Unity: The Todor Trilogy, Book Three Read online

  Numa looked at Sam. “Yes, you may.”

  “I will go speak with my people then.” Gemynd turned around to face the Iturtians, then turned back. “In the excitement over finding Sam, I forgot to tell you that I encountered Ileethios and the Iturtians you fought today.”

  Numa’s brows drew together. “I am uncertain what to do with them.”

  “I told them you would send food as proof of your concern for their welfare, after which I will bring them to you so they can pledge their loyalty.”

  “Do you think they will do that?”

  Gemynd had never had his ability to direct questioned before and he was unsure how to react. “They will do as I command. They are back in the tunnels, please send them food,” he said then turned to address his people.

  “Pit Warden,” Gemynd said, seeing Tatparo at the front of the crowd. He pulled him into a brief, but firm embrace. “Thank you for leading our people so valiantly in my absence. You have honored Iturtians as well as me, and my father, who would have been proud to call you kin.”

  Tatparo bowed low. “I only fulfilled my duty as Pit Warden,” he said. “The honor to serve in that capacity was mine.”

  Gemynd smiled at the young, eager warrior. “I was right to choose you as my Warden. Tell me, how do the others fare?”

  “We lost nearly a thousand in the battle,” Tatparo began, “And another thousand fled afterward.”

  Gemynd’s heart sank. He’d known he’d lost people, but hearing the numbers made it more real. He looked past Tatparo, at the surviving Iturtians who filled the chamber. Every pair of eyes was fixed on him, waiting for a word of encouragement from their Director. “What solace can I possibly offer?” he muttered under his breath.

  “Director, you once told me that, as your Pit Warden, I am the neck and you are the head,” Tatparo reminded him. “The neck supports the head while also connecting it to the body. But is it not also the neck’s duty to guide the head? To turn it as necessary?”

  “You wish to guide me?” Gemynd asked in psychspeak so the others would not overhear. After all that had transpired, Gemynd surprised himself by feeling relieved by the thought of guidance rather than angry at Tatparo for overstepping his bounds.

  “I only wish to tell you that all of your people fought valiantly today. Even those who fought against us. Each one acted as a well-trained Iturtian warrior and we all received our training from you,” Tatparo said. “It is not necessary for you to feel that you owe any of us anything more.”

  Gemynd felt his throat constrict with emotion. “Thank you, Warden,” he said with a nod. But he did owe his people more. He owed them a Director that was up to the task. One that would do whatever was necessary for the best outcome for his people.

  “Iturtians!” he bellowed, his voice echoing off the stone chamber walls. The group before him rose to their feet. “You fought well today and followed your Pit Warden bravely. I honor each of you for facing your enemy with the courage and skill of true warriors. As Iturtians, we have each learned to pay no mind to the Ten Truths, to disregard them as nonsense. While it is true that, separately, they make no sense at all, when they are viewed as a whole, they teach the importance of Oneness. Our own people chose to disrupt the very Oneness of Iturtia today when they fought against you, against your Pit Warden and against your queen. Hear me now as I tell you that they are to be forgiven. The Oneness of our people must be restored!”

  A din of grumbling filled the chamber. Gemynd understood their discontent. He was asking them to befriend the very people they had just fought in battle. He would allow them a moment to complain about it.

  “Our Director is right!” a young female warrior shouted near the front of the crowd. “A divided Iturtia is no Ituria at all!”

  “I am willing to forgive for the sake of Oneness,” another called.

  “The lost Iturtians are still our kin,” said yet another. “Let us find them and bring them home.”

  “We are all Iturtians!” several shouted at once.

  Gemynd nodded as his people agreed to see things as he did, and Tatparo smiled at him.

  Then a young male warrior stepped from the crowd. “But Director, who do we serve?” he asked, his eyes filled with confusion. “Do we serve you, our Director, or Numa, our queen?”

  Gemynd thought for a moment how to best answer this question. “Oneness answers this question as well,” he said to the boy. “I pledge to you, and to all Iturtians, that I will be of one mind with Queen Numa so that you may never have to choose.”

