Vivatera (Vivatera Series Book 1)

by Candace J Thomas

  “What is the question I need to know?”

  The magic danced about her arms and fingers before spinning off in wild directions. “Where is your heart?”

  Naomi considered it. Was that the question? She glanced down. Was the question literal or metaphorical? If not inside her chest, then where else could it be?

  . . . That was the answer.

  Tears came quickly at the relief of knowing.

  Naomi opened her eyes. “I know the answer,” she whispered. “Micah, grab the compass.”

  “Done, my lady.”

  “I don’t know how this will work, so keep an eye on it. Everyone hold on to each other so we can all make it.”

  Naomi reached out her hands and walked forward. Where is your heart? She knew the answer—not inside but outside, and not within the camp, but far away, trapped.

  A wave of new emotions overcame her, feelings she had never experienced. The truth stood clear in her mind—her heart belonged to someone else, and the reality weighed heavy in her chest.

  She knew love when the others didn’t—such a simple answer to a complicated question. She needed to keep his heart beating. Her life depended on his life. She knew how to leave the camp.

  She continued to walk in the darkness, dragging the line of people behind her, still not sure what to do, but continuing as she thought of Reynolds’s plight and her need to save him.

  A faint light began filling the forest as the breaking dawn crept upon them. Naomi could see distant rolling hills, grassy knolls, and in the far distance, mountains. They’d done it. They’d left the camp. She took hold of the Vivatera hidden beneath her robes and caressed it. They were free.

  Everyone felt the exhilaration. Years of anticipation ended. Together they reached a small clearing, where Naomi finally stopped.

  Exclamations erupted from the company, but Naomi quieted them. “It’s not over. We’re not safe. We have to be careful. These forests can’t be trusted.”

  Taren turned to her. “Let me travel with you.”

  Landon stepped forward, guarding Naomi. “No. We got you out—that’s enough.”

  Naomi took Landon’s shoulder, pressing him back from Taren, relieving the tension between them. “We will stay together for a short distance,” she said to Taren, “but then you’ll need to leave us to our travels.”

  “Agreed.”

  Landon’s face creased with worry. He leaned in toward her and whispered, “You don’t know him like I do.”

  “Then you know what he is capable of.” Naomi turned to Micah. “Untie him.”

  The rope turned back to dust. Taren stood straight and tall, wiping his eyes with his sleeves before facing her. His cold expression contained a strange familiarity. “My name is Taren,” he informed her. “Taren Lockwood.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  The Feast

  Zander made up his mind. The girl needed to be saved.

  Silexa had used her magic to find a tunnel that led outside into the city, but they were anything but safe. They could only get Bryant as far as a wine cellar near the palace wall.

  In the days following the escape, Zander watched Silexa nurse her love back to health. Zander helped as much as was in his power, gathering small rations where he could. Silexa kept Bryant hidden in a dark corner, ready with her shadesilk covering, fearful that the guards would discover them. After three days, Bryant came around and started talking again. Although weak, he seemed in tolerable spirits.

  Zander knew Silexa suspected his plans, though he never spoke to her about them. The feast approached and he prepared to the best of his abilities, cleaning the beautiful page uniform.

  Silexa watched as he worked. “Here.” She passed something into his hands—both stones, one real, one fake.

  “I can’t. You’ll . . . die.”

  “You will if you don’t take them.” Silexa straightened his collar. “The stone knows your strengths, so follow your instincts. And remember, I’ll be with you. I’m connected to the stone. If you lose your way, it will always find me.”

  Zander took the precious stones and placed each in a pocket to keep them separate. Right for real, left for fake. In his mind, he created a little tune to remember each.

  Bryant fell asleep, which Zander counted as a blessing. If he knew what Zander had planned, he would probably try to stop him.

  His cheeks reddened as Silexa kissed each one. “Come back to me.” Her voice cracked. “Promise me you’ll come back.”

  Zander lift his head, nodding before heading in the direction of the tunnel.

