The Journey of the Marked (The Miyran Heir Book 1) (3 page)

Jurf balanced the pretty little
redhead’s order carefully as he edged across the crowded diner. He worked
almost every day and was certain she had never eaten here before. Surely he
would have remembered her. He hoped his nervousness wasn’t as obvious to her as
it was to him.

She smiled up at him as he placed
the food on the table. “Thank you.”

“No problem, ma’am ... well, miss
... uh ... ma’am,” he stammered and moved quickly from the table. As he backed
away, he couldn’t stop staring at the little redhead. She stared back, her blue
eyes glistening in the dim light of the diner. She wore snug tan pants and a
flowing, bright blue top that matched her eyes. He backed into the neighboring
table, mumbling, “Excuse me, sorry,” though the customers seemed as awed by the
redhead as he.

“Jurf!” his boss exclaimed. “Get
over here and leave the lady alone.”

“Yes, yes sir!” Jurf practically
jumped behind the counter, sighing with relief that his boss had drawn his
attention away from the redhead, though he found himself sneaking glances every
chance he could.

“Don’t recognize her species, do
you?” his boss asked quietly.

Jurf wrinkled his brow. “Not at
all.”

He flicked his eyes toward his
portly boss. The man was a Jirlt, a disagreeable species in Jurf’s experience,
though his boss was more tolerable than most. Jurf never understood how the man
heard anything, given his ears consisted of a dozen two-inch tubes that fanned
out from a single point on both sides of his head toward the top and back. Yet,
the man’s hearing was superb. Now he leaned closer to Jurf, stretching his thin
lips across his rounded, slightly protruding mouth, in what must have been an
attempt at a smile. The Jirlts rarely smiled.

“The little redhead is a Krystic. They
live in the foothills of the northern part of Caldot. Notice the fancy golden
design on her forehead?” Jurf glanced at the intricate loops that curved up
from her well-defined eyebrows in loops, dancing up to her hairline like a
lattice. He turned to his boss and nodded in response. His boss continued, “All
the Krystic women have them.”

Jurf had heard of the Krystics that
lived in that part of the city, the foothills that lead to the massive mountain
peaks farther north. He had never seen one before, though, as they rarely
ventured into the southern part of the city where the shabby little diner
served equally shabby customers. He peeked at the redhead again. She radiated
beauty and an odd sort of light. She was stunning, almost glowing. Looking
across the dark and dingy diner, she seemed to be surrounded by a surreal light.
He looked back at his boss, who simply shook his head.

“Look at them too long, boy, and
you won’t be able to look away. Beauty like none other across the far lands,
and a mesmerizing song that ensnares the strongest of men. They can even tame a
Graelith, so I’ve heard.” His boss shook his head again. “Be careful, my boy. Be
careful.” He crossed to the counter to tend to another customer.

Jurf stole another glance at the
redhead. She was gracefully sipping her broth and staring out the clouded glass
of the diner entrance. She seemed to be watching for someone, yet hardly seemed
to focus on the travelers passing by outside. Why was she here in this grim
diner?

He shook his head harshly, as if to
dismiss her image from his mind, and turned to assist another customer.

Tip walked at a brisk pace down the
dirt road leading from Kentish to Stipol, enjoying the warmth of the sun on his
face and the fresh breeze blowing the scent of the wildflowers that grew on the
roadside. What a relief that his uncle had arranged to be in the guardhouse on
the morning of Tip’s birthday and had the foresight to obtain a laser gun in
case Tip was marked! Of course, he wished he could have stayed in Kentish, but
at least his family cared about him and hoped that he would succeed.

While he walked, lost in thought,
the rolling fields of Kentish fell away and the grounds surrounding the dirt
road became more barren and exposed. Something swift and small zipped by Tip’s
head, jarring him from his deep thoughts. He jerked his head toward the motion,
spying a small, purple bird rising into the air and circling. It flew in a wide
arc, then tucked its wings and dove at an alarming speed directly toward Tip’s
head. He ducked just in time, as the little bird flew by and started rising into
the air again and circling.

