The Vine Eater (The Magic Eaters Trilogy Book 2)

by Carol Beth Anderson

  After a run that consumed whatever energy Krey had left, they reached the house. It was unlocked. Inside, it smelled stronger of animal waste than it had in the winter.

  “It’s Krey, Zeisha, and Ovrun!” Krey called in a low voice as they searched the dark house, bumping into walls and doorframes along the way. “We’re alone! Anyone here?”

  There was no response.

  They entered the back yard. Krey again called out, with the same results.

  “Please!” Zeisha said. “We escaped! If someone’s here . . .” Her voice turned pleading. “We need to go home.”

  From the rear of the yard, a male voice called, “Come into the trees!”

  There was no moon. Krey took Zeisha’s hand. Along with Ovrun, they hurried into the darkness, toward trees they could barely see.

  “Here,” a female voice said softly.

  They followed the voice. A hand grasped Krey’s arm. He pulled away, muscles clenching, ready to fight.

  “It’s me. Isla.”

  Zeisha gasped and drew Isla into a tight hug. Once again, they were comforting each other, like they’d done for months in that awful warehouse.

  As much as he wanted to let Zeisha enjoy the moment, Krey wasn’t about to risk their lives for it. “Lars might be following us,” he said.

  “Then let’s get out of here,” Isla replied. She took off at a run. The rest of the group followed.

  Krey had been a runner for years, but after a few minutes, his body refused to keep up with the rescue team. He’d gotten little sleep the previous night and none tonight. He feared he’d collapse. Zeisha’s and Ovrun’s breaths sounded as labored as his.

  “We have . . . to stop,” he gasped.

  Everyone halted.

  Krey bent over, gulping in air. Zeisha and Ovrun did the same. After several blissful breaths, Krey looked up.

  “Let’s get out of the street,” Isla said. She led them between two buildings. Once they were huddled together, she said, “We can take a couple of minutes to recover, but we’ve got to get you three back to Deroga.”

  “Lars will tell the king we’ve escaped,” Ovrun said, still breathing heavily. “I don’t know if we can beat his people to Deroga. We know he has at least one flyer on staff. She could find us and shoot us down.”

  Krey had been thinking through this as they ran. “I need to find a place that sells feathers,” he said. “I’ll break in and take enough to fly me and Zeisha to Deroga. The rest of you can get orsas. If you don’t have money to rent them, you’ll have to steal them.”

  One of the male militia members laughed. “We don’t need orsas or feathers. We’ve got a much faster option waiting outside the city.”

  Krey’s shoulders fell. “You’re gonna make me ride a damn dragon again, aren’t you?”

  “You don’t like dragons?” Isla asked.

  Krey’s only response was a groan. Zeisha coughed, and he was pretty sure she was covering up laughter.

  “Let’s go,” Isla said. “We can walk for a few minutes so you can catch your breath, but we have to keep moving.”

  As they walked at a quick pace, Krey scrambled for a way to avoid flying on a dragon. He knew it was a stupid phobia, but he could fly himself, if he just got some fuel—

  He stopped walking.

  “What is it?” Zeisha asked, halting next to him.

  He forced his tired feet to move again. “I just had an idea.” It was a good one, too. It would keep him off the dragon. More importantly, it might make a difference in the upcoming battle. “I need to find Hatlin.”

  “Hatlin? Why?”

  “I have to tell him to move forward now with their army uprising. That might be the only way to prevent Deroga from getting invaded.”

  Zeisha slipped her hand in his. “What’s gonna happen when you’re alone?” she asked softly. “Will you be able to resist your cravings?”

  He cursed. My failure has to screw up everything, doesn’t it?

  “How are you doing with all that?” Zeisha murmured.

  They touched base like this at least once a day. Every time, Krey had to fight his natural defensiveness. He sucked in a deep breath, then blew it out. “The cravings are worse when I’m tired like this. I’ve been trying to ignore them, but . . . the desire is right there, waiting to leap out and grab me.”

  She squeezed his hand. “Thanks for being honest.” She didn’t admonish him. She just accepted his words and loved him.

