The Journey of the Marked (The Miyran Heir Book 1) (20 page)

Prizene led the group, attentive to
staying on the roughly defined path, as well as looking for anything of
interest or concern. Spike remained curled inside her top pocket, though he
popped his head out from time to time, sniffing the air before scrambling back
inside. Prizene inhaled deeply, enjoying the thick, rich air of the forest,
which was so different from her home. Flowers with small petals dotted the side
of the path where the sun penetrated the treetops. She stopped momentarily to
watch a small bug flit from flower to flower. The bug had a bright blue body
and a dozen little appendages that twirled, keeping it afloat. What a strange
little creature. Ahead, the path sloped upward with bigger rocks strewn on the left
side. They must have reached the base of the smaller mountain chain that ran
south. The sun pierced the forest from high overhead now. With half the day’s
journey behind them, they would soon turn off the path, heading deeper into the
forest. She soaked in the beauty all around her.

She felt a slight shiver in her
pocket and peeked in at Spike. Based on what she had learned from the old men
the night before, she guessed that the little flibbit must be hungry. Since
they intended to travel with the old men only through today, maybe she should
try to identify the linoya plant herself to ensure she could continue to feed
Spike properly. She scanned the foliage along both sides of the path and then
she saw it: a plant just a few yards off the path appeared to be linoya. While
Aston had cautioned them to stay on the path, the ground in this area was
mostly barren. Surely it would be safe to move off the path this short
distance.

She stepped gingerly off the path,
then took another step and another. Nothing happened. When she neared the
linoya plant, she squatted, intending to dig the plant up with her sword to
reach the root. As she placed her hand on the sword’s handle, she spied a small
insect-like creature surfacing from a hole in the ground. The creature, roughly
two inches tall, was brown like a stick. Each of its four legs ended in a sharp
point, propelling it across the ground. From its midsection extended little
green clamp-like appendages. Its head was long and flat. She watched the little
creature in fascination.
Wonder what it’s doing? Oh no! He’s running toward
me!
She stood and turned back toward the path, but not quickly enough. The
creature jumped onto her leg, and all four points from its legs dug into her
skin. She gasped and swatted at it, only to see dozens more of the little
creatures racing across the ground toward her, preparing to attack.

She took a few hurried steps back
toward the path before the creatures pounced. They swarmed over her legs,
digging their pointed legs into her skin for traction and using their
clamp-like appendages to secure themselves to clothes and flesh. Once in place,
they bit her repeatedly. Heat rose from her legs and increased with each bite. She
screamed for help, covering her top-most pocket with her hands to protect
Spike.

Tip arrived first at the scene and
hesitated only a moment before approaching her. The little creatures covered
Prizene from mid-thigh downward and were slowly moving up to her torso. She
couldn’t move her legs. She choked, “Help me!”

Tip grabbed a loose branch and
started striking the creatures. While he knocked a few off Prizene, the
creatures took tiny bits of her clothing and flesh with them, causing Prizene
to bleed noticeably.

Aston and Azetan reached them next
and Aston commanded, “Tip, stop! Hitting the creatures will only cause more
injury to Prizene. Quick, race back to the wagon and bring Chimsey with his
flute! Tell him Prizene found a nest of quasms.”

As Tip sprinted to the wagon, Aston
turned to Azetan. “Do you know the song honoring children in death?”

“The story of the child-snatcher?”
Azetan asked.

“Yes, that one.”

“I don’t know the words, but I know
the melody. My voice isn’t my strength, though.”

“Irrelevant. Just hum the melody
while I sing.” Aston started singing a soft, melodic tune, while Azetan hummed
along with him. The quasms held fast to Prizene, though their attack seemed to
slow down. The music captivated them.

When Tip returned a short time
later with Chimsey and his flute, tears streaked Prizene’s face. She swayed dangerously
back and forth, as though she might topple to the ground at any moment.

Chimsey placed the flute to his
mouth. Tip seemed fascinated by the instrument and watched closely as Chimsey
released a latch and spun the top section of the flute. He blew into the end of
the flute, his left hand moving over the holes in the body of the instrument
while his right hand regulated the speed of the spinning top. The efforts
produced a deep, soulful tune. As Chimsey played, the quasms lost their grip on
Prizene and one by one, fell to the ground motionless. Aston stepped cautiously
in her direction and carefully plucked off the last of the quasms still holding
firm. Once that was done, he motioned to Azetan, who squatted by Prizene and
hoisted her over his shoulder. They returned to the path as the wagon
approached.

