The Vine Eater
Book 2 of The Magic Eaters Trilogy
Carol Beth Anderson
Contents
Characters and Places
Map
Chapter 1
The Seer: 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
The Seer: 2
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
The Seer: 3
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
The Seer: 4
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
The Seer: 5
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
The Seer: 6
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
The Seer: 7
Chapter 25
The Seer: 8
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
The Seer: 9
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Epilogue
A Note from Beth
THE STONE EATER: Book 3 of The Magic Eaters Trilogy
Acknowledgements
About the Author
The Vine Eater by Carol Beth Anderson
Published by
Eliana Press
P.O. Box 2452
Cedar Park, TX 78630
www.carolbethanderson.com
Copyright © 2020 by Carol Beth Anderson
All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. For permissions contact:
[email protected]
Cover Design:
Mariah Sinclair (thecovervault.com)
Map: BMR Williams
Paperback ISBN: 978-1-949384-06-2
First Edition
This year, I’ve focused on being grateful for every single person who reads my books.
Therefore, this book is dedicated to you, dear reader.
You bring your experiences, desires, and passions to my words . . .
and you make the stories come alive.
Characters and Places
Characters
Zeisha Dennivan (ZAY-shuh DEN-ni-van)
Nora Abrios (AH-bree-ose), Princess of Cellerin
Krey (KRAY) West
Ovrun Kensin (OV-run KENN-sin)
Eira (EYE-ruh), trog
Isla (EE-sluh), Zeisha’s friend
Sarza (SAHR-zuh) Phip, seer
Wendyn (WENN-din), trog
Ulmin (ULL-min) Abrios, King of Cellerin
Kebi (KEB-ee), trog
Osmius (OZ-me-us), dragon
Taima (ty-EE-muh), dragon
Hatlin (HAT-lin), New Therroan activist
Elo (EE-low) Golsch, Cellerinian spy
Brea (BRAY-uh), royal guard
Dani (DANN-ee), Nora’s aunt and Ulmin’s sister-in-law
Lars, Cellerinian soldier
Alit (AL-it), pub owner
Prime Minister Osk, leader of Cruine
The Anya (AHN-yuh)
Genta (JENN-tuh) Ril, preday newspaper columnist
Places
Anyari (ann-YAHR-ee), a planet settled by human colonists
Cellerin (SELL-err-in), kingdom centered around Cellerin Mountain
Cellerin City, capital of Cellerin, on the east side of Cellerin Mountain
Deroga (der-OH-guh), large, preday city
New Therro (THAIR-oh), province on the north side of Cellerin Mountain
Cruine (croo-EEN), nation east of Cellerin
1
Our ancestors left Earth to colonize Anyari. Along the way, they lost all their technology. Over the next six millennia, their written communication progressed from cave-art drawings to digital documentation.
In our era of modern technology, The Derogan Chronicle is the only newspaper on the planet that still prints a daily paper edition.
Paper is our connection to the past. However, our newsorg must also remain future-minded. That’s where our newest daily columnist comes in.
She writes under the pseudonym Genta Ril, and she is sixteen years old.
-“Past and Future” by Chief Editor Laug Notol
The Derogan Chronicle, dated Quari 1, 6293
A vine burst from Zeisha Dennivan’s palm, shooting through the air. Just when she thought her strength would wane, it swelled, deep and full. She pushed more magic into her hand. The vine stretched longer, growing faster and farther until it threatened to pierce the orange sky above.
Movement caught Zeisha’s eye. A girl, perhaps eleven years old, stood in the street a few mets away. The child’s eyes, locked on Zeisha, were wide. Her chin trembled beneath tight lips. One foot was in front of the other, like she’d frozen mid-run. The girl’s taut body screamed a single response: fear.
Zeisha’s mouth dropped open. She halted her vine’s growth, then scrambled backward as it dropped to the dirt street in front of her, collapsing in a tangled mess of strong, green coils. Dust clouded the air.
The girl spun and ran away, as if fleeing a monster.
Is that what I am now? A monster?
The buzz of creative magic still saturated Zeisha’s hand. A moment ago, she’d savored the sensation. Now, she resented it. She wanted to run after the girl and assure her there was nothing to fear. But the girl had surely heard about Zeisha and the other magic eaters who’d fought each other two days ago, just blocks from here. She had reason to be scared.
Swallowing against the bile filling her throat, Zeisha tried to redirect her thoughts. She examined the vine where it merged with her palm. Her skin had lifted like an inverted funnel, forming the plant’s cylindrical base. Over the span of several simmets, smooth, tan skin transitioned into tough, flexible, green plant matter.
