A cool hand rested on hers. “It will be fine,” the Anya said softly.
Her eyebrows rose. “What will be?”
“Not everything, but many things.”
She flipped her hand over to squeeze his.
They’d been waiting about twenty minutes when they heard running feet in the street beyond. Zeisha and her companions stilled.
Ovrun and Kebi entered. Both had bows strapped to their backs. “I have our vine-eating team,” Kebi said, ushering them all in the building.
“Great,” Zeisha said. “Let’s get away from the street.”
Once the Anya was on Ovrun’s back, the group made its way into a nearby hallway. Kebi lit a few torches and handed them out. As they rushed through the building, Kebi told Zeisha that she’d seen three orsa-riding soldiers in the distance as they’d rushed to meet Zeisha.
They reached the room leading to the old Extrain tunnels. Ovrun helped the Anya dismount next to Zeisha. She realized everyone was watching her expectantly. Once again, they think I know what I’m doing. She managed not to laugh at that. Guess I’d better give them instructions.
“We all want to protect trog homes,” Zeisha began. “Our thorn shields didn’t work out, but our mission hasn’t changed.” She placed her hand on the Anya’s shoulder. “This man will raise shields for us. I don’t know exactly what’ll happen today, but I know this: we’re all going to see things we can’t explain. Our job is to protect this man . . . and protect his secrets. Can you commit to that?”
They all responded affirmatively.
“Are you fueled up? Extra fuel in your pockets and packs?”
Again, they said yes.
Zeisha scanned the group. They looked a lot more ready to fight than she was. She told Kebi what part of the city they wanted to travel to first, and they descended into the Extrain tunnels.
36
The Prime Minister of Therro made an eloquent speech yesterday about how proud he is of his people, who display friendliness, openness, and trust to all.
Then he returned to his home, hidden behind a tall, guarded fence.
-“Fences” by Genta Ril
The Derogan Chronicle, dated Cyon 30, 6293
“You doing okay?” Krey asked Nora.
He didn’t miss the tightness in her voice when she said, “I’m fine.”
They were flying low over the dark city of Deroga. Neither of them was totally happy with the arrangement. Krey wished Zeisha were with him, and Nora still hadn’t gotten over her fear of flying with a non-reptid. She’d argued against partnering with Krey, but Eira had told her to get over it.
At least I’m flying with a friend, not a random militia member, Krey thought. And Nora truly was the most practical choice. She could communicate with the two dragons who were also flying over Deroga. They were using their superior vision to monitor the situation below. When they saw anything the trogs needed to know, they’d tell Nora. Krey would then fly through the city, acting as a messenger.
From the air, it had quickly become clear that the mounted soldiers were there to gather information and to intimidate the trogs. Armed with guns, they rode swiftly through the streets, often drawing attacks from archers, magic eaters, and even Taima.
The black dragon’s fire had consumed two mounted soldiers in the early minutes after their arrival. But to avoid burning entire streets, Taima needed to get close before attacking. Both times she’d flown in for a kill, she’d been shot at. One bullet had grazed her leg. Nora and Osmius had insisted that Taima stop attacking.
Krey hovered over a street where he could barely make out the outline of a soldier on an orsa. “Let’s take him down,” Nora murmured in his ear. She was handling herself with remarkable calmness, considering the fear she must be feeling as they flew. Even her heartbeat, which he could sense more clearly than his own, wasn’t totally out of control.
He and Nora both loosed hard balls of ice at the still-mounted soldier. Despite all her practice, Nora only worked about half as fast as Krey, and her icy ammunition was smaller than his. Her aim, however, was top notch. Both of them hit the soldier. He wobbled in his saddle but remained mounted.
BANG!
The shot sounded close. Krey zoomed off, not about to stick around long enough to find out how well Cellerinian soldiers could aim.
BANG! BANG!
Krey cursed, flying erratically to make himself a difficult target.
