She’d almost think a human had made this pool and lined it with a thin, transparent preday substance. But something told her that wasn’t the case. Perhaps it had never even been touched by human hands. And she was supposed to drink from it?
Do not fear, Nora-human.
She didn’t know how he’d sensed her trepidation, but his words, simmering with the power of the stone, calmed her. Kneeling near the edge of the sand, she dipped her hand into the water.
But . . . was it water? It flowed like water, but it was far warmer than the cool weather should allow. A fragrance, sweet and calming, wafted from it. And it was smooth, so smooth, like it was woven with the finest fabric, or oil, or . . . magic.
Much of what she scooped up slid back into the pool, but a bit remained in her cupped hand. It glimmered in the sunlight, more than ordinary water would. She brought it to her mouth and drank.
It was like nothing she’d ever tasted. Sweet, but with a tingling bite on her tongue. She had seen no bubbles, but it felt like tiny bits of something were popping all over her mouth. The liquid warmed her as it traveled through the center of her chest and into her stomach.
All at once, the muscles in Nora’s arms and legs came alive with joyful strength. She laughed aloud as desire filled her, an urgent need to dance, to run, to fly.
Like he’d tapped into her instinct, Osmius cried, Go!
Nora ran. The sand no longer bogged her feet down. It was like she was running on a springing surface, the ground itself propelling her forward. Grains of sand flew off her boots as she sprinted faster and leapt into the air. She landed farther away than should’ve been possible. Sand exploded around her like splashing water. It would’ve gotten in her eyes if she weren’t already spinning and leaping past it.
She lost track of time, claiming the desert as her playground. She was one with the air and the ground, one with Anyari itself. The sun’s rays, nearly blinding in their brightness, seemed to laugh with her. The sand rejoiced every time she sent it flying.
Finally, she felt drawn back to Osmius. After sprinting to him, she hurled herself up, grabbing his wide neck in her open arms and grasping his scales with clawed fingers. She reveled in the feel of her feet, dangling far off the ground. Dragon laughter resounded in her mind. Osmius’s scent—musky with a hint of spice—filled her nose. It was usually so mild that she barely noticed it, but with her senses on alert, she thought she could’ve tracked him across the country.
Then, as quickly as it had filled her, the burst of magical strength and awareness disappeared. Nora realized she was hanging mets off the ground, holding on by nothing but her fingertips. She screamed. Osmius lowered his head smoothly, placing her back in the sand.
She sat, breathing hard, eyes wide. “What was that?” she asked aloud.
That, Nora-human, was magical water.
She switched back to telepathic communication. Can I take it back to Deroga? Imagine the energy we’d all have during the battle . . .
Is that the type of energy you need during a battle?
Oh. Maybe not.
Even if it were, the water quickly loses its power when taken from the source.
Why did you show me this?
Osmius paused before replying, You are fighting for your kingdom. Your strength and courage shall be greater if you know what you are fighting for.
Nora nodded. Do you drink this water too, Osmius?
I do. There is no other feeling like it. I would drink it now, but the effects on dragons are greater. I would be hopping about the desert for hours. His great head tilted to one side. Do you want more?
She almost said yes, then realized the experience had washed her in contentment. She felt alive and alert, yet relaxed. No, but I hope you’ll bring me back here. She retrieved her pack and climbed up. Osmius rose into the air.
They spent the rest of the afternoon flying. Nora experienced her kingdom in a way she never had. Osmius took her over a great meadow, golden with winter-dormant grass, and directed her attention to an area that seemed to have a haze over it. Anyone who walks there sleeps for three days. When they wake, they remember nothing of who they are.
For a long time, they flew over ordinary land. There were once many enchanted places, Osmius explained. When I was young, I saw things you could not imagine. A mountain’s icy peak burst into flames during every full moon. Trees rearranged themselves, as if dancing with one another. Rivers flowed backward, including their waterfalls. Over time, the magic has faded from most of the land.
