The Journey of the Marked (The Miyran Heir Book 1) (4 page)

“Eros,” his mother called to him,
“slower, my child.”

He turned to wait for her. When she
reached him, she held out her hand and clasped his in hers. She squeezed his
hand gently and spoke softly: “The marketplace will be there whether we run or
walk. Use your eyes, Eros. You must always watch even the smallest of details
around you.”

He grinned sheepishly. “But the
details at the marketplace are more fun.” He began to jump and pull on his
mother’s hand.

“Eros, child, you must learn
patience.”

He turned his pouting face to his
mother. After all, it usually worked. She smiled. “Very well, my clever little
one, but don’t believe you have won my pity.” They started moving again through
the dirty, narrow street.

Regardless of his mother’s words, he
had obviously persuaded her with his sad face, yet again. Still, he wanted to
please her and scanned the area around him. The dwellings on this narrow street
were made of a dingy grey stone, bound with a grey mortar that appeared to
include grassy sticks, which protruded from the walls. The wooden doors hung
unevenly, allowing air to blow in from the street. He and his mother were in
the part of town inhabited mostly by the poor. The whole story was hard to
remember, but the buildings in this area had been damaged during the battles
between the Graeliths and Miyran supporters. Any citizens with wealth had
abandoned the sector and the poor claimed the remaining structures. They had
patched holes with the grey substance and lived for a time without many of the
comforts he knew. The Tyrnotts had restored power and other utilities to this
area after the battles ceased.

While the sky was clear and blue
today, the towering dwellings sat so close that they blocked all but the tiniest
patches of light. A lone, scrawny mouse scurried across the street, stopping long
enough to contemplate a nibble of something and discard it. A strong breeze
blew at Eros’s face and a chill slithered down his back. He stopped and looked
behind them. Though he saw nothing, something loomed in the darkness.

“What, child?” his mother asked. She
gazed into the darkness behind them and then turned back to Eros. She placed
her hand on the side of his face. “What do you see?”

“Something,” he paused, “dark. Something
cold.” Another chill ran down his back as he concentrated on a dark alley not
far away. His stomach fluttered. Something was there.

She glanced back down the street. “Come,
child, we must make our way to the marketplace.” She tightened her hand around
his and started again at brisk pace. He struggled to stay with her, and soon
forgot the chill from only moments before.

They reached the end of the narrow
street and walked into the sunlight. The warmth spread across Eros’s face and
his excitement grew. They crossed a small square and walked down a few steps to
arrive at the bustling marketplace, where stalls lined a much larger square. Traders
sold everything from food and clothing to mystical pendants and trinkets. Eros
gazed across the busy square, knowing that his mother would expect full details
of no less than three species, and at least one of those must be new to their
game. She would expect him to not only be able to describe them, but also provide
observations about their lives. Today, he would surely impress her.

First he spied a Cloonus man and
his young daughter. The shoulder-length, flipped-up hair and long, flowing
robes were easy to spot. Of course, on closer inspection, he would be able to see
the flat nose with not only two nostrils like his, but a third one between the
eyes. This allowed them to stay submerged in water with only the top nostril
exposed to air. The man was arguing with a rather large trader Eros had seen
before. While the man argued, the little girl selected a pendant from the
trader’s stall and slipped it into her robe. A clever game, he supposed.

His mother urged him on with a
slight tug on his hand. They visited the marketplace every few weeks. Today,
they were looking for a particular herb his mother needed for one of her
lotions. She specialized in creams and lotions that cured a number of ailments,
as well as improving conditions such as dry skin. The marketplace provided
traders with a vibrant place to sell their goods, and today it seemed to be
bursting with many different species. At some point during the day, he expected
to see Aria, the woman who sold his mother’s wares. Aria frightened him, but
was never cruel. She was one of the Ilacious. Her braided hair wrapped
elaborately around her head in a design which varied every time he saw her. She
exhibited an upturned nose, round eyes, and sharply arched eyebrows. Her thin
lips always smiled at him, but her flat, long tongue that slipped in and out
between her teeth unnerved him immensely. He shuddered and hoped that Aria
would be away when they reached the stall.

They rounded one of the larger
stalls in the middle area and Eros stopped. At the next stall, he saw a large
creature with darkened, almost seared-looking skin and narrow ears ending in
tips that stood up straight on each side of its head, near the top. The eyes
were a pale yellow and the mouth was a grim straight line. Eros shook at the
sight of the creature. “What is it?”

His mother knelt beside him and held
him against her. “That man is a Thelios. Their tough skin protects them from
flame, which explains why they often work with metal. Don’t be frightened, my
child. You must not judge solely by appearance. While the man looks fierce, the
Theliosse are well known for their generosity.”

The man finished his business and
started walking toward Eros and his mother. Eros continued to stare, unable to
look away.

As the man neared, he smiled at
Eros, showing a mouthful of crooked teeth. He squatted in front of Eros and
said, “First time to see a Thelios, my boy?”

In response, Eros could only nod. The
great man laughed a deep, boisterous laugh. After several roars of laughter,
Eros found he couldn’t keep from laughing himself. He broke into a wide grin,
covered his mouth, and giggled at the jovial man.

