Unity: The Todor Trilogy, Book Three

by Jenna Newell Hiott

  Numa glanced up at the top of the keep, knowing Soman and Gemynd were up there. Her insides quaked with the trauma of what she had just endured, and she longed to have both of them by her side. “Carry on. The people need you,” she whispered to herself as she turned to face the loss.

  Numa willed herself to the far wallwalk. During the battle, she was vaguely aware that some of the fighting had taken place there and she needed to survey the damage. When she arrived at the top, she looked down at the city square. The survivors were arranging the bodies in massive piles. Every single Zobanite soldier that had been in Tolnick was dead. Thousands of them. And the Iturtians, already the smaller force by far, had lost nearly a quarter of their people.

  She looked at Archigadh’s Uruz cage at the far end of the walk, and then at Soman’s across the square. “You may hate me for locking you in that cage, but I would do it a hundred times over,” she said to them, knowing they were too far to hear. “I could not bear the deaths of either of you.”

  Numa turned and pressed her lips into a hard line when she saw that there were more dead on the wallwalk. At first she had thought they were Zobanites who had stayed on the wall to act as guards, but she quickly realized they were much too small. And their clothing--though cut to pieces and covered with blood--was not the traditional black of Iturtia. These people had been wearing tunics, breeches, kirtles and aprons in colors varying from oat to green.

  Numa gasped and the blood drained from her face. These were Terrenes. The innocent people of Todor. The people who had needed her protection the most.

  As Numa stared in horror, one of the bodies moved and groaned. “You’re alive,” Numa said, running to the survivor.

  She pushed back the woman’s blood-matted hair and saw that it was Molly, Gemynd’s mother. “Numa,” Molly said, her eyes filling with tears. “I gathered up the Terrenes and brought them up here when I saw that there would be a battle. There were so few of us left, I wanted to keep them safe.”

  Numa gently stroked Molly’s head. “May I heal you?” she asked, worried that the blood she saw was Molly’s.

  Molly nodded her consent and Numa instantly restored her body to perfect health. Her heart, however, would take much longer to heal. “We were huddled in a group,” Molly said, a far off gaze in her eyes. “Then they all just stood up and began killing each other. I could do nothing to stop it.”

  Numa furrowed her brow. “Iturtians did this,” she said. “They used mind control on the Terrenes just as they did with Zobanites.”

  “Why would they do that?” Molly asked.

  “So that there would never again be a Terrene that could take the throne of Todor.”

  “Then why did they leave me alive?”

  Numa blinked at Molly. She knew Hildegaard’s Iturtians had no loyalty to Gemynd nor his family. Numa also knew that Hildegaard had always had strong feelings for Golath and resented Molly for being his one love. It made more sense to think Molly would have been the first Terrene killed, not the one left alive. “I have no idea,” Numa answered as she pulled Molly up to her feet. “But I do know that we need to find a way to keep you safe.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  Soman

  “Zobanites!” Archigadh’s thunderous voice echoed through the city. It was filled with such agony that Soman knew the battle was over and the Zobanites had lost. He had been unable to see the fighting from inside his cage, but he had heard every slash of every sword. He knew that the blood he smelled was that of his own kin.

  “Numa!” Soman shouted, kicking at the Uruz branches that made up his cage. “Release me!”

  When Numa did not answer his plea, Soman began thrashing against the walls of the cage, trying to break free. He imagined the slaughter in his mind. Zobanites killing one another while Iturtians laughed.

  “Father!” he called across the square, hoping Archigadh could see what Soman could not. “How many soldiers did we lose?”

  Archigadh’s silence was all the answer Soman needed. All of them. Soman had brought a quarter of all his soldiers to Tolnick, and now every one of them was dead. His stomach churned when he realized that among them were Archigadh’s beloved wives. And Maireen, Soman’s own mother.