Nora yearned to see such sights. But Cellerin held non-magical enchantments too. Osmius carried her in front of a massive waterfall, close enough for its mist to chill them both. It was as tall as Deroga’s highest buildings and was tucked away within peaks so craggy, it would probably be generations before any human “discovered” it. They continued flying, passing over rushing rapids, rock formations that appeared sculpted, and a remote ranch with a large windmill and various animals grazing in huge fields.
Then Osmius showed her one more magical sight. Over the Kamina Forest, they dropped low enough to see a herd of seven sleeping unicorns. The sight of the wild beasts, with their shimmering silver coats and bone-white horns, made Nora shiver with awe.
As the sun set in the west, Osmius turned eastward toward the mountains where he and Taima lived. He soared first to the highest peak in the range, where he used his front claws to break off a piece of a glacier. The chunk was at least as big as Nora. She stood to the side, her hood up, and shuddered when Osmius broke the ice apart with his teeth. I would not want to get on your bad side, she told him.
He fixed her with a stare that made her back away. Then he laughed. Smoke puffed from his huge nostrils, filling Nora’s nose with the scent of cooked meat—whatever the dragon had eaten for lunch.
When the ice pieces were small enough, Nora packed as many as she could in bags she’d brought. She used rope to tie them to Osmius, who only grumbled a little about being made into a pack animal.
That done, Osmius asked, Nora-human, would you like to see my den?
For a moment, Nora didn’t breathe. I would be honored to.
He took her to a large cave, hidden among a mountain’s sharp peaks. Taima waited there. She was standoffish, which was the norm for her. But as they walked through the cave, Nora could sense the huge female dragon’s pride in the home she and Osmius had created.
They’d built up an impressive stock of dried mushu leaves, their fuel for the fire they breathed. In another corner, an immense pile of furs created a comfortable sleeping area. Nora considered how many wild animals the two dragons had killed to amass so many skins. They’d only lived in this place for a couple of weeks. Had they slaughtered so many in that time, or had one of them returned to a previous lair to retrieve what they’d had before? She didn’t ask. Dragons hunted—for food and, apparently, to create luxurious beds. Who was she to question that?
Osmius used his fiery breath to cook some cervid meat for Nora. In Deroga, she rarely ate meat that didn’t come from a shimshim. This meal was a nice change. As the sun set, Osmius offered her a few furs, and she curled up in them, falling asleep almost instantly. Her magical romp through the sand dunes had tired her more than she’d realized.
When she woke, the cave was as dark as the stone. The soft voices of Osmius and Taima reached her mind. They weren’t talking about anything private—just the hunting they’d done that day—but Nora still felt like she was eavesdropping. The dragons usually shielded their thoughts from her. She sent out a Hello, and their conversation halted.
We must go, Nora-human, Osmius said.
I can’t see a thing in here.
A moment later, the cave brightened with yellow-orange light. Nora found its source—a ball of fire flickering within Osmius’s wide-open mouth. Well, that’s a cool trick.
Osmius rose from his pile of furs, untwining himself from his mate. The sight sent an odd yearning into Nora’s chest. She’d seen the depth of Osmiu
s’s devotion for Taima when he’d sent humans to rescue her. Taima had made her own passion known when she’d incinerated Cage, the dragon speaker who’d held Osmius captive. And just now, Nora had seen how comfortable the two huge reptids were as they discussed their day, their powerful bodies curled together.
Devotion. Passion. Comfort. It all added up to love.
Back in Deroga, Nora had the middle piece: passion. I want the rest of it too.
She pushed the thought aside, thanking Taima for her hospitality. Outside, Nora climbed on Osmius’s back. He quenched the fire in his mouth, and they returned to the air.
Osmius, Nora ventured when they’d been flying a few minutes, when did you fall in love with Taima?
The question is wrong, Osmius replied.
What do you mean?
The dragon’s flight curved smoothly—left, right, left again. Nora got the feeling he was pondering his answer. Finally, he said, We did not fall into love.
But you do love each other—I can see it.
