The Frost Eater (The Magic Eaters Trilogy Book 1)

by Carol Beth Anderson

  “Ten people in uniforms go to the warehouse,” she said without preamble.

  Krey sat up straight, as did his companions. “They go there—you mean they’re on their way? Or are they there right now?”

  “They go. They walk through the building. Then they leave. On orsas.”

  “What should we do?” Krey asked.

  “We watch. As always. If anyone threatens us, we kill them.” Her tone was bland, like she was talking about tomorrow’s breakfast menu.

  “Do you have any feather eaters?” Krey asked.

  “Not in Star Clan.”

  Krey nodded; it was an uncommon talent. “Then I’m the only one,” he said. During the battle, a trog ash eater had, in a moment of panic, killed the militia’s feather eater. Krey leaned across the table toward Eira. “Make me one of your scouts. Put me on a tall roof, the best vantage point in the city. If the king sends more people, I’ll fly back to tell you. All I need is feathers.”

  She nodded once. “I will provide feathers. You must sleep now. Tomorrow, you watch.”

  Krey smiled and slapped his hand on the table. “It’s a deal.”

  She covered his hand with hers.

  Next to Eira, Nora spoke. “My father will be furious when he finds out his militia is gone. Are you willing to tell the other clans in the city to be on alert?”

  Eira’s rheumy gaze turned to Nora. “I already send messengers. Before I come here.”

  “I thought the clans didn’t get along!” Krey blurted.

  “We do not.” Eira stood. “But we are not savages.” She walked away.

  Epilogue

  It had taken every bit of Krey’s self control not to ask Zeisha to come with him to this cold rooftop. He’d been up here most of the previous day, and he’d quickly realized just how boring it was to watch a horizon for hours on end. Chatting with Zeisha would’ve made today’s shift positively delightful. They could’ve distracted themselves in other ways too. That thought made him grin.

  He pulled his blanket tighter around his shoulders. He hadn’t asked Zeisha to come, because she would’ve said yes—and it wasn’t safe for her to be here.

  Krey and the others were now members of the Star Clan. This building was in the territory of the Tree Clan. Representatives from all six clans had met the previous morning, agreeing to be on alert for intruders and to work together if invaded. Eira had gotten permission for Krey to keep watch atop this building. She’d even procured a note to that effect. The Tree Clan, however, was apparently notorious for its overly enthusiastic archers. A note in Krey’s pocket wouldn’t protect him from an arrow.

  He’d been as careful as he could, flying very high most of the way, then dropping quickly onto the roof. He didn’t think anyone would find him—unless someone had seen him land and was, even now, walking up the building’s stairs. Or, he supposed, a flyer might spot him. Eira didn’t know if the Tree Clan had any feather eaters.

  Considering the unknowns, Krey was glad he hadn’t brought Zeisha. After being separated from her for so long, however, he’d hated leaving her.

  He removed a water bottle from his pack and took a sip. As he screwed the lid back on, he saw movement in the distance. He squinted. His perch, a very tall building near the edge of trog territory, gave him a good view of the expansive suburbs and the land beyond.

  There it was, the thing that had caught his eye. It was like a dark shadow in the distance. Krey looked into the orange sky. The morning sun was behind him, and there were no clouds to cast shadows. He brought his attention back to the ground, hoping he was imagining things.

  Minutes went by, and the shadow continued to approach. Sick dread twisted Krey’s stomach as suspicion morphed into certainty.

  He threw his bottle and blanket into his pack and slung the bag onto his back, wishing he’d eaten more feathers while he was watching. He’d have to fuel on the go, as he’d done so often lately. And he’d have to fly faster than ever. The trogs needed to know that the approaching shadow wasn’t a shadow at all. It was a horde of men and women, hundreds of them. Most marched. Some rode orsas.

  The Cellerinian Army was invading Deroga.

  A Note from Beth

  Thank you for reading The Frost Eater! Reviews make a huge difference to authors and readers. Will you write a short review on Amazon? I can’t tell you how much I’d appreciate it. (While you’re there, click on my author page and Follow me!)

