“The ladder is strong,” Sam said to Tatparo. “Would you please assist the others in climbing down? Soman and I will see what sort of place we’re in.”
Soman followed close behind Sam as they walked from the ladder. The tunnel went only one direction and sloped downward at a steep angle. The single oil lamp in Sam’s hand was hardly sufficient to see much of anything, but it was enough to give Soman the sense that they had emerged into a very large chamber.
“Hold the light up high,” Soman said, then chuckled at his own request. Given Sam’s height, it would be an impossible thing to do.
Soman reached down to take the lamp when Sam wandered away towards the chamber wall. “There is a small trough here, right at my eye level,” Sam said.
He held the lamp up to the wall and there was, indeed, a small, stone trough carved out of the wall. It was roughly three inches deep and seemed to run the entire length of the wall. Soman bent down for a closer look as Sam reached up and stuck his fingers into the trough.
“It’s filled with oil,” Sam said, smelling his fingers. Then he tipped the flame from his lamp into the trough.
The oil in the trough caught immediately and the flame spread down the length of the wall, illuminating the entire chamber. Soman gasped as he looked up. The ceiling of the chamber was high enough that the Baldaquin could have fit beneath it. And hanging from it were numerous, large, upside-down cones of rock. Some of the cones were encrusted with blue and green crystals that sparkled in the firelight.
“It’s beautiful.” Soman walked forward, noticing the walls were covered by strange carvings.
“This room was engineered to have proper ventilation,” Sam said, pointing to a series of square holes in the walls. “Whoever designed this had planned to be down here for quite some time.”
As people filed into the chamber behind them, Soman crossed to the far side. He passed a stack of strange-looking tools he had not seen before, but left them alone as he was drawn to a large, ornate carving in the wall.
Steps decorated with swirling vines and leaves led to a very small chamber. In the middle of this chamber was a column on top of which rested a stone box. Soman leaned forward and saw that words had been carved into the side of the box. “Here rests the ashes of Fyrmen, the first Director of Iturtia. May his legacy never be forgotten.”
Soman stepped back after reading the words and bumped into Sam who stood behind him. “The first Director? How long ago was that?”
Sam shrugged, his eyes the size of beetcakes. “At least three thousand years.”
“Sam! Soman!” Numa called, she and Gemynd suddenly standing in the room with them. “Tatparo summoned me. Thank you for getting the people to safety.”
“It was purely by chance that we found this place.”
Gemynd stepped past Soman to read the carvings on the box. “The first Director,” he repeated, his eyes nearly as wide as Sam’s. He looked around the great chamber and nodded. “This must be the original Iturtia, after our people were sent underground, but before they were banished to the red sands.”
Soman thought of the luxury and beauty of the Zobanite homeland and felt ashamed. “Why were the Iturtians forced to live underground?” he asked Sam.
Sam and Gemynd exchanged a look. “It likely depends on which version of history you want to know,” Gemynd answered. “Golath taught me that Iturtians were feared because they were the most powerful of the races and so they were sent away from the other races.”
Sam cleared his throat and looked down at his sandals as he spoke. “The preface of the Skalja book contained a brief story of the origins of Todor. Of course, we have no way of knowing if it is true, but it offered a slightly different explanation than what we’ve been taught.”
Gemynd grabbed Sam’s arm. “You destroyed a book that told of the origins of Todor?”
“Let him speak,” Soman interrupted, wanting to hear the story before Gemynd made it impossible by killing Sam.
“The book said that after the four races were created, an imbalance of power was noticed. A meeting was called to form an agreement among the races so that there would never be one dominant race in Todor. The Empyreans chose not to participate and created Turiya, leaving the other three races to their own dealings. This meeting of the first Iturtians, Zobanites and Terrenes formed what we know as The Compact.”
“I thought The Compact was just an agreement between Zobanites and Terrenes that basically said Zobanites would protect Terrenes in exchange for tribute,” Soman said.
“My guess is that it was never that simple,” Gemynd put in.
