Keeper Sam nodded and closed his eyes. When he opened them, he was no longer a Keeper. His face held the look of a seasoned warrior: strong in body and mind; ready and willing to fulfill his task at any cost. With a shout that came from the depths of him, he exploded forward like a loosed arrow and rammed his shortknife into the armor. Both knife and Keeper bounced back, sliding noisily across the floor.
Not even a scratch marred the perfect surface of the armor.
“Well done,” Soman said, pleased that the Keeper had taken the experiment so seriously.
Keeper Sam once again pulled himself to his feet. “For a moment, I truly thought I would pierce the armor,” he said. “But I am pleased to know that it can withstand more than a Keeper’s blow.”
Soman took the longknife that had been too heavy for Sam and slowly, deliberately, drove it deep into the belly of the armor and clear through the other side. “It is no match for a Zobanite’s strength,” he said, pressing his lips together, wishing yet again for a solution. He stepped back and pulled the sword free from the armor, revealing parallel holes cut through both the front and back piece. “This is the problem. For a battle with Iturtians means that Zobanites fight one another. Fortunately, we heal. But a wound like this would take a soldier out of the battle at least for a moment, and it could be the very moment the Iturtians need to turn the battle in their favor.”
“Surely there is some way to fashion armor that can withstand even a Zobanite,” Keeper Sam said, standing on his toes to inspect the damage done to the armor. “Perhaps several layers of metal or maybe a harder, stronger metal.”
“Those things have all been tried,” Soman said. “There is only one thing known in all of Todor that is stronger than a Zobanite.”
“What is that?” Keeper Sam asked.
“This,” Soman said tapping at the armor’s neck-piece with the tip of his longknife. “Beneath this layer of iron is a thick cuff of Uruz wood. Nothing can penetrate it.” Soman spun around, and with all his might, brought the side of his blade against the neck-piece. An unarmored—or even iron-armored—neck would have given Soman roughly the same resistance as a bowl of pudding. But the Uruz cuff stopped the blade and sent the force of the blow rippling back up Soman’s arms until he nearly dropped the longknife.
“Fascinating,” Keeper Sam said, his gaze moving around the room as though he were counting. “Why not include a layer of Uruz wood in the entire suit of armor?”
“If only we could,” Soman answered. “Uruz wood is extremely rare. These cuffs were made centuries ago and we have workers whose sole job it is to maintain them. It took nearly every living Uruz tree to make this many neck cuffs and only half of the suits of armor have them. There are now only two Uruz trees left in all of Todor. They are in a secret copse halfway up Zoban mountain. There are rumors of saplings not far from these two trees, but it would take another few centuries for them to be large enough to supply us with wood.”
“I see,” Keeper Sam replied just as a loud commotion began outside the armory door.
Soman ran out of the armory but before he could make sense of what he saw, a woman flung herself at him wrapping her arms tightly around him.
“Numa?” he asked, as he looked down at the woman’s head and saw an all-too-familiar shade of red.
“You’re truly well again!” she exclaimed and looked up at him, her perfect green eyes making him feel homesick.
“Thanks to you and Gemynd, the fever has not claimed my life,” he said.
Numa took a step back and looked him over from head to toe, her beautiful mouth smiling all the while. “You’ve grown,” she said, her voice sounding wistful.
Soman had spent the last few weeks focused solely on preparing for war. He had kept his mind and his heart too busy to think about things lost. But with Numa standing before him now, his heart seemed to come alive. “Holy Deis, I love you,” he said and put his hands on her cheeks, her face all but disappearing behind his enormous palms. “I’d nearly forgotten how much.”
“We will escort her to The Chief before putting her in the claustrum,” a Zobanite guard said as he walked up and grabbed hold of Numa’s upper arm.
“You will do no such thing,” Soman replied, and shuddered as he imagined Numa in one of the dingy cells of Zoban’s prison. “She is my guest here.”
“Forgive me, sir, but she is an enemy of the Zobanites not to mention she just appeared here with a few hundred Terrenes,” the guard said.