  Want to know what happens next ? Keep reading for a sneak peek of Book 2, The Vine Eater. Visit Amazon to order it now!

  Dive into my first series, the Sun-Blessed Trilogy, by downloading the prequel novella, Birth of Magic, absolutely free! Snag it at bit.ly/BirthOfMagic.

  THE VINE EATER: Book 2 of The Magic Eaters Trilogy

  Sneak Peek

  Below is an early version of Chapter 1 of The Vine Eater. While the content may change during edits, I hope you enjoy this little taste of what’s in store for Nora, Krey, Ovrun, and Zeisha!

  -Carol Beth Anderson

  Zeisha Dennivan held out her hand. A vine burst from her palm, shooting straight into the air. Just when she thought it would halt, the growth accelerated, like the plant wanted to pierce the orange sky above. At last, it stopped growing and dropped to the dirt street, collapsing into a tangled mess of strong, green coils.

  The warmth of creative magic continued to saturate Zeisha’s hand. She savored the sensation, examining the vine where it merged with her palm. Her skin rose up, like an inverted funnel, forming the plant’s cylindrical base. Over the course of a couple of simmets, the vine transitioned from smooth, tan skin into tough, flexible, green plant matter.

  Zeisha let go of her magic. The plant’s base separated from her palm and slid to the ground. Her skin retained a bulge for a moment before flattening. Zeisha lifted the coiled vine into her lap, her eyes widening at its weight. She shook her head. So much magic.

  A female voice behind Zeisha asked, “How much fuel did you have to eat to create that vine?”

  Zeisha turned to see a tall figure approaching. The young woman’s sleek, dark hair, cut in an angled bob, shone in the sun. Like Zeisha, Princess Ulminora Abrios—who insisted on being called Nora—was seventeen. Yet somehow, she managed to look like an elegant, sophisticated adult, even on this dusty street. “I ate a few pieces of bark,” Zeisha said with a smile.

  Nora walked around to face Zeisha. Her navy-blue pants were expertly tailored and looked terribly expensive, but she didn’t seem to care about that as she sat cross-legged in the dirt street. She reached out and touched the vine. “Incredible. Could you do things like this before . . . well . . . you know, before?”

  Yes, Zeisha knew what Nora meant by before. Before people who claimed to be recruiting magical apprentices had lured her away from her hometown, then taken her on a trip to the capital. Before she and several other magic eaters had ridden in a dark, enclosed wagon, which had at last released them inside a large building in an unknown location. Before a tall, young woman had touched Zeisha, mentally enslaving her and forcing her into a magical militia.

  Zeisha shoved a black curl behind her ear. Like it had a mind of its own, the hair popped out and settled again in front of her left eye. She ignored it and met Nora’s gaze. “Back home, I could make vines,” Zeisha said, “but they were very short.”

  Nora reached out and lifted one of the vine’s coils. “This is impressive.”

  “Apparently I’m a fantastic learner when my mind isn’t my own,” Zeisha murmured. Suddenly feeling terribly ungrateful, she smiled at the princess. “Thank you, Nora. For everything.”

  Two days before, Nora had killed The Overseer, the woman who’d controlled the minds of every militia member. Zeisha and the others had at last woken from their mental captivity. “Krey was the one behind the rescue plan,” Nora said. “From the beginning, he was convinced you’d been kidnapped. He would’ve done anything to save you. You’ve got a good boyfriend, Zeisha.”

  “I do.”
Zeisha looked down and ran her fingers along the vine in her lap. Krey was stuck on a tall roof clommets away, keeping an eye out for danger. Everyone expected the king, who’d been the militia’s general, to retaliate for the loss of his soldiers. Krey’s ability to fly made him the perfect lookout. Zeisha was proud of him—but she also wished he were here with her, right now. She bit her lip, then returned her attention to Nora. “Did you see Krey’s neck after the battle?”

  “Yes.”

  “I did that to him.” Zeisha swallowed, trying not to cry as she remembered the bruises and red welts on Krey’s neck. Marks from the vine that had strangled him.

  “You can’t be sure it was you,” Nora said. “There were other plant lysters in the militia. One of them might’ve attacked him. And whoever did it, the healer took care of him. He’s good as new.”