“Feather lyster!” As Nora’s voice reached his ear, he realized her pulse had doubled its speed. “To your left!”
He cursed as another shot rang out. The feather eater was barely a shadow in the dark sky. Krey’s instincts took over. He flew upward at a steep angle, belatedly warning, “Hang on!” He needn’t have said anything. Nora’s thighs were so tight around his waist, he knew he’d be bruised later.
His mad flight must’ve been successful; no more shots rang out. However, he’d also lost sight of the feather eater. He scanned the sky, flying in wild spirals and dips. With one hand, he held Nora’s leg, with the other, her arm. Don’t have a heart attack on me, okay? he silently begged.
Another gunshot sounded. This time, Krey saw the accompanying flash of light. A wild grin stretched his mouth wide as he shot two huge balls of ice at that position.
The ice plummeted to the street below.
A half-second later, Nora shot ice missiles of her own, aiming them in two different directions, mets away from where Krey had seen the gunpowder flash.
“Oof!” The grunt, probably male, came from one of the places Nora had targeted. Krey laughed, shooting two more icy spheres. He was burning fuel—both ice and feathers—at a terrible rate.
It was worth it. His ammunition found its target.
Krey dove toward the grunts he heard. When he got close, he saw the soldier was falling, having lost control of his magic. Krey couldn’t give him the chance to recover. He shot more ice at the man. Nora followed it with a ball of her own.
They kept at it until the magic eater hit the ground with a squishy thud that told Krey he was unlikely to ever get up.
Krey ascended again. The thrill of victory shot through his core, twined with the sickness of regret. Somewhere in the nation he called home, a family had just lost one of its members. It might be days or weeks before they learned of it.
As Krey, Nora, Ovrun, and the former militia had prepared for this battle, they’d discussed the terrible necessity of killing citizens of their own country. Nora had begged Taima not to burn the approaching army to a crisp. Protecting the trogs of Deroga was one thing. Purposefully massacring Cellerinians was another.
Krey focused on what was next, shifting his mind away from the smashed body beneath him. “Fuel!” he shouted. “I gotta find a place to stop; I burned too much in the air!”
“Okay—hey, what’s that?” She was out of breath from their fight, and he could still feel her racing heart, but her voice was steady. “Look—to the right!”
He turned his head. Something orange was glowing a few streets over.
“We’ll go to a rooftop and check it out while we refuel.”
A few seconds later, they landed on a flat roof.
“What is that down there?” Nora asked as she dismounted.
“Fuel first. Then we’ll check it out.”
She sighed, and he heard her pulling off her backpack. She handed him a bag stuffed with feathers. There was a soft thud, the sound of her setting their block of ice on the roof. They’d wanted to bring crushed ice, but in this warm, late-spring weather, it would’ve melted too quickly. Krey chewed feathers while Nora attacked the ice block with a small hammer and a pick. The sound reverberated in his aching head.
Krey ate, but his focus wasn’t on the feathers. It was on a particular spot down the street. He suspected Nora’s eyes were wandering that direction too.
All was dark—except three tall streams of what appeared to be molten lava, shooting straight up from the side of the road, just past the first
occupied house.
As Krey watched, another spurt of orange joined the others. Then another, and another, forming a deadly line across the street.
Krey’s chewing slowed. Nora had stopped hammering too. She crawled up behind him, breathing softly.
“What . . . what am I looking at?” Krey murmured.
“It’s the Well.” She sounded as awed as him.
Immediately, he knew she was right. In the moments between battle action, she’d told him briefly about the Anya and the Well. But she’d been too distracted to go into detail. Now, he asked, “How exactly is the Anya supposed to help us?”
“He’s making shields, just like Zeisha wanted to do. Kebi is leading him through the tunnels. Zeisha, Ovrun, and Sarza are guarding him, along with Zeisha’s team of vine eaters.”
Krey’s mouth curved in an admiring smile. “That beats the hell outta fences made of thorns.”
Nora laughed. He heard her scoot back and return to her hammering.
