The Frost Eater (The Magic Eaters Trilogy Book 1)

by Carol Beth Anderson

His gaze drifted to Hatlin, the one person here he’d almost consider a friend. The big man wasn’t wearing the half-drunk, gregarious expression Krey had grown used to seeing on him. Instead, he was watching Krey with eyes nearly as incisive as T’s.

  “Why don’t you tell us what’s going on, Krey?” Hatlin said, his voice low.

  Krey pulled his glass water bottle out of his pack and took a long drink. Tell the truth, just not all of it. Build trust with these men. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and said, “Nora—the princess—we became friends. Her aunt thought I was a bad influence. That’s why I got kicked out of the palace. Nora is . . . well, I guess she’s bored. She ran away on Tuesday, and I helped her leave the city. We’re living in the Derogan suburbs now.”

  He’d directed his words at Hatlin, but it was T who responded. “Is she sympathetic to our cause?”

  “She wants peace between the monarchy and New Therro, but if she had to choose sides, she’d choose the monarchy. She trusts her father.”

  “Just not enough to keep living with him.” T steepled his fingers in front of his mouth. “Krey, where do your loyalties lie?”

  With Zeisha. He couldn’t say that aloud though, not to the men who might’ve imprisoned her. “I want the monarchy to stop taking advantage of people who can’t fight back.”

  “And if they won’t stop?” T asked.

  “Then we make them.”

  T’s thin lips lifted in a small smile. “Pleasure to meet you, Krey. I look forward to talking more.” Without another word, he stood and left.

  Krey looked between Hatlin and Wallis. When neither of them said anything, he ventured, “So, T’s important to the cause?”

  Wallis chuckled. “He is.”

  “Who is he?”

  Hatlin stood. “You look tired. Want me to ask Alit for some blankets and a pillow? You can take a nap in this room, then get back to your princess.”

  Krey knew he wasn’t getting any answers about T tonight, and he didn’t have the energy to press. “Alit wouldn’t mind?”

  Hatlin was already headed to the door. “Not a bit.”

  Five minutes later, Krey curled up on the floor of the dark room. He wanted to mull over the odd meeting, but within seconds, his eyes fell closed, his breath slowed, and he drifted off to sleep.

  When Krey opened the metal warehouse door, Nora ran to him and gave him a tight hug that nearly knocked him over. “Why did it take you so long to get here? We were worried!”

  “Flying that far is hard. I need a nap.” He walked toward his pile of blankets.

  “Did you find out anything?” Ovrun asked.

  Krey dropped to the floor and mumbled into his pillow, “We’ll talk when I get up.”

  He woke a few hours later and visited the “outhouse,” which was a deep hole hidden behind a couple of pallets they’d leaned against the building’s exterior wall. When he went back inside, Nora handed him a plate. The meat was cold, but after all that flying, he was hungry enough to eat anything.

  “How did the meeting go?” Nora asked. As he shared the story, she froze. “The New Therroans know where I am?”

  “They know we’re in the suburbs. This place is huge; they can’t find us.”

  Nora turned to Ovrun. “Do you think that’s true?”

  He hesitated. “Probably.”

  “Why did you tell them, Krey?” Nora asked, her voice shrill.

  “I’m sorry, I wish I could’ve avoided it. But if they’re behind the militia, I have to build trust with them.”

  “I understand that. And I want to help you find Zeisha—but preferably not at the expense of being abducted by terrorists!”

  “Abducted? They’d never risk taking a princess!” Krey waved both hands wide. He was still holding his meat skewer, and grease dripped on the floor. “Whoever’s putting this militia together is obviously trying to keep a low profile!”

  “Krey, they’d abduct me because I’m the princess! Nothing like a little blackmail to push the negotiations along!”

  Krey’s breathing grew shallow. “I didn’t think of that. I—I was exhausted. I said more than I wanted to, and he guessed the rest.”

  Ovrun cleared his throat, and both Nora and Krey turned toward him. “Krey, are you sure none of the New Therroans followed you here?”

  “It would’ve been pointless to try. They couldn’t keep up with a feather eater.”

