The Frost Eater (The Magic Eaters Trilogy Book 1)

by Carol Beth Anderson

  When I arrived, a line of patients waited in the yard. I went inside and gave the young healer the blood. “Oh good,” he said. “I just ran out.” He tipped the jar up and drank greedily.

  I fainted from disgust and woke to find the boy sitting over me. He was making good use of the fuel I’d brought, using magic to heal a nasty gash on my forehead.

  -The First Generation: A Memoir by Liri Abrios

  Climbing onto the dragon’s back was surprisingly easy. From afar, a dragon’s skin looked sleek. Up close, however, Nora saw that the basket-weave texture provided perfect handholds and footholds. She used these natural grips to pull herself up. The dragon’s back was too broad for her to straddle it like an orsa, so she sent out a mental message: How should I position myself up here?

  Choose a posture that will prevent you from falling, came the response.

  Nora rolled her eyes. I’d like to hold onto your skin like I was doing when I climbed up. Did it hurt you?

  Peals of dragon laughter resonated through Nora’s mind. Do not think so highly of yourself, human.

  Nora missed Osmius’s moniker for her, Nora-human. She’d introduced herself, but apparently this dragon wasn’t ready to be on a first-name basis.

  After some trial and error, Nora ended up lying on her belly, her legs and arms spread wide, knees bent. She gripped the dragon’s skin with her fingers and the toes of her boots. “Come on up!” she called to Krey and Ovrun.

  There was plenty of room on the dragon’s long body for all of them to assume the same flying position, but Krey and Ovrun could each only hold on with one hand. Nobody knew if Ovrun would stay conscious. They decided that Nora should ride in the rear, with Ovrun in the middle and Krey in front. Krey positioned his legs over Ovrun’s arms, and Nora pinned Ovrun’s ankles with her arms. Hopefully, his friends could keep him from falling if he passed out again.

  Once they were all situated and still, the dragon stood.

  “Whoa!” Krey cried. “Some warning would’ve been nice!”

  Nora tried not to laugh. Krey had eaten a few feathers before climbing on the dragon so he could save himself if he fell. He was the only one of them who shouldn’t be scared. Like so many fears, this one was illogical.

  The dragon’s wings spread wide with a fantastic snap, and she took to the air, eliciting gasps from all three passengers and curses from the bound guards they left behind. Just as she’d promised, the dragon flew far faster than Krey. Nora, however, felt more secure than she did on her friend’s back. The dragon’s back was broad, and Nora’s grip was tight.

  Then the dragon started to dive, and Nora and Krey both screamed. Even Ovrun groaned. The dragon said nothing, but she did decrease her angle of descent, switching to a gradual spiral.

  They landed near their orsas at the base of the mountain. When the three riders dismounted, the dragon gave Nora directions to a stable, using a mental map as Osmius had done. They set up a meeting place, and Nora, Ovrun, and Krey mounted their orsas.

  Nora’s father would figure out what she’d been up to, but they all hoped to delay that eventuality. Osmius’s mate had agreed to destroy the mountain path in two places, making it more difficult for the next guard shift to discover their injured comrades and the missing dragon.

  The dragon had been ready to kill the guards, but her passengers had insisted that would make things worse for all of them in the long run. Besides, Nora couldn’t have lived with herself if she’d allowed such cold-blooded killings. She was concerned about the injured guards. Hopefully they’d be rescued soon—but not too soon.

  The stable was only a few clommets away, but within five minutes, Ovrun started swaying in his saddle. And Nora could hear the pain in Krey’s voice. She watched both her friends, her entire body tense. In their condition, they had no hope of taking down the militia.

  They made it to the stable, which was attached to a small home. Nora stood back, not wanting to be recognized. The owner was none too happy when Krey woke him by banging on his door. Then he saw how much new business they were bringing him. His mood improved. Krey offered him a large tip not to talk about their visit, and he turned positively cheerful.

  As the man took the orsas to empty stalls, Nora and Krey again ate as much ice as they could stomach. There was no good way to carry the heavy chest on the dragon’s back, so Krey asked if they could store it in the stable. The man consented—for an extra fee, of course.