  Soman pounded his fist against his chest, wanting to release the pain that tore through him. He fell to his knees and tipped his head back, letting out a howl of anguish. He wailed until the air was gone from his lungs and he could make no more sound. Then he rested his forehead against the wooden bars that held him and closed his eyes.

  Soman heard strange footsteps coming towards him and he looked up. The Great Carus stood just outside the cage. “Why do you choose suffering, Zobanite?” it asked in a woman’s voice.

  Soman fell backwards. “You speak,” he said, leaving his mouth open.

  “You are uncomfortable with my form.” The carus then appeared to fade and shimmer before Soman’s eyes. When it was done, the carus head remained, but it was now atop a blue-skinned woman’s body. “My name is Radine. I ask you again, Zobanite, why do you choose to suffer?”

  Soman swallowed hard as he moved his gaze from the horned animal head to the woman’s naked body and back again. “I suffer because my kin have been slain,” he managed to answer, not any more comfortable with her new form.

  The creature Radine looked over the parapet. “Yes. So they have. Why should that cause you to choose suffering?”

  Soman blinked at her and lowered his brows. “They were my family,” he answered, annoyance and grief tightening his chest. “I will miss their presence.”

  To Soman’s amazement, she chuckled. “That is not really the reason for your suffering. After all, they have been gone from you for only a moment. You do not miss them.”

  “But I will miss them,” Soman argued.

  “And so you choose to suffer by thinking about a future without them?”

  Soman rubbed his eyes. An empty ache filled his chest. He was no stranger to grief, but he had to admit that this felt somehow different. “I should have been there with them. Their deaths were my fault,” he said, as an unwelcome chill coursed through his body. “I was their leader.”

  “It is your choice to blame, then, that causes your suffering,” Radine replied. “You are rife with it. It floods your Lifeforce.”

  Soman nodded slowly. “I blame myself for not having the strength of heart to kill Gemynd before he took the crown. I blame Numa for locking me in this cage. If I had been down there, Zobanites would live and not a single Iturtian would be left standing. I blame Gemynd for forsaking the Peace Council and for controlling the minds of the people. I blame you for using me to render him unconscious. And I blame the person responsible for Golath’s death, for that is the act that truly put all of this in motion.”

  “You are ignorant of truth,” the carus said in a tone surprisingly void of judgment. “Golath’s death was not the cause of anything. Rather it was another unfortunate consequence of creation gone awry. But you need not understand any of that. What you must understand right now, however, is the futility of blame. Do you know the ten Truths?”

  Soman sighed. It seemed he could always count on a lecture about the Truths in times of trouble. “May we move ahead to the point where you impart your wisdom and spare us both the agony of the game to get there?”

  The carus’ lips pulled back in an otherworldly smile. “I like you, Soman of Aerie,” she said. “My wisdom to you is this: blame violates both the eighth and ninth Truths, especially for a Zobanite. To place blame is to give away your power, which the eighth Truth tells us is a disruption of Oneness. It weakens you. For a Zobanite, that means it weakens your body. Furthermore, blame keeps you from your purpose, and the ninth Truth says that any interference with purpose disrupts Oneness. Again, for a Zobanite, this usually manifests as a weakening of the body.”

  “The fever,” Soman said, his illness making sense fo
r the very first time. “After the fall of Aerie, all I could think of was blame, and for the longest time I thought my purpose was vengeance. But I truly did forgive Gemynd by the time of the peace council. Why did the fever persist then? And what caused it to finally heal?”

  “If you want to choose Oneness, and thus bring Joy, you must hold onto all of your power. You must live your purpose. If your body was weakened by illness, then you were either giving your power away or interfering with your own purpose. You likely cured it by aligning yourself with your own power and true purpose. Do you know what your purpose is?”

  “I only recently learned it, but a Zobanite’s purpose is to serve.”

  “And tell me, Zobanite, what do you serve?”

  “I serve the people of Todor, in whatever way they need,” Soman said, straightening his back. “And I serve the Zobanites as the leader of their forces.”

