The Vine Eater (The Magic Eaters Trilogy Book 2)

by Carol Beth Anderson

  They reached the second floor. Rooms lined both sides of a long corridor. “Get us to a window!” Krey said.

  Hatlin tried the first door on the right, then the second. Both were locked. He threw his shoulder into the second door. Once, twice, again. The cheap wood of the door and frame cracked. The door swung open.

  A woman huddled in a corner, holding up a hairbrush like a weapon. She screamed.

  Hatlin ran up to her. He grabbed her brush with one hand and threw it on the bed. His other hand covered her mouth.

  “We won’t hurt you,” Krey said, “as long as you stop screaming and stay still. Got it?”

  She nodded.

  Hatlin let her go. “What’s the plan, Krey?”

  He gestured to the large window. “I’m flying us out of here.”

  “Both of us?” Nora hissed.

  “Don’t be stupid!” Hatlin said. “You can’t carry me!”

  “I’ve carried someone larger than you.” That might not actually be true. Hatlin was shorter than Ovrun, but he probably weighed more. Add Nora to the mix, and it would be dicey. Krey pushed every bit of doubt from his mind. He fumbled with the window locks. They didn’t move. He cursed and pushed harder.

  The locks popped out of place. Krey pushed on both halves of the window, swinging them wide open, then crouched. “On my back, Hatlin! Now! Nora, get on his back!”

  “I don’t think so.” Hatlin shoved Krey out of the way, stepped on the windowsill, and leapt off.

  Krey drew in a sharp gasp.

  Hatlin didn’t fall. He flew.

  Nora cursed loudly, then leapt on Krey’s back. The action was so sudden, it pushed him to his knees. He couldn’t fly until he incorporated her body into his magic.

  Footsteps and shouts in the hallway marred his concentration. He clenched his teeth, focusing his effort. In an instant, magic enveloped Nora. He felt her body as if it were his own. Tense muscles. Quick breaths. Pounding heart.

  Krey stood.

  “Stop!” someone shouted from the doorway.

  Make that two pounding hearts. Krey leapt into the air and flew out the window. A hand grabbed his foot just as he exited. He kicked it off. Nora yelped.

  But they were safe in the air. Krey looked down. He laughed at the half-dozen men at the pub’s back entrance who were still trying to get in.

  They flew quietly for a couple of minutes until both of them calmed down.

  Nora broke the silence. “I guess we know who the New Therroan feather lyster is.”

  Krey laughed. “I always thought there was more to that guy than he was letting on.”

  The Seer: 2

  Sarza held the knife and went through her forms. Ten movements—slashes and thrusts, all at specific angles she’d learned from a neighbor years ago. After the ten forms, she took five deep breaths, then started the whole thing over. Again. And again.

  Her family had thought it was funny that a skinny girl wanted to learn to fight with a knife. They didn’t know about the prophetic urge she’d had, the one that wouldn’t let her rest until she approached her eccentric neighbor and asked him to teach her.

  The man was old and quiet. He stood in his front yard every day, practicing a series of exercises with a splintery wooden knife. He agreed to train Sarza three times a week. He didn’t say more than a dozen words to her every session.

  But he was an effective mentor. He demonstrated. Motioned for her to copy him. Nudged her arms, legs, hands, even her abdominal muscles. Tighter here, his calloused fingers would say. Elbow up. He taught her everything he knew. They started sparring together. After a few years, she could beat him in a fair fight. When she’d joined the army, her knife skills had impressed the officers and made the other enlisted soldiers jealous.

  The movements were so natural to her that her mind could wander, even as her body moved and her tongue counted.

  “One. Two. Three.” Sarza had no idea why the king of Cellerin wanted to take over the city of Deroga. The why didn’t really matter.

  “Four. Five. Six.” All that mattered was that war and opportunity went hand in hand. This was her chance to stand out. Get power of her own.

  “Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten.” But opportunity was useless if you didn’t seize it. That was why she’d volunteered to stay in Deroga as a spy.

