The Stone Eater (The Magic Eaters Trilogy Book 3)

by Carol Beth Anderson

  Her two companions obeyed. Dragon fire warmed Nora as she gazed at the rock, which contained a perfect imprint of a four-toed footprint. “It’s a fossil!”

  “This entire hill is full of them,” Zeisha said quietly. “There are . . . memories . . . in this hill. From long before humanity’s arrival on Anyari.”

  “I wonder if Cellerin’s scientists know about this place,” Nora said.

  “The Well has something for us here.” Zeisha’s eyes were on the spot where she’d caused the rocks to dance. “But I’m not sure what.” She returned to where she’d knelt before and again touched the ground. Nora was starting to shuffle impatiently when Zeisha stood. “We need to take rocks back with us, as many as we can carry.”

  “Should we look specifically for fossils?” Nora asked.

  “No, the entire area is soaked with the planet’s memories, and I awakened the Well over it all. That’s what’s important.” Wrinkles crimped her forehead. “I’m just not sure what it means.”

  The women filled every available space in their packs with rocks. Nora carefully positioned them around the book she’d borrowed from the trog library, glad she’d wrapped it in thick leather. When she finished, she turned to Zeisha. “What’s next?”

  “I’ll listen as we travel. I’m hoping by the time we get back to the farm, I’ll understand why these rocks are important.”

  Nora nodded. Good thing her own magic was so comparatively simple. She ate ice to make ice and snow. Dragon speaking was even easier, requiring no effort or fuel. There was no way she’d have the patience to listen like Zeisha did.

  They mounted Osmius again. As they rose into the air, the white fire he’d been holding exited his mouth as a stream of bright flames. Behind Nora, Kebi let out a frightened squeak.

  Nora relaxed into the dragon’s warm, smooth scales.

  The next morning, Zeisha woke to dawn light streaming through the gaps in the shutters. Kebi was next to her, and Nora and Sarza occupied the other bed. All three of them were still sleeping.

  Zeisha quietly dressed in extra clothes she’d brought from Deroga. When she’d gone to sleep last night, she still didn’t understand why they’d gathered the rocks. However, the voice she always listened for had spoken in her dreams. She knew more than she had the night before, though some of the mystery remained.

  Someone knocked lightly on the door. Zeisha opened it. A smiling girl with wavy, medium-brown hair waited on the other side. “I’m Joli,” she said.

  Returning the smile, Zeisha came into the hallway. Once the door was closed, she introduced herself.

  “My mother’s almost done making breakfast,” Joli said.

  “I’m the only one who’s awake,” Zeisha said. “But I’m starving.”

  “Come with me, and we’ll help my mom get breakfast on the table.”

  “Did Krey get in safely?” Zeisha asked as they walked.

  “Yes, but later than the rest of you.”

  Breakfast was a cheerful affair. When Tiam found out Zeisha was a vine eater, he asked her if she’d lend her services to his crops. He usually hired a vine eater every month and was thrilled at the prospect of daily magical assistance.

  Zeisha gladly agreed. When they were done eating, they ventured outside.

  The day was full, and Zeisha didn’t get the chance to gather her friends until after she’d helped clean up the dinner dishes. She found Kebi and Sarza on the front porch and Ovrun behind the house, gazing at the dark fields. Nora and Krey were in the guys’ room, arguing vehemently about something they’d read in one of their books. Zeisha didn’t ask Hatlin or Joli to join them. This meeting was only for those who knew about her position as the Anya.

  They gathered in the girls’ bedroom and stood around the heavy, rock-filled packs from the previous night. Zeisha described their detour the night before, then said, “According to a dream I had, these old rocks are fuel.”

  “We don’t have any stone eaters here,” Krey said.

  “Not that kind of fuel. The Well has turned them into something else.”

  They stared at her expectantly.

  “That’s all I know,” she said with a shrug.

  “How do we find out what they’re fuel for?” Nora asked.

  Zeisha smiled hesitantly. “I could eat some. I don’t even know if it’ll work on me, but it’s a start.”

  “That’s risky,” Krey said. “You know how fuel works. If I tried to eat roots like you do, it would make me sick.”

