Vivatera (Vivatera Series Book 1)

by Candace J Thomas

  Reynolds’ wrists crossed in front of him, bound tight. Sore from the restraint, he limited his movement and tried to rest, his hand still healing from the wound Browneyes had inflicted what felt like ages ago. With all the time he had to think about his escape plans, much of it he wasted remembering Naomi’s gentle face. His strength slowly sapped away. His best plan of action still lay hidden in his pocket—but how he would get to it with his hands tied, he hadn’t yet figured out.

  The locks clattered from the outside. Reynolds straightened up as much as he could bear with the bruised and torn flesh on his back. Although the Arenmas barely looked at him, the little company he received was still welcomed, even if it was silent.

  The iron door screeched open, revealing the silhouette of a slender figure outlined in an arch of light.

  “You’re not who I expected.” Reynolds squinted as the unmistakable dark brown braids came into view.

  “I don’t like to be expected.”

  Exhausted, Reynolds rested his head on the rock wall. “Why are you here?”

  “I’m leaving. I thought I would see you before I did.”

  “And you decided to check on me? I’m flattered.” Reynolds shifted his body carefully.

  “You should be.” Browneyes crept closer until she stood above him. “I spared your life. You can thank me for that.”

  “No.”

  “Fronzi wants to keep ripping right into you, but I told her you’re not worth it.”

  Reynolds stared up at her. “I appreciate the thought. But why are you really here?”

  She stooped down to his eye level, her slender finger sweeping across his jawbone. “Harrow has asked Fronzi and me to travel to the little hideout. What did you call it? The Willows? Harrow wants us to look for something there.”

  Reynolds flinched away from her hand. “That’s not why you’re going.”

  “You’re right. I’d love to get a piece of that girl you hid there.”

  “You won’t get in.”

  “Wrong again. You forget, I know the secret.”

  Reynolds felt exhausted just talking to Browneyes. “What do you want?”

  “Help.”

  “And why would you think I would help you?”

  “After all I did for you?”

  “You chased me down like a dog.”

  Browneyes stood, no longer playing the game. “Harrow’s going to kill you. He’s tired of your mental stalemate. He’s sending in Hughes to do it.”

  “Well, thank you for the kind words—”

  “Hughes is irrational,” she interrupted. “He never thinks things through before he acts. His behavior is, frankly, embarrassing. I hate him.”

  Browneyes fell silent, biting her fingernail. Reynolds recognized her nervous habit, indicating some deep, internal struggle. He searched in her dark eyes for some hint of reasoning in her behavior. Had she really only come there to taunt him, or was there another reason for her visit? After everything he had put her through, did she not want him to die?

  Browneyes leaned down, her face only inches from his. “You owe me.” She kissed him on the mouth, pressing with such force, it took him by surprise.

  At almost the same moment, he felt the slice of the knife—right through the bands around his wrists.

  She backed away without saying a word and shut him in, locking the cell door.

  Reynolds lifted up his wrists, and the rope fell to the ground. He rubbed the raw skin with his fingers. She had freed him. He hadn’t expected that. She had the knife; she could have taken his life.

  The simple act caused his hope to surge. Perhaps there was still a chance.

  Moments later, he heard the locks again. Reynolds returned to his original position and covered his wrists with the spare rope. The Arenma servant entered with a few scraps. But someone also accompanied him—a thin man with mousy hair and a wild expression, like a rabid animal.

  “That’ll do.” He dismissed the little servant, then came over to Reynolds, crouching down before him, studying his expression. “You don’t scare me. The others said I need to be aware of you, but . . . nah, I don’t think so. You look easy to kill.”

  “Looks can be deceiving.” Reynolds analyzed the stranger. “You’re Hughes?”

  The Louving tilted his head, studying him. “There’s no satisfaction in gettin’ the kill over with. I like to know how they feel and think while I’m pretendin’ to be ‘em.”

  “How do you intend on killing me?”

  Hughes took out a sharp, angled dagger. “Slicing your throat might be fun, but I’ll end with stabbing you in the heart. I need to get your energy while the heart’s still beating.”

  Reynolds smirked “That’s exactly what I thought.”

  Without warning, he sprang up and grabbed Hughes around the chest, trying to seize his arms. Startled, Hughes regained his bearings and fought back, swinging wildly with his dagger. Tightening his hold around Hughes and pinning him in place, Reynolds used all the strength he could summon to hurdle him into the rock wall.

  Smack. Blood burst from the side of Hughes’ head. He dropped his dagger.

  Reynolds snatched it and pressed it to Hughes’ throat. “Yell for help and I’ll kill you.”

  Hughes sniveled as the blood dripped down his face, flinching away from the blade. “Don’t kill me . . . please don’t . . .”

  “Get on your knees.”

  The Louving sank to the ground. Reynolds fastened the rope around his hands.

  He pulled out the medallion he’d held onto for so long, a gift from Spotswood. Now he would finally see it work.

  The center of the medallion held a porous, white rock, which he held under Hughes’ face. A small trickle of blood slipped down the Louving’s chin and landed in the center of the stone. As it soaked up the liquid, it began to change color. A vivid breath of life escaped as magic penetrated the core.