Chimsey continued to play. Azetan
lifted Prizene into the wagon with Aston climbing in after her. As the wagon
continued its journey, Aston explained that the quasms release a toxin into
their victim’s body that caused paralysis. Once paralyzed, the quasms feast on
their victim for weeks. Aston treated the worst of Prizene’s injuries,
providing her with a neutralizing agent to counteract the toxin and suggested
that she stay in the wagon for a while. To that she could only nod, then peeked
inside her pocket to ensure that Spike wasn’t harmed.

As Azetan turned back to watch
Chimsey, he spotted Tip standing motionless at the edge of the path, a glazed
look in his eyes. Azetan shook his head and approached the still-immobile Tip. Such
was the power of the Greots! He drew back his hand and slapped Tip sharply
across the face.

Tip drew his head back from the
force of the slap and blinked his eyes wildly. “Why did you do that?”

“You were sleeping. Here, take these
shreds of cloth and plug your ears.”

Tip took the pieces and replied
quietly, “I was not sleeping … just thinking!” Still, he rolled up the shreds
of cloth and stuck them in his ears, grumbling.

The party continued on its way. Chimsey
stayed until Kenrya, bringing up the rear, drew closer to him. He then joined
her on the path, all the while playing his flute to ensure the quasms remained
docile.

Isabelle returned to the sitting
room with her packed bag to find Anthony and Kalangia, still in his bird form,
staring at one another. As Anthony slowly turned his head to the right, so did
Kalangia. As he slowly turned his head to the left, Kalangia did as well. Isabelle
shook her head in bewilderment. “What are you doing?”

Without breaking eye contact,
Anthony merely replied, “Testing him.”

Isabelle threw her hands up in
exasperation. “Anthony, I’ve already explained to you, Kalangia is a Sharmuse. He’s
an intelligent creature.” Placing her hands on her hips, she glared at Anthony.
Kalangia was probably insulted; she should have known better than to leave him
alone with Anthony.

Now Anthony looked at her and
grinned. “I know. We’re only having a bit of fun.” He looked back at Kalangia. “Isn’t
that right, my little purple friend?”

Kalangia chirped merrily and cocked
his head. He flew and landed on Isabelle’s shoulder, quite close to her ear,
and said, “I may be intelligent, but I’m not so sure about your friend here. He
spent the last thirty minutes trying to show me how to fly properly.”

Isabelle laughed, relieved Kalangia
had a sense of humor. Anthony was just crazy enough to be funny. “Well, you two
are quite the pair. But we should leave for Banston if we are to arrive before
nightfall.”

They gathered their bags. Kalangia
rode on Isabelle’s shoulder for the walk to Anthony’s air transport. Anthony
told them that he still had a small rodent cage aboard his vessel, from the
days he had once kept a small pet. Before disembarking in Banston, he
suggested, they would transfer Kalangia to the cage for his safety. Kalangia
was safe aboard the transport, however, so once they boarded the vessel, he
shifted back to his Human-like form to more easily converse with his travel
companions. During their flight, he provided Isabelle with information
regarding the marked ones and their journey to date. He provided the names of
Eros’s companions as well. “When I departed the palace,” he told them, “they
had started their day with the Lady’s old men, crossing the wetlands.”

Isabelle considered this
information. Factoring in their most likely path, she calculated their present
location. “My guess is they are walking with the old men near the mountains. The
men meandered a good bit when I encountered them on my journey to the training
camp seventeen years ago. As it’s likely many of them are still among the
group, they are probably traveling even slower than they were back then.” She
smiled as she thought of Eros. “I taught Eros to always listen well and to
observe. He should learn a good deal from the old men.”

“And they have much to give,”
agreed Kalangia. “On another note, Rinald, the father of the fair child,
Prizene, visited the palace two days ago, seeking information on the
whereabouts of his daughter.”

“Did he?” Isabelle asked with
raised eyebrows.

“It seems his job as head of
commerce kept him from seeing his daughter during the week. He discovered she
was missing only after several days.”

“The poor man,” Isabelle murmured. “The
signs you mentioned in the square advertising for Prizene and Tip’s arrest — he
must have assumed his daughter bore the mark.”

