Numa clenched her teeth, angry all over again at what Molly had done. “You’re right, she didn’t mean for us to find you in the dungeon. She poisoned you and took you down there to die. But when the wind began, it was Molly who suggested we go to the dungeon for safety. Even at the time I wondered how she knew of the existence of a dungeon, but not enough to question her. She must have known we’d find you then and that the truth would come out.”
Sam looked at Numa, then at Soman. “But the safety of her children was worth the risk. She must have told you about the dungeon knowing there was a chance she would be found out.”
“Or she was confident that all we would find was your dead body,” Soman added.
Numa pinched the bridge of her nose then sighed. “I cannot ponder Molly’s motives right now. I must go speak with the surviving Iturtians. Sam, would you like to join me?”
Sam agreed with a nod and Numa took them to the caverns below Tolnick before Soman could insist on joining them. She felt that she was becoming too dependent on his companionship, and she already knew that there would be times when she would have to act as queen on her own. It was good to practice being away from him every now and again. Besides, the Iturtians might prefer to hear her news without any Zobanites present.
When they arrived in the original Iturtia, Numa gasped again at the beauty of it. With the exception of being underground, it was wholly unlike the Iturtia she knew before. The trough of fire that lined the entire room illuminated everything with a bright orange glow. The ceiling of the cavern glittered with blues and greens and the walls below it were covered with beautiful carvings. Despite being made of stone, the chamber felt lush and warm.
Golath’s Iturtia had been a city of austerity, completely absent of luxury or beauty. It was a stark place that served the sole purpose of strengthening the mind.
“What I wouldn’t give to speak with those first Iturtians,” Keeper Sam mused, his thoughts echoing Numa’s. “How different they must have been from today’s Iturtians. I wonder what their training was like. Did they have a pit?”
“Numa!” A child’s squeal echoed through the chamber and Toa galloped up, flinging her arms around Numa’s leg.
Numa smiled as she picked her up. Having Toa in her arms felt like coming home, and Numa wondered when she had become so attached to the girl. “I missed you.” Numa kissed Toa’s pudgy cheek. “What did you do while I was away?”
“Tatty made the pit,” Toa answered, grinning.
“Where?” Numa asked and noticed that Sam was already walking towards a crowd of people across the room.
Numa followed him and when she reached the crowd she saw that they were assembling tools of torture. She saw clamps and spikes and reamers. A large group of men was polishing a hollow metal bull that could serve as an oven for children if suspended over fire. “No,” she said, reflexively covering Toa’s face. “You are all free of this sort of training. Why are you recreating it?”
Tatparo stood up next to a length of pipe he appeared to be assembling. “Queen Numa,” he said and bowed. “We were curious about the tools used by our ancestors.”
“This area must have served as their pit,” Sam said, as he ran his fingers over a set of reamers, his eyes filled with such reverence, it was as though he touched the faces of the Deis themselves. “It seems that Iturtian training changed very little over the centuries.”
Numa remembered when Gemynd had first shown her the pit in Iturtia. She had been horrified by what she’d seen there and fled in fear to Turiya. Her mothers had told her that Iturtians do not perceive their training as suffering. For them, the pit is where they become their best selves.
“Gemynd should be here,” Numa said quietly to Sam.
Sam looked up at her. “Come, let us speak in private.”
Numa set Toa on the ground and followed Sam to an unoccupied corner of the chamber. “Not only should he be the one to address his people, but I know he would love to spend time in this place, to get to know his ancestors’ way of life,” she said.
“And he should be by your side,” Sam said, voicing what Numa wanted most of all, though she was still confused about Gemynd being her greatest obstacle. “Perhaps, more importantly, you should be by his side. I am concerned for his welfare.”
A cold chill passed through Numa and she shivered. “Do you think he needs me?”
“Everyone in Todor needs you, especially Gemynd. If you want my counsel, I suggest that immediately following Archigadh’s will strengthening, you leave the people in his care and go find your husband.”
