The Vine Eater (The Magic Eaters Trilogy Book 2)

by Carol Beth Anderson

  12

  People say my generation is complacent. We’ve grown up with incredible technology. They think we take it for granted.

  Perhaps we do, but we still dream. Yes, I can control a flexscreen with my voice, but I dream of doing so with my mind. Yes, I can board a solarplane and fly across the world, but I dream of strapping on wings and soaring like a bird.

  -“Dreams Haven’t Died” by Genta Ril

  The Derogan Chronicle, dated Quari 18, 6293

  All around, people were leaving the street in front of the warehouse, going back to whatever else they had planned for the sunny Sunday afternoon. Krey grinned at Zeisha. “How did that feel? Using your magic?”

  “It was fun—really fun.”

  He took her hand. “I have an idea. I need to grab more feathers from the warehouse. You can wait out here.”

  “No, I’ll come with you.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “If you want to.”

  Inside, Krey refilled the pouch of feathers he kept in his sleeve, then stuffed more fuel in all his pockets. The chest was nearly full and should last him weeks, if not months. It would be nice not to have to hunt for feathers anymore. He turned back to Zeisha. “Ready to—”

  Her expression stifled his enthusiasm. She was somber, staring across the room. “Something tells me that’s the room where we slept,” she said, pointing at a closed door.

  “Do you want to go in there?”

  She turned her head sharply toward him, her eyes wide. “No!”

  “Okay.” He took her hand, and her fingers squeezed his so tight it hurt. “Let’s get out of here,” he said. As soon as they stepped outside, her grip on his hand loosened.

  The street was mostly empty, though a few trogs and militia members lingered, chatting. Krey turned to Zeisha, relieved when she gave him a smile. “Guess what time it is?” he asked.

  “Lunchtime?”

  He laughed. “If you want. But I was hoping we could fly first.”

  Her smile broadened and her eyebrows leapt up. “Yes! What do I need to do?”

  “After I fuel up, you’ll hop on my back and hold on tight.”

  A few minutes later, Krey had eaten his fill of feathers. He turned and crouched. Zeisha got on his back, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and squeezing his waist with her knees.

  He stood and activated his magic.

  Then he stopped breathing.

  Zeisha was the most beautiful person he knew. He loved her full lips, smooth skin, and hourglass figure. He’d seen that figure in clothes both baggy and snug. He’d kissed her hundreds, maybe thousands, of times. He’d held her hand and caressed her face.

  But now—oh, by the very stone, she was part of him, enveloped in his magic, and he sensed every single bit of her. Not just the way her shirt and pants clung to her—something he’d always admired—but the skin underneath, mind-bendingly soft and curved. She had ripples and dimples and rolls, every one of them entrancing. She’d gained muscle during her time in the militia, and he admired those bands of strength beneath the flesh of her legs, waist, arms, and back.

  But her muscles didn’t snag his attention and imagination for long. His focus traveled, like an arrow, to the parts of her that were hers alone, places he’d never touched or seen. And as delightful as it was to be so suddenly introduced to the fullness of who Zeisha was, Krey felt like his magic had turned him into a voyeur . . . and quite possibly the biggest jerk ever. He forced his thoughts to move elsewhere.

  Her neck. That was safe, right? But oh, had he ever noticed how the hollow of her brown neck was so perfectly rounded, how it could hold a drop of bollagrape juice in its soft little bowl? And if there were juice there, he could taste—

  No, no, no, change direction. Her hair. Krey had always loved her shining curls, but now that he felt them as part of himself, he found their springiness extra delightful, their gloss even lovelier than he’d realized. And then there were her eyes, their enchanting hazel irises framed by long, beckoning lashes. Every time she blinked, those lashes seemed to point to her captivating lips.

  He’d thought after all this time, he knew her lips, that he knew every bit of her mouth, but now—orange sky above, those damn lips were even fuller and softer than he’d realized, and would it be okay to put her down right now so he could kiss—

  “Krey?”