  Radine opened her mouth and let out a long, melodic laugh. “Dear Soman, you know so little,” she said and took a deep breath. “While it is true that a Zobanite’s purpose is to serve, it is also true that every Zobanite has the unique purpose of serving one, specific thing. Your purpose is not to serve all the people of Todor, and a Zobanite’s purpose is never to serve another Zobanite, at least not directly.”

  “There is one, specific thing I am meant to serve?” Soman stared deep into the carus’s golden eyes. “If I cured the fever by aligning with it, then I must have already served it. But what is it? What am I meant to serve?”

  “It is quite simple, Soman,” she answered. “In all of Todor, what do you love most?”

  Soman knew the answer immediately, and an image of Numa’s perfect face flashed in his mind. But he was afraid to voice it aloud. He had never admitted the depth of his feelings, not even to himself.

  The carus smiled again, clearly knowing the answer without Soman saying a word. “Then serve her with all of your being. For that is where you will find the end to your suffering. And she needs you now more than ever.”

  “Right now, it is difficult to imagine helping her at all. How can I support her when I don’t trust her judgment? My people are dead, in large part, because of her choices.”

  “It is true, Numa has much to learn. She may yet make many mistakes before finally creating her vision. But can you serve her anyway? Do you believe in her ability to make her vision reality despite the errors she may make along the way?”

  Soman thought about the question for several moments. In spite of all that had gone wrong since Numa first decided to create her vision, she had not given up. Soman had no doubt she would not stop trying until she’d succeeded. “I do believe she will one day make her vision real.”

  “Then allow her to make her choices and stand by her until the end. In serving her, you not only fulfill your purpose, you hasten her success.”

  Soman kicked his toes lightly against the Uruz branches. “Perhaps it would be easier to follow her lead if she had not locked me in a cage.”

  “And so we have returned to talk of blame.” Radine’s golden eyes seemed to pierce right through Soman. “As an Empyrean, I can heal your heart of the blame that lurks within it. But only if it’s what you truly desire. Do you desire to be free of blame?”

  Soman opened his mouth to answer, but then closed it again. There was something about blame that felt good. It justified his anger and his want for revenge. It also acted like a shield over his heart, protecting it from feeling the full pain of grief. Blame allowed him to make someone else responsible for his suffering, which meant he had also left it up to that person to end his suffering. Just as Radine had explained moments ago, blame, indeed, meant Soman was giving away his power. “I want to hold on to all of my power,” he answered at last. “Please heal me. I desire to be free of blame.”

  Radine reached through the cage and touched Soman’s chest with a single finger. In that instant, Soman felt of bolt of energy pass through him and his entire being filled with light. For a brief moment, he experienced true Oneness. He saw himself as part of everything and heard the wisdom of the ages spoken in his ears.

  As the sensation passed, Soman was left with a feeling of pure peace. For the first time in his life, his mind hummed with the clarity of his purpose. All that he was experiencing was his choice and was part of the pathway that would ultimately lead to Numa’s Todor. He now had a deep knowing that he was fully responsible for his experience, as well as an awareness of the difference between responsibility and blame. One was a choice to hold onto power and the other was a choice to give it away.

  “I have never felt so strong,” he said, then looked at Radine and bowed deeply. “Thank you for your healing.”

  “I did not realize until I’d touched you, that you have strengthened your will. It is an extraordinary and rare thing for a Zobanite to do, especially on his own. Tell me, Soman, how did you do it?”

  Soman thought back to the moment when Gemynd had tried to force him to kneel by controlling his thoughts. “I’m not sure what I did. All I remember is that I refused to let him control me. He tried to enter my mind and I pushed him out.”

  “Your desire to hold on to your power must have been stronger than your desire to give up responsibility. I have never known another Zobanite to make that choice. You are a jewel among men, Soman, and Numa is blessed to have you. Because your strengthened will was a result of your choice, be sure you train it as you would your body. Make holding on to your power a daily practice,” she said, then turned her mighty head and looked toward the parapet. Soman followed her gaze and saw the Iturtian child, Toa, crouched against the wall. Her hands covered her ears and her eyes were pinched shut. Soman’s heart surged with pity and a sudden need to protect her.