  Nora and Krey carried the chest between them and set it in a storage room. Even using his good hand, Krey groaned as he moved. That’s it, Nora thought. We’ve got to get them some help.

  She had a quick chat with Krey, who readily agreed. He approached the stable owner. “Is there a blood lyster nearby?” he asked. “I’ve got this ingrown toenail, and walking really hurts.”

  The man looked down at Krey’s boots, his lip curling in slight disgust. He gave Krey directions to the nearest blood lyster, adding, “She won’t be happy to have visitors this time of night. Then again, if you’re as reasonable with her as you were with me, she’ll come around.”

  They left their orsas and headed for the blood lyster’s house. When Krey knocked, a tiny, old woman with skin covered in loose wrinkles answered the door. Despite the stable owner’s predictions, she didn’t seem to mind being woken. She wouldn’t accept extra pay for the late hour, and when Krey offered her a bribe to stay quiet, she responded with a curt, “I never speak of my clients to anyone. I don’t need money to keep that promise.” Nora liked this lady.

  “You’re in luck,” the blood lyster said once they were all in her dark, little house. “The butcher brought me fuel a few hours ago.” She beckoned her guests to follow her through to a little room in the back, where she lit several lanterns. Nora retreated through the doorway, still wary of being recognized.

  She watched from the shadows as the woman took a towel off a metal pitcher, poured a little bit of thick, yellow blood into a cup, and began drinking it. Nora shuddered and looked toward her companions. Krey was watching with fascinated intensity, and Ovrun, who was already pale from his injury, had turned his face away.

  The woman slurped the last of her fuel and licked her lips as she set the cup down. “Now, show me what you boys need,” she said. When she saw Ovrun’s arm, her wispy, white eyebrows rose. “I didn’t consume enough fuel.”

  After drinking more, she worked on Ovrun first, washing the wound, then placing her hands on either side of it. Before their eyes, Ovrun’s injury began to heal. It didn’t completely close up, but it looked like it had skipped at least a couple of weeks of natural healing. The lyster squeezed Ovrun’s hand. “Best I can do, dear.”

  Nora wanted to ask her to do more; there were healers in Cellerin City who could’ve made Ovrun’s arm almost as good as new. Every lyster, however, had their limits, and Nora believed the woman had done her best. The partial healing might be enough. Ovrun was no longer pale. He lifted his arm in the air and smiled broadly for the first time since he’d been shot.

  Krey’s hand was easier to heal, and when the woman finished, the skin looked almost normal, though it was still quite pink. Krey’s face relaxed as he flexed his hand.

  They thanked the healer, paid her, and headed out. The dragon was waiting for them in a nearby field. Nora had to listen to a bit of grumbling from the impatient beast, who hadn’t known about their detour to see the healer. Soon, however, they were back in the air.

  I need mushu leaves, the dragon told Nora. They give me fire. We will bring some to Osmius as well.

  They flew back to Cellerin Mountain at shocking speed. The dragon stopped at a large grove of mushu trees and let her passengers climb down, instructing them to gather the long, skinny leaves for Osmius. Then she flew above the trees to eat her fill.

  Nora, Ovrun, and Krey pulled leaves from low-hanging boughs, stuffing their packs full. At one point, everything got suddenly brighter. When Nora looked in the sky, she saw the dragon expelling a great stream of fire from
her huge mouth. The creature soon returned, carrying a bundle of mushu leaves in her front claws. She landed, still holding the leaves, and allowed her riders to climb up again.

  They returned to the sky. Nora could see the lights of Cellerin City in the distance, approaching more rapidly than she would’ve dreamed possible. Despite her speed, the dragon’s flight was smooth and stable. This is actually pretty peaceful, Nora thought.

  At that moment, the dragon’s massive wings beat the air furiously, and her speed increased dramatically. In front of Nora, Ovrun gasped, and Krey let out a cry. Nora’s own heart raced as she shouted a silent message. Whoa—any chance we could slow down?