  God, you know I don’t deserve her.

  Krey pondered his quandary. Could someone else contact Hatlin? Ovrun had met the New Therroan flyer. But even if he could track down Hatlin, how would Ovrun get back to Deroga? If he walked, the king’s people might catch up with him.

  Krey’s plan had been to go to the pub where the New Therroan League used to meet. The owner was sure to know where to find Hatlin. Maybe the entire group could go instead of just him.

  He discarded the idea. It would take at least half an hour to get to the pub. Every minute was important right now. If Krey delayed them, he’d be putting everyone, including the dragons, at risk.

  “Let’s run,” one of the militia members said.

  Krey groaned but released Zeisha’s hand and broke into a jog. He allowed his mind to drift to the shimshim brains he’d eaten almost two months ago. The thought of them made his mouth water.

  It also made his brain light up with warnings—warnings he’d actually listened to lately. Yes, he wanted his fuel. But he also felt sick when he considered consuming it again. The cost was too high. More than he wanted the taste of the fuel and the thrill of controlling minds, he wanted his friends. His mental freedom.

  He turned to Zeisha. She was panting but handling the run well. “Someday, I have to be able to resist it all by myself,” he told her quietly. “I can’t guarantee that I’m ready to do that. But I think I am.”

  Zeisha came to a halt. Krey did too. Everyone else was in front of them, and no one seemed to realize they’d stopped. Light from a street lamp reflected in Zeisha’s wide eyes. She nodded slowly, then said, “If you believe you’re ready, I believe it too. And if you’re going, you should do it now.” She stood on her tiptoes. Her lips, warm and soft, pressed firmly to his. “Be careful, Krey. I love you.”

  “I will. I love you too.”

  “Go. I’ll tell the others.”

  And with that, she turned and sprinted ahead. Krey gave himself a few seconds to admire her departing form. He shook his head, laughing softly. Where had her new strength and decisiveness come from? Half the time lately, he felt like he didn’t know her. But he loved the person she was becoming.

  He turned and forced his feet to run again. Every few minutes, he took walking breaks, just to catch his breath. At last, he arrived, exhausted, at the pub.

  It was locked, as he’d known it would be. Krey’s knuckles were sore from knocking by the time the heavy, wooden door at last swung open. A bleary-eyed man holding a candle glared at Krey. “Something better be on fire.”

  Krey recognized Alit, the owner, but they’d never spoken. “I’m looking for Hatlin.”

  “Hatter? Never heard of the guy.”

  That was definitely a lie, though Krey had to give Alit credit for his quickness. “I used to meet with him, T, and Wallis.”

  “Must have the wrong place. I haven’t heard of any of them.” Alit slammed the door.

  Krey’s tired mind scrambled and landed on one fact he figured Hatlin didn’t share with many people. “He’s afraid of dragons!” he shouted.

  The door swung open. After a long, torturous pause, Alit smirked and said, “Maybe I recognize you after all.”

  Krey let out a sigh. “Can you please tell me where Hatlin is staying?”

  “Yeah. He flew back to New Therro yesterday afternoon.”

  Krey blinked. Exhaustion from the last two days, threaded with sudden disappointment, nearly pushed him to his knees. He forced himself to stay upright. “Any idea where he might be in New
Therro?”

  “I know a pub he frequents there.”

  That gave Krey a little hope. “Last question. Where could I steal a bunch of feathers?”

  It took Krey three hours to steal all the feathers he needed. He had to break into four different stores. At the final one, he almost got caught by the owner, who lived upstairs.

  The quest left him twice as exhausted as he’d been when he’d left Zeisha. So exhausted that putting anything in his mouth, even fuel, made him want to gag.

  He did it anyway. Just need enough to get out of the city before daybreak.

  When he couldn’t force another feather in his mouth, he hopped up and down a few times, trying to convince his body he was awake. Then he took to the air.

  Krey hadn’t yet exited the city when he did something he’d never done before. He dozed off while airborne. His swift plummet woke him, and he barely turned his magic on in time to avoid a rooftop. The incident scared him enough to restore his alertness.

