The Journey of the Marked (The Miyran Heir Book 1) (14 page)

Eros, Tip, and Prizene raced as
quickly as they could through the thick grass near the edge of the forest. They
were safe for now, though the Graeliths would eventually find a way across the river.
Occasionally, one of them stopped and cautiously peered over the edge of the
cliff to look for Azetan and Kenrya. They took turns stopping, allowing the
others to keep their steady pace, covering ground faster.

After an hour or more, Prizene took
a turn and slowly neared the edge of the cliff to see the water below. Tip kept
running and Eros was close to her from his last stop. Prizene carefully parted
the grass and leaned over to check both sides of the rocky walls and around the
various rocks and patches of foliage that partially blocked her view. She
sighed, still seeing no sign of her lost companions. Just as she was about to
move away, her hand slipped and she fell forward, shrieking in surprise. She
frantically tried to find a small ledge or rock jutting out to stop her
momentum, but the wall was smooth. A heavy weight landed on her legs, which
must have been Eros attempting to prevent her from slipping over the side of
the cliff.

“Are you okay?” he asked, sounding
stunned, as well.

Half of Prizene’s body was hanging
over the side of the rock ledge. She wasn’t comfortable, but she certainly wasn’t
harmed. “I’m not hurt.”

“Tip!” Eros called, as Prizene’s
pack began shifting toward her head, changing her center of gravity and pulling
her away from Eros.

Prizene heard feet pounding toward
them and then felt the weight of her pack lighten. Tip must have grabbed her
pack. As he began pulling at it, Eros wrapped his arms more firmly around
Prizene’s legs and pulled.

They were slowly edging her away
from the cliff, when she saw an unusual color among the rocks farther down the
river. “Wait! Stop!”

They froze and Tip asked, “Are we
hurting you
now?
”

“No, I think I see something,” she
replied. She focused on the spot — definitely not just rocks. “I definitely see
something a little farther down the river. Pull me up!”

With renewed hope, they pulled her
to safety. Tip grabbed his pack and the rope, which he had apparently thrown
off, and they jogged farther along the bank.

“I think it was here.” Prizene held
out her arm to indicate they should stop. She dumped her pack. “Wait here. I’ll
check for them.” As she crawled toward the cliff edge, Eros and Tip looked at
each other; both stripped off their packs and joined Prizene.

“Do you see them?” Eros called.

“There they are!” she squealed
happily. “See how the rock curves inward right below us? If you look to the
left of that patch of wildflowers growing in the rock, you can see one of
Azetan’s feet.”

The three of them peered over the
side as Prizene yelled, “Azetan? Can you hear me?”

“Yes,” Azetan called back, the
strain in his voice obvious.

“Is Kenrya with you?”

“Yes, but she swallowed a lot of
water. She’ll need help up.”

“We can use the rope.” Tip eased
back from the cliff edge to grab the rope.

“Help is coming!” Eros called. He shifted
to his right and leaned farther over the side. “I can see them now. Look.” He
motioned with his finger. “Azetan pulled them into a little alcove where the water
pressure isn’t as strong and he’s using his feet to brace himself against the
rocks. Still, he looks like he’s struggling to hold onto both Kenrya and the
rocks.”

Tip returned with the rope and
handed the loose end to Eros. “I tied a loop in this end. I haven’t secured the
other end yet, so be careful.”

Eros hollered down to Azetan, “Catch
the rope!” He tossed the looped end down, playing out the rope.

Prizene watched while Tip wrapped
the rest of the rope around a tree and began working busily on something.

They had to wait a few moments for
Azetan’s signal; looping the rope around Kenrya while straining against the
water currents must have been a challenge. Eros positioned himself near the
cliff edge, though not too close. He told Prizene to stand behind him and Tip
in the rear. With the three of them, they would be able to hoist Kenrya to the
top. However, they needed to ensure they could anchor the rope. Tip’s job was
to brace himself and hold the rope in place as Eros and Prizene pulled. Once
Azetan signaled that Kenrya was ready, on the count of three, they pulled
together and raised Kenrya several feet.

Eros ordered, “Brace the rope!”

“No problem,” Tip replied lazily.

The sound of his voice was not
behind Prizene, but to the side. She turned to find Tip was operating some sort
of improvised rock-and-limb contraption. The rope never slipped, since Tip
clearly braced it, but he rigged a device to do the work for him. She looked at
Tip with surprise and Tip smiled and said merrily, “Ready when you are.”

