Gemynd closed his eyes and tried to nudge Numa’s mind. But the spiderwebs kept his own mind locked tight. “We will have to find her without the use of glinting,” he said, testing his muscles by pushing himself away from the wall. “Where exactly were you to meet her?”
“She told me to follow the tunnel all the way down to the dungeon and she, and the others, would be there waiting for us,” Soman said. “It sounded easy enough until I realized there was not just one tunnel. Every few paces there is a new fork, a new branch, a new choice to be made.”
Gemynd tried nudging Numa’s mind again, to no avail. “Can you recall exactly which turns you took to get here?” He hoped for an obvious clue for finding their way to the dungeon.
Soman shrugged. “I took a staircase down from what had been the inside of the keep until it ended at a tunnel. I walked down the tunnel and every time there was a choice I took the one that seemed to be heading in a downward direction.”
Gemynd took the oil lamp from Soman and held it high. He looked one way down the tunnel, then the other. He had no idea which way to choose, so he simply started walking. Just as Soman had said, the tunnel branched every few feet. Gemynd decided if he always took the left branch, he would be able to find his way back if necessary.
Gemynd stopped when they arrived at a branch that looked familiar. “All we are doing is moving in circles, making no progress at all,” he said. “It is probably wisest for us to be still and wait for the effects of the tea to wear off completely. It appears we cannot reach our destination without Numa taking us there.”
“I agree,” Soman said and sat down on the ground. “I hope you get your faculties back soon. I am famished. The sooner I get to Numa, the sooner she can manifest a tray of roasted bird and dumplings for me. Or perhaps I will request a pile of flame-cooked meats and mashed stercan root.”
Gemynd smiled, feeling comforted by the consistency of Soman’s appetite. He had been hungry since the day they were born. Suddenly, the sounds of footsteps and voices speaking in frantic, hushed whispers came from the tunnel behind them. Soman jumped to his feet and Gemynd stood next to him. Gemynd bent his knees, ready to fight though he hoped he would not have to. He still found movement to be a great effort.
Then Ileethios emerged from around the bend, followed by a band of tattered, blood-soaked Iturtians.
“Ileethios?” Gemynd asked, tilting his head to one side.
Ileethios met Gemynd’s gaze, but his attention immediately went to Soman. He shrieked like a startled child and spun around, stumbling head first into the tunnel wall.
“Do not be afraid,” Soman said quickly, raising his hands. “I am not going to harm any of you.”
Gemynd wrinkled his eyebrows in confusion as he pulled Ileethios to his feet. Ileethios’ palm was sticky and the smell of blood wafted up from his clothing. “What has happened?” he asked. “Why are you covered in blood?”
Now Ileethios looked confused. “You do not know of the battle, Director?” he asked.
The battle. Gemynd remembered hearing it while he dreamt of his father.
“The Zobanites made war against us,” Ileethios said, his eyes darting at Soman and back.
Soman stepped forward and put his hand on Gemynd’s shoulder. “Listen to me, brother, before you react with your usual fury.” Gemynd felt his eyes narrow and his jaw clench. “When the tea put you to sleep, you stopped controlling the minds of the people.”
“And the Zobanites made war,” Ileethios finished.
“They did not make war, they merely readied for a fight,” Soman answered. “They were frightened and angry.”
Gemynd looked again at the blood on Ileethios’ face and clothing. Whose blood was it? He looked down the tunnel at the group of ragged Iturtians standing there. He was the Director of these people. Their welfare was his responsibility. And, clearly, he had failed them. “You rendered me useless then did nothing to stop a war?” he asked Soman, trying to keep his voice from sounding like a growl. He truly did not want to start another fight with his friend, but he could feel his anger warming dangerously close to the surface.
“I was rendered useless, too, Gemynd, or I promise you I would have stopped it,” Soman said, and Gemynd was surprised to hear emotion thick in his voice. “I did not want war. I have never wanted war. My soldiers drew their weapons and I could do nothing to help them, so I urged them to fight, to protect themselves. Zobanites paid dearly for their choices today.”
