Vivatera (Vivatera Series Book 1)

by Candace J Thomas

  Silexa handed it to him. He was reluctant to touch it, but she pressed the cool stone in his hands. “It gives the bearer unusual powers and will protect you. But it also carries a burden. I need you to keep it safe until I find a hiding place. The palace will not be safe for long. Bryant has already found infiltrators in the court, which is what has made him suspicious of everyone, and is why he’s kept me here.”

  Zander felt the moment coming—his moment to speak. He mouthed words, but no sound came out.

  “I have an idea,” she said without noticing. “I don’t know if it will work, but it could be the key to saving our lives.”

  “Yes . . .” The word escaped his lips.

  Silexa smiled, raising her hands to her heart then brushed his lips with her fingertip. “Sshh,” she whispered. “I don’t want you to break your promise.”

  “Ple-ee-ase.”

  Silexa removed her hand, listening.

  Now that he had her attention, he wasn’t sure what to say, so he started with what he knew. “Na . . . omi.”

  Silexa looked confused. “Who is she?”

  A sound echoed in the empty room, like footsteps sliding across the tunnel. Zander and Silexa stopped their conversation and stood up.

  Silexa placed a finger to her mouth and motioned for Zander to be silent. Taking his hand, she guided him behind the door. Removing the shawl from around her arms, she flung it gently about them, covering their bodies.

  The silk cloth material was sheer enough to see through, but hardly covered both of them. Zander’s heart pounded loudly inside his chest as he waited for the footsteps to reach them.

  Within seconds, a figure emerged from the stairs: a small person covered in a dark plum cloak, who paused at the threshold. The hooded figure moved through the door with caution, searching.

  Silexa crouched and tightened her grip around Zander, her fists clenching hard around his collar. She hardly moved or breathed.

  The interloper entered the room, moving carefully toward the bed. A slight turn and he would be standing where Silexa and Zander clung to each other.

  As the cloaked figure approached the bed, he moved his head back and forth, searching for sound.

  Zander, against his better judgment, moved his hand which held the blue crystal stone, and smoothed it safely out of sight, deep into his pocket. The hooded figure stiffened and lowered the hood.

  He bit his lip. Audra’s ears raised and fell. So fast no one would have imagined it possible, she grabbed him from beneath the shawl and threw him to the floor, a knife blade pressed against his throat.

  “Nice hiding place, Ander. But nothing can escape my ears.”

  Zander lay very still, his heart beating fast.

  “Who are . . . ?” he started.

  Audra smiled but didn’t loosen her grip. “I was very honest with you, Ander. I never lied to you. I’m a Louving—a hunter and an assassin. And I didn’t come to kill you, though I wouldn’t care if I did.”

  Zander gulped, the lump in his throat coming dangerously close to the blade.

  “I was hired to find something that’s hidden within this palace, and you gave me the key to it today.”

  Zander froze, confused.

  Audra leaned very close to his ear. “So, here we are, Ander.” Her voice hissed in his ear and down his spine. “Where is the girl?”

  Zander shuddered, too terrified to speak. His mind flashed with different ideas of how to escape, but his arms wouldn’t work. He held still, frozen in fear.

  She angled the sharp tip of the knife. “I know the girl has the stone. You can’t hide her from me. I need that stone, and you’re going to get it.”

  Zander didn’t even see what happened next. One moment, Audra stood over him, and the next she had collapsed in a heap on the floor.

  Silexa lifted off her shawl, a metal vase in her hand. She went to the girl and checked her breathing. “She’s still alive, just knocked out.” She looked at Zander. “Come on, we’ve got to find Bryant.”

  ~*~

  Zander walked casually into the hall, as if he had nothing better to do. The sun was going down, but it was hard to detect with the clouds brewing over the mountains. He stalled a little, but Silexa—hiding underneath her cloak——pushed him forward.

  They passed chambers he had never ventured near before, up more stairs, and around more corners. Finally, a hall opened behind two large double doors. Without hesitation, Silexa walked through.