She glanced at Eros who was
chuckling and verified she was ready to pull again. They worked in this fashion
repeatedly. Eros and Prizene pulled and Tip secured the excess rope to brace
the position.

Azetan called, “Almost there! She
needs a hand.”

They waited for Tip to brace the
rope, then eased cautiously toward the side. Parting the grass, they saw Kenrya
a mere foot below the edge. She coughed continuously, but held onto the rope
and used her feet to keep from hitting the cliff wall. She appeared whiter than
normal, yet seemed to be all right otherwise. Eros held his hand out for her
and she leveraged the extra help to hoist herself over the side. After rolling a
few feet away from the cliff edge, she stopped on her side, coughing up water.

Eros untied the rope from her waist
and signaled Tip to release the length of rope from the bracing contraption. He
tossed the rope back down to Azetan and felt the pull on the rope when Azetan
had secured it to Kenrya’s pack. They raised the pack without any difficulty,
then tossed the rope back to Azetan. Again, Azetan tugged the rope once he held
the other end. Eros nodded to Tip and the slack was removed. Eros simply held
the rope this time, while Azetan climbed up the side. Prizene watched from the
edge to ensure Azetan made the climb without any trouble. In only minutes,
Azetan’s strong arms and torso appeared, followed by his foot as he lifted
himself over the edge.

Eros patted Azetan on the back, and
Tip began gathering up the rope and dismantling his impromptu contraption. Eros
walked over to Kenrya and knelt beside her.

The river would be freezing, as the
snow melted off the peaks north of Caldot, the highest in Zolei, providing the
primary source of water for the river this time of year. When the warm rains
came in the summer and fall, the river temperature would rise. “You look cold. We
should have extra clothes.”

“No,” she grunted. “I just need to
start walking.”

Eros nodded. He placed her pack on
his front, then collected his own pack as Prizene returned Azetan’s sword and
shoes. They gathered their packs and walked toward the forest. Prizene watched
as Eros tried to help Kenrya to her feet, but she pushed him away and stood on
her own. Prizene pursed her lips at Kenrya’s stubborn refusal of help and
started toward the forest with Kenrya following her and Eros bringing up the
rear.

As the sun broke the horizon,
Rinald stood before the once-glorious palace. He approached the main gate only
to be stopped by two men, one Plinte and the other Bruner, both dressed in the
traditional silver and red tunics of the palace guards. Rinald identified
himself and respectfully requested a meeting with Lady Anyamae, in a tone that attempted
to impress upon the guards the urgency of his request. While the urgency
certainly held true for Rinald, a tremor of desperation weakened his voice. The
guards met his request with a long silence, then the Plinte spoke, “Lady
Anyamae is not available today, Sir Rinald.”

“Please.” Rinald stepped closer,
holding out beseeching hands. “It’s vital that I speak with her.” Again his
desperation was met with silent stares. Maybe the truth would help. “My
daughter, Prizene, is missing. I believe she left home the day after her
sixteenth birthday. A Krystic female has never before been marked, but if any
were ever to be, it would be her. I just need to know if Lady Anyamae placed
the mark on my daughter.” He clasped his hands together in front of him and
held his breath.

The Plinte’s face softened. He
asked, “Hair color?”

“Red. Very bright, fiery red.”

The two guards looked at one
another and nodded. The Plinte responded, “Be quick and brief. The Lady cancelled
all appointments today, as she grieves for a Plinte girl, just sixteen, killed
three days ago.” A pained look crossed his face as he spoke these words. “One
of those lost in battle.”

Rinald nodded in understanding and
started to pass when the Bruner placed a halting hand on Rinald’s shoulder. “Lady
Anyamae places each mark carefully. She would not mark a child without good
reason and without hope for survival.”

Rinald nodded. “I know. I just need
to know whether my daughter is alive.”

The Bruner removed his hand and
allowed Rinald to pass. As he approached the main entrance of the palace, the
massive listra columns glistened in the sunlight. They were stunning, yet he
was forced to shield his eyes to lessen the reflection. Listra was a unique
rock found far north of Caldot; it suited well the grandeur of the palace.

Then, he turned his eyes to the
detailed stone Gaela statues atop the roof. His breathing quickened. Most of
the statues watched over the city. However, the two placed nearest the doors
stared directly at the spot where he now stood. These silent guardians
intimidated even the sturdiest of men. His hesitation was unfounded, as the
statues weren’t a threat to him. But he seemed to be frozen in place as he
gazed at them. He took a deep, ragged breath and continued onwards.

