Unity: The Todor Trilogy, Book Three

by Jenna Newell Hiott

  “I love you, Numa,” he said and, without a second thought, lunged forward, letting his mouth fall onto hers, his tongue seeking out hers to silence both of their cries.

  The dagger entered his body so easily, he didn’t feel it until he tried to inhale. He dropped to his knees as Numa clumsily tried to pick him up. Her screams pierced the air then and she stared wide-eyed as she realized her own hand--still holding the dagger--was covered with Gemynd’s blood.

  Gemynd’s fingers scratched at his neck as he gasped for breath. He heard Numa cry repeatedly, “Let me heal you, my love, let me heal you!”

  Gemynd tried to reach up to touch her face, which now hovered over him, but he could not lift his arm that high. Somewhere in the back of his mind he realized that his blood-covered hand rested on the old wishing stone. He glanced at the stone and thought, “If there is any power left in you, grant me this one wish: let Numa live in Joy. Let her smile again.”

  “Gemynd, let me heal you!” Numa shrieked again. “I have not yet told you about Toa! You do not know about our child!”

  Gemynd put all the power he had left in his mind on Numa’s mouth and waited for it to become a smile.

  Part Four

  Unity

  CHAPTER TEN

  Numa

  “Gemynd, let me heal you!” Numa dropped the dagger and shook Gemynd’s shoulders. Blood poured from the hole in his chest making a pool on the ground beneath them. “I cannot heal you without your permission. Please! I can’t do this without you!”

  All Numa could hear was a loud pounding in her ears. The sound grew louder and faster until the walls of the keep around her crumbled, bright light suddenly flooding the space and the earth shaking violently. It was just like the earthquake in Iturtia had been, but this time, Soman appeared through the dust, flying towards Numa as she knelt over Gemynd.

  “Are you hurt?” he asked Numa, his face turning pale when he saw Gemynd.

  “He won’t let me heal him,” Numa said, her voice raspy from screaming.

  “Let me try. I don’t need his permission,” Soman said, picking Numa up and setting her to the side. “I won’t let him die, just as he did not let me die.”

  Numa’s heart surged with hope as she watched Soman bend over Gemynd, pressing his ear against his chest. “You will live!” Soman shouted as he sat back and brought his fist down on Gemynd’s chest. A mist of blood sprayed out of Gemynd’s wound in all directions and Numa felt the droplets cover her face.

  “Not like that, Soman!” she shouted, kneeling again by Gemynd’s side.

  “His heart has stopped,” Soman answered, hitting Gemynd’s chest again. “What else can I do? I must get it beating again.”

  “The wound must be sealed first,” Numa insisted, covering it with both hands, trying to force Gemynd’s blood to remain inside his body.

  “You will not die, brother!” Soman shouted, pushing Numa’s hands aside as he beat Gemynd’s chest one more time.

  Then Numa saw what she feared most.

  Gemynd’s Lifeforce lit up throughout his whole body and grew beyond it, moving and growing until it filled all of Todor, becoming one with Oneness. Numa pressed her palm against her mouth, her body shaking with silent sobs.

  “He is dead,” she said and collapsed onto his body before Soman could lower his fist again. “My love is gone.”

  Numa had no idea how long she’d laid there, her face on Gemynd’s chest. The blood beneath her cheek had long since grown cold and thick. She could see Gemynd’s chin and jaw and lips. Black whiskers had grown there but never would again.

  She reached a hand up and touched what should have been Gemynd’s cheek, but instead her fingers met a cold, grey, lifeless thing.

  “Numa,” Soman whispered behind her. “Let me hold you.”

  But Numa couldn’t move. If she pushed herself off of Gemynd, she would have to see his whole face. “Are his eyes open?” she asked, the sobs coming again. She could not bear to see Gemynd’s beautiful eyes clouded over, filled only with death.

  “No,” Soman answered, a quiet moan escaping his lips.

  Numa took a deep breath and forced herself to sit up. Gemynd’s face had the pallor of death, but otherwise appeared peaceful.

  Soman put his hand on Numa’s shoulder and gently pulled her against him. “I am at a loss for how to comfort you,” he said, resting his cheek on the top of her head.