  Finding the feast wasn’t as easy as Zander thought. Instinct told him if he found the Grand Hall, he could find the courtyard, and from there, surely he could find the feast. Covering his hair with his hood gave him more confidence, and he moved with determination and purpose, holding his head high, like he belonged, like he knew what he was doing, although neither was true.

  Once he got to the feast, he had no idea how he’d find the girl. And once he found her, how on earth would he get her out? Silexa had told him to follow his instincts and use his strengths, and he could pretend to have both. He really feared Audra. If he ran into her while in the palace, she could cause his downfall.

  “Boy!” cried a voice from behind him. “Boy, where are you headed?”

  Zander turned to see a man approaching, dressed in a tailored crimson jacket of marvelous workmanship. Zander bowed to play his part well.

  “Are you heading to the feast?” Zander nodded. “I’m looking for Prince Bryant. I expected him here, but I haven’t seen him tonight, and his chambers were empty.” The young man smiled, scratching his head. “You don’t think he ran away with that girl he mentioned? Sly devil . . .”

  Zander sensed the man was lying. Bryant hadn’t told anyone about Silexa. “I am sorry, sir.” The words came out crystal clear with no stutters, surprising him.

  “Could I at least accompany you back to the feast? I’m Vlad, by the way. Vlad Jonas. We attended school together as boys, Bryant and I. My father resides in the west, on the other side of the Crest.”

  The young man liked to chat, so Zander let him as they continued on the path. It didn’t matter if the information was true. Zander knew nothing of Parbraven or geographical locations. The man prattled on while Zander did his best to act as if he knew where he was going.

  A company of drunken men headed towards them, and Zander knew they had almost reached the feast. Gold and blue fabric draped several columns which led to lines and lines of tables that filled the courtyard. He didn’t see anyone at the head table—no prince or king or demon or girl.

  “Wait!” Vlad spoke up before Zander could leave. “I want to thank you for your help. What is your name? Are you part of the court?”

  Zander thought quickly. “Ander. Ander Stone. I’m visiting with my sister.”

  “Your sister, you say?” Vlad grinned to himself. “She isn’t that incredible creature I saw near the king, is she?” He sighed. “I’ve never seen silver hair like that, almost purple . . .”

  Zander maintained his guard. Though he found Vlad charming, he knew he shouldn’t trust him.

  “Come, join me.” Vlad pulled Zander next to him at a long, unkempt table. The feast had reached the point where civility lost all importance, the food scattered about as if ravenous dogs had dined there, which did nothing for Zander’s already nervous stomach. His intensions were to arrive late, but he hadn’t expected the event to get out of hand so quickly.

  “You must tell me more of your sister.” Vlad helped himself to some wine and offered some to Zander, who shook his head.

  “Like what?”

  “Why the devil would she come here? A lady shouldn’t show up to some place so lacking in refinery.”

  Zander looked around. The crowd had become unruly and drunk, not what he’d expected. He swallowed. “Do you know where she might be?”

  “Why, yes,” Vlad answered. “She went down that passage with a few other gu
ests, including Bryant’s adviser. I couldn’t tell you who the rest were, but I do remember a boy, smaller than you, traveling with them.”

  “Thanks.” Zander stood to leave, bowing again. “I must go find her.”

  “If you don’t mind, I think I will accompany you.” Bold Vlad stood up beside him. “I’d like to find Bryant, and his advisor should know where he is.”

  Zander didn’t think that sounded like a very good idea. But Vlad seemed quite determined, and it might look suspicious to argue too much.

  Next to the elaborate courtyards stood many columned pathways, arched and lined with beautiful wisteria and other climbing vines. Wind picked up petals of tiny flowers and blew them across the colonnades.

  Together they walked. Vlad’s stride doubled that of Zander’s, who had to skip into a run every few steps. His heart began to beat so fast he could feel the pounding in his throat. The vacant arcades wound further and further from the feast, and soon he felt overwhelmed with fear.

  “Stop,” he said.

  Vlad turned in confusion.

  “It’s a trap.”

  “What? What trap?”

