The Frost Eater (The Magic Eaters Trilogy Book 1)

by Carol Beth Anderson

  “You’re up!” Ovrun said. “Sleep well?”

  Nora stretched and yawned. “After all that walking, I could’ve slept well in a dragon’s den. What time is it?”

  “Mid-afternoon,” Ovrun said.

  Krey looked up from his list to stare at Nora.

  “What?” she asked.

  He smirked and brought his pencil back to the slip of paper. As he wrote, he said, “Hairbrush.”

  “You’re so kind.” Nora peeled a few strands of hair off her cheek, where her drool had glued them down. She tried to run her fingers through her tangles, then gave up. “Here, take one of my shoes with you so you can find boots that fit. I assume you’re flying to a store somewhere?”

  “Yeah, Ovrun gave me directions to a little town west of Deroga, northwest of where we are now.”

  “My cousin lives there,” Ovrun said. “It’s not too far from the ruins, and trogs visit the store sometimes. The owner’s not the type to ask questions. Or to cooperate with search parties.”

  “Can I see the list?” Nora asked. Krey gave it to her, and she scanned it. “A bow and arrows? Are we forming our own militia?”

  “We should all be able to defend ourselves,” Ovrun said. “And we’ll be hunting for our meat. The only money we have is Krey’s. It won’t last forever.”

  “There’s only so much I can carry,” Krey said. “Is there anything else you absolutely need?”

  Nora took the pencil and tapped it on the floor as she considered the question. She scrawled a few necessities at the bottom of the list:

  Shirt, pants, underwear

  Soap

  Food. PLEASE.

  Box of tampons

  She handed the page back to Krey and watched his face.

  “This last item,” he said. “When do you need it?”

  “In a couple of weeks or so.”

  “Okay, I’ll get it on this trip. I don’t know when we’ll go back.”

  Her lips curved into a small smile.

  Looking up, Krey raised an eyebrow. “What?”

  “I expected that to be a lot more uncomfortable than it was.”

  “You do realize I grew up with two women, right?”

  “True. What about the clothes; do you have space for them? My pants have blood on the knees, and my shirt’s dirty. When I wash them, I’ll need something to change into—” She halted and turned to Ovrun. “Do we have a water source?”

  “There’s a creek about half a clommet away. And if it snows, we can melt it.”

  Nora shivered at the thought. She dreaded the possibility of huddling in this unheated building during a snowstorm. Sometimes they went an entire winter with nothing more than occasional flurries. Maybe they’d have that kind of luck this year.

  Back to the task at hand. Nora gestured to the list. “You know, I might be able to do without new clothes. I hate asking you to spend that much money on me.” She studied Krey. “Obviously I can’t borrow Ovrun’s clothes, but yours might work.”

  The two guys turned to each other. “I think what she’s saying,” Krey said, “is that your muscles give my muscles an inferiority complex.”

  “I was referring to his height.” Nora suppressed a smile. Krey was in great shape, but Ovrun was a lot bigger than him—and not just taller. Ovrun’s arms drew her gaze. Even though he was wearing a jacket, the lantern in front of him illuminated his muscles. She could imagine them flexing, no, rippling was more like it—

  She realized she’d been ogling Ovrun’s biceps for several silent seconds. A warm flush rose to her cheeks as she dropped her gaze to the floor. “So, uh, anyway,” she said, her voice louder than it needed to be, “Krey, can I borrow some of your clothes?”

  Maybe no one had noticed her wandering eyes. She glanced at Krey. He was watching her, holding back laughter. Of course he noticed. She didn’t dare look at Ovrun.

  Apparently Krey had a shred of empathy in him, because he picked up the thread of the conversation and ran with it. “Sorry, but I only brought one change of clothes. I don’t mind buying you some, as long as you don’t mind that they’ll be way cheaper than anything you’ve ever worn. I’ll get you a new coat too. Ovrun’s is huge on you. I think I can probably fit everything in two packs. I can always go back later if I need to.”

  “Sounds good,” Nora said. “I’m not sure what size clothes you should get for me.”

  “You don’t know your size?”