The palace showed signs of age and
neglect. The cause was simply diversion of resources. He had visited the
building many times when he was a child and young man. How beautiful it had
been before the Tyrnotts came to power. He hoped he would live to see Caldot
thrive once again and the palace restored to its former glory.

Slowly he climbed the fifty steps
leading into the main palace chamber where the Lady generally greeted her
guests, whether announced or not. As he reached the top step, the massive stone
doors opened before him and he passed through to the interior room. He paused
briefly to study the intricate carvings on each door. As a student, he had studied
these door carvings, as well as the thousands of other carvings that lined the
palace walls. While he couldn’t remember all of the details, each section of
the door told a different chapter of the Miyran history. The carvings carried centuries
of history and thousands of untold stories of species across the galaxy. He had
shared the stories he remembered with Prizene, since they were no longer part
of the educational curriculum, hoping she would grow to value the magnificent
traditions and history. He edged closer to one of the doors to better see a
carving of a massive tree when someone cleared her throat. Rinald jumped and turned
toward the sound to find himself face to face with a young Raptan female.

In keeping with her species, she
stood nearly as tall as Rinald, but was thin almost to the point of being
shapeless. Her nose was less prominent than most male Raptans, though the high
forehead and thin, bony hands were similar. Her hair was pulled harshly back
from her face and tied in a tight knot at the nape of her neck.

“We expected you,” she said, unnerving
him. “I am Virsos from the city of Stipol. Welcome to the palace, Sir Rinald of
the Northern Hills.” She motioned broadly around the room with her right arm.

Rinald struggled not to bow before
her, as her highbred manner of speaking seemed to command. “Thank you for
seeing me,” he responded, as respectfully as he dared. “I understand Lady
Anyamae is indisposed today?”

“She grieves for a young one lost —
one she marked for a specific task, knowing well the great risk involved. She
makes such decisions only in dire need and at this hour, Sir Rinald, the need
is dire indeed.”

Rinald considered this. “She knew …
the child would be killed?”

Virsos looked on Rinald as though
he were half her age rather than twice it. “Never is it quite that simple,” she
explained. “Lady Anyamae selected the girl, along with another of her species,
to be marked at the same time. She believed both would reach their intended
companions, but only one was successful. The male Plinte survives and walks
along the path Anyamae intended. Be joyous, as his path is shared with that of
your daughter.”

Tears welled in Rinald’s eyes. “My
daughter?”

“You seek an explanation for her
disappearance, do you not?”

“Yes, of course. I ... but ... a Krystic
female never bore the mark before my daughter.”

“You ask why? Yes, of course, that
is what you seek,” she answered herself. “The Lady guards her intentions well
and I cannot penetrate her thoughts unless she allows it. The reason for your
daughter’s marking eludes me, but I can assure you the mark burned brightly on
her sixteenth birthday, a week past. You may struggle to understand, but this
is the future she desired.”

Rinald chuckled. “In my heart, I
know you speak the truth. My daughter possesses a strong will and good athletic
skill. If only one Krystic female were to be marked, my mind tells me she is
the obvious choice.”

“But you struggle with the thought
you might have somehow failed as a parent?” Virsos asked directly.

Rinald’s eyes met hers and confirmed
the words she spoke.

“Do not despair, Sir Rinald. Your
daughter’s marking shows not a failing on your part, but a triumph! She
contributes significantly to the journey of those traveling with her. Already,
she has saved lives. Go now with the knowledge that she is fulfilling the
destiny she chose for herself.”

Rinald sighed, knowing Virsos was
speaking reason. Before leaving, he asked, “What can I do to help her?” He held
up his hand before Virsos spoke. “I worked long hours and often wasn’t home
when perhaps I should have been. Prizene did not choose that life; I chose it
for her. While I may have failed her then, I can’t fail her now.”

Virsos considered this before
responding. “Every choice carries with it a consequence, sometimes a gain and
sometimes a loss. Weigh carefully your choices, Sir Rinald, as the result may
be unintended. Now, I must return to the Lady as she wishes to send her
gratitude and condolences to the Plinte family who will honor their dead in a
few days’ time among the rolling hills of Banston.”

“They recovered her body?” Rinald’s
eyes grew wide in surprise. “The Plinte always hold royal affairs for the recovered
dead, especially the death of the young warrior.” He glanced at Virsos to see
her smile and nod. He continued, “And such an affair is likely to be attended
by those sympathetic to Lady Anyamae. Perhaps I should visit the rolling hills
of Banston and give my respects to the family.”

“Go then, fair Rinald. May glory
ride with you.”