Zeisha released her magic. The plant’s base separated from her palm and slid to the ground. Her skin retained a bulge for a moment, then flattened. Zeisha reached forward and lifted several coils of the vine into her lap, her eyes widening at the weight. So much magic. No wonder that girl was scared.
A voice behind her asked, “How much fuel did you have to eat to create that vine?”
Zeisha turned. Standing behind her was a tall young woman with sleek, chin-length hair that shone in the sun. Like Zeisha, Princess Ulminora Abrios—who insisted on being called Nora—was seventeen. Yet she somehow looked like an elegant, sophisticated adult, even on this dusty street.
“I ate a few pieces of bark,” Zeisha answered with a forced smile.
Nora walked around to face Zeisha. Her tailored, navy-blue pants looked terribly expensive. She didn’t seem to care about that as she sat cross-legged in the dirt street. “Incredible. Could you do things like this before . . . well . . . you know, before?”
Yes, Zeisha knew what before meant. Before people who claimed to be recruiting magical apprentices had lured her from her hometown to the capital. Before she and other magic eaters had ridden in a dark, enclosed wagon which had at last released them inside a large building in an unknown location. Before a teenage girl called The Overseer had tou
ched them all, mentally enslaving them and forcing them into a magical militia.
Zeisha shoved a black curl behind her ear. Like it had a mind of its own, the hair popped out and settled again in front of her left eye. “Back home, I could make vines,” she said, “but they were very short.”
Nora lifted one of the green coils. “This is impressive.”
“I’m a fantastic learner when my mind isn’t my own,” Zeisha murmured. Fearing she sounded ungrateful, she smiled at the princess. “Thank you, Nora. For everything.”
Two days before, Nora had killed The Overseer, freeing Zeisha and the rest of the militia from mental captivity. “Krey was behind the rescue plan,” Nora said. “From the beginning, he was convinced you’d been kidnapped. He would’ve done anything to save you.”
Zeisha nodded. Krey was stuck on a rooftop clommets away, keeping an eye out for danger. Everyone expected the king to retaliate for the loss of his militia. Krey’s ability to fly made him the perfect lookout. Zeisha bit her lip, returning her attention to Nora. “Did you see Krey’s neck after the battle?”
“Yes.”
“I did that to him.” Zeisha briefly closed her eyes, remembering the bruises and red welts on Krey’s neck. Marks from the vine that had almost strangled him.
“You can’t be sure it was you. There were other plant lysters in the militia. One of them might’ve attacked him. And whoever did it, the healer took care of him. He’s good as new.”
“It was me.” The words made Zeisha’s chest ache. “He would’ve told me if it were someone else. But he avoided my questions.”
Nora placed her cool hand on top of Zeisha’s. “Even if that’s the case, it wasn’t really you. It was The Overseer.” She swallowed. “And my father. They’re the ones who controlled you and the others.”
Zeisha nodded, but the words didn’t comfort her. Again, she dropped her eyes to the strong vine in her lap. A terrible question came to her, one that had been flitting in and out of her mind for the last two days. Did I kill anyone during the battle?
“Zeisha?” Nora’s voice was gentle. “Are you okay?”
Zeisha almost gave voice to her question but couldn’t convince her mouth to form the words. She forced a smile. “I’m fine. Did, uh, did you need something?”
Nora returned the smile. “Eira said if we’re all staying here, we have to earn our keep. We had one day to rest. Now it’s time to get our assignments.”
Zeisha stood, gathering the heavy, green coils. She imagined—or remembered?—shooting a similar vine at Krey. Wrapping it around his neck. Tightening it until he couldn’t breathe.
Shaking her head to rid herself of the thought, she walked to the side of the street and dropped the vine against a deserted building.
As they walked toward Star Clan territory, Nora took in her surroundings. The street was bordered by empty buildings. Ancient Skytrain tracks crisscrossed the sky. Crashed vehicles, dented from countless hailstorms and discolored by sunlight, created obstacles in the road.
Nora turned her attention to Zeisha, who was looking into the distance. Zeisha was beautiful, with her short, hourglass figure and that lively mass of glossy, black curls. She was also one of the sweetest people Nora had ever met. “What do you think of Deroga?” Nora asked.
Zeisha’s eyes met Nora’s. “I don’t know what to think. I grew up hearing about preday cities, but I never dreamed I’d see one in person, much less live in one.”
Nora laughed. “I know what you mean.”
Deroga had once been a busy metropolis. Then came the apocalypse, an event known as The Day. Radiation from a mysterious stone killed nearly everyone on the planet of Anyari. The nearly half-million remaining humans gathered into new communities around the globe, rebuilding civilization. Few people stayed in cities like Deroga, which had been full of useless technology and rotting bodies.