  The dragon didn’t seem to hear the request, continuing to fly impossibly fast through the dark sky. They entered a low cloud, and the sudden loss of starlight and wash of damp air scared Nora so much that she couldn’t even scream. Krey and Ovrun didn’t have that problem, releasing panicked shouts. When they exited the cloud, Nora held on even tighter to the dragon’s now-slick skin and begged, Please! We’re gonna fall off your back! They didn’t slow.

  Then the fiery voice of Osmius infiltrated Nora’s terrified mind. You found her!

  Nora’s eyes widened. They’d reached the point where she’d lost communication with Osmius on their way to the mountain. She’d been on the verge of contacting him before his mate had turned into an insane racing dragon. Has she been talking to you? Nora asked.

  Yes. The joy in that word was unmistakable.

  Tell her to slow down! She’s about to drop us all!

  A few seconds later, the female dragon slowed her flight. Nora squeezed her eyes shut and released a sigh of relief. Thank you. She sent the thought to both dragons.

  “What was that all about?” Krey demanded.

  Nora explained. To her surprise, Krey laughed. “If I was flying and found out Zeisha had been rescued, I’d do the same thing.”

  What is your plan? Osmius asked.

  Before Nora could send out a response, the dragon she was riding replied, We will rescue you.

  I am not the only one who needs rescuing, Taima.

  Hearing the name of the dragon she was riding, Nora stopped breathing. All was quiet in her mind for several seconds until she heard that rich, female voice again.

  You told her my name. Disbelief and accusation added heat to her words.

  My love, Osmius said, his tone gentle and low, forgive me. It was unintentional. She and her friends shall honor your name, as they have honored mine.

  We will, Nora promised.

  From her prone position, Nora’s entire body lowered as the great dragon sighed. Tell me what we need to do, Taima said.

  The winter sky was still black when Taima and her three riders reached the ruins of Deroga. Krey gazed down into the vast ruins. “By the stone, I’m sore,” he muttered. “I guess hanging on for dear life will do that to you.” He was cold too, having used his shirt to bandage Ovrun’s wound. His jacket wasn’t designed for rapid flight through the winter air.

  When they neared the warehouse, they suddenly dropped straight down. Krey barely prevented himself from throwing up as his torso lifted several simmets from the dragon’s back. He tightened his grip.

  “Archer!” Ovrun cried. “On our left!”

  Krey looked. Sure enough, the moonlight barely illuminated someone on a nearby rooftop, aiming at them with a bow.

  Taima blew a great stream of orange fire toward the trog, eliciting three gasps from her back. The fire nearly hit the archer.

  “Bring us closer!” Krey said. “And no fire, please!” As soon as the archer was in earshot, Krey shouted, “Put the weapon down! We want to speak to your leaders!”

  The man put his bow down. His voice was surprisingly calm, considering his near-incineration. “We have no leaders. Trogs are all equal.”

  Krey rolled his eyes. There were always leaders, whether or not they had official titles. “Fine. Bring out the people everyone seems to listen to.”

  “We will meet you in the street.” The man picked up his bow, then walked to a hole in the roof and began climbing down a ladder. A few minutes later, he exited out the front door and jogged to a nearby building. After a wait that felt interminably long to Krey, the archer returned to the street, accompanied by a woman with a lantern.

  “Will you instruct your archer to put his weapon down?” Krey shouted from above.

  “No,” the woman responded in a strong, low-pitched voice. “You ride a weapon.”

  Krey stifled a laugh. “We won’t hurt you if you don’t hurt us. Deal?”

  “Yes.”

  “Taima,” Krey said, “Can you let us off in the street, then circle above, just in case?”

  Taima descended. The archer kept his arrow aimed at her until she landed. Then he lowered his weapon, and Krey, Nora, and Ovrun climbed down. As soon as his feet hit the street, Krey felt naked. What he wouldn’t give for a bow right about now.

  He examined the trogs in the lantern light. The archer he’d first spoken to was short and skinny, probably a few years older than Krey. His hair and beard were curly and wild.

  Next to him was the woman, who was well past middle age. Her thick, white hair was woven into two braids that reached her waist. She, too, was rail-thin. And he saw something in her hand that he hadn’t noticed from the air: a handgun. Seriously? Another gun? The Cellerinian government manufactured very few guns. Only select royal guards and some members of the small military used them. The trog’s gun, however, was probably a preday relic.

