respected in all the districts of the
city, and could easily travel carrying any number of permitted weapons. When
his sixteenth birthday came and the mark never appeared, he chose to join the
undergrounders and would support their cause no matter the risk. Today four
traveled with him by transport, another three came above ground by foot, and
Arith and Lutra traveled underground with the marked ones. At first, Ampal was
surprised by how many were dispatched to escort the marked ones. Then again,
never before had they attempted to protect
four
marked ones at one time,
let alone one who bore serious injuries.

As always when conducting a mission
in the marketplace, Ampal had instructed his team to enter from different paths
and begin gathering as much information as possible on the enemies present. This
morning the marketplace was less crowded than usual. Tension crackled in the
air and shoppers and traders alike frequently glanced over their shoulders. Ampal
casually viewed a selection of necklaces at one of the booths and asked the old
trader how business was on such a beautiful day.

“Beautiful?” the trader replied. “You
must be deaf, blind, or dumb, my lad.” He leaned over the table and whispered,
“Have you not heard about the marked ones?”

“Perhaps I don’t listen well.” Ampal
spread his arms innocently.

“Came running through here
yesterday with Graeliths not ten feet behind them,” the trader explained. “Knocking
over tables and anyone who failed to move fast enough. Must have injured at
least a dozen.” He shook his head in disgust. “The marked cause nothing but
trouble. Things would be more peaceful if the Tyrnotts could just rid us of
them all, send them out to those communes.” He leaned over the table and
whispered even softer, “They escaped — the two marked ones. Single-handedly
killed ten Graeliths and got away! Orders for their capture were posted last
night.” He nodded toward a nearby screen where public announcements glowed. Ampal
registered the trader’s exaggerated story, since only two Graeliths were
killed, not ten. As tall tales and embellishments were expected within the
city’s culture, Ampal didn’t correct the trader.

The old man leaned farther over the
table, “The way we figure it, they must still be in the area, as I have seen
more Graeliths and Tyrnotts today than buyers. Bad for business,” he said,
shaking his head.

The trader barely glanced to the
left and then said, “Do you think your mother will like this one?” He stayed
bent over the table and displayed a beautiful flowered necklace in his hand.

Something must have changed, as the
trader had shifted subjects abruptly. They never discussed Ampal’s mother, but
he did need to find a gift for his sister as her birthday was just two days
before. He played along, “No, I think it’s too big. Do you have something
smaller and, perhaps, red? Red is one of her favorite colors.”

The trader perused his wares for
moment and then said, “Let me check over here,” and he turned to look at a
display of other necklaces.

Ampal straightened his back and
turned to wish another buyer a good morning. Out of the corner of his eye he
spotted a group of three Tyrnotts moving in his direction. As well, he noticed
few buyers ventured near the Tyrnotts. He turned back to the necklaces and
pretended to be looking at another one, when the trader resumed the
conversation.

“Take a look at this one.” He held
a necklace in the palm of his hand and extended it toward Ampal. “The three
little red flowers are strung together with black leaves. Simple, yet elegant.”

Ampal smiled. She would love it. They
agreed on a price and he handed the trader the necessary coins. He placed the
necklace carefully inside his coat and continued through the marketplace.

“Has the heir been found?” the
plump man on the picture screen asked, as he leaned closer with a strained
smile, eyebrows raised.

“Of course the heir hasn’t been
found!” Nord exclaimed. “With the heir’s death, the Lady’s defenses would
weaken and you would be able to reach the surface.”

The plump man rubbed one of his
chins and chuckled at Nord. “Catching a sixteen-year-old child should be ...
child’s play,” he finished while stifling a laugh. With a more sinister voice,
he added, “Perhaps we have chosen the wrong leader for this mission.”

“This planet’s circumstances are
unique. You knew that before we infiltrated this land. Outside of killing all
children, we must wait until the heir’s identity is known.”

“Then perhaps the children
should
die,” the man sneered.