  “There is no comfort for either of us.” Numa closed her eyes and tried to feel the familiar strength that was always present in Soman’s arms, but her being was filled only with raw pain. “Why did he do this, Soman? Why did he fall on his dagger?”

  Soman was quiet for several moments. “Maybe he could no longer bear the grief of losing his father nor the guilt of killing his mother. Maybe he could no longer bear the thought of destroying another thing, especially you. I don’t have the answer, but every time I see that his right hand rests on the wishing stone, I feel a bit of hope in my heart. I like to think that his last thought was to make a wish.”

  Numa opened her eyes and looked at Gemynd’s hand. It was, indeed, resting on the wishing stone. It actually appeared to be clutching it. “Soman, you’re right,” she said noticing the drying blood between Gemynd’s hand and the stone. “He put his hand there before he died. He was making a wish. If he still believed in the hope of wishes, then he did not fall on his dagger because he had given up.”

  Soman snorted a soft laugh. “Gemynd never gave up on anything in his life. He was incapable of it. Whatever his reason, he believed it was the right choice.”

  Numa studied Gemynd’s fingers and a new wave of sorrow engulfed her. She would never feel them upon her skin again. “What do I do now?” she whispered, her voice too fragile to use.

  “We prepare Gemynd for his journey to the Viyii,” Numa’s mothers said in unison as they suddenly appeared. “He is an Aerite and will go to the Viyii in the traditional Aerite way.”

  Felyse and Gracewyn each held a large basin and stack of cloths. Numa stared at them, unable to move. “I cannot do it, mothers.” The thought of preparing Gemynd’s body for burning on the pyre awoke all of Numa’s deepest fears. The fear of watching him burn. The fear of never touching his body again. And, especially, the fear of saying goodbye to him for the last time.

  Felyse set her basin down and knelt beside Numa, taking her hands. “My child, you can do this. Just as all Aerite women before you have done for thousands of years. What seems terrifying now, you will find is exactly what you need to begin healing. The widows of Aerie have counted on this wisdom. Trust in it now, child.”

  “I grew up here, mothers. I have prepared many bodies for the journey. But this is my husband’s body. I am not ready to send it anywhere,” Numa protested.

  Gracewyn knelt on the other side of Gemynd’s body and smiled at Soman. “In Aerie, it is the tradition that the women prepare the bodies for the journey to the Viyii so you have probably never done this before.”

  Soman shook his head. “I have built my share of pyres though,” he said and rocked back on his heels as though preparing to stand. “I will go build one now.”

  Gracewyn reached over Gemynd, putting her hand on Soman’s thigh. “The pyre is built. Stay here with us. With Numa,” she said. “I don’t know how much of our ways Numa has shared with you, but every Empyrean is bound to an Iturtian and to a Zobanite. The three, really, are bound to each other. You grieve with Numa today for your lost Iturtian.”

  Felyse dipped a cloth in the basin closest to her then handed it to Soman. Numa had performed this ritual many times and knew the basin contained cold, salted water. The body would be cleansed and purified with it. “Begin with his feet,” Felyse said to Soman. “As you wash them, think of all the steps Gemynd took in his life. If any particular thoughts come to your mind, share them aloud as it is part of the healing.”

&n
bsp; “We will wash him upwards from the feet,” Gracewyn said, dipping her own cloth into the basin. “But his hands and face are for Numa to wash.”

  Soman glanced at Numa, his eyes filled with tears, before he slowly began removing Gemynd’s boots. Numa pressed her fingers against her trembling lips as she watched Soman and her mothers wash Gemynd’s body. It was beautiful and horrific at the same time. She was simultaneously overwhelmed with love and pain.

  Felyse and Gracewyn expertly cut away Gemynd’s clothing, peeling the tunic from his blood-soaked abdomen. Using their glinting powers, they replenished their supply of cloths and refilled the water basin numerous times before Gemynd’s body was cleansed of all the blood. Numa was hazily aware of the stories Soman and her mothers shared. Stories of Gemynd. Stories Numa knew well because she had lived them all, right at Gemynd’s side where she belonged.

