Unity: The Todor Trilogy, Book Three

by Jenna Newell Hiott

  “Aye, and so I did. Eventually everyone’s essence ends up here, lad, but my last day was spent in the Zoban I loved with all my wives. I am so relieved that you were spared my fate, because you have much yet to do, but I am content now.”

  Numa looked at Soman’s face and saw a mask of strength hiding his pain. Her eyes filled with tears at the sight of him and she wrapped her arms around him once more. “I wish I could take your pain away.”

  “No,” he said and kissed the top of her head. “You have enough of your own.”

  Numa leaned back and smiled up at him though her cheeks were wet with tears. “I have more to tell you. For the first time in my life, my heart is truly whole. When I passed through the gate here, I went first to visit with an old woman who showed me my past and my future. She showed me that Toa is my daughter.”

  Numa walked to Tatparo and took Toa from him. She kissed Toa on the cheek, then said to Soman, “I truly know a mother’s love now. I am part of something so much greater than myself. I know you’re grieving and maybe this isn’t the best time for me to share this with you, but I can’t contain myself.”

  Soman shook his head as though he was trying to clear it, but then he smiled broadly at Numa. He reached out and gently lifted Toa’s chin. “From the moment you crawled into that Uruz cage with me, I knew there was something very special about you.” Then he looked at Numa. “I don’t understand how she is your child, but I can see now that she looks like you.”

  “She is my child from the future. I brought her back through time to spend her first years with Tatparo. The version of me from this current time had no memory of giving birth since it hasn’t happened yet so that’s why I didn’t recognize her as my daughter until the Future Teller showed me.” Numa was far too excited to truly consider what she was saying.

  Soman scratched the back of his head and wrinkled his top lip. “All I need to understand is that she is yours and you are together and are both deeply loved. Is Gemynd her father?”

  Numa took a moment to push Toa’s hair from her eyes. “I made a promise that, as queen, I would not practice deception of any kind. My Todor is one without secrets and lies. I also made a promise of fidelity to Gemynd, so part of me believes he should be the first to know the answer to that question. I won’t lie and tell you that I don’t know the answer and I don’t want it to be a secret that I am keeping from you.”

  “Numa,” Soman stopped her from speaking by gently touching her hand. “I agree that you ought to tell Gemynd first. I am fine with not knowing.”

  “I beg your pardon, Queen Numa, but I think it’s important that you know that I have not yet figured out how we might go about finding all Terrenes here,” Keeper Sam said, always keeping Numa on task.

  “I was wondering that myself.” Numa looked over her shoulder at Tatparo. “Any ideas?”

  “These creatures, the cabali, have the duty of bringing essences to the Skalja, so they just might know how to find things here.”

  After what she’d witnessed them do to Archigadh, Numa hated the idea of interacting with them at all. But it was a cabalus who pointed out Soman, so Tatparo’s idea was worth a try. Once again, Numa handed Toa to Tatparo. She didn’t want her daughter anywhere near one of the creatures.

  Numa saw the shiny, black skin of one walking the boundary of the clearing and she headed towards it. “Cabalus, tell me where to find the Terrenes.”

  The cabalus stopped walking and turned to face her. “For a thing to no longer be perceived, it must have existed in the first place,” it said in its raspy voice.

  “Answer my question directly,” Numa pressed, ignoring the creature’s games. “Where are the Terrenes?”

  The creature hesitated, then said again, “For a thing to no longer be perceived, it must have existed in the first place.”

  Numa pulled her bottom lip between her teeth as she summoned patience. “Terrenes were a race of people that were once perceived, but the last one died recently. The essences of all of them were surely brought here,” she explained, but as she heard her own words a feeling of dread welled up in her belly.

  Numa turned to find Molly in the crowd. “Molly, you are Terrene. Golath told me moments ago that essences will cease to exist outside of Skalja. Is that true for you, too?”

  Molly nodded. “An essence can only be perceived in Skalja. Lifeforce is required for anything to be perceived in the rest of Todor.”