Nord shook his head. “You know
there are species here that would resist and the price we would pay. A more
careful plan must be devised.”

“Our patience grows thin.”

Nord yelled, “Then go to another
planet! There are many left with rich resources similar to those here on Zolei.
If you lack the patience to see this through, then leave.”

“Calm down, little Tyrnott. We will
wait, but we are watching you,” the man leaned toward the picture screen as he
said these last words. Then, the connection ended.

“Imbecile!” Nord shouted as he
threw his hands in the air. He paced back and forth across the small chamber. He
desperately needed a new plan, one that would not fail. His grandfather, leader
of the Tyrnotts, had landed here on Zolei three decades ago, along with his
father and forty-five thousand other Tyrnotts. After cleverly stirring
discontent among certain species, his grandfather led the mission which ended
in Lord Attol’s murder. Immediately after that, Lady Anyamae, Lord Attol’s
daughter and the only remaining Miyran heir, blocked travel to and from the
planet. While this prevented other Tyrnotts from joining the mission, it served
his grandfather well, as the Caldot citizens were cut off from goods and
supplies brought by traders from neighboring worlds. Nord’s grandfather seized
the opportunity to elevate the Tyrnotts’ position by providing the population
with much needed items that the Tyrnotts brought with them when they landed on
Zolei. Lady Anyamae struggled to compete, increasing the number of markings as
a plea for help. Those still loyal to her stood by her side, but Lady Anyamae
became little more than a figurehead in the eyes of most citizens. As the
conflict and battles increased, most of the citizenry grew distrustful of the
marked, failing to truly understand their significance.

Nord’s father assumed control a few
years after that, when his grandfather was killed. His father had aggressively
persecuted the marked and supporters of the Miyran, but never defeated Lady
Anyamae. His aggression also made the citizens wary of the Tyrnotts, driving
unrest among some and raising questions regarding the Tyrnotts’ motive.

Nord was granted leadership over
ten years ago at the young age of twenty, after his father’s untimely death
following a long illness, and carried on the regulations and persecutions more
subtly. It was vital that the population of Zolei be kept complacent and
supportive of the Tyrnotts when the next heir came of age. To that end, Nord’s
men had captured one of the Lady’s warriors shortly after he gained control. As
his ability to sense feelings in others was stronger than most Tyrnotts, he had
leveraged that skill to overpower the warrior’s resistance, a most irritating
skill all of the marked learn. The man had lied when questioned as to whether
the heir had been born, providing confirmation that Lady Anyamae had produced
the child that would inherit the gift. Unfortunately, the man had possessed no
additional information and now rested peacefully in a grave. Nord had not been
able to confirm the heir’s age, though certainly it was no more than six years
from maturity. Destroying the next heir would prevent the Miyrans from gaining
control, as two Miyrans with the gift could overthrow the Tyrnotts. The death
of the young heir would bring success to his grandfather’s mission.

Nord pressed the button to shut
down the communication device and stretched. As a young man, he had spent many
hours with his father’s men attempting to establish communication off-world,
circumventing Anyamae’s control. What an unfortunate decision that had been, as
the fat man was simply a source of irritation. The fat man, as Nord thought of
him since his name was too difficult to pronounce or remember, belonged to a
superior species that maintained their home world by extracting resources from
other planets. Nord was never afforded the opportunity to visit the fat man’s
world, though his grandfather had shared many stories of its grandeur before
his death. Once the resources were extracted from Zolei, Nord and his people
would be welcomed guests of the magnificent world of the fat man. They would be
honored and live the high life, unlike the pathetic existence they now endured
in Caldot.

Nord left the communications room
and walked down the darkened hallway toward his quarters. The dwelling was
connected to other buildings housing more Tyrnotts. Everything was quiet
tonight, as he had his aide, Natal, dispatch dozens of patrols to the city. Nord
expected news of the marked ones at any moment. Still, he preferred action to
being left alone with his thoughts.

