He shifted his position, hanging his legs over the side of the cave opening, “Good. For now we’re ahead of the Graeliths and well supplied. We just have to keep moving.”
“There may come a time when we have to make a difficult decision about our group.”
“What do you mean?” he asked hesitantly. Where is she going with this or do I even want to know? His muscles tensed in irritation at her implied threat. She bore compassion when it suited her and indifference when it didn’t.
“Some of the others are weak. They may become a liability to us. There may come a time when we must decide whether to sacrifice a few or sacrifice us all. Will you be able to make that decision, should the time come?”
Eros shook his head fiercely. “We must stay together. Each member of this group possesses different strengths. We’re weaker without all of its members.”
“Perhaps now, but that may not always be the case.”
“And tomorrow you could break your leg,” Eros retorted sharply. “Are we to leave you for the Graeliths and save ourselves?” He muttered and shook his head, then added, “Perhaps I should carry the pendant.”
Kenrya glared back at Eros. She removed the pendant from her neck and dropped it on the cave floor next to him. She quickly returned to the back of the cave for the night.
Eros walked into the cave and found a piece of cloth. He returned to the opening and wrapped the pendant inside the cloth, allowing him to pick it up without triggering the light, then slipped it in a secure pocket inside his coat. He was on edge; he recognized it. Glancing toward Kenrya, he sighed, as he now regretted his sharp words. She remained the most unpredictable member of their group, and that concerned him. He stared into the darkness in the direction they had traveled. The Graeliths were close, but surely he would hear them if they were moving. Perhaps they had settled in for the night. He strained to listen for noise of any kind. Should he wake the others, continuing their journey and forgoing sleep that night? Could they stay ahead of the Graeliths? Eros settled onto the cold rock. What would tomorrow bring?
Chapter 49
Mirna walked slowly through Kentish. She longed for Tren’s return and news of her son — either son. Several times during the day she varied her path to allow her to walk near the town barrier. This was foolish given that Tren had left only that morning, but being near the barrier allowed her to feel closer to Tren, to Tip, and even to Sri. The barrier was a necessary part of their lives, but now she wondered (and not for the first time) whether it served more to isolate Liputs than to keep others out. It gave the town a secluded feel. She paused briefly once she reached the barrier to stare at the world beyond. However, knowing her neighbor would be working the gate today, she stayed only a moment before moving on to her friend’s restaurant.
Lictia had befriended Mirna in her early school days. They excelled in their classes and spent many an afternoon studying together. As they grew older and Mirna’s hair developed its striking two-colored tips, their friendship became strained given the attention the boys paid to Mirna and not Lictia. After each married, they renewed their friendship. Lictia had proved to be a source of strength for Mirna throughout the marking of her sons. Certainly she would have something delicious cooking at the restaurant, and with Tren gone on such an important task, Mirna needed to maintain her strength.
While she wanted desperately to see her sons, the possibility of this was slim. The council would never allow them to return to Kentish, given the mark each bore. She failed to understand the wisdom of casting out children rather than protecting them. Her only hope was to learn that at least one of them had survived.
She rounded a corner and could see Lictia’s restaurant a short distance ahead, a bright green house with lovely little red flowers in the window boxes. What would she have for dinner tonight? And did she really want to sit there and eat it all by herself? Would the other diners pity her? Perhaps visiting Lictia was a bad idea. She hesitated outside the restaurant door. Perhaps I should just eat at home. As she was about to return home, the door swung open and there stood Lictia with her arms outstretched.
“Mirna, my dear! So glad you decided to join us for dinner. Your brother and his wife are here, as well as our old friend, Glia. I’ve closed the restaurant to other diners, so no one will disturb us.” As she hugged Mirna and ushered her through the door, she said, “Chin up, girl. Those boys of yours are the toughest Liputs I know. Do you remember the time Tip blew up old man Mipin’s engine?”
Lictia’s laughter was contagious, and immediately Mirna was glad her friend had dragged her inside the restaurant. They ate a full dinner and spent the evening entertaining each other with stories from the past.
As the meal ended, Lictia leaned over to Mirna. “Big favor. My assistant fell ill recently and I need some help in the kitchen. Any chance you could pitch in for a while?”
Mirna reached for her water glass and took a slow sip to give her a moment to think. While she’d like to help Lictia, the cooking was a lot of work. What was the alternative — sit at home and wait for news? She looked at the sly grin on her friend’s face and felt herself chuckle. Lictia always did have something up her sleeve. Even if the request for help was just a ploy to keep her occupied, she did enjoy Lictia’s company. She took a deep breath and smiled. “When do I start?”
Chapter 50
Azetan had taken the last shift, which allowed him to meditate with the sunrise. He had been patrolling the ground below the cave while the others slept peacefully. As the sun was beginning to rise, he climbed the tree, sat at the edge of rock ledge, and tried to relax. Then he heard what sounded like voices coming from the direction they had traveled the night before. He glanced behind him, confirming the others were still asleep. Straining to hear, he listened again and heard nothing. Still, the Graeliths would find the opening in the rock eventually and he wanted to be certain that what he heard was only the wind.
