Vivatera (Vivatera Series Book 1)

by Candace J Thomas

  Naomi glanced around. Everything in the tent looked the same, but somehow she felt she was in a foreign place. Katia slept soundly across from her. Her deep breathing broke the silence and made the confusion of reality even stranger than before.

  Naomi’s connection with Reynolds might have cost him his life; her heart skipped at the notion. Her mind drifted to him often, imagining a relationship that grew stronger with every thought. Reynolds filled an empty space she never knew she had, and she couldn’t allow it to disappear.

  Cool night air bit near her ears and cheeks before Naomi lay back down, covering herself with thick animal skins, and deciphered the dream—or rather, the vision she had witnessed. She pictured Reynolds’s face: in a deep mountain, surrounded by little people dressed in white; a decrepit sorcerer surging with magic, holding a staff of light, his eyes white as snow.

  People surrounded Reynolds, dragging him; she hadn’t missed the strange pointed tip of their ears. The wizard knew of her magic. He called Reynolds a thief, claiming he had stolen a medallion. Naomi’s stomach turned with nervous anxiety.

  Naomi placed the pillow over her head and tried to erase the images she created in her mind: the torture Reynolds might suffer, the brutality at the hand of his captors. She would normally have written the dream down in her journal.

  She closed her eyes and saw Reynolds again. He fascinated her—mysterious, maybe dangerous, but in her thoughts, he stood courageous. Every time she thought of his face, he grew more handsome, not just how he looked, but his countenance drew her in and made him more appealing.

  Time passed slowly with the pillow covering her head. Her anxiety built with every breath. She lost the battle, got dressed, and left the tent, heading for some answers.

  She walked down the now familiar dirt paths leading to Lytte’s tent. The cool ground felt good on her bare feet. The wind picked up; her silk scarf blew gently around her neck, and she subconsciously rubbed the smooth fabric between her fingertips as she walked.

  Naomi stopped just outside the opening of the tent, breathing deeply, trying to clear her head. Everything was quiet. He might be sleeping. Back and forth she paced before the entrance. So many questions flowed through her brain. Maybe she should just wander around the camp a little and check back later. But the questions were eating her away inside. She drew in a breath and stepped through the tent door.

  

  “Why did it take you so long?” a voice called. Lytte sat cross-legged at a small, round table, looking at runes and ancient stones. A little lamp burned nearby, keeping only the table and his face lit.

  Naomi stared, surprised to find Lytte awake so late. “How long have you been up?”

  “I am connected with the outside world, much like you.” His voice felt comforting. “Come, sit.”

  Naomi crossed the room and knelt across from her mentor. “So, you know about my dream?”

  “Dream? No.” Lytte’s piercing, steely, gray eyes seeming to peer into her soul.

  Naomi sat, confused. “Then how did you know I would come?”

  “I think we will cross that bridge eventually.” Lytte continued to examine the stones thrown haphazardly around a dark, red cloth. “I am very curious about your dream. Please, tell me.”

  Naomi told Lytte what she remembered. The old man named Harrow, Reynolds, the pointy-eared people, the weird ones in white, and the conversation that plagued her.

  Lytte lifted his head, listening.

  “What you saw was indeed real, not merely a dream,” he explained as soon as she finished. “I believe you saw the Ibis Mountains in the east. They are filled with hollow caves and caverns. Many call them the Echoes. The little ones in white you speak of are the Arenmas, or Echo People. Their home is Mount Ibis. They have lived there for centuries and have adapted their life to the darkness, knowing very little of the outside world.” Lytte measured Naomi’s expressions before he continued. “Does that sound right?”

  “Yes.”

  Lytte smiled. “Your friend Micah is a descendent of the Arenmas. His uncle, Spotswood Shadower, is a friend of mine, and they are the only surviving Shadowers. They left Ibis for a life on the surface. Their skin color is a reaction to the elements they had never encountered before.”

  “How sad.” Naomi sighed, wrapping her finger in her scarf as she listened to the wind blow around the tent. “Do you think Reynolds is in danger?”