Soman wrinkled his brows and looked questioningly at Numa.
“I offered to bring them here,” she said with a shrug. “I had assumed the Zobanites would want to care for them.”
“We no longer have a Compact with Terrenes,” Soman explained. “The Chief will decide if he wants to make a new one, but the old ways died with Keeper Clary.”
“I am sorry, then,” Numa said, looking bewildered. “I was not aware of that.”
“The Chief will want to see the Empyrean,” the guard pressed, continuing to hold Numa’s arm.
“Release her and I will take her into my custody,” Soman said. “I assure you she is no threat to our people. I will notify The Chief that she is here. As for the Terrenes, we will grant them sanctuary as we have done with the survivors of Aerie. Please escort them to the Terrene sector and see that they are fed.”
The guard let go of Numa’s arm and nodded once. “Very well, sir,” he said and walked away.
“Numa! Dear Numa!” Keeper Sam exclaimed as he came running from the armory doorway. When he reached Numa, he dropped to his knees. “I am at your service.”
Numa tilted her head to the side and regarded him through narrowed eyes. “Who are you?” she asked.
“Samyga, the last Keeper of Aerie,” Sam said, still kneeling before her. “We met when you and Gemynd came to Soman’s bedside.”
“I know that,” Numa replied. “What I meant was: who are you really? You are no Keeper of Aerie as you claim to be. I never knew you there and Gemynd said you were not to be trusted.”
Soman stood quietly nearby. He understood Numa’s doubt, for he had asked the same questions of Sam when he’d first met him.
“I have only my word to offer you,” Sam said as he stood up. “I have been a member of Aerie since I was a seven and I became a Keeper there three years ago, under the direct tutelage of Keeper Clary.”
“Your word is not good enough,” Numa said, sounding eerily like Gemynd. “And how did you survive when all other Keepers perished in Aerie?”
“Numa,” Soman interrupted, brushing her arm with the back of his fingers. “I did not remember him from Aerie either, but he explained that he became a Keeper shortly after we left for training, so neither Gemynd nor I would have seen him in the Wishing Hut before then.”
“But I knew all the faces of Aerie, Keeper or not, and I don’t recall having seen his face before that night in your bedchamber. If he is truly from Aerie, he would look familiar to me,” Numa argued.
Soman took hold of her hand, noticing how it was completely engulfed by his own, and smiled. It had always been that way. Her tiny hand finding reassurance within his. “I give you my word: Sam can be trusted,” Soman said firmly, feeling a need to defend his new friend to his old one. “He has not left my side since I fell ill. It is he who administers the fairytooth and makes certain I take it on time. There is no reward in this for him. He is simply a genuine friend.”
Numa arched an eyebrow and, once again, looked at Keeper Sam. “Why have you come to care so much for Soman’s welfare? You did not know him before now.”
Keeper Sam glanced at Soman before returning his gaze to Numa, his expression becoming somber. “For three years I lived in the Wishing Hut with men who all thought of themselves as Soman’s fathers. To them, Soman was their shining star and they were relentless in their storytelling and boasting of their favorite boy. They were so thorough in their talk of Soman that I found myself forming a kinship with him despite having only seen him in p
assing a time or two. Surrounded by that much fatherly love, it was impossible for me to not come to love him as well,” Keeper Sam said, and Soman watched as his eyes filled with tears. “Then, when Aerie was destroyed, I saw firsthand why my Keeper brethren loved him so. He had more reason to grieve than anyone else there. Yet, despite his pain and despair, Soman walked the ruins of Aerie, carrying out of the ashes and mud one body after another. When I saw him deliver my mother and father to the pyre, I ran behind a pile of rubble and wept. I could not carry on in the face of grief the way Soman did. He is pure strength, like the heroes of the ancients, and I decided then that I would devote my life to serving him as I had once devoted my life to the people of Aerie.”
Soman didn’t know what to say. He had no idea that Keeper Sam felt this way and he had never before stopped to wonder why Sam had shown him such devotion. He had just assumed that Sam had been doing his job as a Keeper, and out of that a friendship had formed.