Gemynd saw tears fill Soman eyes, and his heart surged with sympathy. But his mind buzzed loudly with questions. “What was the outcome of the battle?” he asked aloud to anyone willing to answer. “Are you the only surviving Iturtians? Is Numa safe and unharmed?”
“Numa is well,” Ileethios said with a sneer. “She split Iturtia in two and made us enemies of our own people. Then she killed Hildegaard and we had no choice but to flee. A great wind began and we remembered the tunnels under the city and found our way here.”
Gemynd glanced at Soman for confirmation.
“Numa did not cause the split in Iturtia, Hildegaard did. Numa did what she could for Todor.” Soman’s voice grew louder as he spoke. “It was all of you who aligned with Hildegaard that killed my family. If I had not so recently made a promise to help Numa restore peace, I would kill you all where you stand.”
“Peace will not be restored in Todor until there is an Iturtian on the throne!” Ileethios cowered as soon as he’d said the words.
Gemynd had heard enough to put the pieces of what happened together. “Ileethios, you have always been a fool and a poor excuse for an Iturtian. You will stand down now and follow Numa as your queen.” Gemynd looked at the crowd of Iturtians behind him. “That goes for all of you as well.”
“After what we’ve seen, how can you expect us to follow Numa? How can you expect us to face her? We saw her kill Hildegaard. We know what she will do to us. You are our Director. Protect us now when we need you.”
Gemynd felt a pang of sympathy as he looked out at these lost Iturtians. He could see that each and every one of them was desperately afraid. “I give you my word as your Director that no harm will come to you if you obey me, and pledge your loyalty to Numa as your queen. You have clearly been through a great ordeal today and I do not wish to cause you more suffering. Stay here and rest. Tend to your wounds. When I find her, I will ask Numa to prove her concern for your welfare by creating nourishment for all of you. Then, when I come back for you, you will pledge your obedience to her.”
“We will do as you say, Director,” Ileethios said, looking relieved to have a chance to rest.
“While you sit here and recover, take time to remember that you are not at the mercy of your emotions, you are not a victim of your fear. You are in control of your thoughts, and your mind is a very powerful tool. In other words, take time to remember that you are Iturtian.”
Ileethios nodded and Gemynd decided to try nudging Numa’s mind again. The sooner he could mend the peace among his people, the better. At last, his mind worked as it should and Numa agreed to bring them to the dungeon.
Gemynd and Soman suddenly stood in another tunnel. It looked generally the same as the other tunnels they’d walked through, but the temperature was much warmer and the scent of ancient decay hung thick in the air. There was an enormous iron grate door in the tunnel wall across from them and Numa stood tall before it. She was dressed in Iturtian breeches and black, leather armor. Her hair was pulled back and a longknife hung from the belt on her hips. She was every inch the Iturtian warrior and Gemynd felt a rush of pride.
“Gemynd,” she said in an exhale, then fell against him, her arms coming around his neck.
Gemynd wrapped his arms tightly around her and pressed his lips against the top of her head. Her hair was caked with dried blood, reminding Gemynd of what she’d so recently been through. He pulled back and looked into her eye
s. “You killed Hildegaard,” he said, searching her face for the torment of guilt that she would surely be feeling.
“Do not be angry, my love,” she said, lifting her chin. “I gave her every opportunity to back down. Her death was for the good of Todor.”
“I am not angry,” Gemynd answered. “I know what it means to kill, and my only concern is for your wellbeing.” But he could tell by looking at her, that he needn’t be worried. Numa bore no trace of the guilt that Gemynd seemed destined to carry forever.
“I have been worried sick about you, lying unconscious up there.” She touched his cheek before looking over his shoulder at Soman. “Thank you for keeping him safe and bringing him to me.”
“We are here now, ready to follow your lead.” Gemynd held on to her hand as she leaned back.
“You trust me to be your queen?”
Gemynd nodded and smiled, glad to be reunited with her.
