The Stone Eater (The Magic Eaters Trilogy Book 3)

by Carol Beth Anderson

  Few people knew Zeisha was the Anya. While Ovrun was aware of Zeisha’s new abilities, he wasn’t aware there were areas in Cellerin where the magic of the Well was still active.

  Osmius had shown Nora those sights because he believed the future queen should know the kingdom she was fighting for. Of course he wouldn’t want her to share that knowledge with anyone but the nation’s future king.

  She’d invited Ovrun today because she was seriously considering making such a commitment to him. He needed to see more of the nation that might one day call him king. They’d agreed that if such a thing ever happened, he’d leave the actual ruling to her . . . but he would still have the title, and he’d support her every step of the way. It was the most generous thing anyone had ever offered her. But was it truly what he wanted?

  Nora-human.

  Osmius’s voice in her head made her flinch. He was so much quieter these days; she’d gotten used to flights with little conversation. Yes?

  You shall make the right choice.

  The dragon couldn’t hear her thoughts unless she shared them with him. When he came up with some astonishingly relevant comment like that, she always wondered if she’d inadvertently let their minds connect. I, um . . . don’t know what you mean, she said.

  He laughed, and if there was a more perfect, soothing sound in the whole world, she couldn’t imagine it. She squeezed his neck tighter.

  They flew over the northeastern portion of the Therro Desert, not going anywhere near the pond. When they’d been over sandy dunes for several minutes, Ovrun spoke up.

  “Can we land for a few minutes?”

  Osmius spiraled down and alighted atop a dune. Nora looked up at the sky as she dismounted. The sun was directly overhead. “Ready for lunch?” she asked Ovrun.

  He climbed down after her. “Maybe in a few minutes. I have an idea first.” He took off his pack and hat, then pulled Nora’s off too, setting the items atop the dune. “Ready?”

  “For what?”

  He gave her a big smile, then lay on the fine sand and pushed himself off, rolling sideways down the dune. It was a fairly steep slope, and he picked up speed quickly.

  Nora didn’t hesitate. She threw herself after him, laughing with glee the whole way. At the bottom, she bumped into Ovrun just as he was sitting up.

  She looked down at her clothes. They’d already been sand-colored, but now they were covered in a layer of fine grit. It had forced itself down her neckline and into the waistband of her pants, where her shirt was now untucked. “I don’t even want to think about all the places I have sand stuck to me,” she said.

  Ovrun lifted a playful eyebrow. “I do.”

  She threw a handful of sand at his chest, then stood, wiggling to shake the stuff off. She removed the leather band holding back her straight, shoulder-length hair. When she shook her head, more sand flew out. “That was the most fun I’ve had in a long time.” She stopped moving and cocked her head at Ovrun. “I’m usually the one to think of outlandish ideas like that.”

  He stood, brushing himself off. “You’ve been quieter lately. I thought you needed a little fun.”

  That broadened her smile. “Again?”

  “Race you to the top!” He was running before he finished speaking.

  There was no way she’d beat him. She was tall, but his legs were even longer than hers. Still, she tried, her muscles protesting with every step through the sand.

  Ovrun reached the top, winning handily. He lifted his eyes and arms to the sky, grains of sand still falling from his shirt and his dark hair. “King of the desert!” he bellowed.

  Nora slowed, admiring the taut abdominal muscles she glimpsed under the hem of his shirt. He makes a great-looking king. She shared the thought with Osmius.

  He is strong, Osmius replied. But there was grief in his words, and Nora knew he was thinking of Taima, whose strength had far surpassed her mate’s.

  After a few more rolls down the dune and a quick picnic lunch, they flew along a route only Osmius knew, passing over communities of various sizes, including the capitals of a couple of Cellerinian provinces. Nora had visited some of these places in the past, and they seemed just as vibrant and free as ever. Maybe the king’s madness hadn’t touched these people yet.