“Right,” Sam agreed. “The Iturtians were part of The Compact, which was apparently where the notion of separating the races originated. According to the Skalja book, Fyrmen was the Iturtian representative at this meeting and he volunteered Iturtians to live underground as a way to prove their goodwill to the other races. In many ways, what Golath taught you was correct. Once the Empyreans left, the Iturtians were the most powerful, and therefore rightly feared, race.”
“Well, in my Todor, there will be no more separation of the races,” Numa said. “I just have to figure out how to restore peace.”
“I have also heard there is a great wind destroying Todor as we speak,” Sam added. “Perhaps figuring out a way to stop the wind is also in order.”
Numa nodded and pulled at her bottom lip as she looked at the crowd of Iturtians who now filled the chamber. “Yes, and I cannot leave all these people here,” she said. “They have spent far too much time underground as it is. The wind is likely not affecting Turiya, but Iturtians are not safe there.”
“It is quite possible that Zoban is sheltered from the wind,” Gemynd said. “The mountain is probably protecting it.”
“Might I assume we are all going to Zoban then?” Sam asked.
“Not everyone. Gemynd, I want to send all of these Iturtians with you and Soman to Zoban,” Numa said. “Keeper Sam and I will go to Skalja to find Golath’s killer while you and Archigadh work out a plan for peace.”
“If we showed up in Zoban, there would only be another battle there,” Soman protested. “Archigadh sees all Iturtians as enemies, most especially Gemynd. And I am not welcome there myself.”
“What if I made it clear that our aim is peace?” Gemynd asked. “It might change his mind if I explained that I willingly stepped down as ruler.”
Soman rubbed his fingers across his forehead. He knew well how stubborn the Chief could be. “I don’t wish to offend you, brother, but it would take no more than a single blow of Archigadh’s fist to your head to kill you. He is angry that you controlled his mind. And he is heartbroken and enraged over the Zobanites slaughtered by Iturtians. He would likely kill you before hearing a single word you have to say.”
“I am aware of the risk,” Gemynd said and Soman recognized the look on his face. He was thinking. He was planning. There would be no talking him out of anything now. “But you, too, are Zobanite and yet, here you stand with us. These Iturtians here fought to save Zobanite lives. It is not impossible to mend this rift between our people. I have seen your father at the Peace Council. For a Zobanite, he has a rational, logical mind. He would not put his people through an unnecessary war. I believe there is a good chance that I will succeed in changing his mind.”
“You won’t succeed,” Soman said, shaking his head. “If you get within arm’s reach of Archigadh, you’re as good as dead.”
“Soman’s right. My plan was foolish, my love,” Numa interrupted. “You represent every bad thing that has ever happened to Archigadh’s people. I’m sure if you were given the chance, you could convince him, but he will not give you that chance.”
Gemynd’s face twisted with frustration. Soman had to stifle a chuckle to watch Gemynd wrestle with both his need to be right and his pledge of obedience to Numa. “Very well,” he growled. “What is the n
ew plan then?”
Numa puffed out her cheeks as she thought. “Soman and I will go to Zoban,” she said. “I will speak with Archigadh and convince him to unite Todor with me. I know that he is angry with Soman, and blames me for his troubles right now, but I also know that he will not harm either of us. He will, at the very least, listen to me.”
“Take The Zobanite Journey of Truth to him,” Sam interjected. “Give him the book and tell him that it can teach him how to strengthen his will, that he and his people need never be controlled by Iturtians again. If he no longer views Iturtians as a threat, they may cease to be his enemy.”
Soman thought about it, imagining the scene in his head. “It just might work,” he said. “It’s worth a try anyway.”
“Do you both truly believe that no harm will come to Numa? I know you can heal your body, my love, but your heart is mine to protect. I don’t want you to face anymore trauma. Are you certain you will be safe?” Gemynd asked, his forehead creased with worry. Soman felt a twinge of pity for him. He was being asked to do nothing while the love of his life walked into danger. Soman realized then that Gemynd probably had the most difficult task in the whole plan.
