Students around Deroga are studying ancient Earth myths. We’ve made hundreds of dragons from materials as varied as paper, bread dough, and polymus. The mythical creatures are waiting to greet you in restaurants, in stores, and on street corners. A few of them even breathe artificial fire.
I write under a pseudonym, so I can’t tell you which one’s mine. But trust me—it’s fierce.
-“Dragons Invade Deroga” by Genta Ril
The Derogan Chronicle, dated Quari 5, 6293
“She’s not going to fight?” Krey stopped on a landing and set down his lantern.
“No, she’s not.” Nora gestured to the many flights of stairs they still needed to descend. “Let’s keep going. We all have to get to work.”
Work could wait. Krey planted his feet. “Come on, Nora. Just tell me what you talked about.”
Nora let out her breath and folded her arms. “Zeisha knows she killed someone, so you might as well stop hiding that from her. In case you’ve never noticed this about your girlfriend, she’s an incredibly sweet, gentle soul.”
“I know that,” Krey snapped. “It’s why I love her.”
“Then you need to let her be the person she is! You can’t drag her kicking and screaming into a fight!”
From a few steps above the landing, Ovrun spoke. “We should talk about this as we walk. That break was longer than we planned.”
“I agree.” Nora started descending the dark stairs again.
Krey huffed, grabbed his lantern, and followed. “I’d never force her to fight. Who exactly do you think I am, Nora?”
“I don’t know! All I saw back there was a girl trying to tell her boyfriend that fighting is literally the last thing in the world she wants to do—and her boyfriend saying it’ll all be okay because she’s so strong! You were pressuring her to do the very thing that’ll make her hate herself!”
“But it won’t make her hate herself, don’t you see?” Krey’s lantern bumped against the wall at the edge of the stairwell. He moved it to his other hand. “Yes, I did see her kill a trog during the battle. Two trogs, in fact.”
“Oh, Krey.” Nora’s voice was softer now. “That would break her heart—you know that, right?”
“Of course I know that.” Krey’s chest tightened. He didn’t know if Zeisha would ever get over the guilt of killing innocents, even though it hadn’t truly been her wielding that vine. “It’s why I didn’t want to tell her, though apparently that strategy isn’t working. Listen, all this fighting is the last thing I ever would’ve wanted for her! But think about it. She knows she used her gifts for evil when she was controlled. By using them for good, she’ll . . . she’ll redeem herself. She’ll be able to move on.”
This time, it was Nora who halted on a landing. Krey almost bumped into her. She locked her eyes with his. Her tone was gentle now. “If you were in her shoes, you’d need that type of redemption. And I get that. It’s what I need too, after what I did to Fay—to the Overseer.” She let out a sigh. “I don’t think it’s what Zeisha needs. Redemption for her is making plants and bringing them to a hungry family. It’s all about life, not death.”
Krey stared at Nora in the dim lantern light. “You do realize you’ve known her for a few days, and I’ve known her for seventeen years, right?”
“Just think about what I said, Krey.” Nora’s voice hardened. “Use your brain, not your ego.”
The words hit him harder than he would’ve expected. Probably because he suspected she was right. He squeezed past her, descending again.
“Will you consider what I said?” Nora’s voice echoed in the stairwell.
She was gonna make him say it out loud, wasn’t she? “Of course I will. I already am.”
“Good.”
They descended two flights in silence. From his spot at the back of their little group, Ovrun said, “I’ve got a question. Do you really think the trogs can defend their city against the king? There’s only so many trogs, but Ulmin can keep drafting more soldiers if he needs to.”
Krey silently thanked his friend for the change of subject. “I’ve been thinking about that too. We need to talk to Eira about tipping the scales. We need more people on our side.”
“Like who?” Nora asked.
Krey smiled. “Like the New Therroans.”
Nora grabbed Krey’s sleeve. He stopped walking and turned to her. “You think they’d help us?” she asked.
“I think they have a heart for oppressed people.”
“I agree. And there’s one thing that might help convince them.”
“What?”