  Hughes eyed the stone. “You won’t get away with this.”

  “Watch me.”

  Abruptly, Hughes flipped his head backward, smashing into Reynolds’ face and knocking him to the ground. He leapt toward the knife, trying to rip it out of Reynolds’ hands.

  Reynolds’ vision blurred as he struggled through the pain. His tired muscles seized and throbbed. His mind raced to find some weakness in the other man. Images flashed before his eyes that he’d hidden from Harrow—a sliver of golden hair reflecting the sun, his reason to stay alive.

  In an instant, Hughes tore the blade from his hands, driving it down toward his throat.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Possession

  Peaceful, Dreamy, Sensations

  . . . like warm milk drizzled with honey.

  . . . Happiness.

  He stood there, safe, well.

  His touch. Warm. Real.

  . . . Embrace . . . Tender . . .

  . . . Tears on both faces . . .

  “You saved us. You saved us.”

  Head buried.

  Content

  . . . Could be forever . . .

  A girl, bewildered . . .

  drained and colorless . . .

  panic, stepped forward.

  “He is searching.”

  Remembering . . . the Monster!

  “Your magic cannot last much longer.

  Please help us if you can.”

  Shielded,

  Invisible barrier to the dangerous outsiders:

  The unknown enemy revealed . . .

  Hissing,

  Snarling,

  Searching for the missing.

  “I will help you.”

  . . . Questions . . .

  “Where? Where is safe? Where must I go?”

  The boy moved away, urgent.

  “To Silexa.”

  “How do I find her?”

  “She is connected to this.”

  He held out a hand.

  A dark stone, blue, electric.

  “Find her through the stone.”

  Touch . . .
Surge . . . Sensations . . .

  Happy! Joyful! Dancing!

  . . . Connection with a person so close . . .

  Power rushing into veins, pumping . . .

  . . . pulsing . . . searching for an outlet.

  The pull!

  . . . swift rush of wind . . . moving to its home.

  In secret,

  A sobbing, tear-filled girl.

  . . . a fallen prince.

  The scar still evident on her neck . . . the girl from the parade!

  She sees the magic.

  Astonishment on her face!

  The Pull!!

  . . . flashing before her . . .

  . . . a scream stuck inside!

  

  Naomi gasped. She sat straight up, nearly knocking her head on a shelf. No, she thought. No. She needed to go back. Zander was there. He needed her. The dream mixed with reality, though the confusion abated when she saw the blurry outline of someone standing near.

  “Naomi?” Katia’s face came into focus. “She’s awake.” Two other figures came to her side. “Are you okay?”

  Naomi’s head dripped with sweat. She felt clammy and cold, bewildered by her experience, but physically there, alive.

  “Yes.” She lay back down. “Where am I?”

  “We’re in a storage room at the Silver Fox Inn.” Katia looked around the room. “We didn’t have money to pay for a room, but it’s still raining and we needed a place to keep you safe. We can’t escape the weather, it seems.” Katia looked at her more closely. “Are you sure you’re okay?

  Naomi sighed. “I don’t know. I feel drained.”

  “You went all glassy and just collapsed on us. Landon brought you in.”

  Landon’s face came into view. “You weigh practically nothing.”

  “How long have I been out?”

  “Not long. But you were shaking. Like something possessed. I was nervous. We all were.”

  Naomi sank back against the wall. The others quieted as the sounds of the rain outside filled the room with constant, musical patters. Naomi liked the noise. It numbed her thoughts, so her feelings wouldn’t overwhelm her mind.

  The dream had carried her through the wind and down to the scenic coast, to a beautiful city surrounding a huge palace. It could only be Southwick, the capital. Zander was there, in danger.

  Angry and misused magic possessed him, overpowering him. But Naomi tamed it like an obedient dog. It recognized her. It trusted her. She reached her hand for Zander and pulled him to safety.

  It seemed so real, even if it had happened hundreds of miles from Southwick. Zander and someone else—a young woman with silver hair—saved from danger. It somehow connected to the prince and the black-haired girl, her scar as visible as ever——the beginning of everything.

  Katia broke the silence. “Well, we’re staying hidden tonight. I think we all need to dry off. And I need some real sleep. Micah says his uncle’s home is only a day’s journey east.”

  Micah lowered his hood so Naomi could see his bright eyes. “Fine matters of fun for us. Spotswood will be pleased.”

  Naomi had given up trying to figure out Micah’s meanings. The dream had drained her of all energy. She needed to rest.

  But before the vision, something had happened, and only now did she remember. “Where’s Taren?”

  “We don’t know,” Landon answered. “He vanished when you collapsed.”

  “Taren disappeared?”

  Landon straddled a vacant stool near her. “I think it’s best. It’s time for us to move ahead without him.”

  The thought of Taren suddenly made her insides hurt. Naomi had studied him closely during the last week of traveling with him. Quiet but intelligent, Taren kept to himself, observing everything with a serious eye. Even after days together, his magic remained an enigma. It made it hard to trust him. But, although Naomi hated to admit it to herself, Taren had an unmistakable appeal. Something about him left her searching for . . . more.