This time, the bird flew in a
larger circle and farther down the path before dipping low and coming directly
toward Tip. At that moment Tip saw something else in the distance. He strained
for a clearer view of what appeared to be two very large shapes, traveling
slowly along the path from Stipol in his direction. Tip would have failed to
notice them until they were much closer if the bird hadn’t drawn his attention
to them. Meeting two strangers in such an isolated place could be dangerous. His
palms began to sweat and his stomach tightened. He dropped to his hands and
knees. His eyes darted to either side of the path, as he needed the protection
of the tall, dried stalks remaining after last year’s harvest. The stalks lined
the road closer to Kentish, but grew farther away from the road here. He
crawled slowly into the tall grass and worked his way toward the stalks, which
would provide cover for the rest of his journey to Stipol.

Once he reached the field, Tip
continued deep enough into the dried vegetation to be hidden from view, then
stood, brushing the dirt from his pants. He surveyed the road, noticing the two
figures were closer now and of an unfamiliar species. They were hairy,
beast-like creatures, with snouts and claws. Graeliths, perhaps, though he
wasn’t certain.

The little, purple bird landed on a
stalk near Tip and gazed in the same direction. Tip looked at the little bird,
which looked at him in return. Tip nodded in gratitude, more from habit than
the expectation that the bird really understood. After all, this bird was
something of a lucky charm since it had alerted him to the potential danger on
the road. He then turned and wended his way slowly through the crops to avoid
drawing attention to any movement. Behind him, the little bird watched his
progress for a few moments, then nodded in return and flew away across the
fields.

After several hours, Tip reached
the edge of the fields. He paused to scan the area, cautious after his close
encounter earlier that morning. No other creatures were within view and the
transport station was a short walk away on the edge of the village of Stipol. Luckily, he would be able to reach it without having to cross the bridge
over the river, leaving him further exposed. As he would no longer benefit from
the protection of the fields, he returned to the dirt road and walked swiftly
toward the station.

Once at the station, Tip bought a
ticket from the woman at the ticket counter and climbed the stairs to the
platform. As he reached the top of the stairs, he hesitated and scanned the
area for anyone unusual. He wasn’t exactly certain what might constitute
“unusual,” but he trusted his instincts to keep him safe. The platform
consisted of a long expanse of wood planks, stretching approximately thirty
yards, and was raised several feet off the ground. About a dozen Raptans, the
species inhabiting Stipol, milled about the platform, but there were no other
species. The Raptans strongly supported the Miyrans. He breathed a sigh of
relief.

The transports arriving on the
western side of the platform headed to Caldot; while those on the eastern side
ran farther outbound to the last stop, which provided access to the city for
other communities, as well as a few small communes even farther away. He had
never visited the communes, but they apparently consisted of vagabonds from
Caldot that had abandoned the city to live in the spaceship remnants far to the
south, remnants left by those arriving on the planet years ago from distant
worlds.

Tip picked an unobtrusive spot on
the western side of the platform, some distance from the nearest Raptan and on
the end of the platform where he could board the back of the transport. Most
citizens preferred to ride in the front, which made the back a better choice. He
turned to discover that a Raptan was watching him. Tip swallowed hard, but
didn’t divert his eyes. The Raptan was tall and willowy, with long arms and
fingers. He had dark hair pulled back from his face, a high forehead, and a
beak-like nose — all traits common to the Raptans. The Raptan’s eyes softened. He
bowed his head, turned, and walked farther down the platform. Tip watched him
for a moment, then shifted his eyes to the direction from which the transport
would arrive. The Raptan must know he was marked. He grasped the edges of his
coat, his hand close to the laser gun. What should he do? What
could
he
do?
Relax,
Tip reminded himself and took a deep breath. After all, the
Raptans were friends with the Liput and supported the Miyrans. Hopefully the bow
was a sign of respect, even support, and meant nothing more. He gnawed on his
lip. Besides, what else could he do … walk? Traveling by foot was too risky and
the distance too far. He would stick with his plan and travel by transport.