  He flinched, making her laugh. “Uh”—he cleared his throat—“yeah?”

  “Are we gonna fly?”

  “About that . . .” This felt weird, talking to her when he couldn’t see her face. “I, uh . . .” Out with it. She knows you better than anyone. Just be honest. He kept his voice low, suddenly ultra aware of the other people in the street. “Zeisha, I told you when you were part of my magic, I’d sense every part of you.”

  “Yes, you told me that.” There was a hint of amusement in her voice.

  “Yeah, well, you’re . . . I’m just really distracted because . . .” He turned his head as far as he could. She brought her chin over his shoulder and met his gaze. “The thing is,” he breathed, “I knew I loved you, but right now, it’s like I’m in a gallery, in front of the most incredible piece of art I’ve ever seen—but I’m not in front of it, I’m part of it, soaking in its colors and lines. Only it’s not a painting, it’s you. And your colors and lines—your everything—well, it’s all so completely perfect, and I . . . I’m lost in it. In you.”

  He stopped, convinced he’d just made a complete fool of himself. A gallery? Where did I come up with that?

  Her voice was hushed, but every word reached his ear. “That’s the most amazing thing anyone’s ever said to me. Maybe to anyone. Ever.”

  He couldn’t help it; he laughed. “I don’t think you get it. All of you, Zeisha. There’s no part of you that isn’t part of me right now. And the thoughts I’m having about you—well, I shouldn’t be spouting off about art; I should be apologizing.”

  “Why?” Her breath was warm on his cheek. “Because you love me? Because you want me? Because right now, when I’m clinging to your back like a little kid, you’re somehow making me feel more beautiful than ever?” When Krey didn’t answer, she brushed his ear with her lips, whispering, “I want you too.”

  Krey let out all of his breath. His hands, holding her rounded calves, were damp with sweat. “That’s all well and good, but if I can’t get my mind in a different place, we can’t fly. I have to focus to keep us both in the air. If I’m thinking about you—about your body that’s so perfect it’s torturing me—we’re both gonna fall.”

  Zeisha laughed softly, which made her move in a way that ratcheted up his distraction. Then she started talking. Gone was the seductive whisper. Her voice was casual, informal, like they were chatting over a meal. “So, I’ve been thinking a lot about my mom and dad lately. And your aunts too. And my brothers. I wonder what they’re doing right now. Maybe—”

  Krey interrupted her with a loud groan. “Zei?”

  “Hmm?”

  “I didn’t realize there was a switch, but there is, and you just turned it off.”

  “Oh good, because I was just remembering this time when my mom taught me to do laundry. We started with my brothers’ socks—”

  Krey leapt into the air, and Zeisha broke into peals of delighted laughter.

  “More stories about your parents, less laughing,” Krey said as he spiraled higher. But he was chuckling too, relieved to find that he could be aware of Zeisha’s body, and even appreciate it, without being overwhelmed with desire.

  They flew high over Star Clan Territory. The crisp, dry, late-winter air whooshed in their ears as Krey went faster and faster, urged on by Zeisha’s frequent, gleeful shouts. He took them even higher. The city below turned into a child’s playmat, with buildings made of blocks. The blue-gray river looked like a solid pencil line. Each of the city’s occupants could’ve been a bug.

  Zeisha’s entire body shivered. Krey slowed so the breeze would caress them, rather than rushing over them
. “So,” he said, “you like flying?”

  Zeisha’s body quivered again with that distracting laugh. “Yeah.”

  “I know you’ve been nervous about being part of the battle. But today—well, I can tell you love your magic again. And I can feel how much fun you’re having up here. I’m kind of looking forward to kicking some royal ass with you on my back.” He laughed, but Zeisha was quiet. After some time, she drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “What are you thinking?” he asked.

  He wasn’t sure she’d heard him; the air up here swallowed up sound. He opened his mouth to repeat the question, but Zeisha answered, “This is the best day I’ve had since I left Tirra.”

  He squeezed her legs. “I’m glad.”

  “Let’s not talk about fighting, okay?”