  “Start with his hands,” Gracewyn suddenly said, placing a wet cloth in Numa’s palm.

  Numa picked up Gemynd’s left hand. It was cold, but Numa was thankful that it had not yet begun to stiffen. She wiped the blood from the back of his hand first and then the palm. Then she got a fresh cloth and cleaned around and under his fingernails. “I remember when we were children, watching these fingers turn pages and pages of books,” she heard herself say. “But what I’m remembering most clearly is the first time they touched me in a way no other man has touched me. We had faced unspeakable horrors that morning, but Gemynd’s touch erased all of that for me.”

  Numa moved to Gemynd’s right side and hesitated before picking up his hand. If she broke its connection with the wishing stone, would it ruin the wish?

  “The wish is done,” Felyse said, reading Numa’s thoughts.

  Numa washed Gemynd’s right hand more slowly than she had the left. She knew when she finished with that hand, she would have to move to his face.

  “Use your hands now instead of a cloth,” Gracewyn said, urging Numa to continue. “Feel the death on his face and say goodbye.”

  Numa’s throat constricted so hard she could not swallow and could barely breathe. “How can I say goodbye to him?” Sobs shook her body and she heard her own wailing as though it came from someone else.

  Felyse lifted the basin to Numa’s hands and pushed them down into the cold water. “Put the water on his cheeks.” Her calm, soothing voice carried Numa along and she found herself touching every part of Gemynd’s face. His jawline. His cheeks. His forehead and brows. His eyelids. His nose and lips. Numa dipped her hands in the basin again and let water drip off her fingertips into Gemynd’s scars. She leaned over and pressed her lips to the deepest one that ran over his eye.

  “We will oil his body in the reverse order,” Gracewyn said, handing Numa a cloth soaked in a flower-infused oil.

  Numa let the cloth rest in her lap as she continued to stare at Gemynd’s face. She knew the steps of the ritual. She knew she needed to wipe the oil on his face and then cover it with the cloth. She also knew this would be the last time she’d see Gemynd’s face, the face she adored.

  “Yours is the most beautiful face in Todor,” she said to Gemynd and an unbidden image of Toa came to her mind. The image was the first thing to bring Numa even a modicum of comfort.

  Numa leaned down again and kissed Gemynd’s lips. She knew she would never kiss him again so she lingered, ignoring the cold feeling of lips that did not kiss her back.

  Felyse squeezed Numa’s shoulders and whispered, “You can do this. His face is only a memory away. You touched the death on his face. You accepted it. Now cover it so you do not get stuck in the grief.”

  “I will always love you,” Numa tried to say, but her voice broke and the words echoed only in her mind. She placed the oil-soaked cloth over Gemynd’s face then collapsed against Soman.

  As a girl and young woman in Aerie, Numa had covered many bodies with oil-soaked cloths. The older women gave many reasons for that part of the ritual. Some said the wonderful scent of the flowers covered the stench of death. Others said the oil was a sort of payment to the Deis that eased the departed’s journey. Numa always knew, however, that the real reason for the oil-soaked cloths was so that the body would easily catch fire once it was on the pyre.

  As she watched her mothers continue to cover Gemynd’s body, Numa saw his dagger lying on the ground. Blood covered the jewels on the handle. Gemynd’s blood. “This knife belongs with him. It always has. Let him carry it with him to the Viyii,” she said and set the dagger on Gemynd’s chest.

  When Gemynd’s body was completely covered with oily cloths, Gracewyn said, “We will bring the others from Tolnick and begin the ceremony at the pyre.”

  “Wait,” Numa said, unable to look away from Gemynd, even though he was now entirely wrapped in shiny white cloth. “I need to know what to do now. Where is Radine?”

  Radine stepped forward from the pile of stones that had briefly been the keep of Aerie. “How may I help you, child?”

  “I need your counsel,” Numa said, finally looking away from Gemynd. “My grief is my own. I won’t let it stop me from creating my vision of Todor, the Todor that will one day be ruled by Toa. But I don’t know how to proceed. Gemynd is supposed to be at the top of Tolnick keep with me and Soman. Is my vision an impossibility now?”