  “Then we should be okay,” Ovrun said. “There are thousands of buildings in the suburbs.”

  “You don’t think we should move?” Nora asked.

  “I can’t think of a safer place,” Ovrun said. “If we go too far into the city, we’ll run into trogs.”

  Krey watched Nora, whose face was pale in the lantern light. “I’m really sorry.”

  She sat and pulled her knees to her chest. “I was sick of the palace, but at least it was safe. Out here, I’m constantly afraid someone will find us. Royal guards would just bring me home. The New Therroans—I don’t know what they’d do to me.” Her voice turned pleading. “We’re all sacrificing to be here. This isn’t some fun campout! We need a plan. Something more detailed than you going to meetings and coming home with no information.” She took a deep breath. “I think I should reach out to Dani. Now that I’ve been gone a few days, I bet she’s desperate enough to listen to what we have to say.”

  Krey sat up straighter. “Dani? That’s your plan? Listen, Nora, I don’t care how nice she is; I don’t trust her, not for one second!”

  “She’s my aunt, Krey! She’s like a mother to me! How would you like it if I said I didn’t trust one of your aunts?”

  “If you had good reason for it, I’d listen to you.”

  Nora let out a humorless laugh. “Sure you would.” She turned to Ovrun. “What do you think we should do?”

  He sighed. “Nora, I always liked Dani, but I don’t think we should bring in anyone at the palace. Someone’s got to be helping Sharai. Dani’s probably not involved, but what if she talks to someone who is?”

  “Then what?” Nora exclaimed. “What do we do?”

  “I have an idea,” Krey said. “But it’ll require a lot more feathers.”

  This isn’t getting any easier. Krey was flying low in the dark sky, trying to make it to one of the farms near the palace. His whole body shook, reminding him he needed more fuel. Come on . . . so close.

  He flew over a group of dark trees and suddenly felt himself dip down. Branches scratched him through his shirt. He cursed and pushed himself higher. As soon as he passed the trees, he performed a half-controlled landing, tumbling into a graceless somersault as he skidded into the cold dirt.

  “Well,” he mumbled, brushing off his clothes, “that worked. Sort of.”

  Clouds covered most of the stars, leaving the area nearly as black as the stone. Krey rummaged around in his pack for some dried fruit. He gnawed off a bite, then set off on foot.

  Every step was a chore. This flight had been even longer than his trip to the pub for the New Therroan meeting. It didn’t help that he’d only had a little over a day to recover between the journeys.

  One step at a time; you got this.

  After about twenty exhausted steps, he realized that no, he didn’t have it. He headed for a nearby structure, praying he’d make it there in time. Too tired to think, he stumbled into the dark building, toppled into a heap, and fell asleep.

  “Funniest-looking orsa I ever seen.”

  Krey’s eyes snapped open, and he looked up at the source of the booming voice—a broad-shouldered, middle-aged woman with a scowl on her face.

  He looked around, barely remembering lying down in this empty stall the night before. Around him, orsas were lowing, and he couldn’t believe their OHH-AHHs hadn’t woken him.

  He returned his attention to the woman. “Uh . . .” he said.

  “Just get outta here, and don’t let me catch you in here again.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “There’s a well on
that side of the barn.” She pointed. “You got a bottle you can fill?”

  His eyes widened. “I do.”

  “Get on with it, then.” Her mouth curved into an understanding smile.

  “Thank you.” Krey exited, filled his bottle, and jogged away. The sky was pink and orange in the east. He’d meant to approach the palace in the dark, but it was too late for that now.

  Less than a quarter-hour later, he huddled behind a tree in the middle of a fallow field. From there, he had a good view of the palace gate. As he watched it, he munched on feathers and dried vegetables. Hours passed, and he drew pictures in the dirt to keep himself awake.

  It was almost noon when he saw the man Ovrun had told him to look for: short, with a thick mustache, shoulder-length black hair tied in back, and a broad-brimmed hat. He was riding a bored-looking orsa.

