Disintegration: The Todor Trilogy, Book Two Read online

  Copyright © 2014 Jenna Newell Hiott

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  ISBN: 1505838045

  ISBN 13: 9781505838046

  With deep, humble Gratitude, I dedicate this book to my family.

  To my ancestors: all those who came before, whose lives and experiences were necessary to create my present moment, I am eternally honored and grateful.

  To my parents who were the first to show me what true love looks like, and who gave me the seeds to grow my sense of self.

  To Darcy and Diana, my sisters and best friends.

  To Rob, my son, and the most extraordinary human ever.

  And to Jesse, whom I would choose as my family a million times again.

  as written in The Book of Life for the Land of Todor and all its Inhabitants, Given to them by their Creators, the Deis

  I. ANYTHING THAT CAN MOVE HAS LIFE.

  II. IT IS THE BREATH OF THE DEIS THAT ANIMATES ALL LIFE AND THIS LIFEFORCE IS CALLED JOY.

  III. EVERY LIFE IS AN EXPRESSION OF THE DEIS.

  IV. ALL EXPRESSIONS OF THE DEIS ARE SACRED AND EQUAL.

  V. THE DEIS GIFTED ALL OF LIFE WITH THE POWER OF CHOICE.

  VI. SUFFERING IS NOT NECESSARY AND IS A RESULT OF CHOICE.

  VII. MAKING ANY CHOICE THAT DISRUPTS THE ONENESS OF LIFE BRINGS SUFFERING.

  VIII. TO EXERT POWER OVER ANOTHER OR TO TAKE POWER FROM ANOTHER OR TO GIVE UP YOUR OWN POWER IS TO MAKE A CHOICE THAT DISRUPTS THE ONENESS OF LIFE.

  IX. TO INTERFERE WITH ANOTHER’S PURPOSE IS TO MAKE A CHOICE THAT DISRUPTS THE ONENESS OF LIFE.

  X . MAKING ANY CHOICE THAT SUSTAINS THE ONENESS OF LIFE BRINGS JOY.

  CONTENTS

  PART ONE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  PART TWO

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  PART THREE

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  PART FOUR

  CHAPTER TEN

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Soman

  A thick coating of blood made Soman’s hands feel cold and sticky, yet all he could do was stare at them. Brief thoughts flittered through his mind. He could scream. He could weep. He could beat his head against the ground. He could run like mad until the world was nothing but a blur behind him. But none of those things would bring him even a moment of solace. So he simply stared at his hands.

  The blood was thicker in some places, making patterns and lines on his palms. A particularly dark patch had pooled just beneath his fingers, and Soman forced his attention there, noting how it appeared to have tiny red waves on its surface. He refused to notice what went on around him. He ignored the smell of smoke and dust that clouded the air. He did not hear the cries of anguish and pleas for help that came from every direction. And he certainly would not acknowledge The Ancestor’s headless body lying perfectly still on the ground beside him.

  Soman knew that if he looked away from his hands he would have to face what he’d done. He would have to see the destruction of Aerie and acknowledge the betrayal he never imagined was possible.

  Without warning, a small, childlike, pair of hands appeared above his own, then wrapped around Soman’s bloodied fingers.

  “Do not despair, Soman of Aerie,” he heard an unfamiliar voice say. “Remember the tenth Truth: Any choice that sustains the Oneness of Life brings Joy. You are in need of Joy now, as are all Aerites today.”

  Caught off guard by the stranger’s words, Soman allowed himself to look up from his hands. When he did, he found a pair of round, dark eyes peering back at him, and they were set in the face of an imp-like creature Soman had never seen before.

  “I am Keeper Samyga,” the stranger said in the voice of a full-grown man despite the fact that he looked entirely like a child. “But most call me Keeper Sam.”

  “Keeper Sam?” Soman asked and swallowed, noticing for the first time that there was an uncomfortable feeling inside his throat. It was dry and fiery, as though he had inhaled hot sand. Ignoring it, he asked, “How can you be a Keeper?”

  “Because I appear too young?” the stranger asked in reply.