  Numa rubbed her hands down her face. “The Skalja tricked us,” she said to Sam and Soman. “They said we could take whatever we are able to take. They did not bother to tell us that we are not able to take the Terrenes.”

  “They should not be allowed to get away with such deception,” Keeper Sam said, his small face wrinkled in fury.

  “No, Sam, they should not.” Numa turned to Molly again. “Molly, will you please find as many of your fellow Terrenes as you can and bring them to me. We will figure out a way to bring you back to Tolnick. There must be a way.”

  A long, bony finger reached out and wrapped around Numa’s wrist. “For a thing to no longer be perceived, it must have existed in the first place,” the cabalus said for a third time.

  Numa yanked her wrist free and took a step back. “Be gone from here,” she said, flapping the back of her hand at the creature.

  “Numa, the cabalus is right,” Molly said, reaching forward to take Numa’s hand, then dropping it when she realized she couldn’t.

  “What do you mean?”

  Suddenly a blue glow filled the sky and Marko and Okram appeared in the clearing, each at least twenty hands taller than anyone else there.

  “You have forgotten your past, Empyrean,” Marko scolded Numa. “These things you should already know.”

  “Well, I don’t. I don’t know what is happening right now. It seems to me you have tricked me into believing I could take something from here, and now you have hidden the Terrenes from me. Why? Did you think you could get all of us to stay here indefinitely? Did you hope to add us to your collection of husks?”

  Okram laughed. “We did not trick you. These things you should already know.”

  Soman stepped forward, lifting his chest. “We are all at the end of our patience with you. We gave you payment. Now speak plainly and tell us where to find the Terrenes and how to take them back with us.”

  “Wise for a Zobanite,” Marko said, swirling around Soman’s body.

  “If you do not remember, we can tell you,” Okram offered, being unusually forthcoming.

  Then Marko began to speak, “When the Deis created Todor, they created Empyreans, Iturtians and Zobanites. All people had glinting powers and lived in harmony in groups of three, perceiving and living in Oneness. An imbalance began because the bodies of Iturtians would die. This left pairs of Empyreans and Zobanites behind. The loss of the Iturtians was deeply felt for they were the bringers of diversity, of contrast. Without them, there would be no growth. All would be stagnant. This caused great suffering and decreased Joy.

  “Before all of the Iturtians had died, some of the people went to the sacred stone on the hill, the rock through which they could communicate with the Deis. There they sacrificed their blood and asked the Deis to help them solve their problem. The Deis answered by saying that they only have glinting powers because they believe it to be so.

  “The people were confused and did not know what the Deis meant by this. After much talk amongst themselves, the people determined that it was their powers that caused their suffering. They came to believe that if no one had powers, all people would be equal and would live in Oneness. And so, some of the people asked the Deis to make them ignorant of their powers. These people came to be called Terrenes.”

  Numa looked at Keeper Sam. “Did you know this history?”

  Sam shook his head slowly. “Are you saying that there never was a race of people without glinting powers?
That Terrenes were either Empyreans, Iturtians, or Zobanites who had simply chosen to forget their powers?”

  “It could be said that a Terrene’s great power is ignorance,” Okram said.

  “There’s no such thing as a Terrene?” Numa asked, feeling suddenly lightheaded. Everything she had ever known had something to do with protecting these people who appeared powerless in a world of power. “All they needed was to remember who they were?”

  Molly’s essence stepped forward then. “It is true, Numa, I am Iturtian. I never had any reason to question that I was Terrene until the day of the great battle in Tolnick. All the others who believed they were Terrenes were killed, their minds taken over by Iturtians. Only I was left alive. It was because they could not control my mind.”

  Soman wrinkled his brows. “That would mean that all of those other Terrenes were really Zobanites. But not a single one of them looked like a Zobanite.”

  “As the Deis had instructed the people so long ago: they only have glinting powers because they believed it to be so,” Marko said as though this somehow addressed Soman’s statement.