“Your trust in me will be tested as soon as you walk through this door,” Numa said, pursing her lips.
A knot tightened in Gemynd’s stomach. He was ready to prove his trust if need be, but something about her tone made him cringe. “What will I see?” He did not want any surprises.
Numa looked again at Soman and drew him forward to stand next to Gemynd. “Come, Soman, you may as well hear this too.”
Soman sighed. “Surely there has been enough tumult for one day.”
Numa rubbed her hands together, letting her shoulders sag slightly. “I do not believe Keeper Sam killed Golath,” she said and the knot in Gemynd’s gut pulled ever tighter.
“You’ve found Sam,” Gemynd surmised.
Numa nodded and Gemynd looked beyond her at the iron door. He could feel that Keeper Sam was just on the other side. Gemynd gritted his teeth so tightly together, he was certain they would crack.
“You found Sam?” Soman repeated. “Is he here? I want to speak with him.”
“Yes, I want to speak with him too,” Gemynd said, trying not to sound as murderous as he felt.
“First you must listen to me,” Numa said, blocking their way through the door. “Keeper Sam could not have killed Golath. I found him unconscious, near death, locked in a cell in the dungeon. He had clearly been there for some time. I had to heal him or he would have died. Someone poisoned him too.”
“I will decide whether or not he killed Golath after I’ve spoken to him,” Gemynd insisted.
Numa placed a hand on his chest. “Promise me you won’t harm him.”
Gemynd bit down on his lip. “I promise I won’t hurt him until after I’ve made my determination. If he is as innocent as you say, then I will know it.”
“Very well,” Numa said, stepping aside.
Gemynd pushed through the iron door. He was vaguely aware of a crowd of people staring at him, but his focus was on finding Keeper Sam. Just as Numa had said, Gemynd saw the runt-man in a nearby cell.
“Gemynd,” Keeper Sam gasped and scurried to the far side of the cell, his eyes wide.
Gemynd strode to the cell and, even with his powers dulled, easily moved the metal bars that stood between he and Sam. “Who poisoned you?” he asked as he came to within an inch of him. “If you did it to yourself, I will know.”
“On my life, I swear I did not poison myself, nor did I kill your father,” Sam sputtered.
Gemynd saw no signs of deceit on the man’s face, but he knew that Sam was an accomplished liar.
“Gemynd, I believe him,” Numa said in psychspeak. “Don’t you trust my ability to know truth?”
Gemynd swallowed. “I want to.” It was the best he could do at the moment.
Keeper Sam glanced past Gemynd’s left shoulder and his eyes widened in recognition. “Soman!” he exclaimed, getting to his feet. “Thank the Deis you are well! I was beside myself with worry that the fever had its way with you. As soon as Numa revived me, I fretted over how long it had been since you’d had your dose of tea.”
“The fever is gone,” Soman explained. “You needn’t worry. I am well.”
“That is Joyous news indeed!” Sam exclaimed. “Tell me, what was the cure?”
“Enough of this happy reunion!” Gemynd barked, frustration building within him.
Keeper Sam took a step away from the wall, lifting his hands in a placating gesture. “I have discovered a way we might find out who killed Golath,” he said, anticipation on his face.
Gemynd narrowed his eyes. “You have discovered something while locked in a dungeon cell?”
“That’s right.” Sam pointed at the ground on the far side of the cell. To Gemynd’s surprise, a small stack of books rested against the stone wall. “After Numa revived me, I took the liberty of perusing the dungeon library, such as it is.”
Gemynd walked to the books and picked up the one on top. The Book Of Life. Of course. He tossed it to the side and picked up the next one. The leather cover was encrusted with so much filth it was barely readable, but he could make out the word ‘Zobanite.’ Gemynd felt a rush of heat in his face and his heart sped up. When he’d first begun his study in Iturtia, he was told the legend of a book written by Progon, who would later become Keeper Clary of Aerie, some three thousand years ago. According to the legend, the book gave instructions on how a Zobanite could strengthen his will among other things. No living person had ever seen the book and so it had become nothing more than a fanciful mystery. Was it possible that Gemynd now held that very book in his hands?