  “Child,” he called, and Toa’s eyes popped open. “Come, child, you are not alone.”

  Toa looked at Soman and started to stand up, but thought better of it and shuffled awkwardly over to the cage on her hands and feet. “Numa,” she whispered loudly wrapping her tiny fingers around two of the Uruz branches.

  “Numa is well,” Soman replied, unsure why the child spoke her name.

  Soman studied Toa for a long moment. She had the dark eyes of an Iturtian, but her hair was yellow like Soman’s. Her skin was pale, but appeared to shimmer with a pink glow.

  “Numa?” Toa said again, this time as a question.

  “She is nearby.” Soman wanted to reassure the frightened child. He wondered why Toa didn’t simply psychspeak with Numa and ask her herself, but then realized she might be too young. “Do you know what glinting is?”

  Toa nodded. “I’m Iturtian,” she said proudly.

  Soman wondered how much glinting a child of her age could possess. Was it possible she could get him out of this cage? “Toa, are you able to move these Uruz branches with your mind?”

  Toa nodded again and smiled. She pinched her eyes closed until the branch next to her began to tremble then float away behind her. She opened her eyes and they twinkled with pride.

  “Very good!” Soman exclaimed. “Now, can you move all of them?”

  Toa shook her head. “Numa wants them,” she said, then slipped inside the cage through the space she’d created.

  Soman smiled in spite of himself. “Numa wants me in here.” He looked at Toa and the child nodded her agreement.

  Toa climbed into Soman’s lap and rested her head against his abdomen. He instinctively lifted his hand to pat her back and noticed it was as large as her entire body. He must appear as enormous as the Baldaquin tree to her and, yet, she showed no fear of him.

  “Toa!” the young warrior, Tatparo, called as he came running up the stairs to the roof of the keep. “Toa!” His clothes were torn and covered with blood. He had a deep wound in one leg and a fresh cut on his chest. Soman felt a pang of envy. He did not know the glory of battle nor would he ever wear the scars.

  “Tatty!” T
oa called back, sitting upright, but not making any moves to leave the cage.

  Tatparo closed the distance in two long strides and stuck his arms through the space with the missing branch. “Toa, come here,” he said. “Are you well?”

  Toa climbed off of Soman’s lap and ran to her brother’s arms, clutching them with her little hands. “I am well,” she said and giggled, making a point to stay inside the cage.

  “Come out here,” Tatparo insisted, but Toa held her ground with an impish grin.

  Tatparo looked past her and met Soman’s gaze. “Thank you for keeping my sister safe.”

  Soman huffed. “I’ve been stuck in here the whole time. I’m afraid I kept no one safe.”

  “Queen Numa tried to help your people.” Tatparo’s dark eyes were earnest. “Many Iturtians did too. I am sorry for the suffering and loss of life that happened today.”

  What could Soman say? The carus had healed him of blame and he knew Tatparo spoke the truth. Blaming him simply because he was Iturtian, would only result in Soman giving away his power. “All we can do now is continue working towards true peace,” Soman said.

  Tatparo nodded. “I believe in Numa’s ability to create peace.”

  Despite the battle that was just waged as evidence to the contrary, Soman believed in it too. Soman watched Tatparo’s thumb move gently on the back of Toa’s hand. He was certain that Tatparo was no stranger to loss. “You’re a good brother. You must have endured great suffering to become Toa’s sole caretaker.”

  Tatparo glanced at Soman then back at Toa. “Tolnick was a wretched place before Numa recreated it,” he said, keeping his eyes focused on his sister. “What I remember most was the hunger. It was constant, and the reason behind everything we did. At a very young age, my mother and father taught me how to fight for what I needed. Fighting and stealing kept us alive longer than it should have.”