Oh yeah. Fuel. He ate more feathers, then offered to take over the hammering. His eyes kept wandering to the line of lava fountains. They extended halfway across the street now. Krey was confident that by the time the man was done, no one would be able to access the residential district.
When the hammer bounced off his finger, Krey forced himself to focus on his task. But even without his eyes on the spectacle below, his smile remained. Zeisha must be having so much fun down there, he thought, wishing he could share her front-row seat.
Hours later, dawn’s red-orange light painted the sky. Nora held onto Krey as tightly as ever, pinching her left hand with her right to stay alert. She was exhausted, physically and magically. She knew Krey must be in even worse shape, considering the head injury he was still recovering from.
They’d been in the air so long, she hardly felt afraid now. She hadn’t thought that would ever happen.
Between fuel stops, she and Krey had killed another feather lyster; shot ice at mounted soldiers; and flown to all the clans to share information about what they and the dragons were witnessing.
The Anya had completed the huge lava fence around the Star Clan’s homes. And in the morning light, Nora and Krey saw tall jets of thick steam protecting another clan’s residential street.
Hopefully the Anya had shielded some of the other clans’ homes too. Krey and Nora couldn’t fly over those areas, as the army had now entered them. Krey wouldn’t go near the thousands of incoming soldiers until he knew where the king was.
Movement caught Nora’s gaze. “Soldiers!” she hissed. “On the right!”
Gunshots rang out from two men on orsas below. Krey made a tight turn—and slammed into an upright pole extending from the roof they were flying over.
The shock of it must’ve snapped his connection with his magic, because he fell hard onto the flat roof. He rolled, crushing Nora. She screamed and let go. Krey kept rolling, stopping several mets away—at the edge of the roof, in view of the armed soldier.
Nora leapt to her feet. Krey’s expression was empty, stunned. “Move!” she cried, grabbing his arm. “They’ll see you!”
Another gunshot sounded, sending a shard of the roof’s edge flying. Panic filled Krey’s eyes. He scrambled to his hands and knees and crawled. Nora ran the same direction. When they reached the center of the roof, they lay on their bellies, panting hard.
That’s when Nora realized her back was on fire. A moan slipped from her mouth.
“What’s wrong?” Krey asked.
“My back!”
“Can you take your pack off?”
“Yes.”
He helped her pull it off. Nora couldn’t see his expression, but she heard his sharp intake of breath. “How bad is it?” she asked.
“When we fell, the pack must’ve gotten pushed to the side,” he said. “Looks like you scraped up your back on the roof. The blood’s coming through your shirt.”
Through tears, Nora said, “It feels deeper than a scrape. Oh, by the stone, Krey, it hurts!”
“Can I look?”
“Okay.”
She untucked her shirt, then eased it up her torso.
“Damn,” Krey said. “I can’t believe I fell—I—I’m sorry, Nora. It’s a big abrasion, and it’s also gonna bruise . . . a lot. But I don’t think you broke it. Can you move okay?”
She pulled her knees up, curving her back. It hurt, but she could move. She pushed her legs back down, taking a slow, deep breath. “I’ll be okay. Are you hurt?”
“No, I’m fine. We should get out of here.” He started to push himself up, then froze, his face twisting into a pained grimace. “I’m . . . not fine.” Loud groans exited his mouth as he turned onto his back and sat up. He grabbed his right leg.
Nora pushed herself up to sit next to him, her back rebelling against every movement. Krey pulled up his right pant leg, then unlaced his boot and started pulling it off. A grunting cry escaped his mouth.
Nora lifted her eyes to his face. His skin was pale and sweaty. “Let me help,” she said.
She loosened his laces further and carefully pulled at his boot. By the time she got it off, he was screaming. When she slid his sock off, he was reduced to begging. “Stop, please!”
His ankle was swollen wider than his foot. The skin was stretched and glossy, the color mottled, bruises emerging. Nora cursed.