He roused Prizene and quietly explained the situation. She joined him at the entrance to the cave and listened intently. At first she heard nothing and shook her head. But just as Azetan was about to speak, she raised her hand to stop him. She closed her eyes to concentrate. The look on her face confirmed that Azetan had been correct. Her breathing quickened and she looked at him with fear in her eyes. The Graeliths had found their path. She told him they were far enough to give the group a safe lead and that the voices remained the same volume, indicating the Graeliths weren’t on the move, not yet; they must have camped for the night and were just starting to stir.
Azetan and Prizene quickly woke the others. Calmly and quietly, packs were pulled onto their backs and each climbed down the tree. They were careful not to dislodge any branches, leaving any trace of their having been there. Prizene had fully recovered from the quasm attack during the night and traveled unaided, with Spike safely nestled in her pocket.
Chapter 51
Tren woke early, excited about the news he might learn that day. He sat quietly in their tent and watched Jurf, who was still sleeping soundly. He decided the best course of action was to identify a job away from town to which they could contribute, allowing him to question Jurf more closely. Maybe his imagination was playing tricks on him, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that Jurf knew something he wasn’t telling him. In the meantime, while Jurf slept, Tren could check out the café the Plinte had told him about last night. Or perhaps he should first try to arrange their task for the day, then find the café. He dressed cautiously so as not to wake Jurf and crept out of the tent to find someone in charge of the day’s activities.
A slight mist drifted across the rolling hills, giving an eerie quality to the dome-shaped homes sprinkling the landscape to the south of the tent village. Tren walked carefully past other tents until he stood facing the village of Banston. The gray color of the homes was monotonous in comparison with the rainbow colors of Kentish. The area was largely devoid of vegetation or flowers, though there was fertile ground a little farther north where
he had heard the Plintes planted crops. Still, the landscape here was very stark, almost barren. He wondered why it appealed to the Plintes.
He strolled along the edge of the tent village toward the place where the coordinator had worked the night before. It must be too early, for there were no Plintes in sight. He turned toward the village, hoping to find someone else up and about at such an early hour.
Tren wandered through the streets, studying the homes. They varied in size, though not in shape and color. Windows stuck out along the sides and top, resting even with the building on the bottom. This allowed the windows to rest perpendicular to the ground and, he assumed, were easier to install since the windows were not curved in the shape of the dome. The doorways were constructed in a similar fashion. While drab gray was the predominant color of each home, he began to notice accents of color in the form of curtains and doorways. He also encountered many doors with intricately painted designs depicting battles, mythical creatures, and pastoral landscapes. He paused at each such door, studying the design and appreciating the skill required to paint such vivid pictures. Perhaps his original assessment of the town had been wrong. The beauty here was less obvious from a distance, yet he definitely saw it in the details.
He reached the center of town and found a small café, just as the old man had suggested. A Plinte man was preparing for the day’s business. He approached the man. “Good morning. I’m Tren. Is this the only café in the center of town?”
The Plinte looked up from his task. “The only one right in the center, yes. I’m Lifston. This is my café. I run it with my daughter, Ynelza. How can I help you?”
“I met a man last night who suggested I stop by the café in the center of town. Maybe I can help you?”
“We are well known for our tea.” Lifston smiled, welcomed him warmly with a handshake, and handed him a wet towel. He showed Tren how to clean the tables for the morning rush of customers. While Tren certainly hadn’t expected to be put to work this early, he tackled his assigned task energetically, all the while listening to Lifston as he hummed a lively tune. With the tables clean, they went inside and worked together to prepare the kitchen. The man’s daughter, Ynelza, put Tren to work stacking dishes that had been washed the night before.
“What brings you to Banston?” she asked as she ground a brown leafy substance in a bowl.
“I came to pay my respects to the family of the girl that was killed.” Speaking of the marked among the Plintes was generally safe. He hesitated with those from Caldot, given the high level of distaste for the marked in the city, but the Plintes were strong supporters of Anyamae, as were the Liputs. “And to possibly discover news of my son.”
“Your son?” Both Ynelza and Lifston stopped working to listen more closely.
Tren swallowed hard, as the reaction was stronger than he expected. There was no turning back now. He explained about Tip’s marking six days before and his hope that his son was still alive.
Lifston and Ynelza looked at each other and smiled. Lifston slapped Tren on the back. “Relax, you’re among friends in Banston. But don’t trust the city dwellers.” Lifston began sweeping the floor.
Ynelza returned to work, but began talking rapidly. “My twin brother, Azetan, was marked the day after Tip. He’s an extremely strong fighter, but we haven’t heard a thing. I just know he’s either reached the camp or is on his way.” She paused and placed her hand on Tren’s hand. “Still, it would be nice to know for certain.”
He squeezed her hand and nodded. “If I learn anything about either boy, I’ll let you know.”
“Same here.”
As they finished, Tren inquired about the assignment of tasks for the day and learned a central station between the town and tent village would be open by the time Tren finished at the café. He gratefully accepted the pastries and flask of the “famous” tea offered by Lifston and headed to the task station.