  “I’ll only swallow a little bit. I’ll be okay.” They all stared at her as she knelt before her pack and undid the buckle. She set the larger rocks on the floor. When she reached the bottom, her fingers came away with a small pinch of rock powder. She put it in her mouth—and immediately spit it into her hand.

  The pieces tasted wrong. Something inside her, something intuitive, shouted that this fuel didn’t belong in her body. She looked up at the others. They all gazed back with concern. “I’m supposed to eat this,” she said, just as certain as before. “But my body disagrees.”

  “Maybe you shouldn’t—”

  Before Kebi could finish her statement, Zeisha licked up the tiny rock pieces and forced herself to swallow, past her gag reflex and the sense of wrongness. The mysterious fuel went down. She stood.

  “Do you feel different?” Nora asked.

  “You don’t look sick,” Sarza said.

  “I’m fine,” Zeisha said, blinking slowly. “I don’t feel anything at all.”

  “Listen, Zeisha,” Kebi said softly.

  Zeisha gave her a grateful smile before closing her eyes and listening. An image of plant matter, her ordinary fuel, entered her mind. She opened her eyes. “I’ll be right back,” she said, before rushing from the room.

  Outside, she pulled some bark from a tree, stashing it in her pocket. When she returned to the bedroom, she said, “Before you ask, I still don’t know what’s happening. But I think this is step two.” She chewed and swallowed a small piece of bark, then turned on her magic so she could make a vine.

  Only it didn’t turn on. Nothing at all happened.

  She tried again. “My magic isn’t working,” she muttered, trying a third time, with the same lack of results.

  “Maybe you didn’t eat enough fuel,” Sarza said.

  “She doesn’t need much,” Nora said. “I’ve never seen a lyster more efficient than Zeisha.”

  Just to be sure, Zeisha ate another bite of bark. It didn’t affect her at all.

  Krey knelt by Zeisha’s pack. He pulled out the tiniest of pebbles and swallowed it down, grimacing as he did so. “That was not meant to be eaten.” Standing, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a couple of diced feathers. He ate them, then stood, watching the group.

  “Yours doesn’t work either, does it?” Zeisha asked.

  He shook his head, eyes wide.

  No one spoke for several seconds. Then Krey said, “I have an idea. Nora, don’t touch the rocks.”

  Her hands went to her hips. “You’re giving the orders now?”

  “Please,” he added. He gave her a smile and a dramatic bow, then left the room. When he returned a few minutes later, he handed a bowl of crushed ice to Nora. “Varia gave me this.”

  “Shouldn’t I eat a rock first?”

  “No, this is the next phase of our experiment. Just get some ice into your system and make sure your talent works as usual.” He smiled, then added, “Please, Your Highness.”

  Nora ate a handful of ice, then blew a bit of snow from her mouth.

  “Perfect,” Krey said. “Now shoot ice at me.”

  She grinned, held up a hand, and shot a good-sized ball of ice at his stomach. Zeisha grimaced and tightened her own abdominals in empathy . . . then watched as the cold, dense ball hit an invisible wall several simmets from Krey and dropped to the wooden floor.

  Everyone was silent except Sarza, who breathed a drawn-out “Daaaamn.”

  Zeisha grinned in realization. “It’s
keeping you from doing magic, but it’s also shielding you from the magic of others.”

  “Do you think it only works on magic eaters?” Ovrun asked.

  “Test it and see,” Zeisha said.

  Ovrun ate about as much of the fuel as Krey and Zeisha had.

  Krey grimaced as his friend ate it. “It’s awful, right?”

  “I didn’t think it was so bad. It just tasted like rock.”

  Zeisha tapped her lips with one finger. “It didn’t feel wrong when you ate it?”

  “Nope.” He held out his arms. “Nora? Give it your best shot.”

  She formed another ball of ice, smaller than the one she’d sent at Krey. Giving Ovrun a hesitant look, she tossed the ball his way.

  The ice hit an invisible shield and fell to the ground.

  Kebi and Krey both laughed. Exhilaration came over Zeisha. She’d discovered a fuel that could protect anyone from being attacked by magic.