  “I . . .” Zander couldn’t speak. He looked around. They had reached a cobbled, old atrium, hidden in perfect seclusion.

  Vlad folded his arms and smiled—not nearly as friendly as before, and much less charming. “I think you’re right—we have traveled too far.” Through his grin, his eyes flashed black.

  Zander’s heart sank.

  “Did you bring the stone?” His voice sounded cold and familiar.

  Zander sank back as the shadows in the atrium became more focused, more human-like.

  “Nice work,” a silky voice called as Curtis’s shape became prominent amongst the others. “I think that performance should give you a raise.”

  Vlad laughed, whipping around in a cyclone that contorted his shape into the slender, feminine Audra. She looked at Zander and sighed. “You know, you really aren’t that bad a kid, Ander. But my head still hurts and I can’t forgive you for that.” Curtis joined her.

  “How did . . . ?” Zander started, but his impediment returned and he couldn’t finish.

  “Your simple heart is so easy to read,” Curtis sneered. “You disappeared the same time Bryant did, and we all know he wouldn’t leave his pet. Now you’ll lead us to the girl and the stone.”

  Zander backed away from Curtis but stumbled to the ground. Other people emerged from the darkness. The king moved to Curtis’ side, along with two others Zander didn’t know: a burly man and a small boy, who looked no older than six, with strange, glowing, blue eyes and dark auburn hair.

  “Where’s Ym . . . ?” Zander couldn’t finish.

  “Oh, she’s here. Quietly waiting for the end. Her death is only the beginning. Silexa will be next.”

  “No!” Zander shouted.

  A laugh escaped Curtis’ lips. “My young friend, I know the secrets of the stones. The silly girl gave you the stone, for whatever reason—your protection, perhaps. Her actions will kill her. Just like her sister.”

  Another rumble of laughter erupted from the shadowed witnesses.

  “Enough, Curtis.” A voice filled the atrium—low and booming—as a figure emerged from the darkness.

  Zander knew who it would be. He didn’t want to look but couldn’t help himself.

  Up close, he could see things he hadn’t noticed before. The man looked more animal than human—his skin baked and brown, the deep hollows of his eyes shining with the color of blood. Though his body was massive and bulky, he moved like liquid——a mass that molded at will. In his arms, he carried the limp body of a girl wrapped in linen, bound and gagged. “Stop playing with the boy, Curtis. We have work to do.”

  Curtis’ smile faded. “Let us kill them both and be done with it.”

  “Are you sure he has the stone?”

  “Yes,” the small boy answered, without any hint of emotion.

  “So be it.” Curtis raised his slender hand and pointed toward the linen bundle. The girl flew across the air and landed near where Zander had fallen.

  He looked over at Ymber, seeing her eyes widen with fear. Reaching into his pockets, he felt the stones, both cool to the touch, one real . . . one fake.

  Zander’s heart felt like it would burst from his chest. His hands tightened around the stones. They felt different to the touch, so that he could instantly tell the real from the fake. His fist began to tingle, and the sensation traveled upward.

  As he decided on a course of action, the magic wrapped itself around his arm, making it feel lighter and freer.

  Curtis moved his long hands left to right in motions of uninterrupted precision, muttering the words of a spell.

  Zander felt the pull immediately. The stone reacted in what felt like rage, but it did not move or give away its position. He lifted the fake stone out in the open and glanced at it. Suddenly, it lifted fast as lightning to Curtis’ outstretched hand.

  “Too easy,” the king said in a tired voice.

  From the background, the little boy looked at the stone, blank and emotionless. “There is deceit,” he said in monotone.

  Curtis glanced at the stone and sneered.

  Zander’s arm twisted against the stone he clenched in his right fist. He didn’t want to give it away, but the magic was strong and angry. The tingling ran up his arm and tightened around his chest, stealing his breath. Zander’s vision faded as the magic wrapped around him like a coiling snake.

  Silexa’s sister struggled violently to get out of the linen coverings.

  The onlookers in the shadows sensed the fear and strength of the stone and backed away. Only the dark lord stood in front of Zander then.