  The man approached the gate, and the guards let him in. A few minutes later, he exited and returned the way he’d come. Krey took flight, praying the guards didn’t look up. He didn’t want to find out how far their firearms could shoot. He flew in random patterns, like he was merely practicing his skills, but he always kept the man on the orsa in sight.

  In Cellerin City, the man stopped at a public stable. Krey landed nearby and waited. After the man returned his orsa, Krey casually followed him down the street, keeping plenty of distance between them. The man turned, then stopped at a small, green house.

  Krey strolled through the neighborhood. While some houses were well kept, others looked like they hadn’t seen a paintbrush in years. Across the street and a couple of houses down from the man’s house was a vacant, boarded-up home. Perfect.

  Krey flew out of the city, looking for a good place to rest and refuel. A smile kept coming to his mouth. The next time the man with the mustache left to pick up reports on the magic-eater militia, he wouldn’t be alone.

  23

  One day, a man who’d been living in Deroga, the great, preday city, showed up in our community. He was cold, hungry, and ready to rejoin civilization.

  He stayed about three weeks, and then one morning he was gone. Someone saw him walking toward Deroga.

  I guess he missed the bones and ghosts.

  -The First Generation: A Memoir by Liri Abrios

  “At least it’s inside.”

  Nora turned a baleful glare on Ovrun, who was still cheerful after their long, nighttime trek to Cellerin City. Yes, they were inside, but the tiny, vacant house they’d broken into reeked of urine and body odor. They weren’t the first squatters to find this place.

  On top of that, a light snow had fallen on them as they walked through the night. They all changed into somewhat dry clothes, but cold air blew inside through poorly boarded-up windows. Maybe once the sun rose, it would get warmer. Until then, they’d huddle up in blankets.

  The courier always brought papers to Sharai on Tuesdays. He probably wouldn’t pick up the package from the militia until shortly before then. Whenever he left, Nora, Krey, and Ovrun would follow him. It was only Friday, but they’d decided to set up camp a few days early, just in case. They might have to follow him on a few trips to the market or his workplace, but at least they wouldn’t miss the pick up.

  “What I wouldn’t give for a seer right about now,” Nora said. “We just need one prophecy telling us when this guy is leaving his house.”

  Krey laughed. “If we had a seer, I’d skip this whole spying thing and ask them where the militia is.”

  “Do you think seers really existed?” Ovrun asked.

  “I do,” Krey said. “There’s a lot of written history about them, too much to be mythical. Prophecy was the one form of preday Anyarian magic.”

  “There was one final seer,” Nora said. “She tried to stop the apocalypse.”

  Krey raised an eyebrow. “You think that story is true?”

  “Definitely. Liri wrote about it in The First Generation. You don’t believe her?”

  He shrugged. “There are so many stories about those final days. It’s hard to know what’s true and what isn’t. Anyway, we’d better settle in and watch for this guy to leave. Unless one of you is hiding your prophetic abilities.”

  “I’ll take the first watch,” Ovrun said. “If I see the courier, I’ll wake you both.”

  Nora and Krey used their booted feet to sweep away little bits of who-knew-what from a patch of floor. They set out their blankets and pillows and lay down.

  Nora had read in novels about teeth chattering, but she’d always thought it was a figure of speech. Nope. Her own teeth were clacking against each other like a tiny percussion section.

  From about a met away, Krey spoke softly. “I’d offer to cuddle up together, but that might be kind of weird.”

  Nora didn’t care if it was weird; sharing body heat was the best idea she’d heard in days. “Well—” she began.

  “Of course,” Krey continued, his voice soft enough to reach only Nora, “I suppose there are weirder things. Like trying to kiss someone you just met who’s not even available, all because you feel sorry for them.” There was laughter in his voice.

  She tried to hold back her own smile and whispered, “If I’d known you had a girlfriend, I wouldn’t have tried to kiss you. In fact, if I’d known anything at all about you, I would’ve stayed far, far away.”

  He laughed loudly.

  “You two should sleep,” Ovrun said from his spot at the window. “You’ll both get shifts tomorrow night.”

  “In all seriousness,” Krey said, “even Zeisha would tell us to cuddle up. When you’re the one on night watch, I’m gonna make the same offer to Ovrun.”