Kalangia nodded sadly.

Isabelle added, “He must be
devastated! It was hard enough to say goodbye to Eros. I can’t imagine the
despair I would have felt had he left suddenly without my knowledge. What did
the Lady tell him?”

“He met with Virsos, the Lady’s
attendant, a strong warrior,” Kalangia explained. “She provided him with
confirmation that Prizene was marked. She also told him of the recovery of the Plinte
girl’s body and her funeral to be held in Banston.”

Isabelle smiled, “Very clever of
her. Then he likely is making the journey to Banston to pay his respects … and
at the same time he will seek news of his daughter.”

Kalangia nodded. “Presumably. Virsos
believes he’ll attend.”

“Then we’ll find him and share the
news we possess. Do you believe others that touched Eros’s life will be there?”

“Possibly. The undergrounder,
Ampal, will inevitably attend the funeral of his sister. The Liputs are less
likely, given they tend to hide in their village. There was a Hurfen boy that
assisted Eros and the others in the western part of the city. He plans to
attend, according to Anyamae. If we are able to introduce him to the
undergrounders, the Lady would be most pleased.”

“Happy to help,” Anthony chimed in.
“Why this Hurfen boy in particular?”

“He shows unusual courage for a Hurfen,”
Kalangia explained. “The Tyrnotts kidnapped his sister years ago and he wants
to protect others. The Lady was most impressed with his conviction.” After a
moment, he turned to Isabelle. “You have grown quiet. Why?”

She looked at him and shrugged. “Given
all her responsibilities, the ability of Anyamae to influence such small events
always amazes me. There is little she doesn’t know.”

“True,” Kalangia agreed, “though
she is selective as to the knowledge she shares and the actions she takes. Each
must find his or her own way.”

Isabelle furrowed her brow. “Has
she asked you to ferry such information before?”

“Never.”

As they each contemplated the
unusual situation, Anthony prepared the transport for landing. It was early
evening when they arrived on the outskirts of Banston. Isabelle carried the
cage holding Kalangia in bird-form and Anthony carried their bags. As the sun
rested low in the sky, a light pink colored the backdrop of Banston. Dome-shaped
buildings peppered the landscape, becoming more crowded near the center of the
village. People bustled throughout the town, including a variety of species,
though Plintes naturally outnumbered the others by far. They walked to the
center of town to the largest inn where Anthony had reserved a double room. The
frazzled innkeeper asked their names and after a few minutes escorted them to
their room.

“Has it been busy?” Anthony asked
him as they made their way.

“Busy?” The innkeeper whistled,
puffing out his cheeks in a show of exhaustion. “That’s an understatement. More
people arrive every day for the funeral. A tent camp has been pitched at the
edge of town to accommodate all the visitors. We stocked sufficient food here
at the inn for our guests. The whole town pitched in to provide food for the
rest. Much to do before the funeral begins. Luckily all the visitors are
helping with preparations in any way they can. Canopies, music, speeches,
seating must all be arranged.” He slowed down, then turned to face them. “Most
of the time, you know, the marked dead are never recovered. Honoring Ishta like
this is our way of honoring all those before her.” Tears sprang to his eyes as
he added, “Those like my nephew. He worked here as a boy, until the mark
appeared on his sixteenth birthday. He fought powerfully. We thought he would
survive, though no one has heard from him since he left two years ago.”

“I’m so sorry,” Isabelle said
softly.

Anthony nodded. “We honor him,
too.”

The man bowed his head, then turned
and continued to the room. The room was a dome-shaped hut separated into three
spaces, which included two bedrooms and a bathroom. They entered a small alcove
from which a door led to each side. The simple furnishings were somewhat sparse
and lacked personality, yet were sufficient for the days they would remain in
Banston. A door at the back of each room led to a shared bath, which was small
but clean. They settled into the rooms and, as the long journey had tired them
all, they bid each other goodnight and turned in for the evening.

Isabelle tossed in bed, unable to
sleep. Lady Anyamae was acting strangely. During Isabelle’s short rotation at
the palace, she had never encountered a Sharmuse, though she certainly knew of
them. Why was Anyamae determined to ensure Isabelle received the message
Kalangia carried? There must be something more to this. Perhaps she would learn
the answer when she found the others she was to seek at the funeral. Tomorrow
could not come soon enough.