The Vine Eater (The Magic Eaters Trilogy Book 2)

by Carol Beth Anderson

  Zeisha had grown up in the shadow of Cellerin Mountain, which was tall enough that some climbers suffered from oxygen deprivation. She’d heard stories of people hiking near the top, unable to contain their laughter.

  Not everyone reacted to low oxygen in such a way, but she’d asked the Well to adjust the air around each individual, reducing their oxygen just enough to push them into giddiness.

  It worked better than she’d imagined. Laughter filled the street—high-pitched giggles and deep guffaws, like someone was telling the best jokes ever, one after another. Zeisha knew that with the giddiness came a sense of freedom and goodwill, just the combination she needed.

  She sensed she didn’t need to control the Well’s every action. Just as the Anya had walked away from each of his active shields, she could let go and trust the magic.

  She opened her eyes. Her four companions stood before her, anticipation on their faces. “You all need to work quickly,” she said. “I can’t let this go on too long, or it’ll harm the soldiers out there.”

  They all knew their roles. Without a word, Ovrun, Krey and Sarza left through the building’s front entrance—two of them on foot and one in the air.

  Zeisha turned to Nora. “You ready?”

  Nora nodded.

  They dashed to the building’s back exit. The soldiers in the alley merely laughed as the princess and the Anya took their guns. Nora then ran in one direction, Zeisha in the other. She knew her path was likely to be free of soldiers; Taima had scoped it out in advance. Still, she stayed in the shadows of buildings as much as she could. At last, she stopped, panting, at the top of a hill in an overgrown park.

  Zeisha stood under a tree and reconnected to the magic in the air. In her mind’s eye, she saw dozens of soldiers, still laughing. She laughed too. It worked! Then her laughter stopped, and a rush of gratitude drove her to her knees.

  “I am the Anya,” she whispered. “This is who I’m meant to be.” A breeze, flush with the magic of the Well, flowed across her upraised face.

  Ovrun sprinted toward the guards surrounding the king. He knew several of them. Merriment caused some of them to clutch their stomachs. Others cried in their giddiness. It was clear that Ulmin, who was also laughing, no longer controlled them. Ovrun ran from one guard to the next, taking their weapons and putting them in his pack. When he reached the king, he asked for the man’s gun and daggers. Ulmin Abrios happily handed them over.

  When Ovrun finished disarming the king and his royal guard, he moved on to the soldiers in the street. There were fifteen of them, all as disheveled and dirty as Lars had been. Some of them teased him by playing tug-of-war with their weapons, but none tried to harm him. They were all too happy for that.

  Ovrun filled his pack. He shoved guns in his pockets and the waistband of his pants. At last, he completed his task and ran inside a building where he’d agreed to meet his friends. He dropped the weapons, keeping just one gun in the back of his waistband.

  Krey and Sarza, who’d been disarming the soldiers patrolling the perimeter, arrived soon after. Krey landed and sat against the wall, grimacing. “You okay, man?” Ovrun asked.

  “I don’t have any more feathers,” Krey said. “I don’t even think I can use the last few I ate. I pushed way too hard today. And my ankle—” He winced, like even saying the word made it hurt more.

  “You need a healer,” Ovrun said.

  “The sooner this thing ends, the sooner we can find one,” Krey said. “Are we sure we got all the weapons?”

  Huddling together, they compared verbal notes. They quickly determined that none of them had disarmed one particular soldier they’d seen guarding the street from between two buildings.

  “I thought you were getting the people close to the king!” Krey said.

  “Only in the street. I thought one of you had him.”

  Sarza cursed.

  Ovrun stood. “It’s no problem. I got it. I’ll meet you back here.”

  He ran. As he neared the street, he heard continued laughter. He found the soldier they’d all missed and approached him from behind.

  The giggling soldier turned. “Heeeey!” he said, in a voice indistinguishable from a drunk’s.

  “Hey!” Ovrun said. “Can I have your gun?”

  “Sure!” The man held his hands wide, away from the holster at his waist. But when Ovrun grabbed for the weapon, the soldier spun away with the grace of a dancer. Ovrun advanced, and the man leapt back, chortling the whole time.