  “It doesn’t feel wrong for Ovrun to eat it because he’s not a magic eater,” Krey said. “It was my magic that rebelled against me swallowing that rock. Ovrun doesn’t have any magic to lose.”

  “I wonder if it would take away Sarza’s ability to have visions,” Nora said.

  “Sarza, why don’t you try it and see if it tastes terrible?” Zeisha suggested.

  Sarza put a little piece in her mouth, then grimaced and spat it out.

  “I suppose that’s our answer,” Nora said. “If your prophetic magic doesn’t want you to eat it, that probably means it works on you.”

  “But I always assumed my gift was different than yours,” Sarza said. “I don’t know much about seers, but I know they were around a long time before the stone brought magic into the world.”

  “I’ve read that seering may have been the first type of magic the stone brought us,” Nora said. “We know there were seers during humanity’s early days on Anyari. And we know they had access to the stone back then, before they buried it in a cave. Some historians have hypothesized that the ability to see the future came from the stone.”

  Sarza blinked. “I’d never heard that.”

  Zeisha’s gaze fell on Krey, whose lips were parted, his eyes focused and thoughtful. “What are you thinking about, Krey?”

  He turned to her. “How normal fuel works. It stays in your system a long time unless you do magic—then you use it up a whole lot faster. I bet we’re burning up this fuel when it protects us.”

  To test his hypothesis, Nora happily aimed small balls of ice at him. Less than a minute later, one of them hit him right between his eyes. Zeisha was the second to lose protection. She burned up the rocks she’d eaten by attempting to use her plant magic. Before long, she could create vines again. Ovrun was still protected, so Zeisha aimed her vines at him. On her third try, her vine reached him.

  “This stuff is amazing.” Krey grinned at Zeisha. “What should we call it?”

  “You want me to name it?”

  “You discovered it!”

  “Shield fuel,” she said with a soft smile. She’d used the magic of the Well to shield the residential areas in Deroga. Now she was using it to shield her friends.

  They were cleaning up vines and ice when a gasp made everyone stop.

  “What, Nora?” Zeisha asked.

  Nora’s eyes were wide. “If this blocks magic . . . it should shield us from my father’s control too.”

  The room went quiet.

  Finally, Krey spoke. “We’ll have to give up our own magic to be protected from him. But it’ll be worth it.”

  “We need to break up these rocks so they’re easier to consume,” Nora said. “Zeisha, if Osmius takes you, can you get more?” Zeisha nodded, and Nora continued, “We’ll tell everyone else in the house. Anyone who may encounter my father needs to be able to protect themselves.”

  “Even Sharai?” Krey said. “You really think that’s a good idea?”

  Nora didn’t hide her annoyance. “She’s on our team, Krey. The only ones who know exactly where the fuel comes from are Zeisha, Kebi, and me. We won’t tell anyone else, even the rest of you.”

  “Not because we don’t trust you,” Zeisha said. “We need to protect the knowledge in case the king finds a way to interrogate someone.”

  Nora nodded. “We should carry it with us at all times—but we’ll store the rest of it somewhere secret. We can find a place in the barn or stable where no one will come across it.”

  Zeisha agreed. Everyone who might fight or even meet the king needed protection from his mind magic. “We’ll need to share this with the militia and anyone else who joins our coalition. But please don’t say anything about how we got it. No one can know about my connection to the Well.”

  Kebi took her hand, lacing their fingers together. Several sets of eyes flicked down to their joined hands. Zeisha stifled a smile. Now that Krey knew about her and Kebi, there was no reason to hide it from the others. She squeezed Kebi’s hand.

  “We will protect your secret, Zeisha,” Kebi said. She looked around the room. “Yes?”

  Everyone nodded or murmured assent.

  Hope filled Zeisha’s heart, and she sensed it spreading through the room.

  13

  After dinner, Ulmin and I sat on the back porch. He said he’d like to walk through the neighborhood, but his royal guards would have to come along. I suggested we sneak out instead, just the two of us. It took some convincing, but he finally agreed.

  With his knit cap pulled down and his scarf pulled up, he looked like an ordinary man. We sneaked past the guards waiting in the carriage and ran to a nearby pub, where we whispered and laughed for half an hour. No one recognized Ulmin, and that made him giddy.

