The Journey of the Marked
The Miyran Heir
Book One
By Rebecca P. McCray
Copyright © 2013 by Rebecca P. McCray
Cover design and map copyright © 2013 by Rebecca P. McCray
All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced.
Cover illustration and map created by EJ Wright
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Chapter 69
Author’s Note
Glossary of Species and Characters
Glossary of Locations
Map of Zolei
Chapter 1
Kenrya crouched in the growing shadows. The cool air blasting from the ground vent provided cover as she watched the boy turn into the alley at a run. He glanced nervously over his shoulder and tripped on the uneven pavement, nearly dropping the thick, curved sword he carried in his right hand. His breathing was ragged as he staggered to his feet. In the flickering light from a lamppost, she saw his hair was blond and disorderly, his face dirty and wet with sweat. He hurried down the alley, using his left hand against the wall for support, stumbling time and again over the bits of scattered debris.
Kenrya hugged her knees to her chest and strained to see; dusk had fallen over the city and the air from the vent dried her eyes. As she had spotted several Graeliths nearby, she had retreated to the cool air for protection. Graeliths, beast-like creatures that relentlessly persecuted the marked, hunted by body heat at night, unable to distinguish a cool body from its surroundings.
Given the last bell signaling curfew had sounded, why would a lone boy be in this alley? She was safe here for the moment, but he might give away her position. With the mark she bore, she was prey for the Graeliths to hunt and kill, under orders of the Tyrnotts, self-appointed leaders of Caldot and the surrounding communities.
She rubbed a spot behind her left ear as she watched him. She had seen this species before, though they numbered fewer than most in the city. He was Human; of this she was certain. The Humans lived in the forest of Kullac, a distant sector outside the city walls. They were well respected as traders, if not more as warriors. At first glance, they seemed weak, but many years ago she had witnessed a rough fight with two Humans against several Graeliths; their reputation as great warriors was well earned.
The boy moved with seeming agility, yet he stumbled time and again. When he neared the end of the alley, she expected him to take the smaller alleyway veering off to the right, for there was no other reason to enter this alley. But, when he came within a few feet of her, she realized something was wrong with him. He seemed to be using his left hand against the wall to guide himself and failed to notice her at all. Perhaps he couldn’t see clearly in the encroaching darkness.
The boy’s clothes were as dirty as he was and unlike any she had seen. They were probably traveling clothes common to Humans, though she lacked sufficient knowledge of the species to be certain. Many of the outbounders, those visiting the city from other communities, wore heavy, earth-colored pants and jackets with more pockets and zippers than seemed necessary. They generally ventured into the city to sell their wares, which made the clothing useful, if not conspicuous. Yet this boy’s clothes were not heavy, nor earth-toned. They hugged his body, while still allowing him to move freely. They were dark and appeared thick, yet failed to weigh him down. Kenrya leaned closer for a better look, but the air from the vent obscured her sight and she didn’t dare move from its protective gust.
The boy moved beyond her and passed the narrow alleyway on the right. He reached the back of the alley and frantically felt along the wall, searching for an exit. He was trapped. If she helped him, she risked exposing her position. As the Graeliths must be nearby, doing so would be reckless. Besides, he looked able to defend himself.
Suddenly, he spun around to face the mouth of the alley. A look of panic crossed his face, quickly replaced by a look of determination. He set his feet in a defensive stance, pushed up his sleeves, and raised his sword. She tightened her grip on the pulsar at her side and turned to look in the same direction, seeing what he obviously heard, a Graelith coming after him. The boy must be marked, as well.
Graeliths were wretched creatures. They stood on two legs, but seemed closer to animals than other species on their world. As males and females of the species exhibited similar physical traits, distinguishing between the two could be challenging. Yet larger size and quantity of body hair generally indicated male, as did the tenacity to hunt. Despite their appearance, Graeliths were intelligent creatures, though their arrogance often led them astray. They lacked the agility and speed to hunt alone, usually working in groups to trap their prey. And yet, as this Graelith moved into the alley, another didn’t follow. Was he foolish enough to hunt a Human alone? This Graelith towered over others of his kind and was more frightening than most. However, even if this boy struggled to see, he could still most likely defeat a single Graelith. She looked at the boy again, a smile curling her lips. Given his apparent comfort with his weapon and his keen concentration on the Graelith’s rasping breaths, the boy looked prepared. She would enjoy this fight. The beast would surely die.