Numa nodded but was still unsure what to do about Gemynd. For now, she had Iturtians to address. “It is with a heavy heart that I tell all of you that the group we had come to call the Lost Iturtians have all been slain in battle today,” she said to the crowd. “Their bodies await your farewells on pyres in Zoban. Until the winds stop and the rest of Todor is safe, you will find a comfortable home in Zoban for all of you.”
Tatparo stepped forward. “We appreciate that, Queen Numa, truly we do. But we would all prefer to come back here after the lamentation ceremony for our dead. We are Iturtians, after all.”
Numa said nothing, but Tatparo’s words played in her ears as she took the lot of them back to Zoban. We are Iturtians, after all. He was right. Even in a time of perfect peace through Todor, they would still be Iturtians. And Archigadh’s people would still be Zobanites.
Numa inhaled deeply as she now stood in the meadow just outside the Zoban city walls. The pyres were stacked with bodies, ready to be lit. Most of the bodies were Iturtians and they would be beginning their journey to the Viyii from Zoban mountain.
“I hope they know their way from here,” she whispered to herself.
“What did you say, my queen?” Sam stood at her side, looking up at her.
“Sam, I cannot let my desire for peace force a veneer of sameness across Todor. I have said that we will celebrate our differences and I meant it.”
“A wise decision. We may all belong to Todor, but we are all individuals within it.”
When Numa saw Soman and Archigadh lead the Zobanites onto the field, she stepped forward to address the crowd. “My people, it is my sincere hope that this is the very last time we send anyone to the Viyii as a result of warfare. Those who fought, fought bravely and I honor them. They will be missed here, but I have no doubt will be welcomed by the Deis. You may have noticed the separate pyre with only one body atop it. There lies Molly, traitor to Todor. She is the last of the race of Terrenes, but that is not why I have separated her from the others. I have done so in order that she make her journey to the Viyii alone. She will not have the opportunity to sully the others and will be judged by the Deis alone. No one will stand for her. She will face her treason alone.” Several Zobanite soldiers holding lit torches walked toward the pyres. “Say your goodbyes as you please,” Numa finished.
A moment of pure silence passed through the meadow before the pyres were lit. Numa watched them burn for several moments, her heart aching for Gemynd. He did not say goodbye to his people nor his mother. He did not wish them well on their journey. The knowledge of that would surely compound his guilt.
“You are troubled,” Soman said, coming to stand by her side. “How may I help?”
Numa reached for his hand. “I would gladly accept your help if only I knew what to ask of you. What can we do to heal Gemynd’s pain enough for him to come back to us?” she asked aloud, then silently, “and how do I deal with my greatest obstacle? I am lost as I’ve never been before.”
“As you know, I am concerned about Gemynd too,” Sam interrupted. “But as I look at the faces here, I have come to believe you have an even more pressing matter to deal with.”
Numa gazed at the faces in the crowd, trying to see what Sam referred to. There was a sadness there, but in the eyes of the Iturtians in the crowd was something
more sorrowful even than the grief of sending kin to the Viyii. As she looked, she realized that this was something she had seen before. It was the look that was in the eyes of the Iturtians she had rescued from Tolnick just after the fall of Aerie. It was the look of displacement. Within these Iturtians’ eyes, she saw the lost, emptiness of a people without a home.
“They don’t want to stay in Zoban,” Numa said. “Tatparo already told me they’d rather stay in the original Iturtia.”
“As magnificent a place as it is, it is difficult for most Iturtians to see Zoban as anything other than the home of their ancestral enemy. They may be at peace with Zobanites now, but feeling like they belong here, in this place, will take some time,” Sam agreed.
“Did they seem happy in the original Iturtia that we found?” Soman asked. “They would still be safe from the wind there.”
“Yes, they did appear to be more at home there,” Sam answered.
“They can’t stay underground forever. Everyone must be free to go anywhere in Todor that they wish,” she said, now looking deep into the flames that rose from the pyres, hoping to see an answer there.