  Soman nodded slowly. “Partly. Also because I’ve never seen you before,” he answered. “I know all the Keepers of Aerie. I was raised by them.”

  “You were gone from Aerie for quite some time,” the strange Keeper replied. “I studied directly under Elder Keeper Clary and made my Vow of Abstaining during your absence. I am certain you have seen me before, perhaps at the Eating House or under the Baldaquin, but you likely mistook me for a young child. Not to worry. It is a common occurrence, for most of my body stopped its growing when I was but a nine. My mind, however, is that of a twenty-five. So, you see, I am, in fact, older than you.”

  Soman cleared his throat against the burn that clawed at the back of it. “I see,” he said dismissively and lowered his gaze back to his hands, his interest in the little man waning as the tragedy around him pushed at his awareness. He hoped the Keeper would realize that he needed to be left alone.

  But Keeper Sam simply squeezed Soman’s fingers tighter. “May I help you remember the tenth Truth? May I help you rise from your despair?”

  Soman allowed his eyes to slip closed in an attempt to make the pestering Keeper disappear. But it was a wretched mistake. For seared on the inside of his eyelids were images of Aerie falling: wounded, broken people running with their arms outstretched in a desperate attempt to grasp any form of help in their path; Keeper Clary, The Ancestor, struggling to his feet from the pile of rubble that had been The Wishing Hut; and Soman’s own strong, massive hands picking up an axe that had appeared from nowhere. Then, over and over again, he saw the axe come down on Keeper Clary’s neck. “What use is my strength if I have no will? I am but a puppet for those who wish to cause harm. And I am too blind to see an enemy within one who appeared to be my friend,” he said, feeling a tingly sensation prickle his toes then run up the backs of his legs. Soman shook his head and forced his eyes open, taking refuge in the sight of his bloody hands once again.

  “Your strength is of great use,” Keeper Sam replied. “Never forget that. It is a gift from the Deis and it will serve Todor just as the strength of your Zobanite father has before you. Truly, there can be no peace without strength.”

  “Leave me be,” Soman snarled through clenched teeth. “You do not understand what has happened.”

  “On the contrary. I believe I have a clear understanding of what has happened, and I likely understand it even better than you,” Keeper Sam said in a scolding tone. “Now, let us recall the Truths together.”

  “I have little use for the Truths,” Soman muttered. “What I know is that The Ancestor lies dead before me. Despite the fact that I could easily pick him up and move him, he has no Life as the first Truth would have me believe. He is dead. I also know that I have not been gifted with the power of choice despite the fifth Truth claiming otherwise. I did not choose to kill and that is exactly what I have done.”

  “Because you are perceiving through your despair, dear Soman,” Keeper Sam said in a tone that a father would use to soothe his son. “Let us only focus on the tenth Truth for now.”

  Soman felt a chill pass through him, causing his entire body to tremble of its own accord. “What would you have me do?” he asked, hoping to appease the Keeper so he would leave him alone.
/>
  “Make a choice to sustain Oneness,” Keeper Sam replied. “For the tenth Truth tells us that is what will bring Joy.”

  “What choice can I make that will sustain Oneness?” Soman asked.

  “That’s the beautiful part in all of this,” Keeper Sam said and made a noise that sounded like chuckling. “It is entirely up to you. Where there is nothing, there can be anything. The possibilities are endless of what you can create.”

  “I don’t understand,” Soman said and exhaled loudly.

  “Look at me, Soman,” Keeper Sam said and squeezed his fingers again. “Aerie is gone. Your home is gone. Your teachers are gone and, yes, your ancestor is gone. Let yourself mourn; grieve for what you’ve lost, but let go of guilt and blame for these only serve to disrupt Oneness. And when you are able, step back and see that all of Todor is now like a blank parchment or an unmolded piece of clay. With the queen’s death, Todor lost its ruler. With the destruction of Aerie, Todor lost its wealth. And with the end of Keeper Clary, Todor lost its history. Todor has a chance to start completely anew. Perhaps it is time to choose to create a land free of boundaries between the different types of glinters, for enemies only exist as history dictates. With the land’s history gone, there are no enemies. Perhaps it is time to choose to create a land free of servitude of any kind. And perhaps it is time to choose to create a land free of deception and secrets.”