We did not fall into love, Nora-human. We fought into love.
This time, she remained quiet. Waiting.
We were formed on The Day, Osmius said. We woke with a dozen other small dragons in an empty building in Deroga. We were all in a room. The smell told us animals had lived there.
Nora’s mouth slowly widened into a smile. You woke in an urban shimshim den.
We did.
Does that mean the shimshims were . . . were they your parents?
We were not born. The shimshims who lived in that particular den became dragons—became us. Somehow we know this.
Nora pulled in a deep breath of cold air. Did anyone else in all of Anyari know how dragons had been created? Osmius, thank you for sharing this with me.
I trust you.
I’m glad. But . . . back to you and Taima falling in love. I mean, fighting into love. Can you tell me more?
We all lived together for a short time, but we grew rapidly. Within a week, the room was not big enough for twelve dragons. The strongest of the group began defending the den. She wanted it to be hers alone.
A guffaw escaped Nora’s mouth. I can guess who that was.
I am sure you can. Gradually, the other dragons left the den. All but one.
You, Nora said.
Yes. I refused to leave. Every day, Taima and I fought. We were small, but our teeth and claws were sharp. Neither of us gave in. Every day, we grew. Soon, the room we’d woken in was not big enough for one of us, much less two. Nevertheless, we stayed.
Silence settled over them both, only broken by the occasional beat of dragon wings. Nora finally lost her patience. You can’t stop the story there. You told me the fighting part but not the love part.
Nora-human, imagine it. Two dragons, grown into young adults, huddled in a room too small for them. They could not help but touch at every moment. Each learned the deep strength of the other. It was a small step from knowledge to admiration. Do you not think at some point, they would tire of fighting? His deep, smooth voice was a little condescending, but there was amusement in it too.
Nora wasn’t sure if the warmth suddenly covering her was from an air current or her reaction to the story. I suppose you would, she said. And once those two dragons realized they’d rather love each other than kill each other, I suppose they’d go looking for a home that could fit them both—maybe a cave?
You suppose correctly.
Two centuries, Nora said. Do you ever get tired of each other?
Osmius angled his body, flying even higher. On the contrary. A thousand years to love her would be too short.
“The king locked down the palace,” Hatlin told Nora. “The staff can’t leave; they all live there now.”
Nora stared at him in the light of his candle. “They’re all living there? But a lot of them have families! How does he stop them from leaving? Even he can’t control them all at once, can he? Besides, he has to sleep!”
“He doesn’t control them constantly. But they never know when he’s gonna do it. He takes over their minds at random times, then interrogates them. They know if they try to turn against him, he’ll find out. It’s a pretty foolproof way to get people to do what you want. One staff member tried to leave, and a guard shot him in the leg. They’re all afraid of their king, and that’s made them loyal.”
Nora swore. “Not the kind of loyalty I’d want.”
“Oh, and he fired all the lysters on staff. All except my contact. So far, she’s managed to keep her dirt-eating talent secret. And she’s avoided the king so he doesn’t touch her, but she knows he gets to everyone eventually.”
“How does she communicate with you?” Nora asked.
“The chapel is still open to the staff and the public. You know how religious your father is; I guess he doesn’t want to stop people from worshiping. My contact leaves me notes under one of the chairs in there.” He lifted his index finger, like he’d just remembered something. “Oh, and your aunt who lives there—what’s her name?”
Nora froze. “Dani,” she breathed. “Tell me she’s okay. Please.”
Hatlin’s shoulders dropped, and his furrowed brow conveyed more empathy than Nora would’ve thought him capable of. “I think the king’s got an extra-tight grip on her mind,” he said softly. “She sits in her office each day, staring at nothing.”
Nora’s chest tightened and twisted with emotions she couldn’t name. Dani had acted as a mother to her for ten years. “I can’t—I don’t—” She covered her mouth with both hands. “I have to go,” was the only coherent sentence she could form.
“I’m sorry,” Hatlin said.
Nora shook her head and turned away, calling Osmius back.
