Disintegration: The Todor Trilogy, Book Two

by Jenna Newell Hiott

  “It was you!” she snarled, marching right up to Golath, demanding his attention. “All of it was you! You killed the Queen and her son. You caused the tension throughout Todor. And you…you did something to trick Gemynd into destroying Aerie. That was the last piece you needed to ensure your bally war. You knew the people would be lost without Aerie’s Keepers and that Todor would crumble without its wealth. And you knew the Zobanites would have to avenge the murder of their Ancestor. This was all your doing!”

  Golath straightened slowly, his expression unreadable as he gazed at Numa. Just looking at him, it would be easy to think he should be a king. He was strong and fearsome. Regal in every aspect, from the way he lifted his chin to the way he could command an entire room with his piercing eyes.

  “I suggest you take this up with your husband,” he replied in a level tone, his stony expression never changing.

  “I certainly shall!” Numa spat, although she couldn’t yet bring herself to even look at Gemynd. “But first I want to make it clear to you that I shall never help you with your war. I will never help you take the throne. My powers will never be used to help Iturtia. In fact, I will do all I can to stop you.”

  “My daughter, I do not wish for war,” Golath said, his tone sincere. “If you have the power to stop it, then do so. But even you cannot stop what I have already put in motion. Iturtia will rule. It is inevitable.”

  Numa pressed her lips together, refusing to say anything about the battle she had witnessed. Whether it had indeed been the future, or merely an imagining of her mind, she would not give Golath any bit of useful information. “I will stop you,” she said again in her best belligerent tone.

  “Do what you will,” Golath replied coolly and looked down at the maps once again.

  Numa finally let herself glance at Gemynd who stood next to his father. How much easier it would be to hate them both if the ugliness of their hearts could be seen on the outside. Instead, they were undeniably handsome. Their resemblance to one another was astonishing. Gemynd looked exactly like a younger version of Golath and even their scars were similar. But there was one notable difference between them that Numa had not seen before and now it made her breath catch in her throat. While Gemynd’s Lifeforce had become only a faint glow, it still permeated his entire being. Golath, on the other hand, was dark. His entire body was void of Lifeforce save for a tiny spark of it inside his head and the merest hint of it that coursed through two threads emanating from his heart. One of the threads ended at Gemynd’s heart while the other went beyond where Numa could see. She felt certain, however, that if she were to follow it, she would find it connected Golath to Molly.

  Numa wrinkled her eyebrows as she studied Golath and a strange feeling passed through her. Suddenly everything seemed a little less real, the way it did in a dream. She shook her head slightly to clear the distortion and found herself locked in Golath’s gaze. For a moment, she feared his black eyes would completely engulf her and she would be lost in darkness forever, but then she realized how appealing that seemed. Her fear had somehow melted into enchantment.

  Numa had never before encountered such a fascinating mystery as Golath. Should she fear him or pity him? What did it mean to not have Lifeforce throughout his body? Did it mean he could not be considered truly alive? Was he completely void of Joy? And yet, the threads of Lifeforce coming from his heart spoke an inarguable truth. Golath was capable of real love. As Numa continued to stare at him, a gangly, young man stumbled into the room carrying a child covered in blood.

  “Ileethios,” Gemynd growled, hastily covering the maps on the desk. “Have you remembered nothing from our last encounter? I sentenced you to repeat level one training, yet it appears you are acting as instructor again! And bringing an injured child to the Director’s office is not part of protocol. Do you dare to defy my orders?”

  The young man glanced at Gemynd, but quickly returned his focus to the bleeding child in his arms. “I assure you, I remember our last encounter. I will never forget it. That was the moment I realized that the life of an Iturtian was no life for me,” he said. “I left training and all of Iturtia behind and sought refuge in Tolnick.”

  Gemynd clenched his jaw tight. “Then why are you here?” he asked through his teeth.