  They continued this strange dance for several seconds. Ovrun was about to attempt a tackle when something pressed against the back of his head, making him freeze. A deep voice said, “Hands up, or I’ll shoot.”

  The soldier in front of Ovrun continued laughing senselessly. Ovrun swore. His own gun was shoved in the back of his pants. Maybe if he was fast enough, he could reach—

  The man behind him pulled the gun out.

  With a sigh, Ovrun lifted his hands.

  “Clasp them behind your head,” the voice said.

  Ovrun did. Suddenly, the man leapt on him. All the air left Ovrun’s chest as he slammed into the street. His chin hit hard, his teeth piercing his tongue. Metallic blood flowed into his mouth. In seconds, the soldier put shackles on his wrists.

  “Stand up,” the man said.

  Ovrun did. The soldier came around to stand in front of him—too far away for Ovrun to kick or headbutt him.

  The man shot a disgusted look at his comrade, who was still cracking up. Then he turned to Ovrun, shaking his head. “You’re gonna tell me what the hell is going on.”

  39

  Tomorrow, the archeologists at Cellerin Mountain will uncover and remove the artifact they’ve been seeking. They expect to harness its unique radiation for medical advances. Some people even predict the radiation may contribute to other technologies, such as weather alteration. In the near future, we may not only tame the human body, but the planet as well.

  Time will tell if the optimism is warranted. But I get the feeling whatever they pull out of that mountain will truly change our world.

  -“Uncovering the Future” by Genta Ril

  The Derogan Chronicle, dated Cygni 5, 6293

  Nora ran through deserted streets, following a map Taima had placed in her mind. Her back screamed with every step. She tried to ignore it.

  At last, she arrived at her destination: a wide, empty street. Taima was already waiting. As Nora climbed on the dragon’s back, she said, Thank you for this.

  Taima lifted off then ascended at an incredible speed. Nora held on tight and embraced the thrill that coursed through her.

  Once they were above weapons range, it took very little time to get to the street where Nora’s father waited. From the altitude where they hovered, Nora squinted at what looked like a toy wagon. Tiny figures scurried in and near it. Her father, she knew, was one of them.

  Her heart pounded. Renewed energy filled her, dulling her back pain. Taima, can you tell if the people down there are still laughing?

  I cannot hear them, but they do appear . . . disorganized.

  Okay. Nora filled her lungs with air, then released it slowly. I guess we’d better go down.

  Taima descended in a gradual spiral. Nora held her breath, fearing every moment that she’d hear gunshots.

  As they drew closer to the ground, a welcome sound filled her ears: many voices, laughing. Her heart raced. Her palms sweated on Taima’s scales.

  Zeisha had promised to restore the king’s oxygen when she saw or sensed the dragon descending. Nora craned her neck to see past Taima’s strong shoulder. She found her father’s gray-streaked hair near the wagon. He wore the same black uniform as his guards.

  Ulmin was waving his hands around, shouting questions at his laughing guards. Nora tensed as he reached in his pocket and put something in his mouth. Probably his dark fuel. Nora held her breath, desperately hoping the laughing guards would be resistant to mind control, as Krey said the intoxicated guards at the
palace had been.

  Her breath came out in a whoosh when the guards continued laughing.

  Taima descended farther, close enough for the edge of her shadow to fall on the king of Cellerin. He looked up. Nora could make out the O of his mouth.

  “Father!” she called. Maybe it was silly or petty, but she could no longer call him Dad.

  “Nora,” he responded. His guards’ raucous laughter punctuated the word.

  Closer, Nora told Taima.

  The dragon descended and hovered, her broad wings stretched over the wide street, ready to take off if anything went wrong.

  Ulmin’s eyes were glued to his daughter. Again, he popped something in his mouth. Nora shuddered.

  “Father,” she called, “you and I are going to negotiate for the future of Deroga.” Her voice was strong, though her heart threatened to leap from her chest.

  The king opened his mouth to answer, but someone else spoke first. “My king!”