  Soman stared at Keeper Sam’s innocent face as endless possibilities swam through his mind, making him feel dizzy. “Perhaps I would choose to create Todor exactly as it was before,” he said, wishing for it with his whole heart. If only everything was as it had been before Aerie’s time of isolation, before he knew anything about glinting. If only he could return to a time when he, Gemynd and Numa spent their days in harmony together; a time when they had no notion of separation, but only knew that they were better together.

  Suddenly an image of Gemynd seemed to appear in the blood on Soman’s hands. A twisted, menacing grin on his face. Gemynd’s voice still echoed through Soman’s mind saying, “Kill Keeper Clary. Kill the Ancestor.” And Soman felt his blood begin to boil.

  “No,” he growled in a voice that sounded like a stranger’s. “I would choose to create Todor without any Iturtians. If the power of choice was truly mine, I would choose to use my strength to destroy Iturtia, to eradicate every last Iturtian like the vermin that they are. I would choose to crush them between these two hands. And I would start with Gemynd.”

  Soman looked up from his hands and met the eyes of Keeper Sam. He had expected to find repulsion within them, but instead they seemed to sparkle with acceptance.

  “Perhaps,” Keeper Sam agreed and raised his brows. “But it is difficult for us to choose wisely when we are in pain, for we usually choose whatever will alleviate the pain most quickly. This is not always the best choice. So do not choose now. Let your heart heal some first. Then if that is still the Todor you wish to create, I will help you.”

  Now Soman felt his own eyebrows rise. A Keeper offering to help destroy life? Who was this strange boy-man? And where had he come from? Had he lived his whole life in Aerie as he said? Before Soman had a chance to ask any of his questions aloud, an enormous shadow engulfed him and he felt the pressure of a giant, loving hand upon his back.

  “There is work to be done now, son,” Archigadh said in what was surely meant to be a quiet voice, but it rumbled low like distant thunder.

  Soman forced himself to stand, and wiped his hands on the hem of his garment. Slowly, he looked up into his father’s eyes and shuddered when he saw pain deep within them. Aerie had once been Archigadh’s home too. And with Keeper Clary’s death, Chief Archigadh became the oldest member of The Ancestor Clan. He’d lost his past in so many ways. “I cannot undo what I have done,” Soman said, hating himself for causing any of the pain he saw in his father’s eyes. “I would give anything if I could, but I can’t. All I can promise is that I will do what I can to put things aright. Can you ever forgive me?”

  Archigadh gave Soman a sad smile. “Son, there is nothing to forgive. You are blameless,” he said.

  “But I killed The Ancestor,” Soman said, confused that his father would be so quick to forgive. “The history of the Zobanites is gone.”

  “Does the man who falls in battle blame the sword which cut him?” Archigadh asked then shook his head. “No. For it is only the fault of the man who wielded the sword. Iturtians have used Zobanites to kill Zobanites since the beginning of time. You must forgive yourself for this so that you can more easily forgive your kin should they ever be used as weapons against you.” Then Archigadh pulled Soman tightly against his immense chest.

  Soman sighed and fought back the tears that burned his eyes as he let himself rest in the perfect safety of his father’s arms. There was so much strength there, he wondered if it was possible for even the great Archigadh to fall victim to an Iturtian’s mind tricks. But Soman knew the answer. Although Archigadh could crush a castle wall with one blow of his fist, he could do nothing to protect his own mind from an invasion. “We must defeat the Iturtians once and for all,” Soman said. “They must never be allowed to control others this way again.”

  “Aye, lad,” Archigadh replied simply and released Soman from his embrace. “But first there is work to be done here.”

  Finally, Soman allowed himself to look around; to gaze upon the destruction that had once been his home. There was nothing left. The earthen domes that had been the Sleeping Houses had all crumbled and returned to the dirt from which they came. The Wishing Hut was now just a pile of smoldering ashes, and every other structure had been washed away when the mine caved in underneath the lake. All around, in the mud and dust and ashes, were corpses. Men, women, children, animals and the Baldaquin Tree, all unmoving upon the ground.

