Vivatera (Vivatera Series Book 1)

by Candace J Thomas

  Naomi shook her head. “Sorry, no.”

  “I am of a people descended from the Great Mountains. We were once earth and then became trees, and now we are men searching for our way back to the earth. Sharing space and time with the elements which make us and the legends that bring us as one—”

  “Whoa, whoa . . .” a voice called from the side of the table. “Micah, don’t scare the girl.” The tall, dark Landon Rhees slid over next to them. “None of that kind of talk. She just got here.”

  Micah didn’t lose his smile. “My heritage should be shared and known.”

  “Not on the first day.” Landon smiled at Naomi. “Don’t worry about him. He just wants his shot at knowing you first, but clearly I got that with our introductions earlier today.”

  Naomi raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t know about a competition.”

  Landon grimaced a little but returned a bright smile. “There are a lot of others who want a chance to know you, but I felt it my duty to get here first, just to warn you. You know, for your protection.”

  “How noble.”

  “Thank you. I try to watch out for the girls here. Katia and I have been friends from the beginning.”

  Naomi stared down his dark eyes. “That surprises me. I got the impression that no one liked her here.”

  “Well, to be honest, she is a little odd, but in a sweet way. We go way back, Kat and me. I’m sure she didn’t mention that I traveled with her when she arrived.” He leaned closer, his expression intense. “I got to know her pretty well on that trip. I’m one of the best friends she has here, whether she knows it or not. I have faithfully defended her for years.”

  “How?”

  “I understand a little about girls and the way they work.”

  “Really? A lifetime couldn’t give you that much knowledge. How old are you?”

  “You lose track of time in this place. Eighteen or so.”

  “And Katia is the only girl? Then where did you get all your wisdom?”

  Landon’s mouth twisted into a smile. “I think you’d call it charm. There are only a few older than me. There were only a handful or so here when I arrived.” He began pointing some out as he talked. “Justis, Pollack and Leto over there, Derron, Taren over there in the corner, Nathaniel—all of them were here. Kat and I arrived, then Micah showed up——what, a year later?”

  Micah nodded in approval.

  Naomi liked that he pointed others out, glad to know something about the people who surrounded her. Landon certainly charmed her with his likeable qualities, even if he masked something. “So, where is home?”

  “He has traveled the Salt Seas, across the forest that has no name, to the tallest rivers and highest peaks . . .” Micah chimed in.

  “Please, Micah—you’re making me sound better than I deserve.” Landon laughed in spite of himself. “I’m originally from the Springs of Sephar, south of the Ravian River, but I left there long ago, so long I hardly remember it. Both my parents were killed in the Great War. I fell in with travelers for a while, and then came here.”

  Naomi gaped. “Travelers?”

  “Yeah. Not a fabulous life, I know, but I learned a thing or two from those mystics.” Landon moved his hands up and down, and a strange image of light danced through the air, then disappeared.

  “Wait, wait, wait . . .” Naomi stopped him. “You say you traveled around like a gypsy?” A new image of Landon came to her mind. “So did I! I traveled with an old gypsy woman when I was a child.”

  “Seriously?” Landon jumped up out of his chair raising his fists in the air. The entire room silenced at his declaration. “I win! I win! I win!” He finally settled down. “I think I remember you! I do!”

  “What?”

  He leaned toward her. “The enchanting little girl with the blonde hair who would dance around the fires. I can’t believe I missed it!”

  “I don’t remember you,” Naomi returned, suspicious.

  “I followed a family named Pipkin. A father, two boys and a girl. They taught me illusions and crowd pleasers, only us for the most part, but I remember grouping with others, sometimes. But you were unforgettable! I remember first seeing you, on the plains of the Sacred Ties Festival.” He laughed at the memory. “You must have been really young, maybe six, waving the streamers in the air. Even then, you were mesmerizing.”

  Naomi blushed a little at his words, but remained silent in amazement.

  “Well, I found it more profitable to become a thief and left. I met Katia, and there you go.” He finished abruptly, not seeming to need to say any more.