  The room looked much like a large library, housing books of every kind. Dark, velvet curtains blocked the large windows that overlooked the city of Southwick. Passing through a different door, they entered the bedchamber, just as grand as the other room, but completely lined with uncovered windows.

  From this perspective, Zander was finally able to look at the strange sky. Though he hadn’t known of them earlier, he saw the clouds, frightening and dark. A green tint covered them, and they hovered instead of moving with a breeze as expected.

  “What is that?” he asked.

  “That,” Silexa answered, “is why we have to get out of here.”

  She began to search the room, pulling out clothes, packs, supplies—as if she had put them there in the first place.

  “Quickly. Help me.”

  Zander obeyed and began cramming the packs with miscellaneous gear she threw about. Through the rummaging, he noticed a collection of rocks and gemstones on a shelf. Each gleamed in its own way, though one peculiar stone looked almost exactly like Silexa’s. It seemed a little dull and was round and fist-sized, with a blue tint.

  Silexa turned and saw the stone in his hand. “Perfect, Zander. Good idea—just in case.”

  Zander smiled, knowing that he had done something good.

  “Bring me both stones, Zander.” He did as she asked, digging the original stone from his pocket. Looking at both together, he realized there was no comparison to the one he’d found.

  Silexa placed one hand on the top of the stone. Instantly it lit, dazzling his eyes. She moved her other hand to the one Zander found. A pulsating beam of light went through her to the new stone, transforming it to resemble the original. Within seconds, it was complete.

  “There is no magic in this one,” Silexa explained. “It is only a copy. Please, you keep the real stone, just in case I get caught.”

  Zander nodded and hid the stone, this time in a better hiding place—a deep pocket inside his cloak.

  Suddenly, they heard the sound of approaching voices.

  “Quick! Hide!” Zander slung one pack on his back and moved to a hiding place near the tall curtains. He was so slight it would be hard to detect him. Silexa threw the shawl back over herself and slid behind a chair.

  “In here,” a voice shouted.

  Two pairs of footsteps marched into the room, carrying the limp form of the prince to his bed, a small groan escaping as he was thrown down.

  “Father,” Bryant pleaded in a raspy whisper, “please.”

  “Enough!” the king yelled. “You are useless to me. If you won’t give me the stone, we will find the girl ourselves.”

  A third voice entered the conversation. “Should we ask the oracle to find her?” Curtis’ greasy voice inquired.

  King Reinoh sighed before he spoke. “Yes. How soon will Sharrod be here?”

  “Not long. I believe he has one of the sisters with him, a girl named Ymber. He plans to sacrifice her after the feast in the Ritual Room, as you requested.”

  “What is her stone?”

  “The Atmos, I believe.”

  “And Bryant’s girl?”

  “She protects Silicis—stone, rocks, dirt, and mountains. Not as powerful as weather, of course. But remember, my lord, without all of the stones, the circle cannot be complete.”

  “Yes, yes,” the king said. “Let us consult the oracle.”

  “What do you want done with your son?”

  A brief pause. “He is a traitor and no longer my son,” the King muttered finally.


  The sound of footsteps faded, and the doors slammed shut.

  Confirming that both men had left the room, Zander ran to Bryant. He had no visible bleeding, and nothing seemed to be broken. His skin felt warm to the touch, his pulse slow, while his eyes rolled to the back of his head.

  Silexa emerged from her hiding but stayed frozen in place, looking fearful.

  “Alive,” Zander assured her. “But, I don’t know . . . He’s s-strange.”

  Silexa regained her composure. There was still a chance to save him.

  Zander tried valiantly to lift his body.

  “The stone will help you,” Silexa whispered. “Place your hand on it and use it.”

  Zander did just that. He felt inside his cloak to the stone and by touching it, either the prince became lighter or he became stronger. He slung one of Bryant’s arms over his own shoulders to prop him up. “How do we . . . ?”

  “Get out?” Silexa finished. “There is a tunnel, not far, that is hidden. It is our only chance.”

  “What about Audra?” Zander asked.