  A collective gasp ran through the crowd as though they had never expected Gemynd to relinquish his power. But he did not feel that he was relinquishing anything. He was filled with a sense of honor at the thought of following Numa. In case his people had any lingering doubts, he decided to make it official.

  Gemynd turned around and found Numa standing not far behind him. She was radiant, even in the dark, musty dungeon. His heart soared at the sight of her and he wanted to pull her into his arms and kiss her passionately. He was filled with a deep sense of pride that she was his wife, his beloved. Instead of rushing to her, however, he solemnly lowered his head and went down on one knee. “Empyrean Numa, most rightful ruler of all of Todor, I pledge to you my fealty, my devotion, my service and my protection. I am at your feet, your loyal servant.”

  The crowd of Iturtians followed Gemynd’s lead and kneeled before their queen, pledging to follow her.

  “Thank you for your loyalty. I shall always work to be worthy of it.” Numa took Gemynd’s hand and gently tugged him to his feet. “Gemynd, may I speak with you in private counsel?”

  Gemynd followed her into a dark side chamber and, as it became too dark to see a thing, he felt her hand reach back for his. As their fingers touched, the room was illuminated. Gemynd blinked against the sudden light until his eyes adjusted. “Aerie,” he said with a smile when he recognized where she’d taken them. They stood in the tall, soft snakegrass by the edge of the lake, the Baldaquin tree sheltering them from above.

  Numa held on to Gemynd’s hand, but stood a good distance away and kicked her toe at the tufts of grass. She had donned herself in a simple yellow kirtle and even wore a white scarf on her head. She was every bit the Aerite once again. “I had been so afraid of your reaction,” she said, her face turned down.

  “You feared I would fight you for the crown,” Gemynd replied.

  Numa shrugged. “Mostly I feared you would not trust me to lead.”

  Gemynd reached out and lifted her chin with his fingers, forcing her to look in his eyes. “I trust you to do what’s best for Todor.” She smiled in response, but there was still an awkwardness between them.

  Gemynd bent down and plucked a few strands of grass. He held them up by Numa’s face, comparing their color with her eyes. “Yep. They still match,” he teased. “Queen Grass Eyes has a nice ring to it.”

  Numa playfully swatted him away. “I do not think of myself as your queen,” she said, turning serious. “I do not rule alone. As far as I’m concerned, we rule together. You, me and Soman. Todor needs us together.”

  “Soman and I will be at your side as long as you’ll have us,” Gemynd replied. “But the people need to think that you, alone, are the ruler. At least for now. At least while we mend what has been broken.”

  “Agreed,” Numa said, her eyes looking off towards the horizon.

  “I wish I had your ability to heal.” Gemynd took a step closer to her. “I would heal you of any trauma, shock and guilt that plagues your heart after today’s battle. And after the way I treated you when Golath died. I wish I had protected you from all of it.”

  Numa slipped her arms around Gemynd’s waist and leaned against him, her head resting on his shoulder. “While the battle was happening, it was the most wretched thing I’ve ever endured. I, too, wished to be protected from it. But now that it is over, I
feel strengthened by it. All of it. I know that every choice I made, including killing Hildegaard, was necessary. I know that every drop of blood that fell on that battlefield made me wiser. I don’t wish to ever experience any of it again, but my heart is well, my love.”

  “You are a marvel to me,” Gemynd said, bringing his hand up to the back of her neck. “Life does not scar you. I am envious of that, my love. I still carry the guilt of every life I have taken and the grief of all that I have lost. It erodes me from the inside. As my queen, perhaps you can teach me your ways so that I may one day heal my own heart.”

  “I told you that I don’t think of myself as your queen. But as your wife, I pledge all that I am to bringing Joy to your heart.”

  Gemynd brushed Numa’s hair off of her forehead and kissed her there. “I think I rather enjoy seeing you as my queen. Some of my favorite moments in life were when you were in charge.”

  Numa lifted her head and, at last, gave Gemynd a real smile. “You’re right. There are some benefits to my being your queen. After all, I did rather enjoy seeing you down on your knee before me.”