The Graelith shifted his translucent eyes toward the boy, eyes that glowed in darkness and were barely noticeable in light. The large, pointed ears near the top of his head flicked in various directions, picking up every sound. He wore dark, sturdy clothing and heavy boots like hers —the clothing of a fighter. He began a slow march down the alley. As she watched the Graelith’s progression, she thought about her discussion with Arith a few days ago. Arith led the group to which she had belonged since he found her in the city nine years ago. He watched over her like a brother, even though she never really needed his help. During their last talk, they had discussed her upcoming birthday. She had never been certain exactly which day
she was born, but Arith insisted on celebrating each year, whether she wanted to or not. He knew she would leave if the mark appeared on her birthday. To stay with the group risked their lives. The Tyrnotts established this fact shortly before her time through the genocide of several communities who had been foolish enough to harbor the marked. No matter; she knew the streets of Caldot well enough. Had she not spent the last nine years surviving them? Now that her birthday had arrived and the appearance of the mark endangered her life, she saw no reason to expose the undergrounders to the risk. Survival would be a challenge, but the streets had toughened her and she was able to defend herself.
As the Graelith passed her, she noticed he carried no weapon. Given the extended snout with razor sharp teeth and powerful claws, a lesser opponent would not survive anyway. However, against a Human, the Graelith would be foolish not to employ one of the clever weapons at his disposal. Why hadn’t he? She strained for a clearer view of the boy’s face. Had she misjudged the situation? Indeed she had; the Graelith had already attacked this boy. Redness and swelling around the boy’s eyes were a clear sign stinging powder had been used to hinder his vision. Graeliths favored stinging powder because it reduced, but did not fully obstruct, the vision of their prey — a more rewarding fight.
Near the mouth of the alley, a high-pitched wail rose and fell, gradually increasing in volume. What would create such a noise? She held her breath, eyes trained in the direction of the sound. A second Graelith turned the corner into the alley. His left leg was badly injured, wrapped hastily to slow the bleeding. He limped slowly but steadily down the alley toward the first Graelith and the boy.
Even injured, the second Graelith made the outcome of the fight less certain. Kenrya flinched as the first Graelith slashed his mighty right claw at the boy, tearing a piece of skin on his left arm. The boy moved to block the attack, shifting quickly to his right. He swung his sword, barely missing the Graelith. The Graelith dodged to the side and rammed his fist at the boy’s face, hitting his target. The boy staggered back, but the determination on his face remained.
She had little time to make a decision. Should she help this boy? She rubbed the mark behind her left ear. Once identified, the Graeliths persistently hunted a marked one. Their tracking skills were legendary. She might be able to hide for a while, but they would discover her eventually. The mark lessened her chances of survival alone and this boy could be an ally. She glanced at the second Graelith, who was now within a few yards of her, and decided to act. She hoisted her pulsar and in one swift motion, jumped out of the darkness behind the first Graelith, and rammed the weapon into the base of its spine, sending high-voltage pulses into his body. He shrieked and spun toward her, swinging his right claw in attack. She could see the pulse working through the creature’s nervous system; his attack was weak. She nimbly moved to avoid him. He fell to the ground, his body jerking in spasms.
She turned toward the second Graelith, who was closing the distance between them, only to see three more Graeliths at the mouth of the alley. These Graeliths bore no injuries and would quickly be upon them. She and the boy couldn’t return to the safety of the vent as the Graeliths would now find them.
“More Graeliths!” She pointed toward them uncertain whether he could see the additional beasts. “We have to move now!”
“Which way?” He reached his free hand out toward the wall.
She grabbed his hand, pulling him toward the smaller alley. “This way!”
This side alley led to a maze of pathways and ultimately to a dead end, but after the third turn, they would find an entrance to the underground. The underground meant safety, if they could reach it in time.
They raced through the narrow passages, guided by her memory and the dim moonlight. She avoided debris and pavement cracks, ensuring as smooth as route as possible. First they turned right, then left. The third turn was to the left and, as they neared it, she hesitated. Were the Graeliths far enough behind to enter the underground unseen? Yes, they had just enough time. While the boy trusted her enough to run with her, she hoped his trust would allow him to follow her into the underground.
After the turn, she found the thick, square cover and, grabbing the two handles, pulled with all her strength. The cover fit tightly over the opening and wouldn’t loosen. She dragged the boy down next her and placed his hands on one of the handles. “Pull,” she commanded, focusing her efforts on the other handle. She heard the Graeliths rounding the second turn. They had to hurry. With their combined efforts, the cover finally loosened allowing them to raise it from the opening below. She guided the boy’s hands to the wall holding the attached ladder and instructed him to climb down. He hesitated. The Graeliths were in the alley immediately around the corner. Kenrya nudged him, urging him to hurry. He climbed into the shaft and she followed, pulling the heavy cover back over the entrance. Once they had climbed a few feet below the covered opening, she reached down to the boy to indicate he should stop. They waited, listening to the Graeliths hurling cans and bins, searching for them.
