Disintegration: The Todor Trilogy, Book Two

by Jenna Newell Hiott

  “You have not lost my love,” Numa replied, clutching at the back of his damp tunic. “If you could see Lifeforce as I do, you would see that my love for you is stronger than ever and cannot be destroyed. I understand why you did what you did. And I love you all the more for it. I forgive you, my love.”

  Gemynd pulled back, his face wet with tears. He grabbed Numa’s face between his hands. “But how? How can you forgive what I’ve done?” he asked.

  “Because I want you. I need you. I love you. Above all else. My mind seeks your wisdom more than that of any Keeper. My body hungers for your touch more than the nourishment of food. It is only within your heart that I find shelter, my true home.”

  Gemynd leaned forward and crushed his mouth against hers, his lips and tongue commanding Numa’s to bend and move. Numa felt her body spring to life under his forceful touch and delight in the liberation of losing control.

  Gemynd picked Numa up and wrapped her legs around his body as he pushed her up against the wall. He grunted as he ground his hips against her, his lips never leaving hers. Numa ached to feel him inside her and felt frustration build as her Iturtian leggings formed an unacceptable barrier.

  “I’ve been admiring these all day,” Gemynd said, breaking the kiss. With the fingers of his right hand, he untied the waistband of her pants. “It’s almost a shame to take them off.”

  “Then allow me,” Numa replied and, using her powers, removed every stitch of their clothing into a pile in the corner.

  In a single movement, Gemynd entered her. Numa’s body shuddered with a simultaneous sense of homecoming and pleasure. Her essence was already coiled so tightly that she found herself catapulting to climax. Forgetting there were others in nearby cells, Numa called out in ecstasy, raking her fingernails down Gemynd’s strong back. Only moments later, Gemynd peaked, muffling his cries against Numa’s neck.

  Gemynd let Numa slide slowly down the wall until she was standing. With their foreheads pressed against each other, they listened to their heavy breaths and pounding hearts. Their lovemaking had been rushed and clumsy, but it was exactly the release Numa needed.

  “You are everything to me,” Gemynd said.

  “Whatever comes, we must face it together.”

  Numa felt a chill prickle at her skin. She could not shake the image of being in the midst of battle and watching that arrow aimed at Gemynd’s head. “I saw you in battle,” Numa said tentatively.

  Gemynd wrinkled his forehead. “What battle?”

  “I’m unsure,” Numa said, trying to figure out how to explain something that she didn’t understand herself. “I don’t know if it was a vision of the future or merely some kind of dream, but I saw a great battle between the Iturtians and Zobanites. I was there in the midst of it. At first, I believed the Zobanites would win, but then I saw what the Iturtians could do. It was horrific and beautiful at the same time. The way you looked—so confident and certain of your abilities—was a wonder to behold.”

  “Did you see the conclusion of the battle?” Gemynd asked. “Were we victorious?”

  “No, I do not believe I saw the end of the battle,” Numa answered and looked down at her own naked legs. “But I nearly saw the end of you. You were almost killed, but I could not let that happen.”

  “I am certain that it was just a dream,” Gemynd dismissed.

  “What if it wasn’t?” Numa asked, feeling panic well up inside her. “What if you are destined to die in battle?”

  Gemynd leaned forward and gently kissed Numa on the cheek. “There will come a day when I must die, my love,” he said and Numa felt her throat tighten. “If it is to be in battle, then so be it. I am not afraid.”

  “Well, I am!” Numa said, louder than she’d intended. “I do not want to live through your death. In fact, I refuse to. If you must go to war, then I go with you. I will save your life just as I did in the vision.”

  “That makes no sense, my love,” Gemynd said and walked to the pile of discarded clothing in the corner. He picked up a pair of leggings, held them up to inspect, and then tossed them at Numa. “If I am preoccupied with your safety on the battlefield then I will only be killed all the more quickly. I cannot allow it.”

  Numa chuckled and pulled on the pants. “You do not have a say in it,” she said defiantly.

  Numa could see Gemynd’s jaw clench as he put on his leggings, then pulled a tunic over his head, handing the other one to Numa. “Do not ask me to watch you die,” he said.