  Gemynd smiled back with half his mouth. “I believe it is now my sworn duty to serve you on my knees,” he said, his eyes focused on her mouth. “That is, of course, when you’re not serving me on yours.”

  Numa’s eyes turned a shade darker. “May I serve you now?”

  Gemynd pulled her roughly against his body and pressed her back to the Baldaquin tree. He covered her mouth with his, eager to taste her. “My beloved wife, you are everything to me,” he whispered as he moved his mouth down her neck.

  Numa slid down the trunk of the tree until they were laying in the soft grass. “Come into me, my love,” she said the moment she made their clothing disappear.

  But Gemynd wanted to savor every second of their time alone together. With Numa as queen now, he knew these occasions would be rare. He wanted to put his attention on every inch of his skin as it touched hers. “Our love has endured so much,” he said as he kissed her between her breasts.

  “It will endure forever,” Numa answered, then rolled over and straddled Gemynd. She looked into his eyes and smiled before bending down to kiss him.

  “I love you, Numa.” Gemynd’s entire body quaked as Numa took him inside of her.

  “And I love you,” she said, moving her hips in a rhythm so familiar it felt like the only home Gemynd had ever known.

  His breath quickened and when he felt dangerously close to climax, he grabbed Numa under the arms and rolled her to her back. Gemynd kissed her lower belly, then bit the inside of her thighs before burying his face between them.

  Numa arched her back and almost immediately began to convulse with pleasure, gasping with every touch of Gemynd’s tongue. When her first climax was passing, Gemynd moved his mouth back up the length of her body and hovered over her, bracing himself on his elbows.

  “Close your eyes,” she whispered.

  Gemynd did as he was told and felt the air grow suddenly cool around them.

  “Open them now.” Numa smiled at him and Gemynd gasped to see that they were now surrounded by a thick, white mist. But the mist was moving, running over their bodies at tremendous speed. Then, suddenly, the mist vanished and Gemynd saw that they were up in the air, flying high above the land of Todor.

  For a moment, Gemynd’s rational mind took over and he feared they would fall to their deaths. “It’s glinting,” Numa reassured him. If there was one thing Gemynd never doubted, it was Numa’s amazing glinting powers. “Have you ever climaxed while flying?”

  “Not in a literal sense.” Gemynd’s entire body became aroused as he thought of the sensation.

  “Me neither.” Numa guided Gemynd’s erection inside her once again. “Let’s give it a try.”

  Gemynd groaned with ecstasy. He was the luckiest man in Todor. “As you please, my queen,” he said.

  Part Two

  Revelation

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Soman

  Soman spotted Keeper Sam on the far side of the dungeon chamber. He was no longer confined to the cell, but had not yet ventured far from it. The tiny man looked just like a lost child. He had no Keepers to commune with and didn’t belong with the group of Iturtians, despite being one of them.

  “Looks like we’re the odd men out,” Soman said as he approached him.

  Keeper Sam looked up at Soman and a smile broke out on his face that stretched from ear to ear. “I feared you may never speak to me again,” he said. “That you, too, believed I had killed Golath. I couldn’t care less about not fitting in with those Iturtians, but I was loathe to think I could no longer call you friend.”

  “You will always be my friend. Truly, I am relieved that at least our friendship remains the same when it seems all else has changed.”

  Sam chuckled and glanced mischievously at the crowd of Iturtians. “I don’t believe all else has changed.” He lifted the corner of an old blanket by his feet, revealing an untouched tray of food. “I saved this one for you.”

  Soman let himself laugh loudly and it felt like a healing balm on his heart. After all he’d endured that day, a good laugh was just the remedy he needed. Soman knew that Numa could create as much food as any of them could ever want, but Sam reserving a tray for Soman was a pointed gesture of friendship. Besides, Soman was ravenous and Numa was nowhere in sight.

  Soman rubbed his hands together eagerly. “You are a true friend, Keeper Sam,” he said and picked up the tray. He made short work of five roasted bird legs and a loaf of herbed bread, then offered the tray back to Sam.