“It is what you think it is,” Keeper Sam said. “The Zobanite Journey of Truth.
Gemynd let his gaze move slowly over every bit of the outside of the book. It was some form of leather, just like every other book he’d ever seen. But the letters on the front were not stamped in, rather they were stitched with an ancient thread. He carefully ran his thumb across the letters and, although he could not see most of them through the layers of dirt, he could feel them. It did, indeed, spell out ‘The Zobanite Journey of Truth.’ Gemynd’s hands itched with a powerful longing to open the book, but his fear of destroying such an ancient treasure kept them still. “Did you make your discovery of my father’s killer in this book?” he asked Sam.
Sam’s large, innocent eyes glimmered in the light from the firepit. “Like you, I could not bring myself to open that one.” Gemynd had never trusted Sam and would be loathe to call him kin, but they were both Iturtians and knew the value of preserving knowledge. “Given the book’s age, it must only be opened under the most careful considerations.”
“These books were simply sitting in the cell with you when you awoke?” Gemynd asked, trying to piece together how such an ancient work would have ended up in the Tolnick dungeon.
“Yes, though they were covered over with a layer of excrement and straw.”
“Which one answers the question of Golath’s killer?” Gemynd pressed before he found himself facing another distraction.
“It was a small work that appeared as ancient as the Zobanite Journey and the title was only one word: Skalja,” Sam answered. “Having never heard that word before, my curiosity overpowered my need to preserve and I read it. It told of a place deep within The Forest of Mystery. It was never clear if the place itself is called Skalja or the strange beings who are the authority there. In either case, it is where the essence of all things go when they die.”
“The essence?” Gemynd asked.
Sam shrugged. “Apparently a different thing than Lifeforce.”
Gemynd studied Sam’s face. When the man wasn’t speaking it was so easy to think him a mere child. But he was anything other than innocent. “Tell me plainly how you discovered my father’s killer in this strange book.”
“It is quite simple, really,” he said. “Let us go to Skalja and ask Golath himself.”
Gemynd wrinkled his brow and stifled a laugh. “You are mad, Keeper,” he said, shaking his head as he turned
away.
“No, Gemynd, I, too, have heard of the Skalja,” Numa said, standing silently behind him. “Or rather, I have a sort of memory of them. I think we could find our answers there.”
“You believe there is a place where we can find my father and speak with him?” Gemynd asked her, his tone sardonic. “My love, we saw what happened to him.”
“I am uncertain of the specifics, but I do feel, in my heart, that we will find answers there.”
Gemynd blinked patiently at her. “Sam merely wants to turn our attention away from him as the killer,” Gemynd explained. “He will undoubtedly make his escape while we are off on a quest to find this fictive land.”
“The book gave very clear instructions on how to get there,” Keeper Sam said. “We won’t have to waste any time in trying to find it.”
Numa touched Gemynd’s shoulder. “We will go to Skalja,” she said in a firm, but quiet, tone.
Gemynd grudgingly nodded his assent. “Let me see the Sklaja book, then, so I may begin to map our route.”
“I’m afraid that won’t be possible.” Sam once again moved to the back of the cell.
Gemynd glared at him and put out his hand. “Give me the book.”
“I cannot.”
“Where is it?”
Sam glanced at the firepit, then back at Gemynd. “I had to destroy it,” he said. “Although it pained me greatly to do it, I knew it was the only way to assure my survival. I am now the only one who knows how to reach the Skalja.”
Numa jumped in front of Gemynd, anticipating that he was about to lunge at Sam. “There is a large, chamber behind you that is filled with Iturtians eagerly awaiting their Director. They have had a harrowing day. Go speak with them, my love.”
Gemynd inhaled deeply. If he was to trust Numa as queen, he would have to learn to trust her decision about Sam. “We will go to Skalja. If we find no answers there, may I then deal with him my way?”
Unity: The Todor Trilogy, Book Three Page 6