  Lytte stopped and scratched his beard in thought. He glanced back at Naomi. “I think it might be wise to look at why he’s in danger.”

  Naomi knew Lytte’s style now; he always pushed her to find the answers to her own questions with logic and reason. “He is captured. They think he’s a thief.”

  “Do you think he’s a thief?”

  “Of course not.”

  “But do you know Reynolds well enough to make a judgment?”

  Lytte’s question tested her trust. “If Reynolds needed something like food, he might pilfer, but this was different. I saw the greediness. This was something important.”

  Lytte’s face lit with her understanding. “Harrow is looking for something important he thinks Reynolds has. What do you think that could be?”

  Naomi gulped. “Is it me?”

  A small chuckled escaped from Lytte’s lips. “Harrow knows about the incident in the Blackwoods. He has spies, sweet one.”

  Naomi sat in resignation. “It’s because of me. Reynolds is in trouble because of me, and I don’t even know why he kept me safe.”

  “The evidence is in the dream,” Lytte evaluated. “Your magic is precious and he knows this. I think he is still trying to protect you from afar.”

  Naomi put her head down, keeping focus on the dream and not her own feelings for Reynolds, though Lytte’s words felt comforting. “Can you tell me who the man is with the staff?”

  “Harrow, an underlord of Parbraven . . . a keeper of secrets.” Lytte shuffled in his seat to better look at Naomi. “Harrow is a worry, but not as much as others. The real concern isn’t Harrow—it’s the wind.”

  “The wind?”

  Lytte lifted his head, listening to the outside world. “You talked about the wind and rain sweeping through the cave. That is what frightens me. The winds have changed.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “This is a sign that confirms my fears.” Lytte’s eyes shifted in a peculiar manner. “One of the stones has been found.”

  Naomi sat back. “The stones?”

  “Yes. Harrow is looking for the stones, but not for himself, for someone else. He may think you have something to do with it.”

  “Can I ask about the stone?”

  “Not tonight,” Lytte assumed in his usual enigmatic manner, and returned to reading the runes.

  

  Nobody mentioned the difference in the direction of the wind or the gloomy skies, although everyone felt the shift. The air even smelled different. The changing breeze swirled throughout the camp, whipping down and around and through every tree and branch. The conflict with the winds and the trees displayed the evidence that the struggle between power and control had begun.

  Landon, Katia, and Micah found Naomi, who sat in pensive thought near a tree in the corner of the yard, all alone. Naomi hadn’t gone back to sleep. She’d stayed awake, thinking until morning, her mind made up. Still, the words froze in her mouth as they sat before her, waiting for her to explain her decision.

  “Do you think we’ll have activities in the yard today?” Landon asked. “I know Aristatolis is anxious to get us back to full strength since his absence. Though, I still think I’ve done pretty well on my own.”

  Naomi felt conflicted whether she should involve her friends or go alone. Her internal crisis took over every other thought. Even if she could hear their mundane conversation, she wasn’t really listening. Here she had a great opportunity to bring up her plans, but the words stuck in her mouth. Do it now, she told herself. Her mouth went dry and her palms started to swea
t.

  Katia groaned. “Landon, pull-ups in the barracks doesn’t make your magic better.”

  “Couldn’t hurt.”

  “I’d rather not be in the rain. My ice crystals melt so much faster.”

  “Say,” Naomi spoke up, finally getting her mouth to function, “have any of you been east?”

  “I’ve never crossed the river,” Landon returned, hardly listening. “I wouldn’t even know what direction it is from here.”

  Katia sprawled out on the ground, looking up. “I heard a story once when I was young about a banished sorcerer who lives in the eastern mountains. He traps people in the web of caves and slowly sucks out their souls so he will never die.”

  “Like a spider?” Landon suggested.

  “I guess.”

  Naomi pressed her questions further. “Have you heard of the Echoes? Lytte mentioned the place this morning, and I wondered where it was.”