For the first time since Gemynd destroyed Aerie, Soman closed his eyes and let himself remember the aftermath. His memory was hazy from the fever, but he could easily recall the way the dead felt in his arms. Some of the bodies were stiff and some were loose, their heads lolling as though they were hardly attached. Some were large and some were tiny, the bodies of children and babies. Some were covered in ash and some covered in mud. But what Soman remembered most was that they were all cold. They were so cold that they froze a part of him and he could still feel their iciness along the length of his arms. “I do not remember your parents,” he said, opening his eyes to look at Keeper Sam. “But I wish I had known them.”
“They were fine people, as were all Aerites,” Keeper Sam replied, his eyes still shimmering with tears. He pressed his lips together in a sad smile, then wrinkled his brow in a look of concern. “You have sweat on your forehead. Your fever is returning.”
Soman wiped his brow with the back of his hand. “I am fine,” he said reflexively. “I think I am sweating from the remembering, not from the fever.”
“Still, it is nearly time for your next fairytooth dose,” Keeper Sam said and began walking up the pathway. “Let us go to your chambers at once.”
Soman looked at Numa who smiled assuringly at him. “You must do what the Keeper tells you,” she said. “You are not to go without your fairytooth.”
Soman smiled back and took her hand as they fell into a slow pace behind Keeper Sam. “You have not really seen our beautiful city of Zoban, have you?” he asked her.
“No,” Numa said, lowering her eyes. “I am, after all, an enemy of your people.”
“We will get that cleared up,” Soman assured her. “You are my friend and cannot be held accountable for the actions of others. Besides, it was you and your glinting that brought me fairytooth and saved my life.”
Numa reached up and held Soman’s face so that he could only look at her. “Soman, it is only fair that you know that I am truly an enemy to the Zobanites,” she said with conviction. “I have given great aid to the Iturtians.”
Soman clenched his teeth together, unsure how to respond. “I do not need to know such things,” he said, wishing she had not confessed to him. He knew she loved Gemynd with all her heart, but he did not want to think about which side she would choose if it came to war. “You aided Zoban tremendously, too, by ensuring my survival. Let us only think of pleasant things while you are here.”
“Your city is magnificent,” Numa said, looking around. “I can see why you’d love it here.”
“It’s not just me. Many of the Aerites are talking of staying here in Zoban,” Soman said. “Both Molly and Marta have mentioned it to me. They seem very happy here.”
Numa smiled. “It gives me Joy to know that they have found happiness again,” she said. “I would like to visit with all of them while I am here.”
“Perhaps you could be happy here, too,” he said and put his arm around her shoulders. “I think you should stay for a while and give it a try.”
They followed Keeper Sam into Soman’s chambers, walking through the grand foyer and sitting area before entering his enormous bedchamber.
“I remember this room well,” Numa said, letting her hand trail along the bedstead. “Perhaps the most frightening moments of my life.”
Soman remembered next to nothing from that time. He recalled being at the top of Zoban mountain with Archigadh and Keeper Sam, and the next thing he remembered he was waking to the prettiest green eyes in all of Todor. Soman had been told that Gemynd had been the one who brought him back to life, who forced his heart to beat once again, but he knew in his heart that it was Numa who had given him the will to survive. Seeing her face beside him when he woke reminded him that he had not lost everything; that there was still a piece of his past that was steadfast and eternal.
“Thank you for the fairytooth,” he said simply, knowing that further explanation was unnecessary. Numa looked up at him and smiled, but this time she didn’t look away as she normally did. She kept her gaze locked on his until a peculiar feeling began to stir inside him and he took a step towards her.
“Your fairytooth tea,” Keeper Sam said, his voice breaking the spell of the moment. He handed Soman a goblet then sat down on a chair beside the bed.
Soman watched as Sam shifted from one side to the other, trying to scoot back into a chair that was too high for his legs. Having gone through so much effort to be comfortable, Soman could only assume the Keeper intended to stay for a while. “Thank you, Keeper Sam,” he said and drank the tea in one swallow, while he tried to think of a tactful way to ask the Keeper to leave. It was not that he didn’t enjoy the Keeper’s company, but he wanted a chance to be alone with Numa.