  “My clothes are all custom-made or tailored to fit me.” She didn’t miss Krey’s raised eyebrow. “I know, I know. Taxes. Just—tell the storekeeper I’m about your height, slender on top, and pear-shaped.”

  “Pear-shaped?” Ovrun asked.

  That infuriating heat rushed back into Nora’s face. She’d never been much of a blushing type; what was wrong with her today? “It’s a fruit. Original, not Anyarian. Small top, big bottom. I mean, big—” She racked her brain for an alternate term besides bottom but failed to come up with anything.

  “I know what a pear is; I’ve seen pictures in books. I just hadn’t, uh, hadn’t heard the term used to describe, uh, shape. People shape, I mean. You know.”

  Now it felt like someone had turned on a furnace. Nora patted her round hips. “Yeah, well, if the fruit fits . . .” She made her best effort to smile and laugh.

  Ovrun’s laughter sounded as awkward as hers. “One of these days, maybe I’ll get to try a pear.” His eyes grew as round as coins, and he sputtered, “The fruit, I mean. I’d like to try . . . the fruit. Not . . .” He finished the thought with a shrug.

  “Well,” Krey said loudly, and when Nora looked at him, he was sporting a massively amused grin. A piece of feather was poking out of his teeth. He had more diced feathers in his hand. “I know we’re all hungry.” He raised an eyebrow at Ovrun. “The sooner I get out of here, the sooner we can eat some lunch. I’ll leave the two of you alone to continue your fascinating discussion about Original botanicals.”

  Ovrun held out his pack, which he’d emptied. Krey took it and walked off, laughing and popping another feather piece in his mouth.

  “Maybe we should keep looking through Sharai’s papers,” Ovrun said, his eyes anywhere but on Nora.

  “Good idea.” Nora scanned through more supply lists and updates on the lysters but didn’t see any information that could help them.

  After a little while, Ovrun held up a sheet of paper and said, “This is different. It’s a report on the militia as a whole, not the individual lysters.”

  Nora sat next to him and started scanning it.

  “Look at this.” Ovrun pointed to a paragraph, reading it aloud. “We’ve asked repeatedly, and we’re asking again. We need at least one more blood lyster. The one we have is ineffective and can’t keep up with daily training injuries. Last time the general visited, I mentioned this, but nothing changed. Surely in this entire nation, we can find one or two healers to join us! Otherwise, I fear we will start having fatalities.”

  “I guess when you’re teaching people to kill, there’s bound to be injuries,” Nora said. She shuddered. She’d never envied healers. Like all lysters, they had to consume Anyarian fuel—in this case, the blood of native animals. She didn’t think any amount of healing ability would make that worth it.

  “Who do you think this general is that they mentioned?” Ovrun asked.

  “I figured it was Sharai.”

  “This report is directed to someone named S. See?” He pointed to the top of the page. “That has to be Sharai. The general must be someone else.”

  Nora’s eyebrows drew together. “Maybe a New Therroan leader. I don’t know.”

  They continued reading, but they found no clues to the militia’s location. Nora finished reading the last sheet and looked up at Ovrun. What could they talk about until Krey returned? Welcome to Awkward Town, folks.

  “Do you miss your family yet?” Ovrun asked.

  “A little.” Nora smiled. This time, it felt natural. “Is it weird that I miss my orsa?�
�

  He laughed. “Not weird at all. Ever since I got fired, I’ve missed the caynins.”

  “What about you? Do you miss your family?”

  “I’m sure I will. But right now, I’m just glad they only have two mouths to feed, not three. Without me bringing in a paycheck, things are tight.”

  Nora closed her eyes briefly. When she opened them, a tear rolled down her cheek. “I’m so sorry I got you fired.”

  “Hey.” He wiped the tear away with his thumb. “I chose to give you those keys, and I’d do it again. When we find Zeisha, it’ll be worth it.”

  Their conversation continued in a remarkably comfortable manner. When they heard Krey opening the metal door, Ovrun gave Nora a smile and a wink. “Nice talk.”