Krey took several deep breaths. “It might be broken,” he said.
His obvious statement elicited a hysterical laugh from Nora. Krey brought confused, pained eyes to her. “I’m sorry, it’s not funny,” she said. “I just . . .” She swore again, then suddenly remembered they knew where a blood lyster was hiding. “We need to get you healed.”
Krey nodded, grimacing. “Lemme . . . eat some feathers first.” His mouth twisted, and he swallowed, holding a hand to his stomach. “I hope I can keep them down.”
Taima’s rich voice entered Nora’s mind. Listen, human!
Nora stiffened, sensing urgency in the dragon’s tone. Yes?
Drop out of sight. Now!
“Krey, lie down!”
He did, with a pitiful cry.
Lying next to Krey and trying to ignore her back pain, Nora asked, What’s going on?
The king is close to trog territory, guarded by two dozen people.
Nora cursed. She’d held out hope her father would stay far away from the fighting. Now Krey would have to do whatever was necessary to stay out of the king’s sight. Osmius, who’d landed before sunrise, might not be able to fly at all. He was too big to navigate easily through city streets like Krey could. Where is my father? Nora asked.
A picture entered her mind: King Ulmin, at the back of the army. He was talking with someone in an army uniform, but the men and women surrounding him wore the uniforms of the royal guard. Of course he’d choose protectors whose minds he controlled, people who wouldn’t hesitate to give their lives for him.
Nora also saw why Taima had warned them to drop so quickly. The king was nearing the top of a hill. In seconds, he’d be at one of the highest points in the city. From there, he’d have a good view of much of the inhabited city—including the rooftop where she and Krey now lay. “We have to go now!” Nora said. “My father will see you!”
Faster than Nora would’ve thought possible, Krey pushed himself up to his hands and knees. “Get on!” he said.
She straddled his back and had barely gotten her arms around his neck when he took to the air. “Fly low!” she said.
“Where to?” His voice was strained with pain.
“Go south until I have more information.”
Taima’s voice reached her mind again. The army is splitting up to cover more of the city. You must fly low and spread the word so the trogs are prepared! I shall send images to your mind.
Nora cursed under her breath, then told Krey, “I know you need healing, but Taima has urgent messages for us to deliver. Can you keep flying?”
She felt Krey’s body stiffen, but he answered with a si
ngle word: “Yes.”
There are at least five thousand soldiers, Taima said. Many have guns.
Nora’s heart dropped. They’d known that the trogs, who numbered less than two thousand including the old and young, were gravely outnumbered. But she’d hoped the foot soldiers would only be equipped with blades and bows.
People were dying down there—innocent trogs who just wanted to protect the city they’d always called home. And not just them, but Cellerinians too. Yes, Nora was fighting the army, but she didn’t forget for a moment that they were her people. If the trogs didn’t win this battle, all those deaths would be pointless.
A gunshot popped nearby. An agonized cry followed.
Nora’s heart cried out for her father. He could stop all this with a word. He was near—but as unreachable as ever.
37
Medical researchers claim their latest bone-regeneration technology will facilitate even more rapid healing, with broken bones returning to full strength in hours instead of days.
My young cousin has the unfortunate combination of high energy and poor judgment. I’m guessing he’ll find a way to test these claims before too long.
-“Building Bones” by Genta Ril
The Derogan Chronicle, dated Cyon 31, 6293
Zeisha, Sarza, Kebi, Ovrun, and the Anya stood in a small room in Silver Clan territory, along with fourteen vine eaters. They’d all climbed up from an Extrain tunnel just minutes before.
A single vine eater ran through the door. “The residential street is in flames. Many soldiers patrol in front of this building. We cannot go outside.”
Zeisha squeezed her eyes shut briefly. The Anya had successfully shielded five of the six clans’ primary residential streets. It was too late to save the Silver Clan’s homes.
The Vine Eater (The Magic Eaters Trilogy Book 2) Page 31
