Evadere

Evadere

by

Sara V. Zook

PUBLISHED BY:

Imagine Press

ISBN: 978-1-927404-16-4

Evadere

Copyright © 2012 by Sara V. Zook

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

This book is dedicated to my beautiful niece, Riley Grace Payne, who has been a blessing to my life since the day she was born.

Prologue

Atavia sat straight up in bed, beads of sweat already forming at her temples. Her heart raced as she tried to remain perfectly still, listening. There it was again, another blood curdling, shrill scream. It belonged to the servant, Jillianne.
 

She leapt from the bed, her head dizzy in panic. Where was the baby? Jillianne shrieked again. The noise sounded closer this time, echoing off the walls of the stone hallway. Then she heard a noise that almost made her heart stop altogether. The baby cried at the top of his lungs as if he were in pain. She sprinted out of the room and ran directly into Jillianne.

“Oh, Atavia! Atavia!” Jillianne cried out, wrapping herself around the woman’s leg as she babbled in fear.
 

Atavia tried to kick her off her leg.
 

“Get up!” she commanded, her voice quivering now as she did so. “What’s wrong? Get hold of yourself.”

Jillianne slowly climbed to her feet as she stared upwards at her Queen. “It’s just so terrible! I’m so sorry this has happened!” Tears streamed down her face.

“What is it?” She grabbed Jillianne by the shoulders and tried to steady her. “What did you see?”

“The Scaves …”

Atavia covered her mouth in horror. “Here? Now?”

Jillianne nodded as she lowered her head.

“But how? How’d they get past the guards?”
 

Atavia fled to the veranda where her hands gripped the railing tight. Her guards lie in pools of blood on the castle floor, spears piercing through their torsos, their lifeless eyes looking straight up at their magnificent Queen. She felt as if the breath had been sucked out of her lungs. The baby. Where was her baby?

She grabbed both sides of her long, flowing nightgown and sprinted down the hallway to her precious little boy. Tears began to sting her own eyes as the image of blood covering the once very strong guards that they had called friends now haunted her. She almost screamed when she entered the room.
 

“Give him to me!” a Scave demanded, a sword with a glistening, sharp point aimed directly at her husband’s throat as he grasped tightly onto the frightened baby and held him behind his back for protection.

“You’re as good as dead, I hope you know,” Calan threatened the savage man, hatred filling his eyes that his home had been attacked in the middle of the night. He looked up then and saw her standing in the doorway. Their eyes locked on one another. This couldn’t be the end. They had worked too hard to let this be it. Calan gave her a little nod. She read his mind.

An eerie growl escaped the intruder’s mouth as he now pressed the blade against the skin of Calan’s neck.
 

With one swift motion, the king tossed the baby through the air at Atavia. She scrambled toward him and caught the baby, pressing his quivering body against her own warm chest.
 

The Scave roared in fury. Atavia’s eyes grew large in panic as Calan desperately swatted the sword away from his throat and leapt in the air toward the intruder. The Ashen swung the blade around again, the tip of it piercing through the King’s throat. Blood gushed upwards, covering the dirt-stained skin of the savage.
 

Atavia’s knees buckled. She was about to collapse, but the baby let out another cry. She huddled him even tighter. The Scave turned to stare at her. Calan’s blood dripped down his hairy face, exposing sharp teeth.
 

Atavia turned and ran. She didn’t notice the chill of the stone steps against her bare feet, nor the oozing, still warm blood as she stomped through the pools going past the dead guards, dots of crimson speckling her white nightgown. She didn’t bother looking back to see if the fierce Scave was following her. She couldn’t. She had to keep going.
 

The blackness of the night filled Atavia’s vision as she hurried toward the soft grasses that soon towered over her head as she continued running, her mind focused on escape. She felt someone wrap their arms around her waist. As she fell to the ground with the baby tucked underneath her, she spun hard and landed on her back, the baby safe in her arms.
 

“Shhh!” someone hissed.

Atavia’s eyes searched the darkness for a face.
 

“It’s me. Ben.”

Her heart fluttered with hope for a moment. “Did I outrun him?”

The baby squirmed in her arms. She prayed he wouldn’t let out a loud cry.

Ben remained quiet for a moment before turning toward her again. “Yes, I think he expected you to go toward the village, but we have to be careful. There has to be others waiting.”

She shuddered at the strength the Scaves had had to kill all of her guards and her strong King.

“He’s gone,” Jillianne hissed, now hurrying over to Atavia, crouching low in the grasses herself.

“You ran away?” Atavia asked her.

Jillianne sighed in shame.

“Coward.” Atavia’s temper flared.

“She couldn’t have saved you,” Ben said.

Atavia ran her fingertips along the soft skin of the baby’s head. It had taken so long for them to have this child, and how her heart ached now knowing that the savages wanted him dead so badly that they would resort to something like this.
 

“Calan’s dead.” She tried to blink away the gruesome scene in her head. “They’re not going to stop until they get what they want.”
 