  We’d just arrived back on the porch when Uncle Quin came out to check on us. Ulmin and I held in our laughter until we were alone again.

  -Letter from Ambrel Kaulder to Dani Kaulder

  Dated Centa 29, 180 PD

  Ovrun grunted as the closed carriage Sharai was driving bounced along a rutted dirt street in Cellerin City. Hatlin sat across from him, handling the rough ride silently. It was Saturday night, and despite the late hour, plenty of people were out and about, socializing.

  Ovrun welcomed the sounds from the street. These days, Nora filled his mind at every quiet moment. Sometimes he lost himself in thoughts of her, obsessing over what he could’ve done differently and wondering if he could win her back. Other times, like tonight, his worn-out heart embraced distractions such as mindless noise.

  At last, Sharai parked in an alley behind a small pub.

  Ovrun pulled back the curtain of one carriage window, then the other. The alley, lit by the carriage’s lanterns, appeared to be empty. Thank the sky. For all Ovrun knew, there could be a bounty on his head for fleeing Cellerin City with the princess seven months ago. Best not to be seen by too many people tonight.

  “If I’m not back in two minutes,” Ovrun said, “it means I found who I was looking for. I’ll come back to the alley in an hour.”

  “Be careful,” Hatlin replied.

  “I will. Hope your meeting goes well.” Hatlin and Sharai were headed to a different pub to chat with trusted New Therroans who might join their coalition.

  Ovrun stepped out. He’d just reached the pub’s rear door when it swung open. He leapt back, heart pounding wildly.

  A woman sneered at him as she dumped a pot of water into a gutter. “Entrance is in front.”

  “Yeah,” Ovrun said as he rushed into the pub’s tiny kitchen, ignoring the woman’s protests. When he reached the door into the pub’s main room, he slowed. He’d draw every eye in the place if he barreled in like a galloping orsa.

  With studied casualness, he opened the door and blinked to let his eyes adjust to the dim pub. He was behind the bar. A woman holding three mugs of ale ignored him as she walked around the bar to deliver her drinks. Ovrun followed her, scanning the small room.

  At a table in the corner sat a man he’d worked with as a royal guard. Lott was
in his fifties and had retired shortly before Ovrun was fired. They’d always gotten along well. In private conversations with Ovrun, Lott had confided his dislike of Ulmin. Ovrun had good reason to think the man would be an ally.

  One other man sat at the table with Lott. Ovrun contemplated waiting in the shadows to see if the other man would leave, but Lott looked up, met his gaze, and smiled through his thick, gray beard.

  Ovrun approached. “Lott,” he said, keeping his voice low. “I remembered this was your favorite pub. Hoped I’d find you here.” He silently begged the man not to greet him by name.

  “Ovrun!” Lott said, his voice seeming to echo through the room. “Have a seat.”

  Gut tightening with nerves, Ovrun did just that.

  Lott introduced his friend, Kevlin, and the three men began talking. Lott didn’t seem to be aware of Ovrun’s adventures outside the city or his status as a wanted criminal. Ovrun mostly listened, giving noncommittal answers when Lott asked him what he’d been up to.

  One theme ran through the statements of the other two men. They both hated what was happening in their city. They spoke disparagingly of the soldiers and even of the king. The more Ovrun heard, the more comfortable he became.

  He didn’t know these guys well enough to tell them about the dissidents hiding in farms outside the city. Instead, he asked if they’d meet with him again next week at a pub with a private back room. They agreed.

  Kevlin stood. “Nearest bathroom is at the next pub over. I’ll be right back.”

  With the other man gone, Ovrun and Lott talked a little more freely. Lott had other friends he was certain would join the cause. Ovrun invited him to bring the most trustworthy ones to their next meeting.

  As he took the last swallow of his beer, Ovrun looked up at the clock. Hatlin and Sharai would return soon. “I gotta go. Tell Kevlin it was good to meet him.”

  “Tell him yourself,” Lott said. “He just came back in.”

  Ovrun turned. Kevlin had indeed reentered the pub. But he wasn’t alone. Two Cellerinian soldiers stood behind him.