  “But you would ask it of me?” Numa replied.

  “If you are not on the battlefield, you won’t have to watch anything!” Gemynd snapped. “I’m sorry, Numa, I do not mean to be angry with you. It’s just that the thought of losing you terrifies me.”

  Unexpectedly, Numa felt a rush of Lifeforce, and a new sense of knowing flooded her. She was suddenly aware that her Lifeforce was never ending. “I cannot die,” she mused aloud, the tunic still hanging from her fingers.

  Gemynd silently stared at her for many moments. “Empyreans are immortal?” he said, his voice filled with wonder.

  “I only just now realized it,” Numa said, “But it makes perfect sense. We are only in physical form as we choose to be.”

  Gemynd leaned hard against the nearest wall, rubbing his hand across his chin. “I suppose it does makes sense,” he said, “but I am unsure of what it means for us.”

  “It means that I will be on that battlefield, right beside you,” Numa pressed.

  Gemynd nodded. “Perhaps,” he said. “But, my love, you must know that even if you prevent me from dying in war, there will come a day when I will die. With your immortality comes the certain knowledge that—some day—you will live without me.”

  Numa shook her head, refusing to think about it. “But that some day is in the distant future, too far to even wonder about today. And when that day comes, when you are too old to make love and your grandchildren have grandchildren, then I will simply choose to become formless. I will join my Lifeforce to yours for all eternity.”

  Gemynd smiled then, and Numa felt her heart soar. How long had it been since she’d seen that smile? “Ah, then we need never worry about it,” he said. “For there will never come a day when I am too old to make love to you.”

  “I shall let you spend the rest of your life proving that me,” Numa said and smiled back.

  “I intend to begin proving it shortly, but first I have a favor to ask,” Gemynd said. “Will you take me to my mother? I wish to see how she fares.”

  “Of course,” Numa answered then closed her eyes, finding Molly’s Lifeforce within Todor. When she found it, her eyes popped open. “She is in Zoban, my love. It is too dangerous for you there.”

  Gemynd simply smiled in reply and pulled on his boots. “Then, it is a good thing my wife is Empyrean,” he said and winked at her. “If we are seen by anyone but my mother, you can take us out of there in an instant.”

  “It is too great a risk,” Numa said and pulled the tunic over her head.

  “You cannot refuse me,” Gemynd said in a teasing tone, but Numa knew he was right.

  “Fine,” Numa replied. “But I do not like this at all.”

  “I understand,” Gemynd said and reached for Numa’s hand. “Will it reassure you if I promise to not get further than eight hands from you at any time?”

  “Yes, it will,” Numa said and looked at Gemynd’s belt only to see that the dagger was not there. “And it will also reassure me if you arm yourself in some fashion. Where is your dagger?”

  Gemynd crouched down and felt around in the far corner, then stood with the dagger in his hand. The glorious jewels seemed to shine from within as though they somehow produced their own light. They were mesmerizing. Numa reached out and took the dagger in her hand.

  As she ran her fingers over the smooth stones, she said, “I must confess I always felt a resentment for this knife. Some part of me blamed it for taking you from me. It was because of this knife that I first experienced the feel
ing of not knowing you.”

  “Then we shall leave it behind,” Gemynd said and smiled at Numa, but there was no denying that it was a forced smile.

  “No,” Numa replied, shaking her head. “This dagger connects you to your past: to your father and your mother; our youth, and Aerie. Let it be your sacred, unbreakable bond to all you had to destroy, to all that can now only exist in your heart. Keep it with you always.”

  Numa saw Gemynd’s eyes glitter with tears in the lamplight. “It was never really mine,” he said sheepishly, but did not stop Numa from tucking it into his belt.

  “Regardless, it always belonged with you,” Numa replied then closed her eyes again and felt for the precise location of Molly within Zoban. “Take my hand. Let’s go to your mother.”

