Vivatera (Vivatera Series Book 1)

by Candace J Thomas

  Taren kept stride behind her, at the advantage for strength and height as he cut through the foliage. The vines continued to try and trap him, but he broke through their defenses.

  Glancing back, Naomi saw him advancing. Ahead she heard water.

  Run to the water.

  Taren grabbed her from behind and pulled her down. She struggled to get away, but she couldn’t match his strength as he pinned her wrists.

  “Naomi, stop,” he huffed, breathing hard from the run.

  While Naomi struggled, the vines caught up to them and again began wrapping themselves around him. As he fought to free himself, Naomi slid from his grasp. Taren grabbed her by the ankle and she stumbled into a tree as he ripped off the remaining cords.

  “No, don’t run away!”

  She couldn’t escape him; he was too strong. “Why are you doing this?”

  “I’m selfish.” He leaned forward to kiss her.

  It wasn’t a kiss but an invasion. Taren’s lips forced down on her, distracting her as his magic searched for information. A black, formless mass entered, spreading like a disease, fueled by a hatred that controlled Taren like a puppet. The destructive power knew where Naomi’s magic hid and came with a force so strong that Naomi braced herself against it.

  Whap!

  The dark magic vanished.

  Naomi opened her eyes. She stood, bewildered, free from her captor. Taren lay on the ground, knocked out cold by a branch of the large mulberry tree, its arm slowly moving back into place. Naomi couldn’t believe it. The tree had saved her. She wrapped her arms around its trunk and hugged it. Energy flowed into her from the tree, filling her soul with hope.

  Run to the water.

  Feet light, she ran across the forest floor, drawing closer to the water. Large boulders replaced the small bushes of the forest.

  The crashing river stretched before her. Naomi glanced over her shoulder, paranoid Taren would find her. The river, swollen from the rain, rushed down the cascading falls with tremendous force. Across the river rose a tall, slick mountain of rock. Alcoves of caves wound in and out like catacombs. She saw no bridge. She could not cross.

  Not unless she asked for help.

  Naomi looked to the tallest tree and pressed her hands against it. “I’m in danger,” she whispered. “Please, help me.”

  But the tree remained silent. Naomi’s hope waned until a small rustle of branches alerted her. The bottom limbs slowly lowered to her. Overjoyed, she grasped the nearest and hoisted herself up.

  The long branches stretched themselves across the raging river as far as they could reach. Naomi walked across without wobbling until she reached the opposite bank, her feet touching the cold stone of the mountain base.

  As she slipped down from the branches, she leaned over and kissed the tree in gratitude. It shivered in acknowledgement, like a gentle wind rustling through its leaves. As the branches moved back into place, she fled to the catacombs.

  Hiding behind a rock wall, Naomi watched through a crack for Taren. It didn’t take long for him to arrive at the edge of the riverbank. Panic filled her at the sight of him, his head still bloody from the blow. But, he soon left, unable to follow her trail.

  Naomi moved closer to the rock. Although it was not as giving as the tree, she felt it move with her pressure. The discovery thrilled her as she began to understand her own abilities—a partnership of mutual understanding between the earth and herself. It felt wonderful.

  She heard voices close by. Naomi curled up and shielded herself with her cloak. She tried to disappear, to stay hidden from view. But then she froze, listening closer.

  It couldn’t be. Naomi’s heart burned, her lifeblood filling with energy as if her soul had returned home. Reynolds’s firm voice reverberated like it had off the canyon wall after he rescued her from her fall. She wanted to stand and run to him, throw herself into his arms. But the voices of others mingled with his. It might not be safe. Just a glimpse was all she wanted, just to see his face.

  Naomi lifted her hood to the slit in the rock and looked around. Not far from her hiding place stood two men—one dressed all in dark purple robes, the other in the unmistakable green cloak he’d worn the first time she met him.

  Reynolds.

  Naomi’s heart leapt at the sight of his half-lit profile. A warning came from deep inside—that it was a trick or illusion. Things might not be as they seemed. She sank back into the shadows and observed.