  “Okay.” Krey didn’t want to feel disappointed, but he couldn’t help it. He was buzzing with anticipation, and he wanted her to share it. It wasn’t that he enjoyed hurting others. He’d love to avoid that part. What thrilled him, what sent life pumping through his heart, was the meaning behind the upcoming fight.

  The battle to free the militia had been intoxicating. He’d risked his life to set people free. To set wrong things right. He’d do it again when the Cellerinian army returned. He’d take to the air to gather information, warn others, and rain ice on his enemies. Why? To protect the freedom of a community who’d done nothing to deserve the king’s attacks.

  When that day came—and it couldn’t come soon enough—Krey would carry the girl he loved on his back. They’d fight together. They’d protect each other. What could be better?

  But Zeisha, he was certain, didn’t share his anticipation.

  Did I pressure her into this? I told her she needed to do what was best for her. Did she believe me?

  “Zeisha,” he said, “if you change your mind—about the fight—it’s okay. Really.”

  They flew for a good two minutes before she responded. “I love you, Krey.”

  He wasn’t sure what that had to do with fighting, but he wouldn’t push her to talk about it. This was the best experience he’d ever shared with her. He was as hesitant to ruin it as she was.

  Again, Krey allowed himself to appreciate her perfect form, saturated with his magic. When that became too distracting, he shifted his focus to her hands, clasped over his chest. He lifted them both to his mouth and kissed her knuckles. “I love you too.”

  13

  The whole world is talking about the archeological dig in the shadow of Cellerin Mountain. In case you’ve missed the most recent news, here’s a brief recap. Archeologists, funded by tech giant Merak Technologies, are working to unearth an artifact that may date back to humanity’s early days on Anyari.

  The artifact’s significance is both historical and scientific. Scientists have detected unique radioactivity at the dig. They believe the purported artifact is its source.

  Yesterday, I spoke with Alvun Merak, owner of Merak Technologies. “We anticipate making major medical advances once we harness the power of this radioactivity,” he said.

  Sometimes it’s not the future that’s revolutionary—it’s the past.

  -“Let’s Dig!” by Genta Ril

  The Derogan Chronicle, dated Quari 20, 6293

  Nora picked up the shimshim she’d just put an arrow through. Handing it to Ovrun, she said, “I’m sorry you have to clean this one.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  “Okay, I’m not.” Nora laughed and gave Ovrun a smiling kiss. “See you tomorrow.”

  “Have fun out there.”

  Nora jogged off, raising her eyes to the sky. After three weeks in Deroga, it still felt strange to depend on the sun alone for telling time. She kind of liked the challenge of it though. There were some high clouds, but the sun’s rays extended beyond one of them. It was directly overhead. Osmius would be waiting.

  Drawing deep, measured breaths, Nora ran through Deroga’s streets. These days, running felt almost good. A few months back, she wouldn’t have dreamed she’d ever think such a thing.

  Osmius was waiting on a wide street. As he turned his head toward his visitor, his deep-gray scales shimmered with tiny rainbows. Hello, Nora-human.

  Hi! Ready to get some ice?

  Is your mate coming?

  Oh, by the stone, Osmius, he’s not my mate. He’s my—I don’t know what he is, but definitely not my mate. And no, he’s not coming. He needs to hunt.

  Osmius’s deep laughter told Nora he’d been teasing. During her years being pampered in the palace, she’d never have dreamed a dragon would joke around with her. On a Derogan street. While she wore non-tailored clothes and zero makeup. Nora climbed up the beast’s scales. Life has gotten weird as hell, Osmius.

  He laughed again and lifted into the air. As they soared through the clear sky, Nora updated Osmius on the spy in Star Clan custody. According to Eira, Elo Golsch now lived in a more comfortable cell and seemed to be warming to the trog cause. However, he claimed not to know anything about the inner workings of the army. Eira made sure he was treated well, hoping that eventually, he’d play a larger role in the trogs’ fight for freedom. Nora hadn’t visited him since their first unfortunate encounter.