  Gemynd

  Instantly, Numa and Gemynd were standing inside a beautiful room made of polished, white stone. Enormous, golden oil lamps rested on pedestals in each corner, filling the room with an ethereal light. Lush, green plants cascaded from the ceiling and, in the center of the room, water trickled musically from the mouth of a stone lion into a pool below.

  Gemynd blinked several times, trying to help his eyes adjust after the darkness of Iturtia. He took a breath and noticed the air smelled of warmed flower oil. This was the sort of place Numa belonged, he thought. He glanced at her now and couldn’t help but smile. He had never before seen anyone make the dusty, tight breeches of Iturtia look appealing. Numa’s curves filled them out in a way that made him have to restrain himself from tearing them off of her.

  Gemynd looked up at Numa’s face, half-hoping he would meet her gaze and find she had been having similar thoughts, but her eyes looked across the room and her brow was wrinkled in confusion.

  Gemynd looked to see what held her attention and on the opposite side of the room a young woman sat at an elaborately-carved stone table brushing her hair as she gazed into a piece of polished silver. The woman looked eerily familiar.

  “Mother?” Gemynd whispered. Although she looked just like his mother, it was impossible because this woman was no more than a twenty-five.

  Suddenly, the woman turned around. “My son,” she said and her hands flew to her mouth, tears sparkling in her eyes.

  “Mother?” Gemynd asked again, bewildered by her appearance. He had planned and practiced exactly what he would say in this moment: an impassioned defense of his choice to destroy Aerie, followed by a sincere plea for forgiveness. But every word of it was forgotten as he stared at his mother’s shockingly youthful face. Not a single line marred its beauty; her cheeks full and firm. Her hair had not a trace of grey and hung long in silken, copper waves. “Is it really you?”

  “Come to me,” Molly said, her arms outstretched. “Both of you. I feared I would never see either of you alive again.”

  Gemynd crossed the room and leaned into his mother’s arms, finding it rather strange. Even her body felt younger, firmer in his embrace than the last time he’d seen her. “How is this possible?” he asked, pulling back. “Has some form of Zobanite glinting been done to you?”

  Molly smiled, pressing her fingers against her lightly blushed cheeks. “It is the work of Terrenes,” she said. “They have some glinting powers of their own, you know.”

  “They do?” Gemynd asked, dumbfounded.

  Molly chuckled and squeezed Gemynd’s hand. “Don’t start fretting, my dear,” she said. “It’s not really glinting. They used a plant that grows only here in Zoban. A plant I’d never heard of before.”

  “There is a Zobanite plant that has the power to restore youth?” Gemynd asked and looked at Numa who appeared equally as shocked as he. “Are you aware of this plant?”

  Numa shook her head. “No,” she said, scrutinizing Molly’s face closely. “But its restorative powers are amazing.”

  “It only restores youth in appearance,” Molly explained. “On the inside I am still nearly a forty.”

  “How did you find out about this plant? What is it called? Did you eat the plant?” Gemynd asked, the questions in his mind pouring out of his mouth before he could stop them.

  Molly laughed. “How nice to see that some things will never change,” she said. “The plant is called hebenvine and some of the Terrenes here in Zoban told me about it. The workers here—being constantly surrounded by young, beautiful Zobanites—are rather obsessive about their own beauty. They have all sorts of concoctions for keeping their faces and bodies in perfect condition.”

  “Hebenvine,” Gemynd said, accessing his storehouse of memories for a description, but coming up with nothing. “I do not know of this plant.”

  “Well, the workers told me the legend of the plant,” Molly said and shrugged. “I do not know if it is true, but they certainly seem to believe it.”

  “Tell me,” Gemynd demanded.

  “They said that in the time of the ancients—before there were different types of glinters—a woman named Heben lived here in Zoban Mountain with her twelve children. It was a hard time and the rains had not come for many years. Heben knew that her children would not survive the upcoming winter if she did not find food. She had heard talk of a Wishing Rock far to the east, through which the Deis fulfilled peoples’ desires. Left with no alternative, she made the pilgrimage to the Wishing Rock.”

  Gemynd looked down at the floor. A new, sick feeling churned in his stomach. That Wishing Rock was now gone, lying somewhere at the bottom of a pit covered over with the remains of Aerie.