  Ileethios lifted his chin defiantly. “I need not answer to you,” he said, the quiver in his voice giving away his fear. “You left Iturtia, too. You are Warden here no longer.”

  “He was reinstated the moment he returned,” Golath intervened, crossing his arms over his chest. “Now why have you brought this child here?”

  Ileethios squinted his eyes and swallowed convulsively as he continued to stare at the child. Numa realized he was trying his best not to weep. “I have seen unbelievable horrors, Director. This boy was the only one I could save. I fear it was too late for the rest.”

  Ileethios’ chin began to tremble and Numa wanted to reach out and place her hand on his shoulder, to offer a small amount of comfort. Instead, she peered over his arm to inspect the injured boy and gasped to find a face so swollen and disfigured that it looked like a pile of meat left to rot in the sun.

  “What has happened, Ileethios? Speak plainly,” Gemynd commanded.

  “The Iturtians in Tolnick,” Ileethios began, but his voice cracked and he had to clear his throat. “They are being rounded up and taken to the market square where they are beaten and covered with boiling tar. Many have been killed, their bodies hacked to pieces and fed to dogs. All but their heads. They save the heads and display them along the city wall. The wall is all but covered with them now. Many others have gone into hiding, but they fare no better as they are slowly starving to death.”

  Numa covered her mouth with her hands and looked at Gemynd whose eyes were filled with deep concern.

  “How did you escape?” he asked Ileethios.

  “I fled and crossed the border as swiftly as possible,” he answered. “I used psychpersuasion on every person I encountered to get here. I tried to find other Iturtians to escape with me, but this boy is the only one I could manage.”

  “As I’ve long said, Iturtians in Tolnick have forgotten their training,” Golath said. “The only safe place in Todor for an Iturtian is in Iturtia.”

  “Why would anyone beat a child?” Numa asked, though she did not really want an answer.

  “Retaliation for Aerie,” Gemynd answered simply. “The boy is Iturtian. They beat him as a substitute for me.”

  Golath shook his head. “This sort of thing was already happening. The destruction of Aerie only heightened it,” he explained. “Iturtians have been the target of the Terrenes’ brutal wrath for far too long. It is time to put a stop to this!”

  Numa watched Gemynd lock eyes with Golath. They held each other’s gaze for many moments, appearing to have a conversation although neither said a word. Perhaps they used psychspeak to converse in silence or perhaps they did not need words at all. Perhaps they were of one mind already.

  “Bring the boy to my bedchamber,” Golath ordered then marched into the hallway, a flurry of activity following in his wake.

  Numa hovered in the bedchamber doorway while Ileethios laid the boy on the bedsack. Her ire softened as she watched Golath kneel beside the child, ripping cloth into strips with his mind.

  “Gemynd, go to the healers. Tell them of the boy’s condition and find out what remedies they have,” Golath said. “And bring back whatever they have to alleviate pain.”

  Gemynd paused. “To alleviate pain?” he asked, turning back to Golath. “Sir, we have no remedies for pain here.”

  Golath nodded and continued to inspect the boy. “Perhaps they have something hidden away in a long-forgotten pot. If they do, I’ll allow the use of it this time. This boy has not been through active training. He does not know how to separate himself from pain.”

  “I will bring more cloth,” Ileethios said from a darkened corner and then followed Gemynd from the room.

  As Numa continued to silent
ly observe Golath, a pitcher of water floated across the room and landed softly on the floor by the bedsack. Golath dipped a strip of cloth into it and began gently wiping at the blood on the boy’s face. The boy moaned and turned his head away.

  “Never mind the pain, boy,” Golath said in a tone so gentle and soothing that Numa found her own tension easing. “You are Iturtian and, though it may not feel like it right now, I promise you have the strength to survive this.”

  Numa’s heart ached for the boy. Where was his mother? Had he no family to protect him? Despite everything Numa had shouted at Golath only moments before, she found herself walking towards him, saying the words, “I can help.”