Ben touched the chest of the baby. “You have to let him go, Atavia.”

The tears streamed down her face. She didn’t want to hear those words, but she knew that Ben simply spoke the truth. “It’s so hard. I don’t know if I can.”

Jillianne made her way over beside the sobbing Queen and put an arm around her shoulder. “You know what you have to do.”

“It’s such an awful place though. Those humans are …”

“Savages?” Ben asked.
 

Atavia knew he was right. Human evil couldn’t be worse than what was going on here. The Scaves would murder him for sure if he stayed here in the world he belonged to, in the world he should be reigning over. “You’ve already made arrangements, haven’t you, Ben?”

“Yes.”

Atavia heard screaming in the distance. Were the Scaves going to kill everyone in their search for the baby prince? She pressed her face down into the neck of the baby, breathing in his scent and felt her tears against his warm skin. “I love you, always.” And with that, she handed the only child she would ever have over to Ben who gave only one moment’s hesitation before hurrying away. Atavia gripped onto Jillianne and broke into violent sobs.

Chapter 1

“She’s dead.”

I looked up at Emry. It was the third time he had said those words in the past five minutes. We sat side by side, my hand resting on his knee. His eyes were glued on the coffin.

People were beginning to come in now and fill the seats of the funeral home. I glanced back once and met the curious eyes of some older ladies seated behind us.
 

“I don’t know why these people are even bothering,” he whispered, his head lowered as he stared at the floor.
 

“Come on, Emry,” I said. “It’s her funeral.”

He shook his head in disagreement and ran a hand quickly through his hair. “They aren’t coming for her.” His eyes glanced up at the coffin, then returned to the floor. “They’re here for the show.”

“What show?”

“Don’t you see what they’re all staring at?”

I turned my head toward the back of the room. I felt everyone’s eyes shift to my face. I leaned even further into Emry’s side. “They’re staring at me.”

He nodded. “You, me, us. They’re here to see us together.”

The preacher came down the aisle and stopped at Emry’s side. He hunched over to whisper in Emry’s ear. “Would you like to say a few words?”

Emry shifted in his seat and hesitated for a moment. “No. I just … don’t have anything to say.”

The preacher glanced my way for a moment before continuing up to the front of the room toward the corpse.

I felt a sudden cool breeze touch my calf. Emry and I both turned to look toward the doors located at the back of the room. A group of men, six in total, entered. They were all tall, lean and dressed in expensive black suits. Their eyes were dark and piercing as they stared directly at Emry.

“Who are they?” I whispered.

He reached over and grabbed my hand tightly. “I don’t know. I don’t have a good feeling about this.”

Me either.
My stomach churned as the tension in the small room grew by the moment. I closed my eyes and attempted to breathe normally. What was going on here?
 

“Please, take your seats everyone, so we can begin the service,” the preacher said in front of us as he took his place behind the small pulpit.
 

Emry kept glancing at the strange group of men. They didn’t sit down but continued to stand in a semi-circle in the back of the room near the wall. His hand trembled as I held onto it. “Emry, are you okay?”
 

He stood, his eyes locked on the men in the back. He took a step backwards. They took a step toward us.
 

Emry yanked me to my feet. The churning in my stomach increased to nausea. I felt as if I would vomit.
 

“Mr. Logan?” the preacher’s voice rang out from behind us in a questioning tone. He too was clueless as to what was happening.
 

The uneasiness increased as if we were all poised for battle, like we were the prey and any sudden movements would get us killed. Who were these men? Why were they in the funeral home? They were after Emry as they barricaded us in, the room now becoming another coffin, one large enough for the both of us.
 

“We have to leave,” Emry stated. “Now.”
 

He gripped the back of my arm and moved another step backwards. The men moved a step closer again, angry scowls on their faces. Their eyes gleamed with a fierce hatred.
 

With one swift movement, Emry turned and rushed toward the emergency exit, my arm almost popping out of its socket as he dragged me along with him. The group of men dove at us in a failed attempt to try to stop us from leaving. Then my eyes lingered on one thing before Emry had me completely out of the door, our coffin.

Rest in peace, Lainey Tritt,
I thought.

The sun warmed my face as cool water brushed across my toes. I opened my eyes. What a heavenly way to awaken. I smiled. I was in heaven. I was in Evadere.
 

I sat up and wrapped my arms around my knees as my eyes scanned over the peaceful water. A gentle breeze rippled through making tiny waves. I dug my toes into the silky sands and inhaled deeply.
 

Earlier in the day we were back on Earth at Lainey Tritt’s funeral. We barely made it past the exit door before those creepy men closed in on us, and then poof, here we were, hand in hand, Emry and I, back in this wondrous place. We had been trying to sort through what had happened with those men, who they were and why they were after us, but after many failed attempts at trying to understand, we had simply given up and succumbed to the exhaustion that overcame our bodies. I had fallen asleep in Emry’s strong arms, my head on his chest. My smile widened.