  At last, they arrived at a destination Nora had been anticipating visiting: New Therro. She’d visited the city with her parents when she was young, but she didn’t remember much about it. As Osmius had done over other inhabited areas, he flew too high to be identified as a dragon. Then he shared his keen vision with Nora.

  Crisp images filled her mind. The streets were nearly empty, and over half of those who were visible wore the black-and-blue uniforms of the Cellerinian Army. Every week, Hatlin told Nora how the king was cracking down on the province. When soldiers from the occupying army caught New Therroans speaking against the king, they threw the supposed traitors into makeshift prisons or executed them.

  The king was ruling by fear. Even this far above the city, Nora could feel it. Then she saw one place where the street was far from empty. Do you see all those people? she asked Osmius, pointing.

  He turned his head, bringing the street into better focus. A line of people perhaps a clommet long waited to enter a building. Someone exited the building, carrying a crate of food.

  At least he’s feeding them, Nora thought.

  A soldier stepped out of the building and spoke to those at the front of the line, shooing them away. The crowd dispersed.

  Nora’s pulse quickened with fury. There are productive farms around the city; there should be enough food for the entire population!

  Then she remembered something else Hatlin had told her. The king had recently raised taxes on New Therro, including taking a good portion of their produce and livestock.

  Shall we move on? Osmius asked.

  Nora was about to answer when the scene below erupted into chaos.

  Six people rushed up the stairs of the food-distribution building. They didn’t even make it to the top step when the soldiers guarding the door attacked with swords, bows, and guns.

  A bullet struck a male citizen. He fell, blood spreading across his chest. A woman took a sword in her belly. When she looked down to see the blade protruding from her, her eyes went wide with shock. Her knees crumpled. For a moment, she stared at the soldier holding the weapon. Her mouth moved, and Nora could tell the single word she’d spoken: “Why?” Then her gaze went blank. The soldier withdrew his sword, letting her body fall.

  Nora squeezed her eyes shut. She didn’t want to see this horror. The picture, however, remained, traveling from Osmius’s mind to hers. She considered disconnecting from his sight, but a sudden sense of piercing responsibility prevented her. If all went well, she’d soon be queen over this province. She needed to see the truth.

  The soldiers pushed two people down the stairs. Four additional soldiers surrounded them, beating them viciously with boots and fists. The two citizens soon stilled, but the attack didn’t stop.

  One woman remained. She’d been at the back of the group and had retreated to the middle of the street. Seeing the violence, she turned and fled. An arrow to the leg took her down. A bullet to the head ensured she didn’t get up again.

  At last, the beating at the bottom of the stairs ended. The victims lay in pools of blood, not moving. Nora swallowed bile that pressed against the back of her throat. Her breaths came faster. We have to stop my father, she told Osmius, but I don’t know how!

  You will know the next step when it is time, Osmius said.

  Nora bit back a snarky comment about needing answers, not pointless platitudes.

  After a brief silence, Osmius asked, Shall we go?

  Not yet. Those people are Cellerinians. My father doesn’t respect them, but I do. Even in death.

  They continued to watch as the soldiers dragged all six bodies into the middle of the street and set them on fire. Nora gripped Osmius’s scales so hard that her fingertips ached. Let’s go.<
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  After another long flight, they were over Cellerin City. To Nora’s relief, it looked as it always had. Rather than flying over the palace grounds, Osmius turned southwest, avoiding the area entirely. Even when he was this high, he rarely flew directly above the palace. Ulmin had controlled Osmius in the past and would do so again if he saw him.

  Next, they went to Cellerin Mountain, the largest freestanding peak in the world, and soared over the communities along parts of its periphery. Seven months ago, Nora had traveled through this area on dirt roads, spending some of the journey in a steamcar and the rest of it in a wagon. She and her father had been on a royal tour, celebrating the two-hundredth anniversary of The Day.

  Nora recognized the area where the stone had been found. Ground zero of the apocalypse. A small museum drew visitors year round. She’d been there. It was a strange place, filled with eerie memories of a terrible tragedy, but colored with hope because of the magic that had entered the world that day.