Now, two centuries after The Day, six trog clans inhabited small sections of Deroga. Trogs were eccentric, to say the least. They lived in preday cities, shunning mainstream, postday society. Months ago, Deroga’s Star Clan had made a deal with the king, allowing the magical militia to use one of their buildings.
By the time Nora, Krey, and their friend Ovrun had arrived in Deroga to rescue Zeisha, the Star Clan had grown resentful of the militia’s presence. The trogs had agreed to join the fight to free the mind-controlled magic eaters and the city from the king’s influence.
Nora’s stomach cramped as she pondered that. It was bad enough for a country’s king to steal the minds of his people. It was infinitely worse when that king was your father.
“I can’t believe Eira is letting us stay here,” Zeisha said.
Nora pulled her thoughts away from her father. “Neither can I.” Eira was the unofficial leader of the Star Clan. “She knows her people are in danger now that they’ve made a stand against the king. The trogs need you and the other militia members to fight on their side. You’re all so strong.” Noting that Zeisha’s full lips held no hint of her usual smile, Nora asked, “What is it?”
“I didn’t want to hurt anyone.” Zeisha’s voice was soft. “I never wanted to fight at all.”
Nora put an arm around the shorter girl’s shoulders. “At least now you’ll have control over your gifts. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”
“I hope that’s true.”
Nora gave Zeisha’s shoulders a squeeze as they turned the corner onto the busiest street in Star Clan territory. Streets like this one were easy to traverse, having long ago been cleared of preday vehicles. They walked to the high-rise building where, two nights before, the trogs had thrown a party.
Ovrun was waiting outside for them, his wavy, black hair ruffling in the breeze. Dark eyes sparkling, he raised an eyebrow at Nora. She couldn’t hold back a grin. “Where were you at breakfast?” she asked.
“They told me to hunt for shimshims. There are only a few hundred people in the Star Clan, and now they’ve got three dozen extra residents. They said if we want to stay, we need to provide some food.” He turned to Zeisha. “I think they’re gonna ask you and the other vine eaters to help with their rooftop gardens.”
Zeisha’s customary smile returned. “I’d love that!”
“They’re almost ready to start,” Ovrun said.
All three of them walked into the building’s former lobby, which the trogs now used as a community space. During the party, countless candles had brought flickering light to the room. Now, with daylight entering through glassless windows, it looked entirely different—especially the upper portions of the tall walls. Two nights ago, they’d been swathed in shadows. Today, Nora’s jaw dropped as she took in the murals painted on them.
The art was unlike any Nora had seen, full of bold strokes and bright colors. Geometric shapes came together into pictures that grabbed her attention and wouldn’t let go. Three of the scenes were of a bustling city, full of technology. Preday Deroga.
Nora was most drawn to the single rural scene. In it, a woman in a multicolored gown knelt over a dead child. The child’s skin was stark white. Red circles, clearly representing blood, fell from its eyes, nose, and mouth. The woman’s mouth was a gaping, black crescent. Nora could almost hear her wailing cry. Other dead bodies lay in the background. Green grass, distant trees, and a bright-orange sky gave the macabre scene an ironic beauty. It was the most incredible depiction of The Day Nora had ever seen.
“We better sit,” Ovrun said.
Nora gazed at the mural a few seconds longer, then walked toward the center of the room. She, Zeisha, and Ovrun sat on a bench at a long table alongside other militia members and a few trogs who’d fought in the battle. Other trogs stood to the side, eyeing the newcomers warily.
Eira began the meeting. “New-city folk, each of you must tell us what you can do. We will give you work that suits you.”
They started at the front of the room. As militia members disclosed their skills, the trogs assigned them jobs. When it was N
ora’s turn to speak, she was at a loss. Her ice lysting wasn’t any use here, since the trogs didn’t have any spare ice and the ground was free of snow. Her cheeks grew warm. “I’m afraid my practical skills are . . . limited.”
Ovrun stood. “She’s been learning archery. She could come with me.”
“We need no unskilled hunters,” a rough-voiced trog said. “If new-city folk do not know how to work, they should not live here.”
“I’ll get better the more I try,” Nora insisted. “I also know how to clean shimshims. I’m sure I could learn to clean other animals too.”
Eira pursed her lips, then nodded. “Ovrun will help you improve your hunting skills. You will clean the game.”
Nora repressed a grin and sat down. She hated skinning and cleaning dead shimshims, but she’d do it all day if it meant roaming the streets with Ovrun. She caught his eye, and he winked at her.
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