  A few minutes later, he left Cellerin City behind. He landed next to a small copse of scraggly trees and closed his eyes. Instantly, he was asleep.

  A sharp pinch on his arm woke him. Krey yelped and flicked a bug off his skin, cursing it.

  The sun was barely above the horizon. If he closed his eyes again, Krey suspected he’d sleep the day away. He stood and shook his head and his limbs, trying to rid himself of grogginess. Even an additional half-day’s notice might be what the New Therroans needed to launch an army rebellion in time.

  Krey took a sip of water and ate a bit of dried meat, all stolen from shops. The hydration and protein gave him a little more energy and a lot more confidence. He fueled up with feathers and pushed himself into the air, heading northwest toward New Therro.

  He expected the trip to feel similar to his flights between Deroga and Cellerin City. It was about the same distance. Once again, he’d fuel on the go and stop when necessary for short rests.

  It was different in one vital way, however. Despite his short nap and his snacks, Krey was unspeakably weary. His thoughts drifted to animal brains. Temptation, wheedling and insistent, whispered dark possibilities to his weakened mind. I could hunt from up here. Dive and catch an animal. Tear it open—

  He swallowed and forced his thoughts elsewhere. Zeisha. Think of her. His chest warmed as temptation of another sort overwhelmed his weakened body. No, not that. He tugged his thoughts away from Zeisha’s perfect curves, instead considering who she was.

  In the early days after the militia battle at the warehouse, guilt had overwhelmed Zeisha. She’d seemed so vulnerable as she grieved her lost innocence.

  It struck him now that they hadn’t discussed her violent actions in weeks. Something fundamental had shifted in Zeisha, so slowly that Krey couldn’t pinpoint when it had started—or even exactly what had changed. She was more confident, but in a soft way that seemed to fit her perfectly.

  I wonder what’s going on in her head these days. His chest tightened with uncertainty, realizing how little he understood this new Zeisha. When I get back to Deroga, we’ll have a long talk. Just the two of us. The resolution felt right, giving him just enough of a mental boost to keep flying.

  As he continued, however, his stress and sleeplessness combined to make his normal pace impossible. He stopped more often—fueling up, eating, drinking, pinching himself. Anything to stay awake. Hours passed. He started talking out loud as he flew, just to keep his mind from shutting down.

  At last, he saw something in the distance. Tiny specks, like insects. As he got closer, he became certain of what it was. The Cellerinian Army. North of that, he could make out the outline of a city.

  New Therro. Thank you, God. Thank you. Krey ascended higher, above the sparse clouds, ensuring that anyone who saw him would think he was a bird. He approached, then flew in a huge circle over the area, trying to determine the best way to enter the city without being seen.

  According to Hatlin, soldiers were stationed within New Therro. Likely, sentries also patrolled outside the city, keeping their eyes out for unwelcome visitors and preventing the men of the city from deserting and returning home. Krey saw villages east of the city; an army to the south; and green farms, spotted with windmills, on the west side. To the north were steep, uninhabited hills. That looked like the best direction to approach from.

  I’ll fly up there and descend just low enough to spot any lookouts. When I know where they are, I can plan a route into the city.

  Alit had given Krey directions to the New Therroan pub Hatlin frequented. Krey was confident he could get there—if he could avoid the attention of soldiers both outside and inside the city.

  He flew north until New Therro was behind him. Far below were clommets upon clommets of grassy hills. They were lush and green. Beautiful.

  Mesmerizing.

  Krey blinked, trying to keep his eyes open.

  He’d love to lie on that grass with Zeisha. Hold her. Let the sun warm their skin. Close their eyes together . . .

  Krey’s eyes popped open. Panic filled his chest.

  He’d fallen asleep. Approaching him at a truly terrifying speed was the bright green of a grassy hill. The leaves of a nearby tree were crisp and clear.

  Krey was about to crash.

  Forgetting his desire to remain unnoticed, he screamed, begging his magic to turn on.