  “It was me.” Zeisha lifted her gaze to meet Nora’s. “He would’ve told me if it were someone else. But he avoided my questions.”

  Nora placed her cool hand on top of Zeisha’s. “Even if that’s the case, it wasn’t really you. It was The Overseer.” She swallowed. “And my father. They’re the ones who controlled you and the others.”

  Zeisha nodded, but the words didn’t comfort her. Again, she dropped her eyes to the strong vine in her lap. A terrible question came to her, one that had been flitting in and out of her mind for the last two days. Did I kill anyone during the battle?

  “Zeisha?” Nora’s voice was quiet, gentle. “Are you okay?”

  Zeisha almost gave voice to the question swirling in her mind, but she couldn’t convince her mouth to form the words. Instead, she forced a smile. “I’m fine. Did, uh, did you need something?”

  Nora returned the smile. “Eira said if we’re all staying here, we have to earn our keep. We had one day to rest. Now it’s time to get our assignments.”

  Zeisha stood, lifting the heavy, green coils. She imagined herself shooting a similar vine at Krey. Wrapping it around his neck. Tightening it until he couldn’t breathe.

  Shaking her head to rid herself of the thought, she walked to the side of the street and tossed the vine against a deserted building. She jogged to Nora. “Thanks for finding me. Let’s get to work.”

  As they walked, Nora examined her surroundings. The street was full of empty buildings. Old Skytrain tracks, some of them crumbling, crisscrossed the sky. She turned her attention to Zeisha, who was looking at the city, her eyes wide. Zeisha was beautiful, with her short, hourglass figure and that lively mass of glossy, black curls. She was also one of the sweetest people Nora had ever met.

  “What do you think of Deroga?” Nora asked.

  Zeisha’s eyes met Nora’s. “I don’t know what to think. I grew up hearing about preday cities, but I never dreamed I’d see one in person, much less live in one.”

  Nora laughed. “I know what you mean.”

  Every building on this street was ancient and abandoned. Deroga had once been a busy metropolis. Then came the apocalypse, an event known as The Day. Radiation from a mysterious stone killed nearly everyone on the planet of Anyari. The half-million remaining humans gathered into new communities around the globe, rebuilding civilization from the ground up. Few people had stayed in cities like Deroga, which were full of useless technology and rotting bodies.

  Now, two centuries after The Day, six trog clans inhabited Deroga. Trogs were eccentric, to say the least. They lived in Deroga’s preday buildings, shunning mainstream, postday society. Months ago, the Star Clan had had made a deal with the king, allowing the militia to use one of their buildings.

  By the time Nora, Krey, and their friend Ovrun had arrived in Deroga to rescue Zeisha, the Star Clan had grown resentful of the militia’s presence. The trogs had agreed to join the fight to free the soldiers, and the city, from the king’s influence.

  Now the king would be looking for his formerly mind-controlled soldiers—and for Nora and her friends. Nora’s stomach cramped as she thought about him hunting her. It was bad enough for a country’s king to steal the minds of his people. It was infinitely worse when that king was your father.

  “I can’t believe Eira is letting us stay here,” Zeisha said.

  Nora pulled her thoughts away from her father. “Neither can I.” Eira was the unofficial leader of the Star Clan. Nora was a little afraid of the elderly woman. “She knows her people are in danger now that they’ve made a stand against the king. The trogs need you and the other militia members to fight on their side. You’re all so strong.”

  Normally, Zeisha had a ready smile. Now, her full lips pressed together in a tight line. “What is it?” Nora asked.

  Voice quavering, Zeisha said, “I didn’t want to hurt anyone. I never wanted to fight at all.”

  Nora put an arm around the shorter girl’s shoulders. “At least now you’ll have control over your gifts. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

  “I hope that’s true,” Zeisha said softly.

  Nora gave Zeisha’s shoulders a squeeze as they turned the corner onto the busiest street in Star Clan territory. They walked to the high-rise building where, two nights before, the trogs had thrown a party.