  Faster than she would’ve predicted, they reached Tirra, Krey’s hometown. Nora couldn’t help laughing a bit as she remembered her first glimpse of Krey, flying over the square where she and her father were trying to hold a meaningful celebration. Ovrun had been one of the guards to usher Nora off the stage, lest the erratic feather lyster attack her. Who’d have guessed that less than two months later, she’d end up fleeing the capital city with both those boys, in the hopes of finding and freeing Zeisha?

  She turned to tell Ovrun where they were.

  “Too bad Krey’s not here!” he replied.

  “Trust me, he wouldn’t want to be riding with us!” They both laughed. Krey hated flying on dragons.

  It was early dusk when Osmius landed on a flat shelf on the side of the mountain, not too far from Cellerin City.

  Ovrun sat up. “I don’t have the best memories of this place.”

  “None of us do,” Nora said softly. She dismounted and looked around, stretching. Behind them was a dark cave. Taima had been chained in that space for months before Osmius sent Nora, Ovrun, and Krey to save her. They were successful, but Ovrun had been shot in the arm. Nora swallowed and shuddered. Why did we come here?

  You wanted to see your land, Osmius replied. The view from here is excellent.

  He again shared his vision with her. He was right; it was an incredible view once she saw all the details his sight provided. But she’d already seen all this from the air. Osmius hadn’t come because this was a great lookout point. He’d come here to feel close to Taima.

  She reached a hand toward his head. He bent his neck and brought his warm cheek into her palm. I love you, you know, she said, sending gentleness and kindness to him along with the words.

  A smoky sigh exited his nostrils. And I love you, Nora-human.

  “You’re quiet again,” Ovrun said a few minutes later, “and I can’t exactly roll down this slope to cheer you up this time.” He pointed to the sharp drop-off several mets away.

  Nora took her hand off Osmius and turned to Ovrun. “I can’t get it out of my head. What we saw in New Therro.”

  “What did you see?”

  That’s when it hit her. He hadn’t seen anything. He’d been flying peacefully above a city that looked normal from that height, and he hadn’t had the privilege of sharing Osmius’s sight. At the time, she’d been so consumed with what she saw that it hadn’t occurred to her Ovrun was unaware of it.

  That ache she’d felt after the party the previous weekend returned. She could describe the travesty in New Therro, and he’d share her concern. But it would remain her problem to solve.

  She shook off the thought. Ovrun was here to support her. Maybe he couldn’t fix the nation of Cellerin, but he’d let her lean on him while she attempted it.

  “Can we sit?” she asked softly.

  He nodded, lowering himself into the dirt.

  Nora cuddled up to him, taking her hat off and resting her head on his heart. Quietly, she told him the nightmare she’d witnessed. He pulled her closer as she spoke.

  When she stopped talking, he whispered just the right words to her—about how strong she was and how much faith he had in her. Then they both fell silent.

  Ovrun’s arms gave her a little relief from the weight she was carrying—the stifling mixture of doubt and fear for the unknown future. She wanted this type of security every day for the rest of her life.

  But could she ask that of him? Would he be content holding her up for the next sixty years? Or would she end up pulling him down?

  “Ovrun?” Nora murmured into his chest.

  “Hmm?”

  She pulled away and gestured to the scene before them. Even without dragon sight, she could make out countless clommets of blurry land in shades of brown and green. A few wispy clouds cast dancing shadows on the terrain. “What do you think of ruling this land?”

  He smiled down at her. “I don’t care about that. I just want to be by your side.”

  The words were sweet and earnest, but her stomach twisted tighter than before. Unwilling to let him see the emotional storm on her face, she pulled him into a tight hug. “You know,” she said, keeping her voice light, “whoever gets me, gets the land and people and responsibilities too. It’s like committing yourself to someone who’s got a third leg. It’s gonna get in the way sometimes, and you can’t just cut it off.”

  Ovrun laughed. “You keep trying to scare me away. It’s not working.”