He arrived at his private chambers,
unlocked the door, and slowly entered the room. Given his position as leader of
the Tyrnotts, he approached every closed door as though an imminent threat lay
on the other side. After briefly scanning the chamber in front of him, he
closed and locked the door behind him.

Nord’s personal chambers comprised
several rooms, including a sleeping room with an enormous bed and a balcony
with a stunning view of the city, an office of sorts with a large table and
rows upon rows of bookshelves filled with books from every species on the
planet, and a room showcasing the treasures he inherited or obtained over his
lifetime. The room of treasures was, by far, his favorite and he entered that
room now. He rubbed his hand over the large, golden mask that once belonged to
a species now extinct, though he couldn’t care less as to its name. The mask
symbolized strength in battle, which was all he needed to remember. He
continued along the shelves basking in the knowledge that this treasure trove
would make him wealthy one day. Each could be sold for a tidy sum on the open
markets in what would become their new home once Zolei was mined, logged, and
stripped of all value.

As he neared the end of his tour,
he stopped to gaze at a small figurine of a beautiful, winged creature. Many
species visiting the new world would consider the statue the symbol of a deity
or an angel. The figurine was simply a Gaela, a species his father had
destroyed. He laughed at their foolishness, for where they saw a symbol of hope
and beauty, all he saw was fortune to be made; indeed, a large sum would be
received for such an intricately carved masterpiece.

Pathetic species. Everything, every
trinket, every piece of cloth represented value that could be extracted. Why
horde such valuable treasures when selling them could improve the quality of his
life?

When he was a teenager, shortly
before the scarring ceremony, he accompanied his father on the raid of a small Arlian
community a few hours’ walk outside the eastern part of the city. The leader of
the community was hiding a few of the marked and Nord’s father was determined
to make an example of the whole community. Nord watched as Graeliths and Tyrnotts
broke into homes, killing the men and dragging the women and children into the
streets. He walked by his father’s side as his father decided what fate awaited
each woman and child. Nord was instructed to raid each home and extract
anything of value. If the home supplied sufficient treasure, the women and
children were spared; if not, then they were either killed or forced to work as
slaves for the Tyrnotts.

Nord remembered one home in
particular. The woman and her two young boys knelt in front of their property. The
boys’ cries for the death of their father were stifled in their mother’s arms. Yet,
the mother still looked defiantly at Nord as he passed her on his way into her
house. Nord searched every inch inside and found a wealth of lovely treasures
that would one day be sold for a small fortune. He added those treasures to his
pack and returned to his father’s side. When asked whether the home provided
value, Nord glanced fleetingly at the woman who still stared back defiantly and
answered that the house held nothing of value. Confusion and fury crossed the
woman’s face, followed by fear as she held her children close, objecting to his
answer. Nord’s father merely signaled the Graelith standing nearby and Nord
watched with a sneer as first the children and then the mother were
slaughtered.

Even now, he delighted at the
memory of defeat in the woman’s eyes before her death. How alive it made him feel!
If only they could more aggressively purge the city of Miyran supporters, such
delight could be commonplace again. The outbound communities provided the
primary source of support for Lady Anyamae’s resistance, though certain species
within Caldot now fought against his men. Unfortunately, the fat man adamantly
refused Nord’s proposal that they destroy the outbounders. After all, strong
and able-bodied slaves brought top dollar on the fat man’s world. Even without
the natural resources on Zolei, auctioning the outbounders to the highest
bidder would fetch a vast fortune.

As he continued around the room,
Nord became increasingly annoyed that he had still received no word of the
marked ones. He needed to think, to plan. Waiting in such a sequestered state dulled
his strategic thinking. He decided to travel to the marketplace to see his men
and perhaps find a young female to bring back for his enjoyment. “Natal!” he called into a communicator. Shortly thereafter, his aide knocked on the doors
to his chambers. “Prepare to leave for the marketplace!” Nord ordered. Natal
nodded and departed to make preparations.