  Five deep breaths. Sarza gazed out the window of the twenty-first-story office she’d called home for the last six days. It was midday, and trogs were going about their daily business. She watched, but there was only so much she could see from way up here. She kept hoping a vision would give her some indication of where she should go to get information that would help the army.

  Spying kept her teetering on the border between fearful alertness and terrible boredom. So far, she’d left only at night, and only to steal food, clothes, and supplies. As a child trying to avoid attention, she’d gotten good at moving quietly and remaining unseen. In her brief career as a spy, not one trog had seen her taking the things she needed.

  During the day, knife drills helped her stay busy, but she could only do them for so long. Today, she’d been repeating the same ten moves for at least two hours straight. Time for some rest.

  A gust of cold, late-winter wind entered the room. Sarza wore only underwear and a sleeveless undershirt. Chill bumps rose on her thin, toned arms and legs. She stepped toward the stolen clothes she’d laid over an old chair.

  Sarza was always glad when she got some warning before a vision. Today, she wasn’t so lucky. One moment, she was fine. The next, her legs buckled. She fell to the floor.

  An image entered her mind: a vast expanse of pale-orange sky. Something was flying in from the distance. Something big. Maybe a carribird?

  No, not a bird. A dragon. Tiny rainbows glittered off its iridescent, gray scales. Sarza’s view shifted, bringing her closer. She could see the dragon’s eyes, two great domes of faceted gold. A smiling girl with straight, chin-length hair was on the dragon’s back, lying on her belly, holding on tight.

  Sarza came back to herself. Her eyes were wide. A laugh burst from her mouth. Normally, she’d be annoyed to get such a seemingly pointless vision. But a dragon—with a rider? Well, that was awesome. Whether it was useful information or not.

  She lifted her eyes to the sky, absentmindedly rubbing her hip where she’d fallen. She almost expected to see the dark silhouette of a dragon in the distance, but the only objects marring the sky’s expanse were buildings and clouds.

  Sarza sighed and got dressed. She’d keep paying attention—to the streets beneath her and the visions within her. Once she had information that would help the army, she’d sneak out of trog territory. A fellow soldier was holed up in a particular building in the city’s western suburbs, waiting for her to come back and report.

  Sarza would be the key to the army’s successful invasion of Deroga. She didn’t know how or when. But this was her time. She was certain of it.

  6

  I can’t walk to school without seeing at least half a dozen signs with the flashing message, “SHIMSHIMS AREN’T PETS.” I contacted Levey Rosh, president of the Derogan Animal League, to discuss their new campaign.

  “Shimshims evolved as foragers,” Rosh told me. “They’re meant to spend all day searching for food. When we adopt them and feed them, they grow complacent. It shortens their life spans.”

  In other words, get a pet caynin like everyone else.

  -“You’re Killing Your Pet” by Genta Ril

  The Derogan Chronicle, dated Quari 8, 6293

  “Can you tell me about your dad?” Nora asked.

  Ovrun’s footsteps slowed. When he didn’t answer, Nora wondered if she’d hit on a sore subject. “Sorry.” She lifted her head to look at him. “You don’t have to talk about it.”

  He met her gaze. “No, it’s fine. It’s just that I was thinking about where we might find a shimshim den. I didn’t expect you to ask about my father.”

  “Really, forget I asked. I haven’t known you lo
ng enough—”

  He grasped her shoulder and put his opposite index finger to his lips. Nora halted. Ovrun pointed to numerous piles of what looked like tan pebbles in front of an office building. Nora had spent enough time hunting shimshims to know what she was looking at. Where there’s poop, there’s prey.

  They entered quietly. In a back room, they found a lot more excrement, fresh this time, under an old desk. Shimshims liked to live in dark, enclosed spaces. But Nora didn’t see any of the little reptids or hear their trademark hisses.

  “They’re probably outside, foraging,” Ovrun said. Shimshims ate plants, and there was plenty of wild growth in Deroga. Between that and their frequent thievery of the trogs’ food stores, the little reptids thrived here.