Nora started walking again. Krey heard the smile in her voice as she answered, “Me.”
The last time Krey had ridden a dragon, he’d just been woken from a brief stint of mental slavery and was desperate to find his girlfriend. Understandably, he’d been stressed out. Afterward, he’d convinced himself that if he was ever forced on the back of such a beast again, he’d be more relaxed.
His entire body was currently proving him wrong. He held to Osmius’s scales with painfully tight fingers, his stomach alternating between agonizing cramping and gut-churning nausea.
“Osmius wants to know how you’re doing,” Nora called over her shoulder.
It was too dark to see her, but if her voice was any indication, she was actually enjoying herself. There had to be something wrong with someone who liked flying hundreds of mets above the ground on the back of an unpredictable beast. “I’m fine.” Krey wondered if he was convincing anyone. Nora’s chuckle confirmed he wasn’t.
He’d been prepared for a solo, marathon flight into Cellerin City. He’d eat feathers along the way and stop to rest when he needed to. When Nora had offered to come, he’d assented quickly. He’d carry her on his back. It would be nice to have company.
Then she’d suggested Osmius take them. “It’ll be so much faster,” she’d said.
It was an easy argument to refute. “We can’t fly a dragon into the capital city. Even at night.”
“Of course not. He’ll drop us off at the outskirts. You can fly us the rest of the way.” Her voice had gotten softer. “The last few days have been tough. Osmius . . . he makes me feel strong.”
How could he argue with that?
His stomach roiled, and he wished he’d tried harder.
Krey hated every second of the flight, but it only lasted an hour or so. Well outside Cellerin City, Osmius descended in a slow spiral and landed.
Krey and Nora slid off. He leaned over, hands on his knees, until his breathing slowed. His nausea would take longer to abate. When he straightened, Nora was standing before Osmius, her hand on his cheek. Moonlight reflected off the dragon’s bulging, compound eyes.
Not for the first time, Krey envied her ability to speak, mind to mind, with dragons. What are they saying to each other?
Nora dropped her hand, and Osmius ascended.
“Did you and Osmius have a good talk?” Krey asked.
“Yeah,” she murmured. “He told me I did the right thing.” She let out an awkward little laugh. “Then he told me again. And again.”
Krey didn’t have to ask what right thing Osmius had been speaking of. Since the battle a week ago, he’d seen Nora’s guilt over Faylie’s death every time she pressed her lips together or stared off into the distance. “He’s right, you know.”
“He wants to be right, anyway.” Nora took a deep breath. “You ready to fly?”
“I’ve gotta fuel up first.” Krey sat in the dirt, pulled a bag of diced feathers from his coat pocket, and started eating. Nora sat next to him. Neither spoke.
After a few minutes, Krey rose to a crouch. Nora got on his back. When he lifted into the air and a frightened squeak exited her mouth, he let himself smile.
“Krey!” Hatlin’s eyes were wide over his crooked nose. He pulled the pub’s back door open a little farther, then stopped. “You brought someone else?”
Krey glanced at Nora. Her jacket hood was up, her head bowed. “I�
��ll introduce her to you inside, if that’s okay.”
Hatlin narrowed his eyes but beckoned them in. “Didn’t know if we’d see you again.”
“I still believe in your cause,” Krey said.
He’d gotten involved with the New Therroan rebels two months ago because he’d suspected they were behind the militia. The province of New Therro had never had a good relationship with the monarchy. They could’ve used a bunch of mind-controlled magic eaters to fight for their province’s independence. But the last time Krey had met with Hatlin and other New Therroan rebel leaders, he’d learned they’d never heard of the mysterious militia.
Krey looked around the empty room. Every Saturday night, a small group of rebels met here. When that meeting ended, an even smaller group of leaders remained. It was late; he’d expected to join that second group. “Where’s Wallis? And T?”
“Before I answer any questions, you better introduce your guest.”
“Right—sorry.” Krey turned to Nora. “You can take the hood off.”
She did.