  Micah gave a huge smile, his mood altered by the change of topic. “The Echoes! My happy heart returns there in the best of dreams.”

  Naomi had hoped Micah would have the information she wanted. “Do you know where it is?”

  “No.” Micah sighed. “I have never entered, not allowed, but my body yearns for the comfort of it.”

  “But how far is it from here?”

  Landon eyed her. “Wait, Nam, what’s going on? You’re up to something.”

  Naomi felt her cheeks flush. “Well, I had a dream last night.”

  “A dream? Sister, you’re getting yourself worked up over nothing.”

  “Dreams can be very important, you know,” Katia argued.

  “Dreams are nothing but delusions of our own imagination. Good luck with that.” He ripped a piece of jerky apart with his teeth—the remains of breakfast.

  Naomi knew Landon didn’t mean any offense, but she couldn’t help feeling confused. “Haven’t you ever thought dreams had meanings?”

  “Maybe,” Katia thought out loud, “when I first was poisoned.”

  “That’s different,” Landon returned. “Those were hallucinations.”

  “I see this kind of thing all the time,” Naomi explained, slightly embarrassed. “Some are horrible, dangerous warnings for people I love. This one bothers me and I need to find out what it means.”

  Micah beamed with excitement. “You want to get out.”

  “Seriously?” Landon looked impressed.

  Naomi’s cheeks colored as she slowly nodded.

  The others looked shocked.

  A sly grin crossed Micah’s face. “The timing must be right. It is not yet. We need to be prepared.”

  “I don’t know if I can wait,” Naomi muttered in a whisper. “It’s not that simple. Someone’s in danger and I think I might be the reason. I’m the only one that knows.”

  “We’re not leaving. I’ve tried. There’s no way out.” Katia whispered.

  “This is suicide,” Landon protested. “I’m not leaving the camp until I really know the details.”

  Naomi realized the grounds were filling with the others who had finished their breakfast. “Not now. Later, I promise.”

  

  Aristatolis, though still recovering from Naomi’s violent magic, stood in the center of the yard. Landon, Katia, and Micah joined the others. Naomi, still shy about her experience with Aristatolis, leaned out of sight behind Landon’s tall frame.

  Aristatolis’ voice sounded muffled under the thick trees and the swollen thunderclouds. “I have tried to teach you how to harness your own power. Today, we will warm up as a group and practice using our forces with each other. Depending on each person’s specialized magic, the results will be considerably different. Combining our strengths will both confuse the enemy and make us stronger.”

  Groups of twos and threes began forming as Aristatolis hobbled through the crowd, instructing each on methods and dynamics.

  Katia bumped her in the shoulder. “Naomi, come partner with me.”

  Naomi, who had decided not to join the exercise, shook her head, afraid of the monster inside her.

  “We may need to know this, especially if we plan on . . . escaping.” Katia mouthed the ending.

  Naomi thought about it. Katia did have a point. She would soon need better control of her magic, whether it was here or somewhere else.

  “Please?” Katia bounced on her heels like a puppy.

  Naomi looked to see if Lytte had joined the activities, but he hadn’t. Her insecurity escalated. She hadn’t warmed up with the others since her first day in the yard. The way Lytte taught differed greatly from the grand spectacle of the yard meditations: individuals shouting and pounding until the magic felt comfortable in the circulating air.

  Naomi watched Katia doing her own outlandish meditations. It looked so silly, Naomi almost laughed, but kept it to herself.

  To reach her magic, Naomi talked to it, found it inside her, and persuaded it to help. She discovered very early that her magic was specialized. It wouldn’t do everything she asked—it would not harm things, and it could not be used for destruction unless Naomi stood in harm’s way.

  A thought occurred to her: maybe Katia needed the same kind of instruction. Maybe her magic didn’t like the way it awoke or was forced out. She wasn’t a boy, yet she had been trained like one. Naomi’s emotions controlled her magic. Maybe Katia’s needed to be reached in the same way.

  Naomi interrupted the other girl’s concentration. “Katia? Have you ever tried talking to your magic?”