  Radine inhaled deeply. “Child, if your vision of Todor depended on Gemynd’s life, then it would already be destroyed. The fact that Todor still stands should tell you that your vision is still very much a possibility.”

  “Can you tell me specifically what to do next?”

  Numa could tell Radine had restrained herself from laughing. “No, I cannot tell you that,” she said.

  “The answers will come in time,” Felyse said. “Don’t distract yourself with these things as a way to avoid your grief. Now is the time to send Gemynd to the Viyii. Now is the time to say goodbye.”

  Numa heard Soman take a ragged breath as she rested her head on his chest. “Bring the others,” she heard him say. “Let us not delay his journey any further.”

  Numa was unaware of walking to the yard in front of the Meeting House with the others. She had no recollection of when Keeper Sam had arrived who was now speaking to the crowd. Numa could not hear his words as she seemed to only be able to focus on the pressure of Soman’s hand holding her own.

  “Mama,” Toa called softly from Tatparo’s arms as he approached.

  Numa let go of Soman’s hand and took Toa into her arms, squeezing her tightly. She had not yet told Toa that Gemynd was one of her fathers and she briefly wondered if she would spare her daughter any grief by not mentioning it. But then Numa remembered her promise to keep nothing from her child. “My daughter, the man who died today, the man we will send to the Viyii, is one of your fathers. His name is Gemynd and had he lived, he would have loved you with his whole heart.”

  Toa looked up at Numa’s face and blinked as she smiled. Numa was struck by the realization that Toa had already known that truth. “You are far wiser than your three years, aren’t you?” she asked, then clenched her teeth against a fresh wave of grief. “You have his eyes. I wish he could have known you as his child.”

  “The people are ready,” Numa heard Tatparo say to Soman before the two of them walked back to where Gemynd lay.

  Numa held tight to Toa as Soman and Tatparo moved Gemynd’s body onto a litter. They silently carried it to the pyre, setting it on the top with ease.

  Numa felt her heart begin to pound and her breaths came fast and uneven. She wanted to scream and rush the pyre, clinging to Gemynd’s body for eternity. Even while she held her child, Numa’s arms felt achingly empty.

  After Gemynd’s body was in place, Soman came and stood next to Numa again. Tatparo walked around the pyre, lighting the small sconces at the bottom of the pile of oil-covered wood. In a moment, the sconces would fall inward and the pyre would be engulfed in flames.

 
Numa held her breath as she waited, wanting this horrible thing to be finished. Tatparo began speaking to the crowd, saying things about honor and Iturtia. He pointed at Gemynd, his voice thick with emotion and said, “My life is better because I served under Gemynd as Director of Iturtia. You will be missed, my leader, my friend.”

  Numa leaned on Soman, feeling suddenly burdened. “I am queen of Todor,” she whispered. “I ought to address my people. They have lost their Director. I must say something to them.”

  “No one expects you to make a speech,” Soman said, putting his arm around her for support.

  Numa rested against him for a moment, pondering what words of comfort she could give when she was filled with so much pain. The Director of Iturtia was no more. What comfort was there in that?

  As Numa pondered, the pyre suddenly erupted in flames. She gasped and lurched forward, her instincts telling her to save Gemynd from the fire. But then she remembered that he was already dead. He would not feel the burning.

  The fire was so thick, Numa could only see Gemynd in flashes as the flames bent to their own hidden rhythm. Her husband was dead. Her love was dead. The Director of Iturtia was dead. As these thoughts passed through Numa’s mind, she realized that, just as the Zobanites no longer had a Chief, the Iturtians no longer had a Director. Tatparo served Numa and would not step up to take the Directorship. Gemynd’s death was the final piece needed to unite the races under one leadership, one Todor led by Numa.

  “Your Director is dead,” Numa said loudly, handing Toa to Soman as she approached the crowd. “Together we will grieve. My wish is that each of us will find some comfort in knowing that Gemynd’s death has forged the way for everlasting peace in Todor. The past was the time for the separation of the races, each with its own leader. Now is the time for one, united people. Let Gemynd’s death mark the time of Oneness. Let this new peace be the light in the darkness of grief.”