  Taima’s guards’ guns were in Ovrun’s pack. Ovrun’s eyes shifted to Krey, a question in them. Krey shook his head slightly. Escalating this confrontation wouldn’t help their cause.

  “Why do you come to our city?” the woman asked.

  They’d agreed Krey would do most of the negotiating. “Please lay down your weapons. We aren’t armed.”

  With a curt nod, the woman laid her gun in the street. Her companion did the same with his bow.

  Krey got right to the point. “We know there’s a militia a few blocks from here. We also know some of your people have been helping them.”

  The woman crossed her arms. “Your people, he says. New-city folk think all trogs are the same. Six clans live in Deroga. All different.”

  Six clans, huh? “I’m aware of that,” Krey said. “I assume your clan is the one helping, since the warehouse is so close.” He received no response except hostile stares. “I came here to ask why you’re helping them. Do you really like new-city folk living here? You like their messengers and supply wagons traveling your streets? Why do you help them?”

  “We owe you no answer,” the woman said.

  “Listen, tell me honestly that you love having them as neighbors, and we’ll leave.”

  The trogs watched him wordlessly.

  “That’s what I thought,” Krey said. “I know you don’t want to disclose any secrets, so let’s keep this theoretical. If trogs were to work with new-city folk who invaded their territory, why would they do it?”

  There was a long pause before the woman said, “New-city folk could promise food. Supplies.” Her chin rose, and even in the dim light, Krey could see the anger in her eyes. “Maybe they promise to use one small building. Maybe trogs take their deal. But new-city folk take a big building. They fill it with many people and a dragon. They tell trogs not to get close, or the dragon might hurt them. When trogs say deal is dead, maybe new-city folk say they have soldiers. Maybe they give trogs a little food and many threats, and trogs let them stay.”

  Krey could see the effort she was putting into keeping her shoulders square and her jaw tight. She was determined not to appear defeated, but her words told a different truth. He responded gently. “Let’s say all that was true. Would that little bit of food be enough to convince trogs to help? Would they give new-city folk safe passage and even guard the big building?” He could almost feel the arrows that had flown by him the first time he visited.

  Th
e woman continued to glare. Next to her, the archer blurted, “They make my cousin mind sick! I want none of their food!”

  Krey blinked. “Is your cousin a brain eater?”

  The archer’s mouth remained closed, but the woman demanded, “How do you know about brain eaters? That is a trog secret!”

  Krey’s eyebrows rose. “The trogs aren’t the only ones who’ve discovered it. But very few people know about it.”

  “You know,” the woman said. “New-city people in that building know. Who else knows?”

  “Good question,” Krey muttered.

  “I’d never heard of brain lysting until a couple of days ago,” Nora said. “But we know there’s a brain lyster at the warehouse. Is it your cousin?”

  The archer didn’t answer, and Krey’s chest churned with anger. Zeisha was a few blocks away, and at this rate, their conversation would last until spring. He’d been patient, but damn it, he had his limits. “Let me get to the point,” he snapped. “We’re doing everything we can to stop the militia. If you help us, we’re more likely to succeed. And if you’re willing to help us, you have to be honest with us. No more of this maybe stuff. If you want these people out of your territory, start talking.”

  The silence dragged on even longer than before. Finally, Krey said, “Fine. We’ll do it ourselves.”

  “Wait,” the woman said, her voice commanding. When Krey returned his attention to her, she said, “Come inside. We will talk.”

  They entered the same building the woman had exited. She took them to sit at a large trestle table. The archer got cups of water for all of them.

  When they were settled, Krey asked the archer, “Does your brain-eater cousin live at the warehouse?”

  “No. He works there for a short time. Three moons ago, he stops.”

  “Why did he stop?” Nora asked.

  The archer folded his arms. “First, I will tell you why he starts. One day, the new-city king comes here. Someone tells him we have a brain eater. The king says he needs my cousin to help him. He offers food and money. My cousin says yes. He goes to the big building. He is gone for more than one moon. Then he comes home.”