The Journey of the Marked (The Miyran Heir Book 1) (15 page)

The underbrush in this part of the
forest grew thick with sharp brambles, catching clothes and scratching skin. Azetan
led the group and hacked a path through the prickly branches, allowing them to
pass more easily.

Eros stayed close to Kenrya and
caught her several times as she stumbled; she lost her balance frequently. Her
clothes showed signs of drying, though not quickly enough to keep her warm. He
could feel her shivering each time he caught her. They needed to find a place
to build a fire to warm her. Unfortunately, the thick bushes proved to be
wholly unsuitable for resting or building a fire, as they would likely set the
entire forest ablaze. As a result, they kept moving, continuing their slow
progress through the woods.

As the sun began to set, Eros grew
increasingly concerned they would have to spend the night in such an
inhospitable environment. They were all exhausted and would have to stop soon. He
continued scanning the area for any space large enough for all five to rest
comfortably, but nothing looked plausible. Prizene suggested they split into
smaller groups to make their search easier and the others agreed this was the
most sensible option. Prizene stayed with Kenrya, while Azetan, Tip, and Eros
ventured in opposite directions in search of a clearing large enough for at
least two or three of them.

As Eros wandered farther away from
the others, he heard noises. He strained to hear, trying to identify the source.
Perhaps the Graeliths were closer than they had realized? With each step, the sounds
grew louder. As he closed the distance, he could distinguish voices, but
clearly they weren’t the husky voices of the Graeliths. What species would
inhabit such an inhospitable part of Zolei? Whatever they were, Eros hoped they
were friendly and had found a suitable camping spot they would be willing to
share. During a brief lull in discussion, Eros heard the crackling of a fire. A
fire meant warmth, if they were willing to share that, too.

He hacked away at the underbrush
with renewed vigor and moved around a thicket of trees only to find a massive
wall of thick bushes. With his ear aimed toward the wall, the voices were clearer
and, he noted with much relief, light and jovial. The men on the other side
seemed to be telling stories and enjoying themselves. Eros took a mighty swing
at the big bush, making barely a dent in the tangle of branches. Knowing how
desperately Kenrya needed warmth, he frantically chopped at the bush, making
progress, however small. As sweat began to roll down his forehead, something
moved to his left. He stopped and gazed in that direction to see an old Plinte
man watching him.

The man asked, “What are you doing,
son?”

Eros stepped away from the bush and
wiped his forehead. “I was trying to find a clearing to build a campsite for
myself and my friends when I heard your voices. My friend fell into the water
and needs the warmth of a fire. How ... how did you come through the bush?”

“The branches here are loose and
swing like a curtain. See?” The man took a fistful of the long branches near
him and pulled them to one side with little effort.

Eros stowed his sword, stepped
across the brush to where the man stood, and peered through the opening. On the
other side, a group of approximately ten older men of various species sat around
a campfire, all staring back at him.

One of the men in the group said, “Hey,
Aston. What you found over there?”

The Plinte next to Eros replied, “A
Human boy and his friends. They need a place to camp and a warm fire.”

The old Cloonus man grinned, showing
a mouthful of gums. “Well, bring ‘em here. We’se got plenty of campground,
fire, an’ food. Bettin’ they got a good story to tell and I sure do get tired
of hearin’ the same ones from you lot.”

The other men laughed in response
and motioned to Eros to join them. Eros beamed at Aston, who released the
curtain of bushes and offered to accompany Eros to fetch his companions. They
worked their way back to find all four of the others in a tiny clearing
discussing a plan to split into small groups for the night. As Eros and Aston
approached, the other four fell silent.

Eros introduced Aston and told the
group about the men and the invitation to join their camp. Relief passed over
their faces and packs were eagerly gathered with a renewed sense of hope. They
followed Aston back through the woods to the men’s camp and introduced
themselves. As soon as the men met Kenrya, their jovial demeanor changed,
replaced by a deep concern for her health. Two of the men insisted she borrow some
clothes to allow hers time to dry. When she refused, they sat her as close to
the fire as possible without exposing her to additional danger. Then they
encouraged her to drink their special stock of homemade brew, which they
assured her would cure any ailment.