  Sam picked up a small piece of meat and a slice of merryfruit. “Thank you,” he said and proceeded to eat it so slowly that Soman had cleared the rest of the tray before he had finished.

  “I needed that.” Soman stretched and rubbed his belly. “Thank you, Sam.”

  “You are welcome,” Sam replied, then picked up one the books from the small stack that Gemynd perused earlier. “I want you to take this book back to Zoban.”

  “Is that the one Gemynd said was too old to be opened?”

  “Yes,” Sam answered plainly. “It is an irreplaceable work of knowledge, a treasure for all of Todor. But it was written by and for Zobanites and you should have it. The legends say it can teach Zobanites how to strengthen their wills.”

  Soman took the book and a wave of sorrow passed through him. “You’ll have to deliver it without me. I am no longer welcome in Zoban.”

  “Surely that is not true. You are the leader of the forces. The son of the Chief.”

  “Archigadh blames Numa for the battle today. I tried to reason with him, but when it came down to it, I chose Numa over being a Zobanite. Still, if this book can truly teach all Zobanites to strengthen their wills, someone must take it to them.”

  Sam nodded, then abruptly put his hands out in front of him as though he’d lost his balance. “The poison I was given must still be causing dizziness.” He pressed his fingers to his temples. “Though I felt fine a few moments ago.”

  Soman noticed that Sam’s skin was pale and, even in the dim light, he could see a bluish line around his lips. “Numa is not here to heal you,” he said, drawing his brows together. “Please don’t take an illness now.”

  Sam tried to smile. “This is too sudden to be illness.” He inhaled brokenly, his eyes searching the room. “There is too much coughing among the others.”

  Soman looked out at the crowd of Iturtians. Sam was right. Many of them were coughing and most had taken to lying down on the ground. “Can you summon Numa?” he asked, feeling desperate. He had no idea what to do with a room full of people in need of healing.

  “There is not enough air in here,” Sam choked. “This dungeon was never designed to hold this many people. Open that door and help the people into the tunnel. We must find a source of fresh air.”

  Soma
n jumped up and pulled open the enormous iron door. He looked over his shoulder and saw Tatparo soothing Toa through a coughing fit. “Give me the child,” he said and took Toa into his arms. “I’m going to scout down the tunnel for larger chambers. Help Sam get the rest of the people into the tunnel.”

  Soman moved quickly into the tunnel, looking down at Toa as her eyelids slid closed. Her lips and fingers were a dark blue. “Breathe child,” Soman coaxed. “There is more air in this tunnel.”

  As Soman moved further down the tunnel, he realized he had failed to grab an oil lamp from the dungeon and would soon be in complete darkness. He stopped to think about what he would do next when he heard a loud crack and, suddenly, the ground beneath his feet gave way.

  “Scitte,” he whispered and cradled Toa against his body, bracing himself for a hard landing as he fell.

  Soman bounced on his backside, relieved the fall had not been more than twenty hands. He kept Toa tight in his arms, afraid to move at all because he was now in total blackness. For all he knew, he was perched on a ledge over a pit of hungry felitaurs. As he sat there, however, he realized the air around him was cold, and moving. “There’s a draft down here!” he shouted, not sure if anyone above could hear him. “Sam! Tatparo! Bring a light. I’ve found fresh air.”

  Tatparo’s face suddenly appeared above Soman, illuminated by a lamp in his hand. “Are you well, Soman? How is Toa?”

  “I am fine,” Soman answered. “Toa is alive. Pass down the lamp so I can see her face.”

  Soman watched Tatparo move the lamp around in the hole above. “There is a ladder here,” Tatparo said. “I’ll bring the lamp down and test the ladder’s strength. If it holds, we will bring the others down.”

  Tatparo climbed down, followed immediately by Sam who carried a second lamp. Both of them held their lamps aloft and bent low to examine Toa. The child blinked at the light and smiled. “Thank the Deis.” Tatparo exhaled loudly and pulled his sister into his arms.