  “That’s incredible!”

  “What is?” Katia asked, carrying the plates of food to the table.

  Naomi turned to her. “We know each other.”

  “Well, sort of,” Landon interjected.

  “What?” Katia stared in horror. “No! You can’t!”

  Landon grinned widely.

  “You already know her? That trumps the fact that I’m a girl.” Katia looked defeated, slumping into her chair.

  Overwhelmed watching the two argue over her attention, Naomi quickly changed the subject. “Reh . . . someone said this place had magic.”

  Landon studied her. “No, it’s not like that.” He downed his stew. “We’re trying to improve our natural abilities, not just use magic.”

  “Natural abilities?”

  “Well, I’m really good at magic, but not real magic. Just little illusions and such, something to distract a person long enough to pick their pocket. It’s a good and useful skill. Say there’s someone trying to kill you. You distract him, steal the daggers from his back pocket, and replace them with carrots. Before he’s even aware of it, he goes to throw the daggers, and bam! A face full of carrots.”

  Katia smirked. “Now that you mention it, Landon, it sounds kind of dumb.”

  Landon glared at her. “I’m sure it sounds dumb coming from you, Miss I’m-Going-To-Freeze-Everyone-With-My-Feelings.”

  “Shut up! You don’t have any idea of what I can do!”

  “You’re right.” He pointed his stew-covered fork in her direction. “I’ve never seen you actually do anything right!”

  “I’ve done things right!”

  “Yes, but nothing deliberately. You’re always at your best when someone makes you cry.”

  Katia glared at Landon and his accusations but stayed silent.

  “What about you, Micah?” Naomi asked, trying to lighten the mood. “What are your natural abilities?”

  “Mine are complicated.”

  Katia brightened. “Micah’s skills are amazing. He can move stuff around, like wind and things, right?”

  Micah hesitated at her description. “Not exactly. You see, the earth and dust are my arms as we are one, and they help me if I need it. Also, I am very sensitive to movement; I can feel vibrations, even heartbeats long distances away.”

  “That’s unique.”

  Micah shrugged. “It is not special or uncommon in my heritage.”

  Landon glared at Katia. “How can you think Micah’s abilities are amazing and mine are rubbish?”

  “Micah’s are traced back centuries.”

  “So are mine,” Landon snapped, and then reconsidered. “Well, maybe not, but it doesn’t mean I’m not as useful. ‘Oh, Micah’s so wonderful’ . . .”

  “Oh, just stop it, Landon. Naomi will see for herself in the yard. You can impress her there with your ‘illusions’.”

  The two continued to glare at each other, seeming to have forgotten Naomi and Micah were there. She cleared her throat. “So, why did you choose to come here?”

  Katia looked up at her. “No one chooses to come.”

  “Then why do you choose to stay?”

  “We don’t,” Micah answered. His voice fell to a quiet whisper.

  Naomi froze. “You can’t leave?”

  “We’re not criminals,” Landon clarified. “Well, mostly. There are a few here that I can’t vouch for.”

 
Again Naomi wondered why Reynolds had left her there. “I don’t like the idea of being trapped.”

  Landon slid forward. “You can trust me.”

  “Trust us!” Katia added.

  “Is this why he brought me here?” Naomi thought out loud. “Because he knew I couldn’t get out? I don’t understand . . .”

  “Try me,” Katia said.

  “Try us!” Landon insisted.

  Naomi thought carefully about what she should say before she spoke. “There’s something dangerous about this place. I’m not sure how I feel about staying here.”

  Katia frowned. “That’s normal. Everyone feels that way when they come, but you’ll get used to it.”

  Naomi thought about Katia’s words, but they didn’t ring true. This place didn’t feel right. An uneasy feeling crept around her insides. She felt trapped—like she stood at the edge of the world, ready to tip, and something unseen pushed her off-balance.

  Chapter Eight

  Curiosity

  The girl entered the mess hall with Katia. Taren didn’t spend much time in the mess hall, but he knew Naomi would be there tonight, and it would be an opportunity to find out more about her.