  “I have no patience for this, boy.” He raised his arms and clapped.

  Everything went dark. Screams and cries could be heard around the palace. A low rumbling rose as the foundation began to shake. Flames sparked at the sub-beast’s fingertips and shot out at Zander and the girl.

  Zander held the stone tighter. Please save us, his tiny plea called the magic for help.

  White light illuminated around Zander. A shield, clear as glass, wrapped around him and the girl. The flames couldn’t penetrate it, sizzling away from the light.

  Zander felt the warmth of the fire but could not see it. Visions of streaming light crossed his vision. He fought to think, to be free, but the magic held him tight, consuming him.

  The white light inside of him looked so familiar. He couldn’t see anything but her face, the face he dreamed of every night. Her arms stretched out to hold him and take care of him.

  She walked very slowly, glowing and ethereal. He watched her approach, yet he still couldn’t move. I’m dying. Naomi is taking me to paradise.

  “Zander,” she whispered. “Hold my hand, Zander.”

  He reached out and she touched him, sending a shock of energy through him—not painful but powerful. “I will help you.” Her voice echoed about him.

  Another surge of flames shot out, trying to break the shield.

  Someone else grabbed Zander’s arm—the girl, Ymber. She stared at the vision of Naomi, allowing Naomi to take hold of them both.

  The shield vanished . . .

  . . . along with Zander and the lady he’d tried so hard to save.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Torture

  Reynolds sat in his cell alone. Days had passed since he surrendered to Browneyes and the other Louvings, and that time had pushed him to his physical and mental limits. Every day, he felt his strength drain more.

  His surrender gave Harrow the opportunity to find out his secrets. At first, Harrow attempted physical torture to force out the information, instructing the Louvings to use whatever method of persuasion they could design. Reynolds could bear the humiliation, but it wasn’t until Fronzi brought out her whip that he actually felt the excruciating pain Harrow desired.

  The first lash surprised him. He’d prepared for the throb on his back, but the end had
a sting, a bite like teeth, sharp on his spine. Near the tip was fastened a silver spike resembling the tail of a dragon, designed to grab the skin and rip it to shreds. Throughout the torment, Reynolds kept his silence, swallowing back his screams.

  Harrow didn’t want him to die, apparently, but seemed to have given an invitation to push him to the limits of his tolerance.

  Still, Fronzi’s torture didn’t compare to the mental games Harrow played. The underlord could search through memories and feelings, manipulating them as he wished and filling Reynolds with pure fear. The first time Harrow had done so, Reynolds hadn’t been prepared for the intense onslaught of emotions:

  . . . A dark room,

  His mother lying still.

  . . . His tiny fingers wrapped around her cold hand.

  Reynolds couldn’t believe how real it felt. The memory of his mother’s death he’d buried so deep within the recesses of his mind, Harrow had unearthed in a single moment.

  . . . The smell of lavender,

  The flower wreath around her head.

  The maidens’ song filled the air.

  . . His father walking away . . . alone.

  The images overwhelmed his every waking thought, making him helpless. The terrifying reality of what else Harrow could uncover helped motivate Reynolds to strengthen his mental fortress, but it created such an intense, internal exhaustion, he didn’t know how long it would take before he broke.

  The cell was nothing more than a hollow in the rock created by water and time. A door with an iron lock had been fitted over the opening. A peculiar wind would travel through the mountain and reverberate an eerie whistle around the walls of the cave. Darkness engulfed the small enclosure, and only a sliver of light found its way through a crack near one of the hinges—his only connection to the outside world.

  An occasional Arenma would send in drink and small bits of food. The small people were of a quiet nature and never answered any of his questions.

  The isolation gave him plenty of time to think. At times his sacrifice to keep Naomi safe felt futile, but Harrow’s curiosity about her kept him alive. The underlord’s attempts to unlock his memories had been Reynolds’ greatest worry and caused his worst mental strain. So far, Harrow only knew that Reynolds protected something about her, and it spurred his interest.