  “Likewise, they had no glinting powers because they believed it to be so, including their power of a large, strong body,” Okram said.

  “Let us leave this place at once, then,” Keeper Sam said. “There is nothing for us here.”

  Numa agreed, still feeling baffled. She said another tearful goodbye to Golath and watched with an aching heart as Soman said farewell to Archigadh.

  Numa kissed Toa’s forehead as the group prepared to leave. “I gained you, my precious child, in this journey to the Skalja. That alone is worth all the rest that was lost. Let us get back to Tolnick where we belong.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  Gemynd

  For what felt like weeks, Gemynd had followed a series of tunnels beneath Todor northwest from Zoban. The moment he’d left Zoban, he knew he’d gotten his powers back because he felt Numa’s persistent nudgings ever since. But he could not answer her. He had to let her go.

  Gemynd was unsure if the wind still raged above, but he sensed the tunnels would eventually lead him to Aerie. His Iturtian training had taught him to quiet the urgings of his body, but his need to eat was beginning to overtake his mind.

  Gemynd pressed his cheek against the tunnel wall and opened his mouth, letting drops of fresh water fall into it. He was grateful for the constantly dripping water, knowing he would have perished days ago without it, but water was not a permanent substitute for food.

  Gemynd rubbed his belly as he continued walking. “Perhaps I am through the worst of the hunger,” he said aloud. “Perhaps death will come quickly now. But is that what I want? My mind is clouded. I must not make any decisions until it is clear once again.”

  He forced his attention to his feet. One more step. One more step. One more step. The sound of his boots landing on the stone floor of the tunnel echoed loudly and Gemynd became keenly aware that it was the only sound in all of Todor. There were no other footsteps but his own. There were no other voices. He was utterly alone.

  A familiar pain gripped Gemynd’s heart and he stopped walking as he fought for his next breath. “This pain has been my constant companion for as long as I can remember. I had called it loneliness, finding reprieve from it only in moments with Numa. Is my love for her pure, or have I only really loved her because her presence eased my pain?”

  Gemynd turned around and held his oil lamp high. “My love is that way. I could go back. I could let her ease this pain once again.”

  For the first time in Gemynd’s life, his thoughts went silent. He could not act because he could not think. He could not distract himself with questions. All he could do was stand still and feel the pain of his isolation. It tore through him, shredding his innards, dismantling the feelings of guilt and self-hatred he had carefully constructed to protect himself from the loneliness. It burned inside of him, then took hold of his heart, squeezing it until the pain was too much and Gemynd fell to his knees.

  Images of Numa, Soman and Golath floated on the tunnel floor and the pain intensified, the cruel longing crushing Gemynd under its weight. If he could have just a moment with any of them, the pain would cease. But he was truly alone. He could not escape the pain.

  Gemynd remembered being trapped with pain once before and hearing his father’s voice tell him, “You have the strength to bear any pain.”

  “This is worse even than the grief of losing you, Father!” Gemynd called out, his voice echoing in the tunnel.

  Gemynd took a breath as his mind asked him, “But why is it worse? What is this pain of isolation?”

  He fell forward and lay face down on the tunnel floor as the questions began to flow, the pain easing some now. Then one question caused his breath to still. “Can I bear my own presence without distraction?”

  In an instant, Gemynd knew that the pain he’d always called loneliness was his answer to that question. “It has always been my own power, my own darkness, that I’ve feared,” he said as he pushed himself to his feet. “This is what the carus meant by choosing my own Oneness. Can I face all that I am and stand within my Oneness?”

  Gemynd bent down and picked up the oil lamp. “Can I accept that I am sacred and equal to all others in the eyes of the Deis? Can I come to love myself?” Without having a single answer, Gemynd allowed himself to listen to the questions as he turned and continued on his path to Aerie.

  After several more steps, the tunnel began to gradually climb upwards and then Gemynd saw what appeared to be an ancient staircase. He climbed the stairs and emerged in a great cavern, one that was very familiar to him.