“My boy, you are a delight! I
haven’t seen such a look of dread in many years.” He smiled warmly toward Eros
and tousled his hair. Then the Thelios stood and spoke to his mother.

Eros continued to scan the
marketplace for other species. A young Greot was at a stall not far away. The
man’s head curved upward then spiraled to a tip, with no hair showing other
than the eyebrows. The young Greot appeared to be examining food supplements,
but his gaze darted in various directions. The clothing he wore was slightly ragged,
but the tailoring was of a good quality, based on what Eros’s mother had taught
him. This seemingly poor man was probably part of the Miyran army; his
well-tailored clothing and alert senses made that fairly evident. Eros prided
himself in being quite skilled in identifying disguised warriors.

While he watched the Greot, a
shiver crept up his spine, just as had happened when they were walking to the
marketplace. He looked to his right and around the Thelios, then to the left. There,
under a broad cover on the other side of the street, a large form with glowing
eyes stared at them from the darkness. By the size of the form, a Graelith
stood there. The Graelith stared, not blinking or moving. Was this what had
been following them on the dingy street?

The Thelios stopped talking with
Eros’s mother, glanced at him, then looked in the same direction. He yelled at
the Graelith, “You there! Leave this place. Your presence here is not
required.”

Eros watched the Thelios reach into
his pocket and pull something loose, the tip of which was shiny silver — a
weapon of some kind. He looked back toward the Graelith to see the creature
growl and snort toward the Thelios. Then, to his surprise, the Graelith turned
toward a small alleyway and began moving away.

The Thelios knelt beside Eros again.
“You’re an unusual child. Strong senses and a brave heart. Yes, I think you are
bound to be a great warrior, strong and steady.” He patted Eros’s head, smiled
warmly at his mother, and continued on through the marketplace.

Eros considered the Thelios’s words.
“A great warrior,” he repeated to himself and imagined himself swinging a
mighty sword.

*******

Now, here Eros was, more than ten
years later and clinging for his life to a ladder. Some great warrior he turned
out to be. The Graelith had thrown the stinging powder in his eyes without much
effort and he had known better than to fall for that trap! How foolish he had
been. All during his childhood, he had dreamed of being a royal warrior and
defending the province and his mother. He had wanted to be like his grandfather
before him, who had died in the battles shortly before Eros’s birth. Yet his
life had almost ended today. He was no warrior. Had it not been for the girl,
he would have perished.

He wondered about the girl. She
used a weapon on the Graelith that made a zapping noise, but he knew of no such
weapon. It must be illegal. While clinging to the ladder together, the strong
smell of the street on her swirled around him.
Great!
Rescued by a
law-breaker whose stench is unlike any I have ever smelled before.
Though
he questioned her motives, she had risked her life to save his own. He owed her
his life and he must repay the debt. He pushed his nose into his sleeve and
hoped he would be able to repay the debt sooner rather than later.

When was the last time he saw
Jbetl, the Thelios? Throughout his childhood, they often ran into each other at
the marketplace and spent time together in the Human settlement where he lived
with his mother. Jbetl came to the settlement to repair and sell steel weapons
and would often join them for dinner. He trained Eros to fight with a variety
of weapons and also taught him the basic skills of welding. But then Jbetl just
disappeared a year or more ago. Maybe the Graeliths had killed him, given his
boldness — hopefully not. He never asked his mother, as this would inevitably
cause her grief.

The girl nudged him softly and
started climbing down the ladder past him. He listened for any sounds from the
alleyway above and decided her instincts were correct; it was safe to move. He
braced himself and stowed his sword. He waited for her to move below him and
tap him on the foot before he started climbing down. With his eyes still
burning, he found navigating the ladder challenging, even though dim moonlight
shone through the openings to the street above. He felt carefully before moving
down each rung.

After another ten steps, he reached
down with his foot for the next rung and found only empty space. He placed his
hands another rung down the ladder and felt in a wider circle for the step, but
still didn’t find one. The girl patted his leg and reached up to put her hand
under his arm. He must be at the bottom. He lowered himself to the ground and
turned toward where he thought the girl would be standing, only to find she had
moved behind him. Quiet and quick, he realized. The girl grabbed a fistful of
his hair and pulled his head back. “The water is clean,” she whispered. He felt
the sting of fluid on his eyes.

“Open them,” she commanded quietly.
He tried, but the sting was extremely painful. She stopped and released his
hair. “Keep trying to open them.”

“Trying,” he choked through the
pain. He tried with all his strength to open his eyes and found he could at least
squint. He couldn’t focus on his surroundings, though, and while he continued
to try, she grabbed his hair again and poured more water in his eyes.

They repeated this several times
until the pain in his eyes started to ease. He found his sight was returning
with each repetition, as well. Finally, the eye cleansing stopped and he looked
around. He was, as he had thought, in the underground passages beneath the city.
The openings onto the alleyways above allowed slivers of light to reach these
passages below, enough to see without benefit of an electric torch. Two things were
distinctly noticeable: the smell of the passages and the smell of the girl.