“I will protect her with my life, brother,” Soman said to him. “She will be safe. You have my word.”
Gemynd sighed dramatically. “And what is to be my role then? Am I to simply wait here with my people until you summon us to Zoban?”
“No,” Numa said, taking his hand. “Your role is twofold. First, I need you to go back to the lost Iturtians and be certain of their loyalty to me, to the Oneness of Todor. Convince them, as their Director, that Zobanites are no longer their enemy. When you are absolutely certain of their loyalty, and after I have convinced Archigahd, I will bring you all to Zoban. The second part of your task is to protect your mother. She is the last remaining Terrene and we must protect her at all costs. Keep her with you and let no harm come to her.”
Gemynd scratched at his jaw, looking deep in thought. “I accept my role,” he said after several moments.
“Good, then let’s get this underway. Also, I want Keeper Sam to go with you and Molly, Gemynd,” Numa threw in as an afterthought. “The sooner we reunite Todor, the sooner I can go to Skalja and find Golath’s killer.”
Numa gave Gemynd a tender kiss then walked over to Soman and took his hand. “Let’s go to Zoban,” she said.
Instantly, Soman stood with Numa under the arcade that outlined the Chief’s private pool. Soman’s chest tightened with grief all over again to see his father alone in the water. Normally the enormous man would be surrounded by his wives, but each of those women had perished in the battle. All of Archigadh’s women were gone.
“I can smell ye,” Archigadh said, leaving his eyes closed as he leaned his head against the side of the pool. “I’m not seeing visitors. Leave me be.”
“Chief, I must speak with you,” Numa said, ignoring the command of the great Chief of the Zobanites. At some point that Soman hadn’t noticed, she had dressed herself in the white, draped garment that was traditional in Zoban, and styled her hair in a loose pile of coils that fell from the top of her head.
Archigadh refused to open his eyes. “Leave me be!” he bellowed.
“Chief, the future of all Todor, including the Zobanites, rests on you reconciling with Numa,” Soman said, stepping out from under the arcade.
Archigadh opened his eyes and glared at Soman. “You are a traitor here,” he growled. “Did ye even spare a moment to mourn for your mother, lad?”
“We each mourn in our own way,” Soman said, again repeating the words Archigadh had told him at the fall of Aerie. “I still mourn for Marta, who was my first mother. And I will mourn for Maireen the rest of my days. Now that you know of my suffering, will you speak with Numa as she’s asked?”
Archigadh groaned loudly and rubbed his wet palms over his face. “I reckon I’ve got no choice. Look what my city has become. Without Terrenes, there is no Zoban. Without Zoban, what have we got to fight for?”
Soman exchanged a quick glance with Numa. Neither of them had considered the impact that the eradication of the Terrenes would have on Zoban. Zobanites would now have to grow their own food and run their own city. They no longer had the luxury of marching off to war.
Numa walked down the pool steps and joined Archigadh in the water. Soman tried his best not to focus on the fact that he could now see straight through her wet garment. There were more important matters at hand, like the future of Todor. “Not too long ago, you believed in my vision of Todor,” she said. “You were the greatest proponent of the Peace Council and you were quite against the idea of war. Tell me, what has happened that changed your mind?”
Archigadh eyed Numa as if she were a snake. “What changed is that my people were slaughtered,” he said, teeth clenched. “They had no armor and were not prepared for a fight, but your husband and his kin left them no choice. They died because of Iturtian deceit. You stood right beside Gemynd while he controlled us and then, to top off that pile of scitte, you locked me in a cage. I cannot trust you, woman.”
“I fought for Zoban,” Numa protested. “I killed for Zoban.”
“Aye, but it matters little. You did far more harm than good.”
Numa closed her eyes and took a deep breath. As much as Soman wanted to jump to her defense, he knew it would only anger the Chief further, making him more stubborn than ever.