  “So many dead,” Soman muttered with wonder.

  Archigadh pressed his lips together and patted Soman on the back. Then he turned to address the crowd. “Zobanites!” he bellowed. “It is our duty to care for Terrenes, both living and dead. There is much to be done here today. Women, care for the living. Men, look after the dead.”

  Following Archigadh’s lead, Soman set to gathering up the bodies. One-by-one they lifted them from the muck, carried them to the edge of the mantle grove and gently laid them in a line. At first Soman tried to ignore the familiarity of the faces and focus only on the task at hand. But that soon proved impossible. These were the people he had grown up with. They were the people of his home. They were his family. He carried the trampled, broken body of Saran the Weaver; the drowned and bloating bodies of all three of the butcher’s sons; the torn and bleeding body of Bronty the Strong who had been his good friend at the oil press. Each body he carried brought a lifetime of memories to the fore. And so, unable to stop it, Soman wept as he worked.

  He made his way around the perimeter of what had once been Aerie, collecting the dead, and hoping with all his might that someone else was gathering them from what had been the Wishing Hut. How could he bear to see death upon his beloved Keepers? They were his first fathers and he had loved every one of them. Soman felt a gnawing sensation swim around in his stomach as he thought of Keeper Stout. Surely he had survived. For what would Todor be like without him? No one could carry on without Keeper Stout’s living example of true Joy.

  As he laid a woman’s body down in the ever-growing line of dead, Soman looked to the smoldering ruins of the Wishing Hut. Against all the warnings in his mind, he allowed himself to truly hope that he would find Keeper Stout alive there. He approached it slowly, warily moving blackened remnants of timber with his foot. Under one of the larger boards, limbs bent as if in a crawling position, was the unmistakable charred remains of a human. The jaws wide open, frozen in a perpetual scream.

  “They are all gone,” Soman heard the now-familiar voice of Keeper Sam say from behind him. “I am the only remaining Keeper of Aerie.”

  Soman stared, unmoving, at the burned corpse. Could it be Ke
eper Stout? “Everyone looks the same by their bones,” he murmured aloud.

  “Indeed,” Keeper Sam agreed.

  Suddenly Soman was gripped by a sensation he’d never known before. His head pounded as though it was being smashed between the stones of the oil press. His heart stampeded in his chest. And the gnawing in his stomach grew worse and worse until, unexpectedly, Soman doubled over and vomited. He was shocked by the strength and violence of it, having never vomited before in his life.

  “Soman!” Keeper Sam shouted and rushed to his side, pulling on his arm as he tried to keep him upright. But the tiny man was no match for a Zobanite’s mass and Soman collapsed into the embers of the Wishing Hut.

  Soman felt the sting of the hot coals as they burned into his skin, but he did not try to move from them. He knew he would heal, and he found it easier to focus on those points of physical pain rather than feel his broken heart. But he did not enjoy the reprieve for long, because he was suddenly lifted into the air and carried across the remains of Aerie to the foot of the waterfall.

  “No shame in grief, lad,” Archigadh said as he propped Soman up against the fallen trunk of the Baldaquin tree. “Each of us feels it in his own way, but, even in the midst of it, you must always find your way to keep going.”

  Soman ground his teeth together, fighting back the anguish that threatened to destroy him. He swallowed rapidly, feeling something within him trying to force its way out of his mouth. He was unsure if it was sickness or a scream, but he refused to lose control to it.

  “Come here, let me hold you as I did when you were a boy,” Soman heard a woman’s voice say next to him. For a moment, he let himself hope it was Numa, her love and friendship returning to lift them all from the ashes. To feel the sweet calm of her presence would be like a healing potion on his heart. But she, too, was gone.

  “I am alone,” he said aloud as he opened his eyes and saw Overseer Marta crouched next to him, her arms open wide.

  In an instant, Soman was a seven once again and he fell willingly into her arms. Marta had been his first mother when Aerie was all he knew. Now here she was, holding the child once again. Somewhere in the back of Soman’s mind, he recognized the strangeness of the small, scarred Iturtian woman holding the robust Zobanite. But right now they were both just Aerites and they needed each other.