  A few minutes later, Nora said, I thought we were going to the mountains.

  We shall.

  They’re to the south. You’re flying southwest.

  Gathering ice will not take long. There are other things I wish to show you.

  Other things?

  Osmius went silent. Nora sighed. She was convinced he often adopted an air of mystery just to piss her off.

  At last, the great dragon spoke. You shall be a queen someday, Nora-human.

  She felt the muscles in her shoulders and arms tense. About that . . . considering the current king wants to send his army into the place where I’m living, my future profession is up in the air. My future anything, for that matter.

  This is true. Still, you have the heart of a ruler. You should know the land you may rule.

  He thought she had the heart of a ruler? Nora wasn’t sure whether to argue, laugh, or be flattered. She mulled the words over in silence. Eventually, she asked, Where are you taking me?

  To the places humans do not travel.

  You’re not gonna tell me more than that, are you?

  There was that laugh again, sounding like it originated in the planet’s core.

  Nora sighed and tried to enjoy the ride. She supposed many humans would give anything to be in her position. In the early years after The Day, dragon sightings were common. These days, though, the great reptids mostly kept to themselves. Osmius probably knew the uninhabited parts of Cellerin better than any human.

  Osmius, Nora said, Why do dragons usually stay so far away from humans?

  You saw both Taima and me in chains. That was not the first time humans captured dragons. Need you ask why we lack trust?

  Oh . . . right.

  When I fly over civilized areas, Osmius said, I fly high, so humans may mistake me for a bird.

  And so you’re out of weapons range?

  Yes. When men hired by the king captured Taima and me, we were in our den, not in the air.

  The simmering rage in his voice took Nora’s breath away. I’m sorry, Osmius.

  You are not the one who hurt us.

  It was her father, though. She couldn’t help but feel somewhat responsible. Why do you and Taima keep helping me? I’d understand if you wanted to fly off and never look at another human.

  You and your friends saved us, Nora-human. You earned our trust and our loyalty.

  Nora squeezed his neck tighter.

  They flew in silence for what must have been well over an hour, passing over the Kamina River and great swaths of uninhabited land. Frequent patches of green vegetation interrupted the brown dirt. Then the surface lightened to beige, as far as the eye could see. We’re over the Therro Desert, aren’t we? Nora asked.

  We are.

  The monochromatic, sandy
dunes had a hypnotic effect. I’m about to fall asleep, Osmius.

  That would be unwise. Look straight ahead, halfway to the horizon. What do you see?

  She squinted. Nothing. Your eyes are better than mine.

  Keep looking. Do not allow yourself to sleep.

  After a couple of minutes, Nora saw a small, shimmery splotch. Is that a mirage?

  It is not. Osmius covered the distance quickly and was soon spiraling down toward a bright-green pool. He touched down in the sand.

  Should I get down? Nora asked.

  Osmius turned his head. One of his golden, domed, compound eyes seemed to fix itself on her. Have you heard the stories of when the land held the magic of the stone?

  Nora had been on her belly for the whole flight. She let go of Osmius’s scales and sat up, stretching her arms above her head. Do you mean all the strange things that supposedly happened after The Day? Rivers that parted, things like that?

  You have heard, then.

  Heard, yes. Believed? I’ve never been sure.

  Osmius stared at her. Drop to the sand, Nora-human. Drink the water.

  She almost protested, almost asked a dozen questions about the safety of such a thing and why he’d want her to do it and what it would do to her—

  But she trusted Osmius. Completely.

  Nora returned to her belly and slid down the dragon’s gray scales. The treads of her boots sank into the soft sand with a shh sound. She dropped her pack and started toward the pool. Walking through the sand required some effort, but it didn’t take long to reach the water.

  It wasn’t like the pond back at the palace. There was no soggy ground leading to shallow water that gradually deepened. Instead, the ground stopped, and deep water began. The sand was like a wall, extending downward, visible through the water but not mixing with it. Despite the emerald-green water’s stunning clarity, Nora couldn’t see the bottom.