  Nora swiveled her head to find the source. Nobody should be aware enough to talk to her father coherently. When her eyes fell on the male soldier approaching the king, she drew in a high-pitched gasp. The man was leading Ovrun across the street, holding a gun to his head.

  When Taima’s great, domed eyes found the armed soldier, she aimed her head upward and shot into the air. Nora screamed, holding on with every bit of her strength. I’m going to fall!

  The dragon stopped her sharp ascent but continued to rise, flying in swoops and wild zigzags, clearly trying to ensure that the armed man would find her a difficult target to hit.

  Trying not to vomit, Nora cried, Taima, I need to talk to my father!

  That man has a gun! the dragon replied.

  I don’t think he’ll shoot, not while I’m on your back. Please—

  He dropped them, Taima said, even as she began a gentle descent.

  What? Nora looked down, but from such a height, she couldn’t see much.

  Taima sent Nora a memory from a moment before. The soldier had dropped the gun he’d been aiming at Ovrun. He’d taken a second weapon from a holster and dropped it too. Then he’d kicked them both away.

  Soon, Taima was again hovering over the street. Nora’s father had moved several mets away from his loud, gleeful guards. The clear-minded soldier stood near the king, holding a knife to Ovrun’s throat.

  Nora’s breath caught in her chest. Ovrun, I’m so sorry. She wanted to kneel and plea for Ovrun’s life. Instead, she smoothed the panic and dread off her face. Taima, can we please land?

  Taima touched down, leaving plenty of distance between herself and the king. Nora raised her voice over all the cackling laughter. “Did you tell him to drop his guns?” she asked.

  “Of course. I want to speak with you, Nora. I want you to feel safe.”

  Her father’s expression was as kind as ever. It clawed at her already-hurting heart. Through pure stubbornness, she kept her voice level. “Will you let Ovrun go?”

  Her father raised his eyebrows. Then he laughed hard. For a moment, Nora thought Zeisha had reduced his oxygen again. But no—his eyes, fixed on his daughter, held none of the drunk confusion Nora saw in his guards. At last, he calmed. Still smiling, he said, “Don’t be silly, sweetheart.”

  Nora took in the laughter. His words. His expression. He knew Ovrun was her friend, and yet as he refused her request, he was . . . delighted.

  For the first time, she recognized the madness in her father. She’d seen it to a lesser extent at the palace over two months ago. She hadn’t been ready to acknowledge it then.

  And all at once, she knew the truth, as certainly as she knew her own name. Her father wouldn’t recover from this. He’d lost himself already.

  He’s my enemy. I can’t save our nation by fixing him. I can only save it by fighting him.

  The realization sent crushing pain into Nora’s chest, followed by a wave of desperation. I’m betraying him if I give up on him! I can come up with the right words to pull him out of this; I know I can.

  Except she knew she couldn’t. She pushed away the denial that threatened to destroy their whole plan. The truth was right in front of her. She was done avoiding it. Grief and second-guessing could come later. She had a job to do.

  But would her father even negotiate? Did he care about anything but his own power?

  He was watching her with his head tilted a bit to the side. When he spoke, it was with the gentle, loving voice he’d always reserved for her and her mother. “Dani has told me everything, darling,” he said.

  Nora gritted her teeth. Dani had only talked because he’d forced her to.

  “I know you care about this young man,” Ulmin said, gesturing to Ovrun. “You must let go of any romantic ideas; you can do far better than him. But I’ll be happy to release him, because I love you. All you have to do is return home with me.”

  And so we begin. Aloud, Nora asked, “If I say no?”

  There was that grin again. “Then I’m afraid the good soldier here will slit his throat.”

  Nora refused to let panic overwhelm her. “If that happens,” she said calmly, “the dragon I’m riding will reduce your good soldier to a pile of ashes.” It wasn’t an idle threat. If that man drew his knife along Ovrun’s throat, Nora would beg Taima to destroy him. She’d regret it later . . . but she’d do it.

  Ulmin shrugged. “That would change nothing.”

  The words stabbed at Nora’s heart. Her father used to care about every one of his citizens.