He turned to look at her as she put
the water back in her bag. She had jet-black hair, cut short, like a man would
wear. Her white skin almost gleamed in the darkness of the passage, spoiled
only by the fiery mark behind her left ear. Her ears fascinated him. They
curled upward and back at the top, with dozens of feathery-like pieces along
the back from the midpoint of the ear to the top. Her ears were fantastic. He
searched his memory for the species his mother described as having such ears,
as they rarely visited Caldot. Was it the Artuesee? No, their ears curled in the
other direction and besides, hadn’t the Artuesee moved to the west side of the
city? The Arlians? Yes, that’s right. The Arlians had been persecuted by the
Graeliths and had become a difficult and reclusive race. When they did visit
the city, they were well known for violent outbursts, prolific body markings,
and obnoxious children. At least that would explain the smell. At that moment,
she looked up from her bag and glanced at their surroundings. Her face was
quite attractive, with strong cheek bones. She had piercings in her thin, left
eyebrow with a tiny silver chain stringing the piercings together. She was
intriguing.

“You done looking?” she asked, as
she turned to look directly at him with intense, dark eyes.

“I suppose so.”

“We should move. The Graeliths may
still return.” Without a response, she turned and began moving toward the
passage to his left.

He watched her for a few seconds
and grimaced as a slight breeze carried her scent to him.
Wonder how long I
can hold my breath?
Eros took a deep breath and followed.

As Tip exited the transport
station, he walked quickly toward the narrow lanes leading to the main shopping
street. The narrow passageway was dark and damp. Each drab little house sat
inches from its neighbor with the curtains pulled tightly across the windows. Occasionally
a curtain twitched, as though someone was peering from behind it, but no one
was visible and no one else wandered the streets. No children played outside
and no neighbors gossiped like they always did in Kentish.

Tip missed Kentish already. He
longed to be eating one of his mother’s delicious pies or even her stewed
vegetables. The open fields were home to him, not these dreary, dirty streets. He
stopped. Maybe he should just go back to the transport station. And then what? The
council would never allow him to return. They would force him to leave yet
again, and by then, the Graeliths roaming the area might know of the mark he
bore. Risking the lives of his family and the others in Kentish wasn’t an
acceptable option. Still, he really wanted to go home. He cursed the mark, as
tears came to his eyes. The mark destroyed everything, everything! He crossed
to one of the buildings and leaned heavily against the wall. There, he let the
full force of his despair wash over him. First Trul, then Sri, and now him.

He closed his eyes as he thought of
his brothers and their fates. Trul had been killed, but what had happened to
Sri? Perhaps he survived and joined the Miyran warriors. Sri defied the Liput
stereotype. Granted, his mechanical skills were stronger than those of anyone
outside Kentish, but for a Liput, his ability was only mediocre. Sri was
relaxed and unflappable. Tip began now to appreciate how useful such a skill
could be for the marked. He laughed as he remembered how irate his mother
became when Sri refused to be ruffled by a neighbor’s complaint about some
mischief he had created, like the time Sri and a couple of his friends diverted
the watering channel to create a mud slide for the younger kids on a hot day. The
crops grew thirsty, while several dozen children abandoned chores to ride the
muddy slope. The barrage of complaints their parents received from both farmers
and parents was unprecedented, yet Sri acted as though the water
should
have been diverted and never acknowledged anything to the contrary. Sri was
capable of surviving. If Tip could locate Sri, he would send a communication
home to his mother and ease her worries.

Focusing on Sri increased Tip’s
confidence and restored peace within him. With his sense of purpose renewed, he
continued without incident toward the main street, and found it thriving with shoppers
in the late afternoon sun. He turned left, heading west toward the main
marketplace, looking into the shop windows as he walked. The first window
displayed wildly colored hats of all varieties, even ones which would fit the
species with the tall, curly heads. What was the name of that species? He
shrugged. It didn’t really matter. The next window showed lacy-looking outfits
Tip was certain he would never wear. He wondered what one did with them and
continued to stare until several young females passed by, giggling at him. He
grinned back at them, then continued toward the marketplace.

This main street was wider than the
previous one, allowing streaks of sunlight to filter through. Occasionally a
city transport zipped by, spewing dark fumes out of exhaust tubes in the back. The
longer Tip walked, the more he noticed the grimy black smudges on the windows
and the increasingly bad smell. Compared to Kentish, the air here was stale and
stifling.

The city suffered at the hands of
the Tyrnotts, in stark comparison to its once-glorious past. His father had
explained some of the history on their earlier visits to the city. The Tyrnotts
taxed the city heavily and diverted many services and resources to their own
benefit. However, because the Caldot population believed that the Tyrnotts
restored and maintained peace after the Miyrans lost control, many accepted,
and even supported, the Tyrnott rule. The citizens of Kentish escaped much of
the Tyrnott influence due to their isolation from the city and their simpler
way of life. The Tyrnotts couldn’t extort any excess from the Liputs if there
was none. Still, the condition of the city seemed far worse than Tip remembered.
Now that he must survive in these conditions, they seemed insufferable in
comparison to Kentish. Hopefully once he joined the royal warriors, the
conditions would improve.

He continued to take in his
surroundings, walking swiftly toward the marketplace.