“Can you recreate Todor without the wind?” Sam asked.
Numa pressed her lips together. That was exactly the question she needed an answer to, and one she wished she could ask her mothers and Radine. But Radine was the one causing the wind. “Radine would tell me to change my perception about it.”
“Can you do that?”
“I don’t know, but I must try.” Numa squeezed Soman’s hand, then leaned forward and kissed his cheek.
Numa willed herself to the top of Tolnick keep where she’d last seen Radine. But when she got there, she saw that the keep was gone. In fact, Tolnick was gone. Every bit of Todor on this side of Zoban mountain had been rendered to its smallest part and was now whipping through the air at tremendous speeds.
Numa felt for the bedrock deep inside the ground beneath her feet and called to it. She sent her Lifeforce down to meet it and anchored herself there. Though she was now safe from being picked up and thrown to the farthest reaches of Todor by the wind, she found she was continually having to recreate her skin as it eroded away by passing dirt and debris.
“Armor,” she said aloud and covered herself head-to-toe in a suit of Zobanite felitaur armor, one that fit her perfectly, and one that would not be worn away by abrasion. She peered through the lionhead helmet, searching her surroundings for Radine.
Looking like an enourmous blue cyclone, Radine was a mere thirty hands away. She was the center of the storm. The fulcrum of destruction.
Numa had recently become well-versed in the art of fighting Iturtians, and she knew how to defeat a Zobanite if need be. But how did one go about fighting an Empyrean? Especially one as powerful as Radine.
Numa turned to the greatest force she could think of in all of nature. She lifted her arms up above her head and summoned all the lightning in Todor. It came immediately, making arcs of power between her hands and the sky.
Radine’s laughter floated through the wind to Numa’s ears. “You can choose to fight your way to your creation if you wish, dear Numa, but it is not necessary.”
“I cannot simply let you go on destroying my creation!”
“No, you cannot,” Radine said in that knowing way that made Numa all the more eager to fight her.
Numa turned her wrists and commanded the lightning to pierce Radine’s being. The bolts of electricity did as they were bid, but instead of harming Radine, they strengthened her. The blue cyclone absorbed the power of the lightning and grew tenfold surging round with ever greater force.
“Now what?” Numa asked herself. Normally she would consult with Gemynd or Radine in such a situation, but, given the circumstances, that wasn’t possible. Then Numa thought of someone who might be able to help.
Numa nudged Keeper Sam’s mind and he accepted with a nudge back. “In all of your studies, have you ever learned how to take down an Empyrean?”
“No.” Sam wasted no time on pondering the matter.
Numa studied the Radine cyclone and wished Gemynd was with her. He would, at least, come up with something she could try. The debris and particles scraped loudly at her helmet as she stood there, making it hard for her to think. Then Numa thought she heard a rhythmic knocking sound.
Numa tilted her head and listened, but all she could hear was the howling of the wind and the scraping at her helmet. “I must have imagined the knocking. I could not have heard such a thing over the wind anyway.”
But then she heard it again. This time, Numa realized it was more of a feeling than a sound, and it seemed to be coming from her leg.
Numa looked down and saw Toa clutching her leg with one hand while knocking with the other.
“Toa!” Numa shrieked, folding herself over the girl as much as the armor would allow. Somehow she had to protect her from the wind. “How did you get here? This is not a safe place for you.”
Numa felt her eyes widen as she watched the sand-filled air peel away the skin on Toa’s exposed arm. “Can I give you armor?” she asked and the instant the little girl nodded, Numa covered her from head to toe.
Toa said something to Numa that she couldn’t hear through the wind, but then Toa’s sweet little voice drifted into Numa’s mind. There was no nudging. Instead, the words simply glided across Numa’s mind like a fallen leaf floating on calm water. “Beetcakes,” Toa said. “With cream.”
“Toa, it is too dangerous out here for you. Let me send you back to your brother and I will give you beetcakes there.”