  She took a deep breath, ready to make her demands. But her father’s gaze shifted away from her, his eyes widening.

  Nora turned, then suppressed a smile. In the distance, glowing, orange magma shot into the air. It pulsed rhythmically, like the earth was spitting, refilling its mouth, and spitting again. Zeisha had activated the Well a second way now, just as they’d planned. Several of the king’s guards took notice of the spectacle, pointing and guffawing even louder.

  “Father,” Nora said, drawing his attention back to her, “you will leave this place after signing a decree acknowledging that Deroga permanently belongs to the trogs. You will release every New Therroan soldier from your army. And you will give full independence to New Therro.”

  His jaw muscles clenched. His skin took on a reddish hue. “Why would I do that?”

  “You saw the shields we put around neighborhoods today. We have a lyster who can use the magic of Anyari. That same lyster has reduced all these guards and soldiers to the state they’re in now. If you don’t meet our demands, that lyster will tear up the nation of Cellerin. Floods and fires and quakes will make your kingdom unrecognizable.”

  “I don’t believe you.” His eyes shifted to look behind Nora. His jaw dropped.

  She turned. As if on cue, a massive, steaming geyser had risen in the air, twice as high as the pulsing lava.

  Zeisha would never use Anyari’s magic in violent ways. But Sarza had said they needed a threat. This was the perfect one. It didn’t matter how much brain-controlling power the king had; he knew he couldn’t overcome the magic of a planet.

  “Test me, Father,” Nora said. “We’ll start with the palace grounds.”

  Ulmin’s gaze returned to Nora. With every one of his rapid breaths, his chest swelled and his nostrils flared. When he spoke, it was with a deep, ominous voice Nora had never heard him use. “No one—no one—threatens my land.”

  The words transported Nora back to her conversation with Krey, when she’d called Cellerin my land. His response had remained with her ever since. “It’s not your land. This nation doesn’t belong to the royal family, Your Highness. It belongs to all of us.”

  Nora was pondering that when her father said three more words: “I’m sorry, darling.”

  She didn’t have time to ask why he was apologizing. Faster than she’d ever seen him move, her father, a stone lyster who rarely used his faculty, lifted a hand and shot a thick, stone spear straight at the glorious, black dragon.

  The weapon pierced
Taima’s chest. Above the awful laughter in the street, a sound arose: Taima’s roaring, keening cry. It was the most terrifying, grief-inducing thing Nora had ever heard.

  Taima lifted into the air, still releasing that rich, pained scream. Nora catalyzed fuel she hadn’t realized she still had in her. A dense ball of ice struck her father, catching him off guard and preventing him from creating another spear.

  In seconds, Taima was out of the king’s reach. Her scream turned into a soundless groan, penetrating Nora’s mind.

  How bad is it? Nora asked.

  The dragon didn’t respond.

  Taima? How bad?

  There was a long silence, thrumming with tension. Taima at last spoke to Nora’s mind. This injury shall be my final one. Pain saturated the words, spilling into Nora’s heart.

  Nora began weeping. Her mind raced to find some way to help. I know where a blood lyster is!

  The wound is too severe, Taima said.

  Nora cried harder. The dragon was right. Healing magic worked best on humans. Even the most skilled blood lysters could only heal small wounds on animals.

  Maybe Zeisha can heal you! The amount of power she has now, it—

  She has power over the planet, Taima interrupted. Why would she be able to heal a dragon?

  Nora grasped desperately for a solution but found none. I’ll reach out to Osmius. He’ll have an idea; I know—

  NO! Taima’s voice remained strong, despite her obvious agony. If you tell him, he will fly here. The king will control him.

  Then fly to him.

  No, Nora. Your task here is not through.

  There’s nothing more we can do! My father called our bluff! You’re—you’re dying, Taima! Drop me in a nearby street. I’ll find a way to save Ovrun. You can spend your last minutes with Osmius.

  Nora-human. It was the first time the female dragon had ever used that term of affection. Her voice had taken on a gentleness that seemed at odds with her injured state. This wound shall kill me, but not for hours. I am a dragon. My body is strong. We will not give up yet.