  “Yeah,” she said, trying to keep the surprise out of her voice. “It was.”

  The next morning, Nora changed clothes behind a screen made of two pallets and a blanket. The new underwear, shirt, and socks fit fine, but the pants were shapeless and hung low on her hips due to the too-large waist. Krey had explained that the store was small, with few clothing options. Nora pulled the pants up, but they slid back down. We had that whole conversation about pears for nothing.

  At least she’d gotten the chance to wash up. Krey had bought two metal buckets, which Ovrun had filled with water. After dark, they’d all do laundry at the creek.

  Past the makeshift changing screen, Krey said, “Way to go, man!” Nora gathered her dirty clothes and emerged. Ovrun was holding up a bow in one hand. In the other, he held a dead animal by its stubby tail. An arrow had penetrated the creature’s skinny, bright-blue body.

  Nora wrinkled her nose. “Is that a shimshim?”

  “Sure is!”

  She eyed the creature. Like all reptids, its smooth, shiny skin grew in a basket-weave texture. Shimshims were pests, known for sneaking into pantries and picnics to steal food. “I’ve never eaten a shimshim,” she said.

  “There’s not a lot of meat on him, but what’s there will taste pretty good, especially with those spices Krey picked up. Who wants to help me skin it and clean it?”

  Nora swallowed and looked at Krey, silently begging him to volunteer. He held up his hands. “Not me. I’ll cook all day long, but I’m not touching any part of that thing except the meat.” He picked up the book he’d been reading and opened it pointedly.

  Nora laughed. “You never struck me as the type to get grossed out by dead animals.”

  He didn’t look up from his book. “Just keep it away from me, Ovrun. Bury the parts we won’t use, and don’t even tell me where you put them. I don’t want to come across that stuff.”

  Ovrun shrugged and turned to Nora. “I bet most princesses don’t know how to clean a shimshim.”

  She squared her shoulders, swallowing her hesitation. “You’d better teach me, then.”

  Two days later, Nora had cleaned three shimshims with Ovrun’s help and one on her own. She hated the process, but everyone had to do their part out here. Krey continued to be squeamish about hunting or cleaning shimshims, so he was their cook. Ovrun was their hunter, but he was teaching Nora to use a bow. Before too long, maybe she’d be accurate enough to take on some of the hunting shifts.

  Hunting helped them stretch their funds, but Krey had also purchased various dehydrated foods. After a lunch of fresh shimshim and dried vegetables, Nora and Ovrun practiced with the bow. Krey read through Sharai’s papers for the millionth time. Later, he’d get his own lesson with Ovrun. He didn’t want to hunt, but he needed to be able to defend himself.

  “Your feet are too close together,” Ovrun said.

  Nora widened her stance.

  “Good. Now stay in that position. Don’t move around.”

  She nocked the arrow and pulled back the string.

  “Wait!” Ovrun said. “Rotate your elbow out, remember? No, the one holding the bow.”

  “Like this?”

  “A little more.” He reached out like he’d touch her arm, but all he did was gesture. “Rotate just a smidge more.”

  “You know,” she said, trying to keep her voice casual, “if it would help, you can move me into the right position. Might be easier than giving me all these verbal instructions.” And, she added silently, it would be a lot more fun.

  He returned the smile but said, “I think that’s probably a really bad idea. Want me to demonstrate one more time before you go?”

  “Sure.” Nora handed him the bow and arrow, and he showed her the proper form, narrating every little move. She tried to pay attention, but when he pulled the string back, all she could focus on was his arms. Get ahold of yourself, Nora. You’re setting yourself up for heartbreak.

  Out here, however, it was easy to forget that she was supposed to be considering her future as a queen. She was wearing pants that didn’t fit, shooting arrows, and looking forward to a dinner of wild shimshim meat. Life at the palace felt impossibly far away. Would it really hurt to have a little fun?

  An arrow flew through the air, and Nora looked toward the lantern-lit pallet at the end of the room. Faux wood was incredibly hard, but Ovrun was strong. The arrow pierced the pallet near its center, and it stayed there.

  “Did you see how I held my elbow?” Ovrun asked.