  Golath looked up at her and said nothing, but in his eyes Numa saw gratitude. She willed a bottle of morningbell juice to appear in her hand and handed it to Golath.

  “Thank you,” he said as he poured a few drops of the juice into a cup of water for the boy.

  “I cannot bear to see the boy suffer,” Numa said. Whether he was Iturtian or not, he was an innocent boy. His days should be filled Joy and laughter.

  “There are many more like him in Tolnick,” Golath said. “I must find a way to gather Iturtian survivors and bring them here.”

  “If I could somehow get their permission, I could bring them,” Numa offered absently as her gaze remained fixated on the boy.

  “Could you?” Golath asked. “We could set up healing stations in the common room and library. They could all recover here. Many lives would be saved.”

  “But I would have to have their permission,” Numa said again. “It would not be possible for me to get the permission of people whose names and faces I do not know. How would I even find them?”

  “Leave that to me,” Golath said and stood up. “I can get the permission you seek. Just bring them here. It would mean the end of so much suffering.”

  “Very well,” Numa agreed, doubting Golath’s request was even possible.

  Golath closed his eyes and Numa was amazed to see his body light up with Lifeforce. From head to toe, for just a single moment, it was all there. Then he opened his eyes and it was gone again. “It is done,” he said. “Bring them.”

  “It is?” Numa asked, bewildered. “You got the permission of all Iturtians to come with me?”

  “Yes, now bring them,” Golath said sternly. “Do it quickly.”

  Numa closed her eyes and put her attention on the Lifeforce all around her. She could not seek out a specific person in Tolnick, so she simply willed all Iturtians who gave their permission to relocate to Iturtia. Then she opened her eyes.

  “Is it done?” Golath asked.

  Numa nodded. “I believe so,” she said with a slight shrug.

  Suddenly Hildegaard came running into the room. “Director, sir, there are wounded everywhere,” she said, panting. “Thousands of them just appeared.”

  Golath regarded Numa for a long moment then gave her a single nod of commendation. “Hildegaard, watch the boy,” he said and walked from the room.

  Numa lingered in the doorway, clutching the hem of her tunic. What had she done? Her heart pounded in her ears and she ground her teeth together. She had helped the Iturtians.

  Numa walked down the hallway at a slow pace questioning why she had done it. Had she been tricked into it somehow? Could an Iturtian—even a master glinter like Golath—have the power to trick an Empyrean? No, it was the boy, and the suffering that Ileethios described, that convinced Numa to help. But had it been a mistake? Would Golath heal these people only to use them as soldiers in his army? Did her actions hasten war?

  As she entered the common room, Numa stopped short at the sight that met her eyes. Thousands of people were packed into the room, just as Hildegaard had said. Many were emaciated, some were wounded, and every one of them seemed to be groaning in pain. Reflexively, Numa covered her nose with her hand as the stench of filth and defilement wafted towards her.

  “Will you help?” Golath asked, stepping around an elderly couple huddled against the wall.

  “I will do what I can,” she answered, knowing she was incapable of witnessing suffering of this magnitude and doing nothing. She looked around the room trying to find an order in the chaotic sea of Lifeforce before her.

  “Begin on the left side of the room, I will take the right,” Golath said, providing her with the structure she needed. “Gemynd and the instructors are working their way through the library. We will request elixirs, bandages and food from you as needed. All you need to do is create them. We will use psychmovement to get them where they need to go. It will all be more efficient if you leave your mind unlocked for the time being.”

  Numa leaned away from him. “I will create what is needed,” she said. “But you will have to ask permission each time. I leave my mind open to no one.”

  “As you say,” Golath said with a nod and moved to the far side of the room.

  Numa sighed and turned to her left, crouching down by the elderly couple. “Are you injured?” she asked, gingerly touching the woman’s shoulder.

  Both of them shook their heads. “We are old, tired, and hungry,” the man answered. “But we are resilient. There are many others in greater need of aid than us.”