A lot of Cellerinians didn’t recognize Nora at first sight. Most of them had only seen drawings of her in newspapers. But Hatlin’s eyes widened as soon as the lantern light fell on Nora’s face. “Princess! What are you doing here?”
“She’s on our side,” Krey said.
“I sure hope so.”
Nora said, “A week ago, I played a major role in a battle against my father’s lyster militia. Is that enough to convince you my loyalties aren’t with the crown?”
Hatlin stared at her. “I suppose it is.” He shifted his gaze to Krey. “Sounds like you have a lot to catch me up on.”
“Can we have a seat?” Nora asked.
Hatlin’s broad shoulders slumped as he let out a breath. “Yeah. I got a lot to tell you too.”
Krey pulled out a chair and sat. “You go first.”
Hatlin took a long drink from a beer mug in front of him, then leaned over the table, propping his elbows on it. “The king invaded New Therro.”
Krey sat up straighter. “What? When?”
“Thursday.”
Krey shook his head. That was two days ago, four days after the army’s invasion of Deroga. He’d wondered why the army hadn’t returned to the trogs yet. “By the stone . . . I’m sorry. How’s the fighting going?”
“It’s not.”
“What?”
“Our people fought back, but the army caught us by surprise. There weren’t even that many of them, less than a thousand. They’re not very well trained. But neither were most of our people. The army stamped out our pitiful little resistance within hours. Yesterday, the king brought his own leaders into New Therro. He says they’re administrators, but they’re tyrants. We can’t have our own governor or council anymore. They’re arresting anyone who talks about New Therroan independence. And they’ve taken all our men who are sixteen-to-forty years old.”
“Taken your men?” Nora asked. “Why?”
“They’re all soldiers now. Forcefully conscripted.”
“Damn,” Krey said under his breath.
Hatlin continued, “After the army subdued us, they stuck around. About a hundred soldiers are staying in houses in the city. Keeping order, they say. The rest of them, including our guys, are in tents outside New Therro. They spend all day training. But nobody knows what for. I mean, who else would they need to fight? New Therro was the closest thing the king had to an enemy.”
Krey sighed. The king had probably expected to achieve a quick victory in Deroga. When he’d arrived to an empty city, he’d realized how difficult urban warfare would be. If he had more soldiers, he’d be more likely to find, and defeat, the trogs. “So that’s it?” he asked Hatlin. “You’re not fighting back?”
Hatlin’s tired eyes crinkled, and the corner of his mouth quirked up. “I didn’t say that.”
Krey returned his smile. “There’s still a resistance?”
“A quiet one. But it’s there. Ulmin made a mistake only taking our men. Our women are just as strong. They’re looking for ways to communicate with the men in the army. We’ll find some way to fight back. After all this, nobody in New Therro still wants to be part of Cellerin.”
“So where are Wallis and T?”
Hatlin’s face turned somber again. “In hiding, here in Cellerin City. Protection officers are looking for them—but the officers don’t seem to realize I’m a leader in the movement too. They visited me and a bunch of others, warning us not to meet together anymore. I think they considered us pretty harmless though. They only knew about our big Wednesday meetings, not our Saturday ones. I came tonight, in case anyone showed up. Only a couple of people did.” He shook his big head. “The New Therroans in the capital aren’t as desperate for independence as those back home are.”
“How are you getting information from New Therro?” Nora asked. “I’m sure the king’s got sentries on the roads.”
Hatlin chuckled. “We may not have many magic eaters in our city, but we do have a flyer. He carries messages back and forth.”
“A feather eater?” Krey asked. “In New Therro?” Feather eaters were rare.
Hatlin nodded, then leaned back, clasping his hands behind his head. “Krey, I’m tired. What did you come here to discuss?”
Krey pulled water out of his pack and took a drink. “Last time we met, I told you about the magical militia. We found out the king was in charge of them. And we freed them.”
“Please tell me that means you can join our cause.”