  Just observing her, he could see why Reynolds fought to keep her away from him. He could feel her presence when she entered the room like an unexpected warm wind, surrounding her with protective arms. He found her peculiar.

  The conversation she had with Landon and Micah wasn’t interesting. He pushed his magic to see what he could find out about her.

  Taren held very still and searched for the magic surrounding her.

  Cold . . . ice blue . . . dancing . . . The boundless energy from Katia’s magic read easily because of her complete lack of confidence and control. It hovered close to the surface but never fulfilled its potential. She could be a threat if she knew how to use it.

  He pushed further.

  Patterns . . . erratic flashes . . . reflection . . . Landon’s magic was useless. It only worked if used with something else. What a waste.

  Tiny specks moving fast . . . a cyclone . . . Typical ground-dweller magic. Micah was only a duplicate of his people—all the same earth-matter conjuring, nothing varied.

  Come on, he pushed. Find the girl . . .

  He blocked all other magic around him; their insignificance didn’t affect him. Further and further . . . He could be wrong. Maybe Naomi didn’t have any magic. But Reynolds wouldn’t risk her being here if she didn’t. There had to be something, anything . . .

  Black . . . a wall . . . thick . . . Nothing. He could find nothing.

  Naomi looked around her. Landon talked on and on about nothing important. He pointed to Taren’s direction. Taren glared.

  He made eye contact. Quick! Act now.

  Taren pushed his magic. His sight intensified, searching for weakness within the invisible shield; his neck strained as he threw forward his telepathic invasion.

  Pain . . . shock . . . sting!

  Taren blinked. Pain everywhere, like fire burning his insides. A breath, a gasp for air escaped. Calm down. She talked with the others as if nothing happened. The sting still resonated in his body. His nerves pulsed in raging, throbbing pains. He tried to clear his mind to get rid of the feeling. Out! Out! Out!

  He had to leave. Taren left his food untouched on his plate, stumbled toward the door without intending to draw attention, and left as quickly as he could.

  That night he didn’t stay in the barracks. Instead he lay in his tree, suffering. The pain still pulsed with every thump in his heart. She had magic, the most powerful he had ever experienced. The truth constricted all his muscles and pulsed in his blood.

  He had never experienced anything like that before. Magic of others expressed itself as easy to read, easy to feel, especially for him. He could read anything—except her. He wasn’t going to risk his mind by invading hers again.

  ~*~

  After breakfast, Taren resurfaced in the camp. Lytte and Aristatolis never made him labor like the others. Being the oldest there, he resented the confinement. Others thought it a unique environment to grow and learn, but Taren knew full well they were caught in a trap that caged them like animals.

  Aristatolis prepared the yard for meditation, a good exercise for the unskilled and unfamiliar. Taren had no need of it. He hadn’t joined in a long time, so for him to show up today might look suspicious. He hung back by the trees to watch.

  The crowd started to plant themselves around the grounds. The small group consisting of Landon, Katia, Micah, and Naomi came out of the mess hall.

  Rows formed and everyone sat cross-legged on the grass, except for Naomi, who continued to walk towards the back rows. Micah grabbed Naomi and sat her down not far from where Taren stood.

  “Stay by me, little Naomi,” he said. “Do not be afraid. I will listen.”

  Aristatolis stood before the group and called everyone to order. Everyone silenced, immediately ready for instruction. A calm humming noise covered the yard like a thin blanket. The hum—the calling of the magic.

  Inside Taren’s body, the resonating began. Even though he wasn’t participating, his body knew how to respond. Naomi looked around, watching the others. Taren wondered if she felt it, if her magic wanted to come out, or could be forced.

  Aristatolis sat before the group, cross-legged and focused, his arms moving motion upon motion, up and down in large circles, adding complexity to the patterns.

  Naomi didn’t move with the others but watched the strange actions.

  Aristatolis brought his hands to his lap and began rubbing them together, feeling the friction and the energy. It didn’t take long until the palms of his hands began to glow.