  Despite his mysterious silence, he had unwittingly given one clue that haunted her, a terrifying revelation of his identity—his surname. He’d casually dispensed this information as if it had no meaning, but Naomi knew the name. She would never forget it.

  Lockwood.

  Right before her collapse, she’d been watching him closely as he walked ahead of her. He kept looking back, as if expecting something. Then, suddenly, an invisible force pressed against her, pushing her back.

  At first, she couldn’t tell what had happened, just stumbled a bit. But when she looked again at Taren, his eyes pierced through her like a knife.

  She had felt a scream of violence inside. Her magic reacted, though she couldn’t understand why—like an invisible shield had risen up to protect her. In an instant, the terror vanished, and Taren turned and walked ahead.

  She couldn’t remember anything more.

  Lost in her thoughts, Naomi gradually regained awareness of the conversation going on without her.

  “I guess you’re right, but I never trusted him.” Landon leaned back on his stool.

  “There’s no reason to think he’s a threat. He said he would leave when we got to the mountains, and he did. So, I think we should stay.”

  “Bad idea, Kat. Just trust me on this.”

  “I never trusted you before Naomi came around. Why should I trust you now?”

  Landon rose to his feet, staring down at Katia. “I always had faith in you. Where’s your faith in me?” He held her stare, plain and serious. She didn’t flinch.

  Naomi looked back and forth between the two. “Why must you two always fight? It doesn’t solve anything.”

  Landon broke his gaze from Katia, turning to Naomi. “Taren is trouble. I’ve seen the things that he can do—he used to demonstrate on the animals near the barracks. We shouldn’t stay.”

  “Micah, what do you think?”

  Micah smiled. “I don’t think we have a choice. He will follow us whether we will it or not.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I think he can read thoughts—most peoples’. I know he cannot penetrate Naomi’s.”

  Naomi puzzled through her memories, piecing it together. “He struggled the first time he met me. After I paralyzed Aristatolis.”

  “He is observing all of us. Curiosity drives him, creating a new reality between the thinker and the victim.”

  Katia squirmed on her seat. “I don’t follow.”

  “Taren wants Naomi,” Landon clarified. “Which means we need to protect her more than ever.”

  Micah beamed. “Spotswood’s home will be very safe for you.”

  Naomi mulled the options and came to a painful conclusion. “I need a moment to think.”

  “No,” Landon protested. “We aren’t leaving you——”

  “Please. Go get supplies.” Naomi watched Landon’s expression soften to her plea. “Nothing will happen to me.”

  Observing all of this, Katia glared at Landon. “Sure. Fine. I’ll go look for some food.” She left without a word to Naomi.

  “We’ll be back in just a moment.” Landon grabbed Micah by the shoulder and directed him toward the door, shutting it behind him.

  

  Naomi waited for the right moment, then jumped up and began searching the storage room for anything that might help her. Her small knapsack sat next to her, virtually empty. Inside the room stood barrels of ale and honey wine—nothing useful. Nearby lay a small knife, the one Katia had brought with her.

  She had a rash thought. Taren wouldn’t leave her alone. Her magic warned her of that. She knew he wanted something from her, though she didn’t know what. But she couldn’t bear to have the others risking their lives because of her. The time had come to save her friends.

  She found a broken window lying against the side of a wall—enough of a mirror for her purposes. Gathering her long hair with a string, Naomi sliced clean through with a trembling hand. The weight lifted from her shoulders as the long tail of
hair fell to the floor. She looked again in the glass. The transformation was drastic—almost into a different person.

  Perfect.

  The detached ponytail lay still in Naomi’s hands, flecks of gold sparkling in the dancing flicker of light. She stroked it softly, saying goodbye.

  Taking the band of hair, she placed it on the ground near a bundle of tarps, making it look as if she slept underneath. Then, grabbing her cloak, she pulled the hood over her head.

  Before she could reach the door, the knob began to turn from the other side. Naomi slid behind a stack of barrels and watched as an unreasonable, indefinable fear shredded her nerves. “Naomi?” a voice called, but it wasn’t who she expected. Landon walked over to the tarps. “We have everything.”

  Now what? Naomi held her breath as she watched Landon lift the canvass.

  Landon looked bewildered. “Naomi?”

  Naomi started to come out of hiding—then felt a hand clamp around her mouth. “Don’t move,” Taren hissed in her ear.

  Picking the hair up from the ground, a bewildered Landon ran out of the room.

  Strong arms seized Naomi’s shoulders. She struggled, but Taren held tight, cradling her against his strong body. “I don’t intend to hurt you. Just tell me what you are and I’ll let you go.” He uncovered her mouth.

  “I don’t know.” The reality of the words stung Naomi. “You have to believe me.”

  His grip loosened. Naomi seized the chance and pulled away, whipping the dagger around to point directly at his chest.

  Taren did not move but held her with his dark eyes.

  “Leave.”

  “No.” His focus remained on her, cool and unwavering. “I know you’ll come with me.”

  Anger heated Naomi’s face. “And why would you think that?”

  He stood very still, but his expression did not change. “I can help find Reynolds. Your other friends can’t.”