  “The mines of Aerie.” Gemynd smiled and sighed loudly. He walked down the center of the cavern, along the ruts worn by mining carts, then moved to the far wall. He knew there would be oil lamps hanging along the wall and he intended to light every single one of them. He’d been in the dark far too long.

  As he lit the seventh lamp he came to, Gemynd was able to see most of the interior of the cavern. Instead of the walls being covered with jewels as he had always known them, they were now covered by shelves and shelves of books. Rows of them, as high as he could see, lined both sides of the tunnel.

  He walked to the nearest shelf and ran his finger along the spines of the books there. He knew these books well. This was the library from Iturtia. “I knew Numa had saved the library from the earthquake, but I had no idea she’d brought it here.”

  Gemynd let his gaze linger on the titles of the books, recalling the information in each one. “Well done, my love.” He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply the scent of the old books and damp stone. “The mines of Aerie now hold treasures more valuable than any jewels could ever be.”

  As he continued looking over the books, Gemynd couldn’t help but think of Golath. “You would have loved this sight,” he said aloud to his father’s memory.

  Then Gemynd realized that the books were in the exact same order as they had been in Iturtia. Numa hadn’t changed a single thing when she’d moved the library here. Knowing what book he wanted to read first, Gemynd moved to the shelves directly beneath the Wishing Hut and spotted the volume at knee-level.

  “Iturtian Building Plans,” he read the title aloud as he pulled the book from the shelf.

  “I’ve only ever studied books about the Book of Life,” Keeper Stout’s voice echoed inside Gemynd’s head.

  “That’s probably because you never left Aerie,” Gemynd answered.

  Then Gemynd saw the Joyful Keeper leaning against the shelf beside him. He knew it wasn’t the real Keeper Stout, only an overflowing of his own vivid imagination. The real Keeper Stout had died on this very spot, buried by the rubble that Gemynd had piled upon him.

  “Are you thinking of building something?” Keeper Stout asked, eyeing the book in Gemynd’s hands.

  “Perhaps,” Gemynd answered then shru
gged. “I haven’t yet made my choice.”

  “Well, what are your options? Maybe I can help you choose.”

  Gemynd looked at Keeper Stout’s mirthful face a long while before responding. “It is in my very nature to destroy. I’ve proved it time and again, and the carus told me as much. What’s more, destruction is in my blood. For all that he was a hero to me, I know my father destroyed plenty in his time. And now I’ve just discovered that my mother is a destroyer as well. She killed my father. She destroyed the Peace Council.”

  “And you destroyed her,” Keeper Stout mused without judgment.

  “Exactly. If I am capable of destroying my own mother, then how can I trust myself not to destroy Numa or her vision of Todor?”

  “So what is your choice then?”

  “Do I return to my life with Numa, putting her at risk, or do I go my own way?”

  “You know that she has said you are necessary to make her vision come true,” Keeper Stout said, rubbing his jaw in thought. “Seems to me if you choose to go your own way, you are choosing to destroy her vision.”

  Gemynd sighed. “But she could be wrong about that part,” he argued. “She has been wrong about a great deal concerning her vision thus far. From what she’s told me, I believe it is only necessary that she is the one at the top of the Tolnick keep. The people must cheer for her.”

  “If you’re arguing for this, then it seems your decision is already made.”

  Gemynd knew the real Keeper Stout would not have made such an astute observation, and it reminded him that this entire conversation was happening only in his mind. Still, even the idea of Keeper Stout made him feel a bit of Joy. “I think it comes down to the fact that by going my own way, I know I am in control of when and how I hurt her,” Gemynd reasoned. “If I return to her, I could end up causing greater damage than I could even imagine.”

  “Which choice is the one that will sustain Oneness?” Keeper Stout asked, sounding like his old self.

  “And that is the real question, isn’t it? If I am truly a destroyer, am I even capable of making a choice that sustains Oneness?”