“I do hope you plan to stay in Zoban for a while,” Keeper Sam said to Numa, clearly oblivious to Soman’s desires. “There are so many delightful things to see here.”
“The most delightful thing is seeing Soman on his feet,” Numa said to Sam. “Thank you for caring for him.”
“No need to thank me,” Sam said, waving his hand dismissively. “Although I would love to hear a tale of Soman’s mischief. The Keepers filled my head with stories of Soman the chaste and irreproachable. I am not fool enough to believe that he was as untarnished as they made him out to be.”
“Oh, I have tales of his mischief,” Numa said, glancing at Soman with a wicked smile. “Tales that would make your toes curl. Tales that I would never tell.”
“Surely you could tell just one,” Sam urged.
“Would you settle for a mildly mischievous tale?” Numa asked then studied Soman for several moments. Soman could feel a trail of warmth on his skin left by her gaze and he walked to the side table to distract himself with a snack of hard cheese and bread. “When we were fifteens, I overheard Soman and Gemynd arguing over who could spit the farthest. There was a part of me that always felt a bit superior to them, given that I am female, so I boastfully interrupted their conversation and said that I could spit further than either of them. That should have been the end of it, but Soman insisted on proof. He went on to say that we would have a contest and the winner would have the privilege of making the loser do one thing of his or her choosing.
“I knew the likelihood of my winning was not very high since I had never really tried spitting before, but I had bragged about my abilities and felt I had to go along with the contest. Soman took us to the edge of the cliff and pointed to a rock on the ground saying whoever got closest to the rock was the winner. Then he volunteered to go first. Of course, his spit landed right on the rock and he later confessed that he had been practicing that very thing for weeks. But before Gemynd or I even had the chance to compete, Overseer Marta came along and scolded us, forbidding us from spitting off the cliffs.
“Despite being the only competitor, Soman insisted he was the winner. Furthermore, he insisted that I was the loser. He decided his prize was making me give him a kiss.”
Soman felt his cheeks flush at the memory. “There was no question that
I won,” he said. “Even if Marta hadn’t arrived, we all knew that Gemynd would have gotten fairly close to the rock and you would have been lucky to make it over the edge.”
“Did Soman collect his prize?” Keeper Sam asked.
“Oh yes,” Numa answered. “He did not waste a single moment. He marched right up to me, grabbed my face in his hands and kissed me hard, right in front of Gemynd, Marta and everyone else.”
“As I recall, you didn’t exactly complain,” Soman said and met Numa’s gaze. Her beauty had always aroused him, but his love for her had never before run deeper than friendship. But now he wondered if it might be something more. He could easily imagine waking up to her face every morning for the rest of his life. Was he just confusing nostalgia with love or were these new feelings something real? Soman realized that he had never really allowed himself to think about it before because of Numa’s love for Gemynd. But Numa wasn’t with Gemynd now. Right now she was in Zoban with Soman. And Gemynd was nowhere around.
“Have you left him?” Soman asked without preamble as it occurred to him that something must have happened. Numa would not easily leave his side during this time of uncertainty.
Numa sighed and leaned against the bed. “Keeper Sam, would you give us some time alone?” she asked and Sam nodded politely before leaving the room.
“What has happened?” Soman asked, growing concerned.
“I did leave him,” she said. “I was confused by the things I saw in Iturtia. Maybe I still am. I don’t yet understand what to do with all of my feelings. I don’t understand who I am.”
Soman walked over to her and took her hand. “Let me help you figure it out,” he said.
Numa stood and walked to the window, but Soman could tell that her eyes saw nothing outside of it. Her focus was within her own mind. “When I left him, I went to Turiya and the Deis showed me a vision of my true desire. Radine has told me that I have the power to create that vision, to make it a reality.”
Disintegration: The Todor Trilogy, Book Two Page 13