The men entertained the marked ones
with grand stories of the Miyran warriors and tales of great battles. In turn,
the marked ones shared their journey to date. While the stories were told,
enough food was prepared for everyone to fill their bellies. Eros heartily enjoyed
the stories and was pleased to see the color returning to Kenrya’s cheeks. She
remained quiet, but at least she smiled at some of the jokes and her spirits
seemed to be lifting.

When the conversation lulled, Tip said,
“You know much about the Miyran warriors. Do you know where to find them?”

The old men quieted and one of the Plinte
in the group finally spoke. “Haven’t seen a warrior in years, but hear tell
they travel these woods. Why do you want to know?”

Tip shrugged. “We want to find
their training camp and were told it was in these woods.”

Eros closed his eyes and cringed. Even
if the marks were visible to the old men, they should be cautious of what information
they shared with strangers. Kenrya glared at Tip from across the fire and even
Prizene nudged him on the side of his leg. Apparently they agreed with Eros
that Tip should be more careful. Yet, Tip looked innocently at the others.

Aston stared at the fire and spoke
slowly, cautiously. “You’re safe with us, young one, but take care. There are
those in these woods that hear you — those that support Nord.” He looked at Tip
with a penetrating stare. “Some things are better kept secret.”

Tip swallowed visibly and looked at
the ground. “Sorry,” he said quietly. “That was careless of me.”

“But you are headed in the right
direction,” Aston added.

Eros raised his eyebrows.
Interesting
.
How would Aston know they are headed in the right direction? He noticed a look
of doubt pass over Azetan’s face and their eyes met briefly. Azetan gave a
barely noticeable tilt of his head to acknowledge Eros.

Tip raised his head and looked
relieved. “Thanks. Can I ask another question?” Aston lifted his eyebrows in
caution, but then encouraged Tip with a nod.

“If Lady Anyamae has such power,
why is it difficult for her to protect the heir?”

Aston smiled. “That’s a good
question. Lady Anyamae is clever, but the Tyrnotts have many spies. Did you
know she gave birth to a daughter about twenty-five years back?” Tip shook his
head. “Her daughter was killed in the palace itself. Fortunately, the daughter
wasn’t the Miyran heir, as only one child inherits the gift. Anyamae is the
only one who will recognize whether her child is the next heir prior to the
child’s maturing. If she has given birth to the heir, which many believe, she
has found a way to protect the child. We know the child isn’t with her, as no
child has lived at the palace since her daughter was killed, but we know
nothing more. The Miyran powers begin to surface around age sixteen, but time
must pass before they fully develop. This is why the heir must be protected.”

“Do you think the heir is sixteen
yet?”

Aston shrugged. “No one knows for
certain, but I can tell you this: Nord believes the heir will mature soon. That
alone is cause for concern.”

Tip quieted for a while and when
Eros thought he had no more questions, he asked, “Did you ever see a Gaela?”

Kenrya stiffened noticeably at this
question. She stared at the fire, but Eros could tell she was listening
intently.

Aston considered Tip’s question. “Yes,
son, I met many a Gaela in my day. A noble species devoted to the Miyrans. When
Lord Attol was killed and the Miyran weakened, the Gaelae stood steadfast in
their support of Lady Anyamae. Their slaughter rests heavily on my thoughts to
this day.”

Tip ventured another question. “What
was the city like before the Tyrnotts killed Lord Attol?”

The Cloonus man piped up, “Lovely! Chimsey,
you’se tell it better than the rest of us.”

The one among the old men that had
not yet spoken that evening, a Greot, glanced at the Cloonus. Then his eyes
twinkled. Eros had not seen a Greot in a few years; the species had become more
and more reclusive as the power of the Tyrnotts grew. Like the Gaelae, the Greots
were strong supporters of Lady Anyamae. They possessed the ability to move matter
with their minds and were perceived as a threat by the Tyrnotts, as they could
attack from a distance. This Greot’s appearance differed from those Eros
remembered from the marketplace, though he supposed that was likely due to age.
The Greot never grew hair on their heads. Instead the skull elongated like a
cone and spiraled to a point at the top. Their ears appeared no different from
a Human’s, though they often had generous mouths and round eyes. This old Greot
looked similar to those of Eros’s memory, except the spiral part of the head
was drooping badly.