“You are right, Chief,” Numa said when she opened her eyes. “So far I have done a terrible job at creating my vision of Todor. I have been lost and confused and made every possible wrong choice along the way. In fact, I have caused more damage than you are even aware. It was because of me that there was fire on Zoban mountain that destroyed your Uruz trees. It was also because of me that an earthquake destroyed Iturtia. I was the cause of the flood and the wind, too. But I was not the cause of the battle today. That honor goes to the person who killed Golath, because he surely knew that Golath’s death would incite a war. He surely knew that Iturtians would blame Zobanites and want revenge. I had hoped that Gemynd’s controlling of the people would stave off the fight long enough for me to find the common enemy, but it didn’t. And yet, in spite of every wrong choice I have made, and every life that has been lost, I am still determined to make my vision of Todor a reality. I still believe in my vision. Do you?”
Archigadh looked past Numa, past Soman and out at the grand valley below them. He played with the ends of the braids in his beard that floated on the surface of the water. “Aye,” he said after several moments then looked at Numa. “I believe in your vision. It is your ability to create it that I question.”
“I understand completely,” Numa replied. “I question it myself, and that’s why I need your help, your counsel. How would you proceed if you were in my position?”
Soman smiled inwardly. It was a brilliant move on Numa’s part.
“I would unite the people of Todor,” Archigadh said hesitantly, as though he was trying to avoid a trap.
“Of course, because peace throughout the land is part of my vision,” Numa said. “But how would you go about uniting the people at this point? There are roughly two thousand Iturtians who have pledged loyalty to me as their queen. They are willing to make peace with Zobanites and, in fact, fought against their own people as they tried to protect Zobanites today. But that’s it. The Terrenes are all but gone. The Zobanites do not trust me. There is another faction of Iturtians who is determined to make war against Zobanites if Gemynd cannot convince them otherwise. I am truly at a loss on how to proceed.”
“How do you know that Gemynd is trying to convince the Iturtians not to make war?” Archigadh asked, one brow raised.
“Because I instructed him to, and he made a vow of loyalty to me as his queen in front of those two thousand Iturtians I mentioned before.”
“Ah, well, that is one thing I’d do different
ly,” Archigadh said, a twinkle of confidence returning to his eyes. “I would not trust Gemynd’s vows at all.”
Again, Soman had to restrain himself from butting into the conversation. It was easy to not trust Gemynd’s discernment or his ability to be rational. But Gemynd’s word was one thing that was worthy of trust. Despite his other failings, Soman had never known Gemynd to break a promise.
“And how would you deal with Gemynd?” Numa asked. “He is still the Director of Iturtia. Although many of the Iturtians have pledged their loyalty to me, I doubt they would remain so if I killed their Director.”
Archigadh chuckled low in his throat. “I didn’t say that you ought to kill the man. He is, after all, your husband. If you were to kill him, the rest of us might not sleep so easy with you as our queen.”
Soman turned his head so that Archigadh would not see the smile he was unable to hide this time. For the first time, the Chief had referred to Numa as his queen.
“Quite right.” Numa nodded. “What would you do, then?”
“I would not leave Gemynd to his own devices,” Archigadh answered. “If I had instructed him to convince the other Iturtians not to make war, I would have gone with him to be sure he did so.”
“I wanted them to feel free to speak their doubts of me, if they have any,” Numa replied.
Archigadh nodded silently for several moments. “That is wise, too,” he said quietly. “I reckon there is risk in every decision.”
“We are in complete agreement on that,” Numa said.
“The truth is, lass, that Zoban has never been in such a predicament,” Archigadh said, his voice neither thunderous nor timid. Soman could feel the Chief’s vulnerability in his words. “As their leader, I am unsure what is the best course of action. As soft-cocked as it may sound, we will have to learn to grow and prepare our own food; fill our own baths; make our own clothes. It seems unwise to pursue a war in a time like this. And I have strong doubts about our ability to win such a war. Look what happened in Tolnick, and that was with half the Iturtians fighting on our behalf. When did Zoban become so bally weak?”
Unity: The Todor Trilogy, Book Three Page 8