  The roaring river muffled the conversation. An idea whispered inside, calling her to press her ear to the rock and use it as a conductor for sound.

  “Did you see where he went?” Reynolds asked. “I miss hearin’ things with these ears.”

  “A man stood over the river just a moment ago,” the man in the dark robes answered. His voice sounded strange to her—piercing and uncomfortable.

  “Do you think Browneyes has it?”

  “I don’t see how she couldn’t. From what Reynolds told us, the old man should be no match for them. Humans are nothing against the likes of us.” Both men laughed.

  Reynolds spoke again. “Oh, I hope they have it.” He sounded unusually excited and silly, like a bully stealing pocket money. “I’d like to see it. It took all my strength to torture that information out of him. Can you imagine—a stone that can raise people from the dead?”

  Everything felt wrong. Naomi shivered, but could not tear her ear away from the stone.

  “That’s only what he said. I’d like to see it with my own eyes,” the other stated. “Hughes, why don’t you change back into yourself?”

  Reynolds laughed. “It’s a badge of honor. This body is great, much better than my other one. Reynolds kept good care of himself. Really fit, too. I need to make the most of it.”

  The vibrations in the rock slowly faded as the two climbed out of hearing. Although she feared getting caught, Naomi couldn’t help following at a distance, darting in and out of the catacombs that pocked the mountainside.

  The two men reached a rickety ladder bridge crossing the river. Naomi watched as Reynolds leapt on top of the lashed rope and walked on it like the ridgepole of a roof, reckless.

  As they crossed the river, two others emerged from the trees—two girls who Naomi recognized from her dream.

  Reynolds jumped down in front of the crew. They exchanged words that Naomi couldn’t hear. She tried her trick with the rock again.

  “. . . if you had just waited for me,” snapped the girl with the long brown hair.

  “Browneyes, all you do is play with fire.”

  “Shut up, Madden. What do you care?”

  Reynolds started laughing. “He didn’t care for you, you know.”

  The girl named Browneyes punched Reynolds in the gut. “Hughes, you’re an idiot. You couldn’t hold off your insatiable craving for once!” She shoved Reynolds directly in the chest, storming past the others on the bridge.

  “So, tell me,” the other girl started, “is Reynolds really dead?”

  Hughes straightened up and gave a penetrating look at the blonde. “I killed him myself.”

  The world suddenly went foggy, like light drowning in water. Naomi lifted her ear from the stone, not wanting to hear any more. Pain surrounded her heart, as if it had stopped beating.

  Tears came fast, flowing but silent. She didn’t want to wipe them away. She wanted to feel them close to her, sliding down her cheek until they dripped from her chin. Her body curled over like she had received a punch to the stomach, the pain taking her breath and seizing her strength. Everything inside her snapped.

  She had come too late.

  ~*~

  Naomi curled in toward the rock. Tears stung as she rubbed her eyes with her dirty hands. The heat from the Vivatera hurt instead of comforted, a painful reminder that stabbed at her heart. Reynolds couldn’t be dead, his blood used by shape-shifting monsters. She refused to believe it.

  A resolution flashed through her mind; she would save him. The power resided in the warm
stone around her neck. Lytte said the Vivatera could revive someone from the dead. The quest filled her with hope, something she desperately needed.

  Her tears continued as the daylight faded. Her strength left her and she fell silent, cradled in the arms of the magically softened stone in one of the catacombs. The Vivatera, as sweet as breath to her lungs, pressed warm against her heart—filled with hope for the life she endeavored to save.

  . . . Drifting . . .

  . . . Drifting . . .

  Searching with purpose . . .

  Searching . . .

  Following . . .

  Bring the connection . . .

  . . . Please.

  Mind wandering uncontrolled . . .

  Through trees . . .

  Mountains . . .

  Cave . . .

  . . . catacomb

  . . .an underground world.

  Breathtaking ceilings of height unimaginable.

  Crystals . . .

  Carvings . . .

  Sculptures of the lost world . . .

  In a dark room among others surrounded in pain,

  Crying for help . . .

  The prisoner landed.