14
Therro hasn’t had a monarch in six hundred years. The Return to Royalty Society (RRS) wants to change that. I attended an RRS meeting to find out why.
I’d love to share the Society’s logic with you. Unfortunately, logic isn’t their strong suit. The RRS yearns to return to ancient days of pomp and elitism. I sat in that musty conference room for an hour. When I got home, I felt like I needed a shower to wash off all the nationalist sentiments clinging to me.
-“Practice Your Bows and Curtsies” by Genta Ril
The Derogan Chronicle, dated Quari 22, 6293
Nora-human, I cannot take you.
Then ask Taima to do it. Please. I have to save my aunt. I have to confront my father. If I just talk to him—
NO! A wide stream of fire lit up the night sky, accompanying the silent exclamation.
Nora’s body jerked with surprise. Her right boot and left hand lost their grip on Osmius’s scales. She quickly shoved them back in place.
She wanted to give Osmius a telepathic lashing. Instead, she drew in a deep breath. She’d finally calmed enough to talk to the dragon carrying her; she couldn’t mess it up. Osmius, think about how much you love Taima. You’d listen to her. Even if you were in a bad place and didn’t want to hear any reason, you’d hear her. My father . . . he’ll listen to me. I know it.
Osmius, too, had calmed. But his voice was all stony resolve. You tried talking to your father on the day you freed the militia. He did not listen.
The dragon was right, but . . . How can you even compare that to this? I’d just fought a battle against his militia. He was angry! If I talk to him in his own palace, it’ll be different. I know it will. And even if he doesn’t listen . . . Osmius, my aunt! I’ve got to get her away from him!
Listen to yourself! The dragon’s words somehow made her chest quiver. Once your father has rebuffed you, do you think he will let you rescue your aunt? Or will he imprison you in his palace? I cannot allow this, Nora-human! We shall speak no further of it!
Nora ground her teeth together and remained quiet the rest of the trip. But her mind was racing.
Her father still existed. The real him, the one who would do anything for his daughter. And she was the only one who could reach him. She could remind him of everything
he’d lost through his addiction and his quest for power. It wouldn’t be easy for him to rebuild his life, to restore healthy rule in their nation. But he could do it, supported by his daughter. Nora was certain of it.
Almost certain, anyway.
When Osmius landed on the dark Derogan street, he spoke to Nora’s mind again. I will help you fight, Nora-human. I will not help you lose.
A rush of affection for the massive beast filled Nora, despite her anger. She kissed one of his scales, then sat up. I understand. And she did.
But did he understand how determined she was?
Early the next morning, Nora sat at the breakfast table with Zeisha, rubbing sleepy grit from her eyes. A few minutes later, Ovrun and Krey arrived. The four of them had a table to themselves.
Nora began sharing the information Hatlin had given her. Halfway through, Zeisha reached across the table and took her hand. Nora stopped talking. The words wouldn’t travel through her tight throat. Zeisha gets it. Nora wasn’t just sharing the story of a king going insane. She was living the tragedy of losing her father and, in a way, her aunt. She squeezed Zeisha’s hand and sniffed loudly.
When she’d steadied her breathing, she continued her recap, then concluded, “I have to talk to my father.”
“Like hell you do,” Krey snapped.
At the same time, Ovrun said, “I’m not sure that’s the best idea.”
The table went silent. Zeisha was the one to break it. “Nora, why don’t you explain what you’re thinking?”
Nora liked this girl more every day. She gave Krey a sharp look. You could learn something from her, you know.
She’d had hours of sleeplessness to improve the arguments she’d tried on Osmius. After a deep breath, she presented her case. Her father, she explained, hadn’t completely lost himself to his dark talent. She could bring him back around. No, it wouldn’t be easy. Yes, it would take time. But think of the lives it could save. Shouldn’t someone try to prevent war, even as the trogs and former militia continued to prepare for it?
The Vine Eater (The Magic Eaters Trilogy Book 2) Page 12