  A glaze of confusion crossed Silexa’s face. “The Louving? I don’t think there is anything we can do about her now. I’m more worried about the oracle they talked about.”

  True. In either case, they would be hunted no matter what they decided to do.

  “We need to get out, Zander.” Silexa draped the shawl back over herself, and with Bryant hanging limply between them, they left the chamber.

  Not as many people lingered in the hallways at that time. The sounds of soldiers marching on the marble floors echoed throughout the palace walls, but soon the footsteps could no longer be heard.

  Silexa’s stone made Zander feel invincible.

  “We’re very close. It’s down here,” Silexa whispered. But before they turned the corner, they heard rhythmic footfalls entering the hall, growing louder and louder. Zander, still supporting Bryant, hid behind a pillar, while Silexa crouched behind a statue. A tiny crack gave him the chance to see the disturbance. His heart skipped as he watched line upon line of soldiers marching directly past the small hallway where they hid. He tried to make himself as small as possible.

  In that instant, the atmosphere changed. The world slowed to a moment; edges blurred, and Zander’s vision faded.

  The heartbeat of the march hit as hard in his ears as a pulse, thudding and ringing. His vision focused on something that resembled the nightmare lingering in the back corner of every dream.

  A dark figure walked forward, flowing robes draping his tall frame. A sneer of malice curled on his lips, and a fathomless evil shone in his hollow black eyes. He could only be called a monster—too large to be a man, yet too human to be a beast. He appeared to be the devil himself.

  Shock went through Zander’s tender heart at what he saw—not the appearance of the demon, but the sight of a slight, fair girl who trailed behind him. Like Silexa, she reminded him of Naomi with her small frame and tender expressions, but her straight, smooth hair looked silver in the hall light, unlike Naomi’s strands of gold.

  The parade passed, and the footfall rhythm quieted.

  Zander turned to stunned Silexa, who appeared frozen in place. He stepped toward her, but she was again slow to respond.

  “No . . . no . . .” she muttered, rocking back and forth.

  “Silexa,” Zander stammered, “please . . .”

  She did not want to move, but seeing the panic in his eyes and the unconscious Bryant he supported, her determination returned. As the hallways cleared, they made their way to the secret tunnel hidden beneath stairs. She rubbed her palms together, and a doorway appeared in the lines of marble. They entered, and the door sealed shut behind them.

  Silexa reached in her pocket and pulled out the fake stone she’d made. She rubbed it until it began to glow, filling the tunnel with small fibers of light.

  Zander put Bryant down and checked on him once more. His condition had not changed.

  Silexa knelt close to Bryant, laying her head on his chest and weeping. “I do not want to live without him.” She sobbed for a moment before looking into Zander’s face again. “The girl . . . is my sister. They are going to kill her.”

  The adrenaline in Zander’s veins obliterated any clear and rational thought. He embraced Silexa as she wept, the tears staining his new cloak as he came to one conclusion: three lives needed saving, but he wasn’t sure how he could do it.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The Vivatera

  Naomi’s time with Lytte felt pointless. She spent all day with him, trying desperately to learn what she could about an exit to the Willows. Every time she thought about bringing up the question, their lessons got in the way. Anxiety grew with every passing moment. She had not accomplished anything.

  By the third day, she began to panic and found it increasingly difficult to hide her emotions. There had to be something that could distract her and keep her from telling Lytte the entire plan.

  But when she entered Lytte’s tent that day, she found there was no need; the distraction presented itself.

  Lytte whistled as he lit candles around the tent. He noticed Naomi at once and gave her a pleased smile. “Our lesson will be special today.”

  Naomi noticed various objects lying on his small, velvet-draped table: five sparkling gold medallions, each unique in design and size, placed in symmetry. She examined them closely. Intricate markings wove in and out on the sides, with a stone set in the middle of each piece.

  Lytte moved about the room, minimizing the outside light, leaving only the candle light and the oil lamps. “Today, I would like to show you the Healing Medallions.” He knelt close to her, excitement on his face. “The Healing Medallions are very special and sacred. I rarely let them out of my possession. But I want you to learn how to use them.”