The five-car transport headed to
Caldot arrived shortly, hovering a few feet above the ground. Scratched and
aging metal encased the transport’s bottom half, while a dirty, tinted glass
dome covered the top half. Tip carefully stepped onboard the last car. The
transport held rows of seats with two seats on each side, all facing the
direction the transport traveled. An opening linked the last car to one
directly in front of it. No one else sat in this car. Tip found a seat in the
back and hugged his bag to his chest. Just before the doors closed, the Raptan
from the platform climbed aboard, along with two young Raptan males. They each
nodded at Tip, then sat in seats scattered between Tip and the opening to the
next car. As the transport doors closed, the older Raptan turned to Tip and
said softly, “We can’t accompany you once we arrive in the city, but we can
ensure you have no trouble between here and there.” He gave a quick nod and
turned to face front.

Tip stared at the back of the
Raptan’s head for a few moments. One of the young Raptans turned and winked. Tip
smiled, profoundly moved by their kindness, and he felt his shoulders relax a
little. As the transport started its journey, he watched the countryside pass
by. He recognized the village of Stipol and the herds of klen being shepherded
by the Raptans outside the city. The klen were a primary source of meat for
Kentish, as well as Caldot. They multiplied quickly and were stocky creatures
with six legs and thousands of little scales covering their bodies. The scales
reflected the sunlight, cooling the animals, as well as serving a number of
other uses for the population. A klen scale necklace was quite beautiful and
could fetch a handsome price. Because they also served a variety of useful
purposes in machinery, Tip carried a bag of scales with him at all times.

He turned his attention to the city
in the distance. While he had made this journey before, everything felt new to
him in his now-changed circumstances. The thrill of adventure teased him as he
debated which station would be the safest departure point. He was an easy
target and friends like the Raptans would be scarce in Caldot. He only hoped he
would be able to sense danger and avoid it.

He decided the Raca Station was the
best choice. While the surrounding area was not perhaps the safest from crime,
it was home to a wide variety of species, thus providing the best camouflage. He
last visited this part of town half a year ago in the fall. With any luck, he
could still find the marketplace from which he should be able to find the
palace.

Tip gazed in delight as the city
came into view with the massive mountains looming over it to the far north. The
Liput learned geography in class, but Tip had never ventured anywhere farther
than Caldot. He longed to visit the mountains that tapered in size as they
journeyed northwest of the city, where they split into two ranges with the
larger peaks continuing west, while slightly smaller peaks curved, eventually
running south and gradually lessening in height toward the marshes far to the
southwest of Caldot. The flat and dry lands to the east of Caldot failed to
pique his interest like the mountains.

As the transport neared Raca, Tip’s
heart raced and he found himself swallowing to moisten his dry mouth. The
transport provided some security, but in the city he would be more exposed. He
pulled his pack on his back and moved to the door as the transport approached
the station. He glanced around to ensure no one else was nearby besides the
Raptans, then turned to the older man. “Just curious …”

The man raised his eyebrows.

“Graeliths? Big and hairy with long
snouts and claws?”

The man nodded.

“Thank you.” He closed his eyes and
thought to himself, “And thank you, little purple bird. If I ever see you
again, I’ll make you the biggest nest ever.” He looked at the man again, a
lopsided smile on his face.

The Raptan said, with the same
softness around his eyes, “Good luck.”

The transport slowed as it reached
Raca Station. The conductor’s announcement over the transport’s speaker
confirmed this was indeed the expected stop. Tip took a deep breath, nodded to
the Raptans, and exited onto the platform. He glanced around; it appeared much
the same as his previous trip. The station bustled with activity and a dozen
people representing any number of species moved on and off the stopped
transport. Then the bell sounded, the doors closed, and the transport continued
on its journey. Tip watched until the transport traveled out of sight. Maybe he
should have ridden all the way to the center of town. No, the traders had told
him that Graeliths watched the central station. Raca was safer and by far the
best choice.

“Ur ya lost?” an old, scrawny woman
asked. She rested upon a battered box, flapping her toothless jaws together
with a slap. Tip failed to recognize the species, but she was ugly. Her skin
hung loosely from her body and what little hair her head still held stood
straight up. She grasped what appeared to be a walking stick with frail, bony
hands.

Tip muttered a negative response,
mostly ignoring the old beast, and walked toward the stairs to leave the
station.

As he descended the stairs to the
exit below, the old woman’s sharp eyes followed him. Then she reached into her
bag and took out a communicator.