  He didn’t get it though; she was sure of that. Even if he left the ruling to her, he’d still be king. He’d spend his days stuck within the walls of a palace. He’d have to dress up, cultivate a public image, and attend long, boring state dinners. They’d talked about all that, and he’d insisted he was fine with it. But he couldn’t truly understand it until he experienced it. And he couldn’t experience it without marrying her. By then, he’d be stuck.

  Would he feel stuck? Something deep inside—fear or instinct, she wasn’t sure—told her he would, eventually.

  And what would happen when she inevitably found herself turning to Ovrun to discuss tough leadership decisions? She feared part of her would always expect him to play a traditional, monarchial role—and he had no desire to take on such a responsibility. If she constantly had to go elsewhere for support, would she feel stuck too?

  Maybe I should end things with him.

  It was a thought that entered her mind far too often lately, sometimes keeping her up at night. But right now . . . right now, his arms were tight around her, lending her warmth and security. That was exactly what she needed.

  She rested a hand on Ovrun’s heart, letting its steadiness bring her comfort. Allowing it to distract her from her persistent questions.

  3

  This morning, I put on a robe and stumbled into the dining room, assuming Uncle Quin and I would be the only ones eating breakfast.

  A very well-dressed woman was at the table, deep in conversation with our uncle. I turned and dashed up the stairs, where I got dressed, threw my hair into a bun, and put on a quick coat of lipstick.

  When I got back to the dining room, the woman stood and said, “Your robe looked more comfortable.” Then she introduced herself. As Queen Onna.

  Yes, you read that correctly. The queen, my possible future husband’s grandmother, saw me in my robe!

  We chatted awkwardly through breakfast. I guess I did okay, because she invited me for dinner at the palace to meet Prince Ulmin in two days.

  The prince is the stone lyster, not me . . . but my stomach feels like I swallowed a bucket of rocks.

  -Letter from Ambrel Kaulder to Dani Kaulder

  Dated Centa 14, 180 PD

  Zeisha and Kebi sat on the bank of the Deroga River, far enough from trog territory that no one was likely to find them. They were on their midday break from their assignment on one of the Star Clan’s rooftop gardens. A blanket of heat covered the city, and they’d agreed to visit the river before eating.

  Zeisha dipped her fingers in the delig
htfully cool water. She closed her eyes, listening. After a few minutes, she looked up and grinned.

  Kebi, who was soaking her bare feet in the water, asked, “What is it?”

  Zeisha didn’t answer. Instead, she called on the Well—the magic of the planet Anyari—within the water.

  She knew the moment it awakened. The rushing water felt alive. Laughter bubbled from Zeisha’s chest. “The Well wants to have some fun.”

  Connecting with the Well was entirely different from vine eating, Zeisha’s other talent. There was intelligence in the magic of Anyari. Zeisha attributed it to God, though she knew some Anyas of the past had seen it differently. The more she experimented with the Well, the more she was convinced it had a personality.

  She’d sensed its justice and love when she worked with it on the day of the battle for Deroga. After that, she assumed she’d only connect with the Well occasionally. The Anya who’d given her his power told her he rarely used his magic.

  But his skill with the Well had far surpassed Zeisha’s. He’d carried on a conversation while creating a fence made of spurting lava. Zeisha couldn’t imagine such multitasking. Maybe he’d somehow inherited such strength. He’d come from a family of Anyas, one per generation.

  Zeisha longed to ask him how he’d gotten so strong. He’d died before she’d gotten the chance.

  All Zeisha knew was that the Well kept calling to her. The morning after the battle, she’d known she wasn’t supposed to sit there and wait for the perfect time to connect to Anyari. The Well wanted her to experiment—safely and secretly—until she truly understood its capacity and hers.

  Zeisha had no idea why. In fact, the Anya she’d met might not approve of her kneeling next to this river, preparing to play with the magic in the water. But he’d told her to listen to the voice that guided her. Right now, that voice was telling her to be silly—a quality that had never described her. Her heart whispered to the eager magic within the water. And it responded.