  His white head stained by red blood.

  His blue eyes visible in the dark . . .

  Pain on the tender face.

  Closer . . .

  Searching . . .

  . . . Find him.

  Faces in the dark,

  Strangers . . .

  Strangers . . .

  . . . but one.

  It was he.

  The searched! The lost!

  Glowing amid darkness!

  Unreal and kindled!

  His hair, untamed . . .

  His face . . . perfection!

  Magic swirling about him.

  Swirling and frenzied.

  Angry! Protected!

  The mask! The disguise! The façade!

  Whispers . . .

  . . . Go! . . .

  . . . Look no more . . .

  ~*~

  Naomi awoke in pitch dark to the echoing rustle of bats, taking off in sudden, startled flight.

  As her gaze adjusted, she encountered something unexpected: two pairs of eyes, big and bright, staring at her. Hot breath filled the air with a putrid smell from the large, lumbering mass moving back and forth.

  Naomi froze.

  “Don’t be alarmed,” a voice broke the silence. “We won’t harm you. I don’t mean to frighten you, but it’s dangerous here. I’ve come to protect you.”

  Through the darkness, Naomi could see the outline of a girl before her. She thought of the horrible people on the bridge who had stolen Reynolds’s blood. “Who are you? Are you one of them?”

  “No,” the girl answered. “But they’re near. Can you stand?”

  “Yes.” Naomi attempted to do so. A hand met hers, pulling her up. “Thank you. But who are you?”

  “No time for that now,” the girl answered. “Grab on!”

  “To what?”

  “To the bear.”

  “The what?” Naomi became suddenly aware of the great beast sitting only feet from her—a creature so immense Naomi would be an appetizer had he been hungry.

  The strong girl grabbed Naomi’s arm and flung it across the beast. As she grabbed tightly to the fur on its back, the bear began bounding over the rocks, climbing higher and higher, out of the cave and up the slippery cliffs. Naomi struggled to draw breath. The speed and strength of the animal felt incredible. She held on for dear life.

  The bear dove into a wide cavern near the crest of a great peak, too high for any human to reach. As it slowed to a saunter, the girl let go. “It’s okay,” she reassured Naomi with a smile.

  Naomi, too, loosened her hold and looked around in surprise. Before her stood enormous clear crystals, crisscrossing in a star-shaped pattern, reflecting light off one another. All the rock felt smooth, like river stone. In the middle of the cave, a pool of icy blue water reflected the gentle trickle from the melting snowcap carving a trail in the crystal walls.

  The bear moseyed to the water and sank his muzzle in for a drink. Looking to Naomi, the stranger took her hand. “We will be safe up here. Please, come eat something.”

  Food sounded like a wonderful idea. “Thank you.”

  The girl led her to an area totally encased in purplish crystals, complete with ample provisions and a store of thick fur pelts. She pulled out some dried fruits and meat.

  As Naomi ate, she contemplated her rescuer. The young woman looked to be around Naomi’s age, maybe a year or two older. Beauty surrounded her. Her garments had been cleverly stitched using organic materials: leaves, sticks, mulch. Her chestnut-brown hair tangled in a nest of twigs and leaves, falling out in a wild yet elegant way.

  “How are you feeling now?” she asked.

  Naomi smiled. “Much better, thank you.”

  “Are you from the Northern Crest?”

  “I’ve never been.”

  The girl motioned. “I thought maybe because of your hair color.”

  Naomi pulled at the hair around her neck, thinking.

  “Where did you get your shadesilk?”

  “My what?”

  “Your scarf,” the girl explained. “It is made of shadesilk. Am I right?”

  Naomi stared at her. “You could be right. I’ve had it since I was a child.”

  The girl smiled, raising an eyebrow. “Do you know what it does?”

  “It does something? I thought it just hung around my neck.”

  “You’re charming, you know that?” She laughed before continuing, “It conceals magic. Which leads to my next question: what are you trying to hide?”

  Naomi felt stunned. “You know about magic?”

  “Oh, sure,” she returned. “I hope I didn’t offend you. I just wanted to know where you got yours.”