  Enraptured by the beauty of the medallions, Naomi completely forgot about her mission. She wondered about Lytte’s collection after Micah mentioned them the other night. These must be what his uncle had made so long ago—and what Harrow was after.

  “This first one is the Blood Medallion.” Lytte held it to Naomi, gently placing the heavy object in her hands. The stone within swirled about like wispy clouds in various shades of red. “It helps heal blood wounds and such.” He gestured to the others on the table. “The Bone Medallion.” He pointed to one with a crusty white stone which Naomi assumed must be actual bone. “Poison and Burn Medallions.” He pointed to the next two, one acidic green and the other fiery orange.

  “How were they made?” Naomi asked.

  “These particular stones were from a family collection of the Shadowers. Micah’s uncle is an alchemist and ingenious craftsman. He is the creator—an ironsmith of great talent.”

  Naomi’s eye flashed past the others to the fifth in the line of medallions—by far the most dazzling of them all, and most peculiar. “What about this one?”

  “I knew you would want to know.” Lytte scooped it from the cloth. “This sweet one is different than the others. It was not crafted the same way, nor was it crafted by Micah’s uncle.”

  Lytte handed the medallion to her. Naomi gasped as she handled it, surprised how much more fragile it seemed. What a wonderful creation! The pale, pink stone rested within the metal fasteners, seeming to dance within the surrounding gold. The faint light sparkled off delicate inlays of tiny stones, reflecting shimmers of rainbows around her fingertips. It was breathtaking.

  “Please tell me about it,” Naomi asked in a whisper, breaking the silence surrounding them as she held the beautiful object.

  Lytte uttered words Naomi didn’t understand, then looked at her softly, lovingly. “Life. This is the Vivatera or ‘Life’ medallion. Its qualities are peculiar and widely misunderstood.”

  Comprehension flooded through Naomi, and she gasped. “Wait—is this the . . . ?” But words failed her. She could remember it in her dream, the vivid memory dancing around her head. This was what Harrow wanted—what he accused Reynolds of steal
ing.

  “This is the medallion mentioned in your dream.”

  Naomi’s face went pale. “Did Reynolds really steal this?”

  Lytte smiled. “It is more complicated than simple theft. But, yes, this is the very medallion he was accused of stealing.”

  “How could it . . . ?” she began, but so many questions filled her mind she couldn’t begin to ask.

  “I cannot explain without getting into detail about Reynolds’s life I’m not sure he would like anyone to know.”

  “Please,” Naomi begged. The information felt crucial. It would put everything into perspective, and Reynolds’ fate might very well rely on it. “Please, Lytte, I need to know.”

  Lytte rested his elbows on the table, his hands clasped at his chin. “I will share with you what I know, though it is not everything. I do not think anyone knows the entire story.”

  Naomi glanced at the wonderful stone and pressed it lightly with her fingers. It was warm to the touch. She smiled, intrigued by its connection to Reynolds.

  Lytte sat down on the floor next to her. “The medallion casing was in possession of a man named Cornwallis. You can tell by the engravings on the back—the family crest. He was a man of honor and great courage and led the royal armies into many great battles, which eventually cost him his life. Reynolds is his son.”

  Naomi raised her head to meet Lytte’s gaze. Reynolds’ father? Reynolds had not stolen the medallion—it belonged to him. She bent again to look more closely at the artwork, noticing the intricacies of the craftsmanship. Symbols and engravings spiraled in gold, gemstones lining the outer edge, lifting impressions that were delicately inlaid. It looked unrefined, almost as if it wasn’t finished. She liked the raw talent and amateur charm of it. Knowing it was his, she admired it more, rubbing it softly in her hands.

  Lytte continued, “His mother died when he was a baby and he was raised at court, a regular nuisance.” He laughed at the memory. “But as he grew older, he showed me great respect. His little mind filled with so many things at such a young age that he hardly seemed a child, rather a smaller version of his father.”