  “This creates the energy,” Micah narrated. “Try.”

  Taren grew anxious as Naomi started to rub her hands together. The noise around them sought out the humming and fused together with the low chants, building a harmonious sound. The rubbing slowed as the hands glowed around her. Everyone raised their palms high into the sky, and then with a sharp sound, smacked them down to the earth. The ground rumbled.

  Naomi looked startled but curious. This ritual went on a few more times: rubbing, humming, and slapping the ground.

  Taren held back, cautious not to push his magic too far, remembering the sting from last night. His body wasn’t quick to forget, and the pain still lingered in his system—alarming, yet dangerously compelling.

  Several of the others’ hands glowed—red, green, white—to reflect their magic. Micah’s hands were bright red and rested softly on the ground, tiny curls of dust swirling around his fingers. Landon sat in the middle near the front, his hands and arms bluish-white, little sparks dancing away from his fingers. Katia sat close to Landon. Her hands didn’t emit much glow but tiny ice crystals had formed around her fingertips.

  “Please, try,” Micah encouraged Naomi.

  Naomi started with her hands, rubbing them gently together as if washing them. She raised them with the others, and then smacked them to the ground.

  Nothing happened.

  Taren’s curiosity rose. Her magic inside didn’t want to be found. But why?

  Naomi tried again. Still the same, no magic—at least, nothing Taren could read.

  “Is there something wrong with me?” Naomi asked Micah. “Am I doing it wrong?”

  “You need to free your mind of this world. Separate body, mind, and magic. You need to believe in the abilities and focus on bringing out the fibers of magic.”

  Sound logic, Taren thought.

  “Concentrate, feel it, believe it . . .” Micah muttered as dust came up from the ground in tight, neat spirals around his hands.

  Naomi took in a deep breath and tried again.

  Taren wasn’t the only one who took notice of her frustration. Aristatolis looked over and saw the struggle to connect to her magic. A small wave of greedy anticipation crossed through Taren’s thoughts. If anyone could get the magic to respond, it would be Aristatolis.

&
nbsp; Several of the others stopped to watch what was happening, even her friends.

  “Child, look at me,” Aristatolis said, as he sat quietly in front of her.

  Naomi looked nervous. “I don’t know if I like this.”

  Aristatolis grabbed Naomi’s hands. “Relax, dear one.” He started to rub her hands together.

  It started slowly, her hands turning the color of a magnificent opal. Different colors mixed together like the underlining of a seashell. The hum in the air changed its tone—higher and more intense. Aristatolis didn’t stop but kept going, probably as greedy as Taren felt. The yard fell silent while everyone watched.

  Naomi held Aristatolis’ gaze, looking terrified.

  Taren pushed his magic and read what Aristatolis could feel.

  Aristatolis had sight of the magic within her, and Taren’s own greediness envied him the closeness, wanting it for his own.

  Then he saw it—a stream of light coming from her hands, wrapping around her fingers, purple and blue. Ribbons weaved out and around each other—a spark, a green flash from her fingertips.

  “Stop it! Stop it!” Naomi cried.

  The light spread up from her hands, brighter and brighter, moving past her hands to Aristatolis’. Swirling fingers of light wrapped upward.

  Aristatolis, still grasping her hands, raised them into the air. Naomi fought the motion.

  Her hands, still held in Aristatolis’ grip, smacked the ground. The earth shook violently. The wooden structures swayed as if in an earthquake.

  Taren watched in shock.

  Katia ran to Naomi’s side. “Aristatolis! Stop!” She grasped his hands, trying to pull him off. Landon soon arrived, helping free Naomi from the energy force that bound the two together. Aristatolis succumbed and lost his grip, falling to the ground, silent.

  No one seemed to know what to do. Taren’s greed compelled him to act. He ran to Aristatolis and pressed down on his heart. The rapid beats weren’t normal. He looked up at Landon.

  “Go get Lytte!”

  Several of the boys ran towards Lytte’s tent. Landon turned his attention to Aristatolis, touching his face and trying to feel his breathing.

  “What happened?”