  “When she got there,” Molly continued, “she heard others wishing for great wealth and power, but she wanted only to feed her children. Taking a stone blade, she opened her palm—as was the custom—and as her blood dripped onto the Wishing Rock, she wished with all her might that the Deis would provide food for her family. Suddenly, a large, earthen jar appeared before her, filled to the top with a strange-looking seed. Heben knew her wish had come true, and joyfully made her way back to her home in Zoban mountain. When she was nearly home, she stopped at the river for a drink. As she rested, she grew curious about the seed and decided to throw a small handful onto the ground to see what would happen. To her amazement, a great vine sprouted instantly from the soil. The leaves were oddly-shaped, resembling human hands and feet. Feeling both hungry and curious, Heben plucked a leaf from the vine and ate it. It was delicious and tasted of roasted meat and warm bread. She tried another, this one tasting of merryfruit and cream. By the time she swallowed it, she felt as though she had eaten an entire meal. Heben bent over the riverbank for another drink of water and happened to catch sight of her reflection. The beauty of her youth had once again returned to her face! Delighted, she ate three more leaves then ran the rest of the way home to share the bounty with her family.”

  “An enchanting tale,” Gemynd said. “Though I suspect there is little truth in it. A plant that can taste like roasted meat sounds like glinting to me. What did the plant taste like when you ate it, Mother?”

  “I have not finished the story yet,” Molly said, and Gemynd heard Numa giggle beside him. “Shall I continue?”

  “Please do,” Gemynd agreed.

  “When Heben arrived at her home, she looked into the jar, noticing that she had more than enough to set aside a portion just for her, so that she would always remain beautiful. She threw a handful of seed onto the ground and called for her children. They were Joyful when they saw the vine and danced about and kissed their mother. And then they began plucking leaves from it, each of the twelve children eating his fill. When the vine was depleted, the children asked for more. Heben threw another handful on the ground and, again, the hungry children depleted the vine in moments. But this time, Heben refused when they asked for more, saying they must ration the seeds to get them through the long winter ahead. During the night, Heben emptied half the seeds into another jar and went out and hid it in the forest where only she could find it.

  “Winter came and the children’s seed supply soon ran out, but Heben had become so entirely dependent on her priva
te supply to maintain her beauty that it mattered more to her than all else. Even her children. One by one, she watched her children die of starvation, while daily she would sneak into the woods and eat from her own vine. By this time, her beauty was extraordinary and she glowed with the vitality of youth. She spent every waking moment admiring her own reflection. When the Deis heard of what Heben had done, they were distressed. They came to her and told her that the seeds were given to her to fulfill her wish to feed her children. Because she did not use them for this purpose, and allowed her children to starve, she would be punished. But because she did give her children half of the seeds, her punishment would be only half the severity. The Deis told her that her punishment was simple: she could no longer eat of the vine produced by the special seeds. Then they left her.

  “At first, Heben was relieved that her punishment seemed so small. The Deis did not cut out her eyes and tongue; nor did they set her to die in a slow fire. But soon she found she would have preferred these things. For without eating of the vine, the guilt of what she’d done to her children began to set in. Her reflection began to look lifeless and it wasn’t long before age appeared in her face.

  “Then Heben remembered that the Deis had not taken her hidden jar of seeds. She could still grow one more vine and eat from it one last time. If they had overlooked taking the jar with them, surely they would not notice if she ate of the vine just one more time. And so she did. Instantly, Heben shriveled into an old, old woman, her youth and beauty turned to dust and decay.

  “So the Terrene workers say that is why one must never, ever ingest any part of the hebenvine. It is a powerful poison. Instead, they harvest the white powder from its leaves and make a paste of it with honey. When this is applied to the outside of the skin and hair, it restores youth. To ensure I didn’t accidentally consume any, they placed reeds up my nostrils and strips of cloth over my mouth and eyes before they slathered me with the paste.”

  “If what they say is true, you took a great risk for the sake of beauty,” Gemynd said, puzzled. “Why would you do that?”