  It did—soon enough to keep him from striking the ground at terminal velocity. But not soon enough to keep him in the air.

  He tried to tuck his legs so he’d roll. It didn’t work. His hip and shoulder slammed into the grassy ground. An instant later, his head hit a jagged rock.

  Darkness teased the edges of his vision, then took over completely.

  30

  At the Cellerin Mountain archeological dig, radiation levels continue to rise. The dig’s organizers say workers are safe, since they’re all equipped with personal-sized antiradiation devices called antirads.

  I’d be nervous if I were out there, though. How can you be sure an invisible shield is working? Would you know if it suddenly broke?

  -“You Sure About Those Shields?” by Genta Ril

  The Derogan Chronicle, dated Cyon 22, 6293

  Zeisha sat with Nora and Ovrun at the breakfast table—though today, it was more of a brunch table. They’d slept longer than any of their bunkmates, but it didn’t seem to have done much good. Nora, who’d waited up for her friends’ return, had bloodshot eyes. Ovrun had propped his chin in his hand and was barely touching his food.

  Do I look as tired as them? Zeisha blinked, and it felt like there was grit under her eyelids. Pretty sure I look worse.

  “We should go,” Zeisha said, her voice low and a little hoarse. The night before, as a blood eater had healed Ovrun’s and Zeisha’s minor injuries, Eira informed them there would be a battle drill the next day. They all needed to prepare for the army’s invasion in nine days.

  “I’m sure Eira would understand if you skipped the training,” Nora said. “You look like you need some rest.”

  “I won’t be able to sleep, and I can’t just sit around worrying.” Zeisha’s eyes slid to the door. Krey didn’t fly as fast as the dragons, and he’d probably needed some rest before he left the city. She couldn’t calculate how long all that would take. Her heart kept insisting he should already be here.

  “Did you sleep at all?” Ovrun asked Zeisha.

  She pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes briefly. “Not enough.” She’d thought she was fine leaving Krey behind, but her subconscious had tortured her with disturbing dreams.

  “We should get started; we’re already late,” Nora said.

  They returned their plates to the small kitchen and exited the building. As she walked, Zeisha shook out her limbs. If I’m this tired, what does Krey feel like? And if he’s even worse off than me, will he be able to resist his cravings?

  A short walk brought them to the street where the militia warehouse, huge and foreboding, waited. Zeisha’s h
eart rate accelerated the second she saw the building. Memory fragments sliced into her mind, each one too small to grasp. Without meaning to, she halted.

  Nora and Ovrun stopped too. “You okay?” Nora asked gently.

  Zeisha nodded.

  Trogs and former militia members grappled and sparred with one another in front of the warehouse. A stone eater sent a barrage of small rocks at an armed trog. Across the street, a dirt eater shook the ground under a man and woman who were wrestling.

  This was the third time Eira had scheduled a mixed drill, involving both magic eaters and nonmagical fighters. The Star Clan had invited the other five clans to drill with them, but no one had accepted. They’d fight a common enemy when they had to, but on a daily basis, old rivalries were hard to overcome.

  “Let’s fuel up,” Nora said. Fierce excitement had replaced the sleepiness in her eyes.

  Will I ever feel that way? Zeisha wondered as she trudged toward the warehouse.

  When they were fueled up, Nora trotted up to Zeisha. “Ready?”

  “Go ahead; I’ll be out soon.” Seeing Nora’s eyes narrow in concern, Zeisha forced a smile. “I just need to figure out what I’m doing out there. I thought next time we trained, I’d be flying with Krey.”

  Nora bit her bottom lip. “He’ll be back soon. I’m sure he will.” But Zeisha heard doubt in her voice.

  Nora released her and jogged outside. Zeisha told herself she should follow. Yet ever since her fight with the dirt eater, she’d hated every training day more than the last. Now here she stood, short of breath before even entering the fray.

  If Krey were here, he’d pick me up and say something about how distracting it is to fly with me. I’d still hate the thought of fighting . . . but at least his voice and the feel of his hands on my legs would keep me calm.