Chapter 15
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.
Chapter 16
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.
Chapter 17
“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 m
other 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.
Chapter 18
After several hours of underground travel, Kenrya saw Arith raise his arm to halt the group. Lutra gently lifted Tip’s arms off his shoulder and sat him down on the ground, leaning against the wall. Arith peered through a vent ahead of him, making no move nearer to it. Prizene and Eros looked questioningly at Lutra, who held his finger to his lips to indicate they should be quiet. Eros leaned against the wall, while Prizene restlessly shifted her weight from foot to foot.
The Journey of the Marked (The Miyran Heir Book 1) Page 7