  “No, no . . .” Naomi waved her hands. “It’s just that, I don’t really know.”

  The girl grinned even brighter. “How delightful. A mystery. That puts every possibility before you. It is very intriguing, don’t you think?”

  “I guess.” Naomi sighed. The question made her think of Reynolds and she didn’t feel ready to answer. “I just breathe in and out every day and live through it.”

  The girl crossed her legs casually and hugged her knees. “I love the thrill of never knowing what’s before me, of being reckless and daring and tested to the limits and surviving it. Have you ever experienced life like that?”

  Naomi sat in awe. “Not if I can help it. For the past few months, I have been living daily with the fear of being killed at any moment. It wasn’t exciting; I’d call it terrifying.”

  The girl’s eyebrow rose again with a mischievous smile. “Would you?”

  The green in her eyes seemed to swim forever. Naomi felt lost in the truth that lay behind them. Then, realizing she’d been staring, she cleared her throat. “My name is Naomi.”

  “Oh, good.” The girl relaxed her legs and sighed. “I came across some people last night arguing about a person named Naomi and how they feared they would never find her. But here you are. I had Paolo sniff you out, and we watched from behind the rocks. I saw the tree help you across the river. It really thumped that guy chasing you. Who is he?”

  Naomi didn’t feel like revisiting Taren’s horrifying magic. “I’d rather not talk about him.”

  “Did you ask the tree to do that?”

  “Well, maybe,” Naomi answered, still a little confused by the whole incident. “I knew it sensed my danger. Same with the ivy at my feet.”

  “I love that,” the girl replied. “I think that’s my favorite part.” She extended her hand. “My name’s Ferra. Sorry to ask so many questions, I just thought we might be related—cousins maybe. I have family from the Northern Crest, and you look like someone I know.” She smiled wide again. “My mother.”

  “Your mother?” Naomi’s curiosity peaked.

  Ferra waved her hand as if it were nothing of i
mportance. “I’m sure I’m wrong. No worries.”

  “Where is she now?”

  “Dead.” Ferra shrugged. “It’s been many years now, so I don’t mind talking about it.”

  “Who was she?”

  Ferra smiled. “Her name was Andriana Levonmore, from the north. She was a good woman, and people hunted her down and . . . killed her.”

  “Do you know your father?” Naomi asked.

  “He’s dead, too. Both parents, dead.” Ferra spilled the information like it was an everyday event. “He was a king, you know.”

  Naomi almost swallowed her tongue. “You’re royalty?”

  Ferra shook her head. “I wouldn’t say that. My father’s dead and his reign died with him. He had no sons to inherit the title, and it happened so long ago that I never knew that life. I would have made a terrible princess. Corsets and stuffy dresses and parades and such . . . Not really my thing. I’m so much happier living a life of freedom.” She squinted a little, studying Naomi. “Most people know the stories of my family.”

  A glimmer of recognition passed through Naomi’s mind. “You’re one of the lost daughters of King Prolius.”

  “That I am.” Ferra bowed—silly and unnecessary. “There are six of us: Sera’s the oldest, then Vespa, Ymber, Silexa, Fontine, and then me, Ferra. I’m the youngest.” Her faint smile faded as soon as it appeared.

  Naomi contemplated everything Ferra told her. She recognized the names—as the girls in her dreams. A wave of cold washed over her. “Maybe I am related to you.”

  Ferra seemed confused. “Why would you say that?”

  Taking in a deep breath, Naomi grabbed her scarf and slid it off her neck, exposing her scar.

  Ferra stared at her, dumbfounded. “How did you . . .” But words failed her. She came closer and looked at the mark. As her fingers gently stroked it, it began to shimmer, and she gasped. “Where did you get that?”

  Naomi trembled like a frightened kitten. “I told you, I don’t know.”

  “I’ve only ever seen the scar on the six of us. I assumed we have it because we’re stone bearers.”

  “I have no stone,” Naomi returned nervously, “but I think I am linked to you and your sisters. I’ve seen you in my dreams.”