  “Should we wait for them?” Nora asked.

  “Yeah. We’ll sit in the front room.”

  “Oh good, because this room stinks.”

  They walked back to the lobby of the small building. The couch was rotten, so after removing their packs, bows, and quivers, they sat against the wall, their knees touching.

  Ovrun looked straight ahead at the open doorway. “So . . . my father.”

  “We really don’t have to talk—”

  “No, I want to. I trust you.” He swiveled his head to give her a small smile, then returned his gaze to the door. “He was a traveling trader. He came to Cellerin City for about a month, enough time for my mom to fall in love with him. In fact, I used to sleep under a quilt he gave her.”

  Nora turned to Ovrun, though he still wasn’t looking at her. “What happened?”

  “He wanted to take her with him when he left, but she didn’t think she’d like traveling for a living. So they broke it off. He told her he’d visit. After he left, she realized she was pregnant.”

  “Did he ever come back?”

  A soft sigh slipped from Ovrun’s mouth. “No. He’d given my mom an address before he left. Said it was his parents’ house, and he visited them at least once a year. It was in some town south of Cellerin Mountain. My mom sent a letter after I was born, telling him he was a father. A year went by, and she didn’t hear anything. She kept sending letters every few months. She held out hope for years, but about the time I turned five, she realized he was never coming back.”

  “Oh, Ovrun.” Nora took his hand. “Your father is an idiot who doesn’t know what he’s missing.”

  Ovrun turned his head toward her and gave a helpless shrug. “Or maybe he died, or his parents moved and he never got the letters. I just wish I knew for sure, you know? And my mom . . . she deserves better. My sister’s dad stuck around for five years after she was born, but he was a first-class asshole. We were all glad when he left.” He blinked several times. “I miss them. My family. My mom’s a good woman; she just hasn’t had the best luck with men. Maybe someday you can meet her.” He looked away again.

  Nora waited for him to turn back to her. “I guess you got your goodness from your mom. Because you’re a good man.”

  A short laugh escaped his mouth. “I’m not so sure. You remember when we were hiding in that old park? When we were traveling through Deroga together?”

  Nora’s neck grew warm. “How could I forget?” She hoped one day she’d experience kisses more perfect than the ones they’d shared under those trees, but she doubted it.

  Ovrun squeezed her hand. “It was almost impossible for me to stop that night.”

  “Yeah.” Nora laughed softly. “Honestly, I kind of wish we hadn’t.”

  “That’s the thing, though—what if we’d kept going? What if you’d gotten pregnant? I almost turned into my father that night, Nora.”

  “No!” Nora scooted to face Ovrun directly. She placed her hands on either side of his face. “You will never turn into your father. If I’d ended up pregnant, you wouldn’t have left me. That’s not who you are.”

  “But you don’t know that.” He lifted his hands and gently removed hers from his cheeks. “Maybe I wouldn’t have been just like my dad, but think about what would’ve happened if you eventually went back to the palace. Your dad would never let me be king—and for good reason. It’s not like it’s something I’m prepared for or even something I want. I came so close to messing up your life the way my dad messed up my mom’s. I should stay far away from you. But . . .” He trailed off, shaking his head helplessly.

  “But what?” Nora whispered.

  Voice low, he said, “But I’m drawn to you, Princess.”

  Nora swallowed. He hadn’t called her that since his days as a palace guard. And while she didn’t like being a princess these days . . . she liked the sound of that word coming from his mouth.

  He wasn’t done. “When I heard Eira was ready to give us assignments, I told myself I would make sure you and I were working far away from each other. And what happened when we got in the meeting? I immediately offered to take you with me so I could teach you archery.”

  “Why did you do it?” Nora breathed.

  He reached up and traced her ears with his fingertips. He trailed them down her cheeks and her exposed neck, smiling when she shivered. His touch moved to her jacket-covered shoulders and continued its journey down her arms. Nora was far too happy when his fingers found skin again, this time on her palms, which he brushed so lightly, it made her shiver once more. He enfolded her hands in his and brought his gaze back up to hers. “Because no matter how much I try not to, I keep craving moments like these.”