  “What are you talking about?” Katia laughed.

  Naomi crouched down on the ground next to where Katia sat. “I want you to try and find your magic inside yourself.”

  “I don’t know how to do that. Aristatolis taught me to channel it through movement.”

  “Trust me,” Naomi said again. “Close your eyes and see if you can find it.”

  “Okay. I’ll try.”

  Naomi sat cross-legged across from her and settled Katia’s hands together, pointing up. “Relax. Close your eyes and tell me what you can see.”

  Katia did as instructed. “What am I supposed to be seeing?”

  “The magic is hiding somewhere inside. Can you find it?”

  Katia wiggled her shoulders and tried again. She sighed a few times with no progress.

  Naomi could sense Katia’s frustration. Her emotions were always so close to the surface. Naomi looked at her friend’s face and saw the tears forming. Come on, she urged. It’s near the surface. Naomi reached over and placed her palm on the top of Katia’s hands.

  Then it happened—a flash of light, blinding—before it disappeared.

  Katia opened her eyes, surprised. “Whoa! I saw it!”

  Naomi, still touching her hands, pulled back. “So did I. Was that supposed to happen?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Channel again.” This time Naomi did not touch her. “Do you need my help?”

  Katia closed her eyes again, searching. Moments passed with nothing happening. “Come on.”

  She opened her eyes. “It won’t stay.”

  “Ask it to stay.”

  Katia seemed skeptical. “Like it’s a person?”

  “Yes,” Naomi answered. “It’s alive and it wants to play. Ask it to stay, ask it what it wants. Be nice.”

  After five good attempts, Katia made a connection with her magic. “I don’t know how to communicate.”

  “Let me see if I can help.” Naomi hated seeing her friend struggle. “I will only support. It is your magic and needs to talk to you, not me. Understand?”

  “Yes,” Katia whispered like a little girl.

  Naomi rested her palms on Katia’s already cupped hands.

  Behind her eyes sat her magic, waiting for her.

  White, like endless fog drifting thickly around cool waters; its cool sting froze every fiber—numbed senses and tingled toes. It kissed the skin and lifted the hair on her arms and head.

  The tears that threatened to come o
ut did, and stained her face, stinging with the coolness of the air. The magic, excited by the emotion, swirled happily in a blizzarding wind.

  The movement took Katia aback, but Naomi’s hands tightened and urged her to continue.

  Speak, Naomi instructed through her magic.

  Katia calmed herself. “Thank you.”

  The mist seemed to smile, though thick and shapeless. It swirled again, playfully, not threatening. Katia seemed to enjoy it. “You want to play?”

  Naomi’s magic stood near the back, watching as a welcomed guest. The coolness encircled Katia and kissed her lightly on the cheek.

  Katia’s expression showed she couldn’t believe it. “What should we play?”

  The mist danced lightly through her hair and back down to the tip of her nose.

  “Will you show me?”

  The mist swirled away from her again, happy and smiling.

  Naomi opened her eyes and saw Katia’s tears on her face, forming small crystals. “So, what do we do?”

  “Let it show us.”

  Katia began rubbing her hands as she always had. A light formed instantly and crystals crept from her fingertips, lacing an intricate pattern. Snowflake shapes formed and grew, weaving in and out and becoming more recognizable: legs and a body and a head. A face with wonderful, glassy eyes and soft flowing features, smiled. The woman was beautiful.

  The sounds in the yard had stopped, all attention on the mesmerizing sight of the lady of ice emerging from the tips of Katia’s fingers.

  She stood before Katia, beaming with happiness, her eyes focused only on her; nothing and no one else existed. She mouthed, “Thank you,” silently as she stretched and moved her gently flowing limbs.

  Katia’s tears kept flowing, washing some of the crystals away.

  The Ice Queen moved gracefully, twirling and playfully lifting the sweeping dress Katia had created, seeming pleased with the air and the beauty of the world, like a young child tasting snowflakes for the first time.