“I wish I could. What I didn’t tell you two weeks ago is that the militia was being housed in Deroga. Trog territory.” Seeing Hatlin’s wide eyes, Krey continued, “The trogs helped us free the militia. They’re letting all of us live there for now. The king’s not exactly happy about that whole thing. Turns out he was planning to use all those mind slaves to subdue New Therro.”
Hatlin let out a low whistle. “No kidding.”
“Yeah. Why endanger your whole army when you can send in a bunch of magic eaters to scare people into submission? We messed up that plan when we freed the militia. And we pissed off the king in the process.” He updated Hatlin on the army’s recent invasion of Deroga, concluding, “We keep expecting the army to return. We didn’t realize they’d found another city to invade.”
“You better keep preparing. Once the army trains all their new soldiers, I bet they return to Deroga.” Hatlin shook his head. “What the hell is going on with the king? Until this week, the last time our army fought anyone was when they beat New Therro into submission fifty years ago. I never liked Ulmin—sorry, Princess—but I didn’t expect any of this. It goes against everything our country has ever stood for.”
Krey sighed and shook his head. He wasn’t ready to tell Hatlin that King Ulmin was not only controlling others’ minds, but also losing his own. “It’s simple. Ulmin’s gotten power hungry.” He took a deep breath. “I came here to ask you if the New Therroan rebels would help the trogs defend their city. I knew you’d understand the importance of their fight.”
Hatlin shrugged. “Sorry, man. The king’s got most of our men. The rest of us are gonna fight until we get our home back.”
“I know. But there’s one thing you can do for us.”
“What?”
“Send your feather eater to meet one of our people a couple of times a week. He can tell us what the army’s up to. We can even meet him halfway.”
“Wish I could, but we’ve got him flying too much already. Poor guy is worn out. And he’s sick of eating feathers every damn day. He’s gotta keep himself constantly fueled in case he needs to get somewhere fast.”
Nora leaned forward. “He doesn’t even have to go halfway. He just needs to fly far enough that no one will see him meeting me.”
Face twisted in confusion, Hatlin asked, “You?”
She grinned. “I have an alternate mode of transportation.”
Hatlin’s expression didn’t change.
Krey
rolled his eyes. “She’s talking about the dragon she’s befriended.”
Hatlin coughed and drew back sharply, like someone had punched him in the gut. “A—a dragon?”
Krey turned to Nora. “You sure he’s willing to take you on a ride every week?”
“I just asked him. He said no problem. Using more formal words, of course.”
“You—” Hatlin ran his tongue along his lower lip. His mouth opened and closed twice. “You asked him? Just now? You can talk to him?”
Nora nodded.
“Well, then.” He cleared his throat and, with obvious effort, returned his face to an almost-neutral expression. “I guess our flyer could meet you once a week. Can’t do it any more often than that. Every Friday, about three hours after sunset. Somewhere east of Cellerin City.”
“Cellerin City? Not New Therro?” Nora asked.
“Yeah, he’s based here. Flies in and out of New Therro.”
Once they’d worked out a meeting location north of the Eastern Road, Krey opened his mouth to ask another question. He didn’t get to speak a syllable. Loud, commanding voices sounded from the pub’s front rooms. Hatlin leapt up and bolted the interior door that separated the room from the rest of the building.
The sound of running feet, approaching quickly, traveled through the interior door. Fists banged against it. “Protection officers! Open up! Open up now!”
“Let’s get out of here,” Hatlin muttered. He ran to the back door. Krey and Nora followed. Hatlin’s hand was on the bolt when the knob started jiggling. The entire door shuddered as someone tried to force it open.
Hatlin cursed under his breath. The people on the other side of the interior door were still pounding and shouting.
Krey pointed at some shadowed stairs at the side of the room. “What do those lead to?” he whispered urgently.
“Upstairs hallway.”
“Are there windows up there?”
“Yeah, but—”
“Come on.” Krey grabbed his pack. As he ran to the stairs, he reached inside the bag, coming away with a handful of feathers. Chewing and swallowing, he took the stairs two at a time, followed by Nora and Hatlin.
The Vine Eater (The Magic Eaters Trilogy Book 2) Page 5