  Nora rose to her knees. She leaned forward and grazed her lips against the skin of his cheek before bringing her mouth to his. As much as she wanted a replay of their previous kisses, she kept this one gentler, refusing to let herself lose control. That was harder than she’d expected, because, by the sky, he tasted and smelled so good.

  And it was deeper than pure pleasure. Since the militia battle, what she’d done to Faylie simmered in her heart, repelling any hint of peace. She couldn’t escape the sharp memories of cold ice and hot blood. But Ovrun’s kisses pushed her torturous guilt to the side. For a few perfect moments, she could almost forget what she’d done.

  Despite all that, she made herself pull away before it got out of hand. Ovrun opened his eyes and shook his head, smiling helplessly.

  “No babies, I promise,” Nora said. Those two words elicited a deep laugh, and oh, was he trying to make her want him more with that perfect, rumbling sound? She resisted the idea of kissing him again, instead sitting back and asking, “Remember our conversation at the party last week?”

  “Um . . . I remember our kiss at the party last week.”

  “Yeah.” She let out a contented sigh as the memory filled her whole body. “Well, in case you forgot, we did talk that night too. I told you then, I don’t know what my future is. These days, I don’t want to be a monarch any more than you do. The only thing in my life I feel sure about is that I want you in it.”

  “Nora.” His brow furrowed. “How are we supposed to commit to each other when we don’t know what’ll happen next week or a year from now?”

  “Maybe we don’t need to commit.” The answer suddenly seemed so obvious. They were stuck in Deroga, among people they didn’t know. They both needed companionship. And she had no idea what the future held, but she knew one thing: they were good for each other. “It’s not like you need to propose to me,” she said. “Although marriage would certainly have its benefits.” She bit her lip and grinned.

  Ovrun closed his eyes and ran his hand through his thick, wavy hair. When he looked at her again, he said in a low voice, “Maybe instead of making me think about those benefits, you should go on with whatever it was you were saying.”

  She stifled a laugh. “Okay. Let’s focus on the basics. You like me. I like you. We’ll keep ourselves under control, because we don’t know what the future holds, and we’re not ready to be parents. Do we really need to know anything else right now?”

  “I don’t think you get it,” he said, his voice low. “I’m not looking for a casual relationship.” />
  She digested that for a moment, then took his hand. Her smile was gone. “I understand. Does this feel casual to you?”

  He licked his lips and swallowed. “Not exactly.”

  “Just because we aren’t giving it a definition, doesn’t mean it’s casual.” She let the tiniest smirk onto her lips. “I mean, I’m certainly not gonna drag another guy to this shimshim den to spend quality time with him. All I want is to keep the door open between us. To let this”—she pointed between the two of them—“be whatever it is.”

  “We shouldn’t.”

  Nora looked down, releasing her breath.

  Ovrun’s hand tilted her chin up. “But I don’t think I can say no.”

  Those words transformed her heart into a ball of soft cotton. She leaned over to kiss him, but for the second time that day, he held up his index finger. This time, he used it to cover her mouth. Then he pointed behind her.

  Nora turned and saw a shimshim in the doorway, sitting on its hind legs, its long, blue body silhouetted against the bright sunlight. Apparently it didn’t see them or thought they weren’t a threat, because it dropped to all fours and skittered inside, running through the lobby and into the hallway that led to its den.

  “Should we follow it?” Nora whispered.

  “Not yet. Get comfortable and stay still.”

  Nora shifted to face the door again. Seconds later, another shimshim entered, then another. Within ten minutes, seventeen of the animals had darted through the lobby toward their den.

  “That’s probably all,” Ovrun said. “It’s a good-sized den.”

  Nora picked up her bow and stood, holding out a hand to help Ovrun up. “Let’s go hunting.”

  Seventeen shimshims. Nora would’ve felt guilty for shooting them all in that enclosed space, if she didn’t know how important the food was to their new community.