Chimsey stared at the fire, which
began to dance in front of them. “My parents arrived on Zolei with the Miyrans
and everyone pitched in to build the city. The Skurk and Che’Tase arrived shortly
thereafter and, given their expertise in infrastructure, the city began to
develop at a fast pace. I was born not long after the planet was settled. We
live nearly twice as long as many on Zolei, you see.”

Eros noticed he looked at Tip as he
explained this fact. Wise, given Tip’s propensity for questions.

Chimsey smiled, eyes glistening in
the firelight. “I spent my childhood and early years in the part of town
southwest of the marketplace, the wealthy part of Caldot in my day. The quaint,
cheerful dwellings were built close together, as we long believed in the unity
of family and friends. The pristine streets bustled with activity and jovial
faces. As the years passed, more species sought refuge on the planet and the
communities grew. A Hurfen man pushed his cart of sweets through the street and
an old Vatchan woman sold flowers on the corner. You may never have seen a Vatchan,
as they arrived in Caldot few in number and were absorbed gradually into other
communities. Their generosity and trusting nature remains unparalleled to this
day. If you lacked coins, they always insisted you simply pay them the next day
or, sometimes, not at all. The city was safe in those days. The worst happening
was petty theft and even that generally earned sympathy as it only occurred in
times of desperate need. Over time, transportation was developed and air
transports ran frequently all over the city and to the outer provinces. The
theaters and music halls did a brisk business and never failed to delight. In
the center of it all, gleaming white and regal, was the Miyran palace. The Miyrans
opened the doors for any to visit and a child, as easily as a man, could
approach the palace with questions or concerns. Have you seen the palace?” he
asked Tip.

Tip shook his head, as did the
others.

Chimsey continued, “It was
stunning, large and impressive, yet still welcoming. An open hall, of sorts,
lines the outer wall of the main building and supports the upper level with
massive columns. White stone Gaela statues sit atop the roof and watch silently
over the city. The Tyrnotts tried to destroy those statues once, only to find
themselves trapped in a maze of corridors leading instead to the outer ring of
the city.” He chuckled at this memory. “Peace and prosperity thrived throughout
the province. Each citizen contributed his or her part, and in return, was
content. The Miyran warriors in those days numbered fewer than now and mostly
served to assist the leaders of Caldot in governing the provinces, which was
handled wisely and fairly. The number of warriors swelled shortly after the
attack on Attol, but many were killed in the battles that followed. Anyamae
retreated to the palace to live in solitude. The Tyrnotts have destroyed much
during their reign. I hope one day you will witness the beauty of Caldot
restored. All hope rests on the survival of the heir.” Chimsey grew silent as regret
for days long past lingered on his face.

No one broke the silence until
Aston finally said, “The night is upon us. We have a long way to travel
tomorrow across the wetlands. We hope you will join us.”

One by one the men said goodnight. They
changed their sleeping arrangements to allow the young ones a large tent that
could sleep all five of them. Prizene, looking exhausted, bade the others goodnight
and Tip joined her. Azetan, Eros, and Kenrya stayed by the fire a while longer.

Once everyone quieted, Azetan asked
softly, “Do you think we can trust them?”

Eros shrugged. “They seem honest
and they know these woods. With their knowledge of the terrain, we should be
able to put more distance between us and the Graeliths. Plus, we have to cross
the wetlands anyway. At least we can enjoy their stories and food. We’re lucky
to have found them.”

Azetan agreed and wished them both a
good night. He stretched and joined Tip and Prizene in the tent for the night.

Eros watched Kenrya. While she was
never particularly chatty, she was unusually quiet tonight. “How are you
feeling?”

She looked away from the fire and
across to the tent where they would sleep. She seemed very vulnerable. The
river had washed some of the stench of the city off her. He felt his pulse
quicken as he contemplated reaching out to comfort her. However, as this was
likely to result in his being slapped or worse, he squelched those thoughts.