Toa shook her head, tilting back to look at Numa through the slit in her helmet. “Shiny,” she said, looking at Numa’s armor.
“You must go,” Numa repeated to Toa. “Give me your permission.”
Toa shook her head again and let go of Numa’s leg, turning to walk towards Radine.
“Toa!” Numa screamed. Her heart jumped into her throat as she flung herself forward, trying to grasp hold of the little girl who walked just out of reach and out of sight.
Numa knew the great wind would pick up Toa’s tiny body and hurl it round and round the greater part of Todor until it finally landed in some far corner, broken beyond healing. The image of it in her mind caused a hot fury to build within her and she stood, piercing Radine with a look of hatred.
“You will stop this wind right now!” she shouted, her shoulders straightening, her back stiffening with bold determination. “This is my creation and you have no power here!”
And, just like that, the wind stopped.
“Thank you,” Radine said, whirling back into carus form. Dirt and stones, branches and leaves, rained down from the sky for a moment, then all was still. “I was growing ever weary of spinning.”
Numa’s fury did not cease with the wind and she willed herself less than a hand from Radine’s face. “You killed Toa!”
Radine sighed. “You could have stopped the wind any time you wished. Surely you realize that. And I assure you, Toa was not in danger. Look, she is right here.”
Numa looked down and saw a tiny suit of felitaur armor standing next to Radine. Through the slit in the helmet she could see pudgy cheeks and a pair of mischief-filled eyes.
Numa pressed her lips tightly together, trying to think up a better swear word than ‘scitte’, but her mind was muddled with questions. “You have no power here?” she asked Radine, suddenly needing to sit down.
“I have only as much power as you perceive me to have.” Radine morphed again, this time into her blueish human form, and two other female forms rolled out of her hands.
“Mothers.” Numa distractedly welcomed Felyse and Gracewyn as she continued to think about what had just happened. “I am still confused, Radine. It always seemed to me that you were the one causing the destruction of Todor.”
“It is fully up to you how you perceiv
e me, child,” Radine replied. “But I have helped you with your creation from the start. I was the one who first showed you the power of Turiya, and taught you how to move through time and space. It was I who reminded you time and again that you had not yet completed your task. And I have stepped in to save your creation on more than one occasion. I assisted Soman in coming to understand that his purpose is to serve you. And I even went as far as to interfere with Gemynd’s powers. I knew if he had them when he came upon the battle between the Zobanites and the Lost Iturtians, there would be no more Zobanites in Todor at all.”
Numa nodded. She heard Radine’s words, but her thoughts were now focused on Toa. “Toa was not blown away by the wind,” she said. “She was walking right towards you as though the air was as calm as it is now.”
Toa leaned back again to see Numa through her helmet. “Beetcakes now?” she asked.
A shiver of recognition ran through Numa as she looked at Toa in her armor, asking for food. “You’re a Zobanite. You were stronger than the wind.”
Toa giggled. “I’m hungry,” she gave as an answer.
“But you can psychspeak. I heard you in my mind. And this is the second time I’ve seen you simply appear without me willing it. My goodness, sweet girl, you are Empyrean.”
“Toa is not Empyrean,” Radine said, stepping in. “Now, will you feed the poor child?”
Numa replaced both of their sets of armor with Iturtian clothing and created a heaping pile of beetcakes. “If she’s not Empyrean, then how do you explain her ability to move through space like we can? Is there another race that can do that?”
“Anything is possible,” Radine answered in typical Empyrean fashion, full of mystery, but otherwise useless.
“Of course,” Numa said, trying not to roll her eyes. “It is how I perceive it to be.”
Radine’s face lit up to a blue so pale and bright, it was nearly white. “Yes! You’ve finally learned what I’ve been trying to teach you!”
“Nope.” Numa sat down by Toa and took a pinch from a beetcake. “I’ve learned nothing. I’m further from creating my vision now than I have been since I started.”
Unity: The Todor Trilogy, Book Three Page 14