  “I think so.” She took the proffered bow. “I’ll give it another try.”

  Before she could loose an arrow, however, Krey’s voice interrupted them. “It’s Saturday!”

  Nora turned. “And?”

  “Tonight’s the New Therroan meeting!” Krey tossed the papers on the floor in front of him. “I should go to it. These papers aren’t telling me anything useful.”

  “I thought you’d decided the New Therroans weren’t involved,” Ovrun said.

  Nora’s eyes widened. “You decided what? Sharai’s family is from there! It’s got to be—”

  “Hang on, Nora,” Krey interrupted. “I’ve started questioning it, yes, but I’m still open to the possibility. I want to keep up my relationship with them, just in case.”

  “Good, because I know they’re behind it,” Nora said. “Can you fly that far?”

  “I think so, if I do it in stages. I’ll fly low, far from any travelers. When I need to, I’ll rest and eat more feathers. The only thing is, I’ll probably use up my entire feather stash on this trip.”

  “Tons of birds live in the buildings around here,” Ovrun said. “I see them all the time when I’m hunting. I’ll start collecting feathers for you.”

  “I can help,” Nora said.

  Krey shoved a handful of diced feathers in his mouth. “Time to fuel up.”

  22

  My parents often let my siblings and me roam around outside. I could always tell it made Mom and Dad nervous, though. They talked longingly of how their own parents had checked up on them through the electronic devices they all carried. That sounded silly to me. When it was time for dinner, they just had to stand outside and yell our names. We always came running.

  -The First Generation: A Memoir by Liri Abrios

  Krey approached the back of the pub, his legs feeling heavier with every step. Magic rarely tired him out, but he’d never pushed himself like this. Frequent rests had made the journey take longer than expected. The meeting might already be over. If it was still going on, Krey doubted he’d stay awake through it.

  Where am I supposed to sleep? I was naïve to think I could fly home tonight. He didn’t want to pay for a room at an inn. When he’d come to Cellerin, he’d thought the money he packed was more than sufficient. After all, his internship included room and board.

  That was before he’d started buying feathers in bulk so he could practice outside his normal apprentice hours. Before he’d paid inflated prices for supplies at that store two days ago. His coin purse was getting uncomfortably light.

  Krey pushed the thoughts to the side and knocked on the back door in a pattern: three knocks, then two, then three again.

  The door opened a crack. Wallis, the unassuming g
uy who led the Saturday meetings, fixed one hazel eye on Krey. “You’re late.”

  “I know, I’m sorry. I had to flee the city, and I flew over twenty-five clommets to get here.” Krey hadn’t planned to blurt all that out, but exhaustion had obliterated his caution.

  Wallis’s eyebrow rose. “You had to flee the city? Why?”

  “Long story.”

  The door swung open. “Come on in and tell it.”

  Krey followed Wallis into the pub’s back room. Several hanging lanterns shone on the old table, emphasizing its divots and scratches. Twenty or so beer mugs were scattered around, but only three men remained in the room: Wallis, Hatlin, and a short, thin man Krey had never met.

  Wallis sat. “Krey, this is—” He gestured to the new man with a questioning look.

  “Call me T.” The man didn’t stand or offer to shake Krey’s hand. “Have a seat.”

  “It’s good to meet you, T.”

  “You’re our feather-and-frost eater?” the man asked in a reedy voice. He pronounced each word with precision.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “An apprentice?”

  Krey hesitated, then admitted, “Former.”

  T nodded. “Did I hear you say you had to flee?”

  Krey briefly closed his eyes and fought the temptation to take a nap, right there. “Yes. I left the city early Wednesday morning.”

  “The princess has been missing since Tuesday afternoon.” T examined Krey with narrowed eyes that looked like they would slice through any attempted lies.

  Krey considered several possible responses but discarded each one. He’d wanted to ask Wallis about the militia tonight, but for all he knew, this guy T would kill him for bringing it up. For the first time, an aura of danger filled the cozy back room. Tonight, Krey had no problem believing these men could’ve hired someone to abduct Zeisha.