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

by Rebecca P. McCray

  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.

  Chapter 33

  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 bu
rned 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.”

  Chapter 34

  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 quiet
ly. “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?”