  Ovrun was waiting outside for them. Nora couldn’t hold back a grin. “Where were you at breakfast?” she asked.

  “They asked me to hunt for shimshims. There are only a few hundred people in the Star Clan, and suddenly they’ve got three dozen extra residents. They said if we want to stay, we need to provide some protein.” He turned to Zeisha. “I think they’re going to ask you and the other vine eaters to help with their rooftop farms.”

  Zeisha’s customary smile returned. “I’d love to do that!”

  “They’re almost ready to start.” Ovrun gestured for them to enter.

  Nora walked in, purposefully brushing her shoulder against Ovrun’s broad chest as she passed. All three of them walked through the building’s former lobby, which the trogs now used as a community space.

  During the party, the whole place had appeared magical, thanks to countless candles. Now, with daylight entering through glassless windows, the room looked entirely different—especially the upper portions of the tall walls. Last night, they’d been swathed in shadows. Today, Nora’s jaw dropped as she took in the murals painted on them.

  The style was unlike any art Nora had seen before. The bold strokes, geometric shapes, and bright colors certainly wouldn’t fit in the elegant palace she’d grown up in. But the art was stunning.

  The shapes themselves were abstract, but they came together into pictures that grabbed Nora’s attention and wouldn’t let go. Three of the scenes were of a bustling city, full of technology. Preday Deroga.

  However, Nora was most drawn to a wall that depicted a rural scene. In it, a woman, wearing a multicolored gown, kneeling over a dead child. The child’s skin was stark white. Red circles, clearly representing blood, streamed out of its eyes, nose, and mouth. The woman’s mouth was a gaping, black crescent. Nora could almost hear her wailing cry. Other dead bodies lay in the background. Green grass and trees and a bright-orange sky gave the macabre scene an ironic beauty. It was the most incredible depiction of The Day that Nora had ever seen.

  “I guess we better sit,” Ovrun said.

  Nora pulled her eyes away from the murals and tried to anchor herself in the present. She walked toward the center of the room, where most of the militia and quite a few trogs were seated on benches at long tables. She, Ovrun, and Zeisha joined them.

  Eira began the meeting. “We meet now with the new-city folk who are staying with us. You will tell us what you can do. We will give you work.”

  They started at the front of the room. As the militia members disclosed their skills, the trogs assigned them jobs. When it was Nora’s turn to stand, she was at a loss. Her ice lysting wasn’t much use here, since she didn’t have the fuel she needed to use her magical faculty. The trogs didn’t have any spare ice, and there wasn’t any snow on the ground. Her cheeks grew warm. “I’m
afraid my practical skills are . . . limited.”

  Next to her, Ovrun stood. “She’s been learning archery. She could come with me.”

  “We need no unskilled hunters,” a rough-voiced man said.

  Nora wasn’t about to let the idea go that quickly. “I’ll get better the more I try. I also know how to clean shimshims. I’m sure I could learn to clean other animals too.”

  The man looked at her thoughtfully, then nodded. “Ovrun will teach you to shoot. You will clean the game.”

  Nora repressed a grin and sat down. She hated skinning and cleaning dead shimshims, but she’d do it all day if it meant roaming the streets with Ovrun instead of holing up inside some damp, old building. She caught Ovrun’s eye, and he winked at her.

  Zeisha stood. “I’m a vine eater, and—”

  From behind them, a shouting voice interrupted her. “Eira!”

  That sounded like Krey, Nora thought as she turned. Sure enough, Krey was flying through the room, above the heads of the crowd. He landed when he reached Eira.

  The elderly woman listened carefully as Krey spoke in her ear. Then she nodded once and spoke, her voice ringing through the open space. “The army is coming to Deroga! Star Clan, we go underground!”

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  Acknowledgements

  When I’m writing a book, I work with a small, brave group of alpha readers. They read the book in chunks, in all its early-draft messiness. Then they tell me how I can make it better. Heartfelt thanks to these alpha readers: Eli Anderson, Becky Brickman, Kim Decker, Brooke Hunger, Stephanie Lynn, Kristin Newton, Becki Norris, and DeDe Pollnow. You are all jewels, as delightful to me as bollagrape juice!