As Tren left the café, the sun was peeking over the horizon and the dim light from earlier was replaced by a splash of gold. The bright light bounced off the elaborate doorways Tren had admired before, creating a depth in the design not evident in the early morning mist. The door paintings came alive. He stared at one door with a mighty warrior and watched as the sword appeared to be moving toward a hideous, snarling beast with two heads. At the next door, he found a bright orange creature with eight legs and watched in awe as the massive turquoise wings stretched high above it as though it was about to take flight. “Amazing” was the only word to describe it. Every door faced the same direction, allowing them to maximize the impact of the sunlight. His appreciation for Banston grew with every step he took.
Arriving at the station, he found several Plintes discussing the day’s tasks. He learned the party bearing the deceased would arrive the next day and there was much to be accomplished before the sun set. The Plintes offered a variety of tasks for which Tren was suited and he volunteered both Jurf and himself to assist in clearing the large field southeast of town. Each of the four nights of the funeral, a huge celebration would be held in the field with music, dancing, and food. The workers collected much of the debris the day before, but another day was needed to remove rocks, limbs, and, most importantly, weapon debris. The field was the practice ground for their fighters.
Tren returned to the tent village and, after only a little confusion, found his tent. Jurf, now awake and dressed, gratefully accepted the food and drink Tren had brought back from the café. They sat together in the entrance to the tent and enjoyed a leisurely breakfast, while discussing their task for the day.
Chapter 52
Azetan and the other marked ones struggled to travel swiftly, given the increasingly rugged terrain. Tip led the group due to his athletic endurance and his knack for identifying the easier sections of the path to follow. Azetan stayed at the back of the group with Prizene to make certain she was all right. They paused at regular intervals to allow her to listen and every time, the Graeliths’ voices grew closer. That meant the Graeliths were moving as well.
In this part of the forest, the trees grew close together and little light shone through their thick branches. Their massive roots strayed in all directions and, more than once, Azetan saw one of the others stumble. The ground vegetation was minimal, but the rocks were many. The marked ones followed the only available path, slowly climbing and snaking their way deeper and deeper into the forest.
After several hours, Tip, Eros, and Kenrya disappeared around a massive mound of rocks. Maybe they would find something helpful on the other side. Azetan waited for Prizene, then they rounded the rocks and found the others waiting in a large ravine. The ravine’s shape resembled a figure eight with two elongated circles bounded by high rock walls. At the middle of the ravine, the rock curved inward, then back out, creating the illusion of two linked ovals. The ravine provided no cover. As the others hesitated, the Graeliths’ voices grew loud enough for Azetan to hear them. He looked at Prizene; she mouthed the word “closer.” The others began glancing over their shoulders. They must hear the Graeliths now, too.
“We’ll have to make a run for it,” Azetan declared. “There’s no other choice but to run the length of the ravine. Let’s just take the most direct path possible, and hope we find an exit at the other end.”
Tip led the way, sprinting cautiously across the open space. Azetan held back to keep an eye on Prizene. Tip reached the far side of the ravine before the others and began searching for an exit. He rushed along the base of the high rock wall, looking up and down.
Kenrya joined him and through quick breaths asked, “Where’s the way out?”
“There doesn’t seem to be one.” Tip threw his arms up in frustration.
“There must be,” she replied sharply and waved Tip out of her way. “There was no other path to take but this one. Why would it end here?”
Eros joined them. “Look carefully across the rock wall. There must be a way out.”
They searched frantically in opposite direct
ions, while Eros scanned the highest part of the rock face. Prizene and Azetan had crossed three quarters of the ravine when Kenrya turned to speak to them. At her wide-eyed expression, Azetan froze in his place and slowly turned to see what dread faced them. The Graeliths had stepped out of the forest onto the far side of the ravine.
“Eros! Tip!” Kenrya called.
Tip turned and shock crossed his face as a massive Graelith emerged from the forest. He smiled devilishly as he strode to the front of the pack, staring intently at the marked ones with no effort to move hastily across the ravine. His confidence alone was unnerving.
One by one, the Graeliths, nearly two dozen of them, exited the forest and stood at the far end of the ravine to study their prey. They drew their swords and started chanting. Azetan swallowed hard. The staring was bad enough, but the chanting was downright brutal to endure. A whimper escaped Tip’s lips. Azetan maintained his composure, but felt his mouth go dry. Indeed, Tip’s reaction was warranted.
Then Eros shouted, “There! I see it.” The others looked to where he was pointing — an opening in the rock face about twenty feet up. "If we loop the rope over that small rock sticking out at an odd angle, we can climb to the opening.”
“If the Graeliths don’t catch us first,” Kenrya replied tartly.
Only then did Eros turn to see the Graeliths at the far end of the ravine. His eyes grew wide, but he quickly set his jaw as he turned to Tip. “Prepare the rope!” He detached the coils from his pack and handed them to Tip.
“I will, but can we possibly climb it in time?” Tip raised a shaky hand and motioned toward the Graeliths.
“We have to,” Eros insisted. “See if you can hook it to that rock up there. Azetan, you go first.”
The Journey of the Marked (The Miyran Heir Book 1) Page 21