  “Food, then,” Numa said and manifested a plate of dried meats and bread. Before she moved on, she noticed the way their brittle, pointy bones knocked against the stone wall and floor. Without another thought, she created a small bedsack for them to rest upon. “And comfort.”

  The next group was a family of five, the children starving, the mother fevered and the father burned so badly there was little left of his skin. Numa manifested fairytooth tea for the mother’s fever and flamelock salve for the man’s burns. For all of them she created food and bedsacks for comfort.

  Hours passed as Numa helped one person after the next. The demands of Golath, Gemynd and the others were constant. Many times Numa considered opening her mind as Golath had suggested. It would mean one less step in the process; one fewer thing to do. But each time she held to her conviction that they must all ask permission.

  After many hours, Gemynd finished helping the people in the library and came out to the common room to assist Numa and Golath. Numa occasionally saw him across the room, working tirelessly to help these people who were strangers to him. It seemed such a contradiction from the man who so recently destroyed the lives of people he had considered family.

  Sometimes, when she watched him for too long, their eyes would meet. Numa saw a questioning there that she could not yet answer and so she would look away. But each time took a little longer than the last. And then Numa realized she no longer wanted to hate him, and instead longed to understand him.

  Golath, too, had become an even greater mystery to her. He was tender and gentle with his people in a way that seemed at odds with his demeanor. There was no question that he genuinely cared for them.

  Numa urged her body to face the next task despite the fact that every muscle begged for rest. She was not finished yet. The suffering continued. There was still more she could do. As she made her way to the next injured person, a subtle movement caught her eye. Numa looked down and saw a very young girl standing in the midst of the chaos. The child could not have been more than a two. Her eyes were open wide, but held the far-off gaze of someone who was accustomed to being lost. Her face was smeared with dirt and her tiny tunic was all but shreds, held together by layers of filth. Worst of all, the thin, wispy hair on the right side of her head was matted together with dried blood.

  Numa crouched down in front of her and forced a reassuring smile. “I am Numa,” she said.

  The girl’s dark eyes grew even wider and she sucked in her bottom lip.

  “I am here to help you,” Numa said quickly. “Can you tell me your name?”

  The girl made no response, and only continued to stare wide-eyed at Numa.

  “Is your mother here? Your father?” Numa asked.

  The child made no sound, but her little hands clutched
at the remnants of her tunic, as though grasping for anything familiar.

  Numa stood and looked around the room, craning her neck in every direction. Surely someone missed this child. Her family must be somewhere nearby. When she saw no signs, she once again crouched down in front of the girl.

  She looked at the girl’s hands and noticed that she could see the bones within them and the skin across them hanging loose. A baby’s hands should be plump and round. How long had it been since this child had food?

  “Are you hungry?” Numa asked, immediately realizing the foolishness of the question. Of course the child was hungry.

  But it was the foolish question that won a response and the girl nodded her head slowly.

  Numa held her palm out and was about to bring forth dried meat and bread, as she had for all the others, when she suddenly recalled what her favorite childhood food had been: beetcakes slathered with sweetened cream.

  “Have you heard of glinting?” she asked the girl and gave her a wink.

  The girl nodded again.

  “Have you heard of Empyreans?”

  This time the girl shook her head.

  Numa smiled. Although she’d learned that glinting was not kept a secret in Tolnick as it had been in Aerie, it seemed that the knowledge of Empyreans was far from commonplace. Numa gently took the girl’s hands in her own and turned them palm up. “Watch this,” she said and willed a small, wooden plate filled with beet-cakes and cream to appear.

  The girl’s eyes grew wider still and her mouth fell open then spread out into a marvelous grin. “Again,” she said with wonder.

  Numa set the plate down and this time willed a cup of merryfruit juice to appear in their hands. The girl let out a small squeal of delight. Then she looked at the plate of beetcakes on the floor and back at their hands that held the cup of merryfruit juice. Numa realized the girl was trying to decide which was more important: eating or watching another trick.