Chapter 2
Tip slouched against the hard-backed chair in the corner of his room in his family’s home. They lived in Kentish, an outbound community a four-and-a-half-day walk from the southern walls of Caldot. He watched day breaking through the window on the opposite wall. Today he turned sixteen. He walked over to the small mirror on the wall and sighed as he stared at his reflection. His six-inch long, fluffy brown hair framed a soft face and showed tips of green today, though tomorrow they could be purple or red, changing each day randomly. His build was slight. His mind was his strength. If he could fight with his mind, he would be undefeatable. He was a Liput; there was no way to hide that fact. He took a long, slow breath.
The Liput were farmers, known throughout the region for their excellent-quality produce. Mechanical ingenuity separated Kentish from other farming towns. Naturally, most machines in town focused on improving the town’s farming capability. However, the people of Kentish made weak warriors. Most lacked the skill to wield a weapon with deadly force and tended to settle their disputes through compromise. To compensate, an electronic barrier designed by the Liput protected the city and prevented any unwelcome visitors from entering. While electric weaponry protected the town, a Liput boy of sixteen remained an easy target when away from home.
The power struggle for control of their world between the Miyrans, founders of Caldot, and the Tyrnotts, the current renegade rulers, was of little consequence to the Liput community as a whole. Though they favored the Miyrans, the distance between Kentish and Caldot allowed them the luxury of ignoring the outside world. The only necessary contact involved selling their crops each fall in the Caldot marketplace, or when traders from the city visited Kentish to sell their wares. Unfortunately, the struggle for Caldot was of utmost importance to Tip’s family.
Tip was only nine when his brother Trul turned sixteen. He remembered it well. Tip had been repairing a small, broken engine in his room, waiting for the rest of the family to awaken, when Trul screamed for his parents. Tip opened his bedroom door and saw his mother and father rush into Trul’s room. As his other brother, Sri, who was thirteen at the time, stumbled groggily from his room, Tip slipped down the hallway to peer into Trul’s half-opened door. He witnessed his father staring, mouth agape, at the mark behind Trul’s left ear. His mother held her hand over her mouth and had tears in her eyes; to this day, the horrified look on her face remained a vivid memory.
Once dressed, the family silently filed down the narrow staircase to the small but tidy kitchen below. Tip gathered around the table with his parents and brothers, not understanding that this was their last meal together. His mother had managed to calm down and both his parents encouraged Trul by explaining how the mark meant he was destined for greatness among the Miyran warriors, though their eyes, dim and frightened, failed to reflect their words of hope.
As Tip learned that day, on each child’s sixteenth birthday, the town council inspected the child
and, not finding a mark, declared him or her not a threat to the townspeople. The law had been enacted around the time of Tip’s birth when Graeliths destroyed two communities to the east of Caldot for hiding marked teenagers. While the council took the task seriously, they had never been forced to invoke their right to expel a child. A Liput had never before been marked. Trul was the first.
Shortly after the morning meal, the council of six dutifully arrived to inspect Trul. The eldest of the council, nearly ninety in age, looked behind Trul’s ear. At seeing the mark, the old man gasped. The other councilmen each in turn examined the place behind Trul’s ear and each gasped. They huddled in a corner of the room and spoke only briefly among themselves, then ruled unanimously that Trul must leave the town immediately for the townspeople were no longer safe from the Graeliths otherwise. To harbor a marked one surely meant death for all.
The council then waited outside the home while Trul prepared for his departure. Their mother began sobbing and her wails were easily heard by neighbors and passersby. Tears welled in their father’s eyes, but he quickly steadied himself and put his hand on Trul’s shoulder to lead him upstairs. Of course, all Liput children learn tales of the marked ones, but as none had ever existed before in Kentish, Tip failed to fully understand the importance of his brother’s fate. Trul and their father returned shortly to the kitchen with a small, though fully packed, knapsack. Their mother gathered food in a satchel and attached this to the knapsack. Their father walked to the locked case hanging on the far wall beside the family portrait. He withdrew a silver key from his pocket, opened the case, and removed from it the family’s only carving knife. His tears had returned when he turned back and handed the knife to Trul, yet he hurried the boy toward the door, nonetheless.
The family walked through the front door where the council waited. The council elder looked Trul up and down and nodded, as if to confirm their decision was correct, though he brushed a single tear from his eye. Then the family and the council began a slow march down the path toward the edge of town. At each house they passed, the neighbors stood at the front steps. While Kentish was known for its slow way of life, gossip traveled quickly. The neighbors’ faces betrayed their pity and fear.
The Journey of the Marked (The Miyran Heir Book 1) Page 1