  “Oh good. I was afraid I’d wear my teeth down to nubs by morning.” Nora scooted over, her back to Krey, and he pulled her close, wrapping an arm around her. It wasn’t as weird as she’d expected.

  Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, they took turns watching the courier’s house, peeking through boards nailed over the broken window. He never left it.

  Days in the cramped house were boring. Ovrun often did push-ups and other calisthenics. Nora tried not to be too obvious when she watched him. Krey had brought a couple of books, which he and Nora read. The two of them also practiced their ice lysting, using snow from the overgrown back yard. Ovrun was the recipient of more than a few well-aimed, magical snowballs.

  They divided the night into two shifts. One person got the whole night off, while the other two took turns keeping watch. The weather remained cold, so the two who weren’t on duty cuddled together while they tried to sleep.

  Nora gave Krey high marks for snuggling. He was relaxed and still. She slept well with his chest against her back and his arm over her. It felt good and totally unromantic, which she figured Zeisha would appreciate.

  Ovrun, on the other hand, was tense and shifted position every few minutes. Finally, an hour or so after they’d gone to bed Sunday night, Nora turned to face him. “You’re awfully wiggly,” she whispered.

  “Oh, uh . . . sorry.”

  “It’s okay, just relax. If you can. I know the last thing you want to do is touch me, but—”

  Ovrun’s soft laugh interrupted her. “That’s not it, not even close,” he murmured. “You know that, right?”

  She swallowed. He didn’t clarify, not that he needed to. Nora glanced toward the window, where she could barely see Krey’s silhouette. Good thing he’s here to keep us out of trouble.

  Except she kind of wished Krey were anywhere but here.

  “Good night, Ovrun,” she whispered. She turned over. This time, he held her close, his strong arm pulling her into his firm chest, his breath warm on her neck.

  She never should’ve told him to relax. This felt way too good.

  As the sun rose on Monday morning, Nora disentangled herself from Krey to take her shift at the window. The cold snap was finally coming to an end, and she was watching an icicle drip when movement caught her eye. Her gaze snapped back to the courier’s house. A man in a wide-brimmed hat stepped out the front
door.

  “He’s leaving!” Nora gasped.

  Krey and Ovrun rushed to the window. They all watched the man walk to the street.

  “He’s walking in the direction of the stable,” Krey said. “I’ll fuel up.” He pulled a few pieces of feather from his pocket and shoved them in his mouth.

  Ovrun grabbed his backpack. “If he rents an orsa, I’ll get one too.”

  “Remember, big enough for two,” Nora said.

  Ovrun shoved a knitted cap on his head and wrapped a scarf around his neck and mouth. Hopefully he wouldn’t encounter any sharp-eyed royal guards who recognized his eyes and nose. Krey handed him a coin purse. Ovrun grabbed his backpack and archery supplies and exited through the back door. Krey ate a quick meal of feathers, gave himself the same hasty disguise as Ovrun, and left. Nora put on her backpack, watching out the front window.

  Perhaps half an hour later, Ovrun rode up on a large, reddish-brown orsa. Nora met him at the back door. She smiled behind her scarf, took Ovrun’s proffered hand, and pulled herself onto the back of the orsa’s long saddle. Not sure which direction to go, they rode slowly through the residential streets.

  A few minutes later, Krey flew down and hovered next to them. “He turned. Take the second left up ahead, then the first right.”

  Nora gave the orsa two gentle slaps on his backside. She tightened her hold on Ovrun’s waist as the beast broke into a gentle run.

  It wasn’t long before Nora and Ovrun had the courier in sight. They followed at a distance.

  Krey descended again. This time, he landed and walked with them. “If he leaves the city, I’ll follow first.” He shoved more feathers in his mouth.

  Nora nodded. They would take turns following the man if and when he left town. When it was Krey’s turn, he’d fly high above while Nora and Ovrun stayed just out of the courier’s sight. Hopefully the man would mistake Krey for a bird, if he noticed him at all. When Krey stopped to rest and refuel, Nora and Ovrun would get close enough to keep track of the man until Krey was ready to pick up the pursuit again.