“I don’t know,” Archigadh answered. “Perhaps the answer is in a book somewhere in the Iturtian library. But does it matter? We have a chance now to erase the enmity. If we are all equals, Numa nor anyone else will ever have to make that sort of choice again.”
“That may be true,” he conceded. “If the peace council works.”
Soman kept silent as they continued through the valley. The sounds of celebration seemed at odds with the feel of death that stretched out in every direction. The fields were now even more barren than they had been only weeks ago. The villages had been left in ruins. Houses and taverns were now just piles of stone. There seemed to be nothing left of Todor but decay.
As Soman marched on, a cluster of patterned tree stumps caught his eye and a deep sadness filled his heart, though he was unsure why. He studied the stumps for a moment. There were hundreds of them, cut down by someone’s axe and rendered lifeless like a fallen army. Only then did Soman recognize their dappled remains. This was the mantle grove; the copse of trees that had sheltered him and Gemynd and Numa on their very first excursion outside of Aerie.
Soman clearly remembered feeling lost and confused that day—so nervous about leaving Aerie—that he had wished for Gemynd to take the lead. Back then, he trusted Gemynd’s leadership more than he trusted his own. Perhaps he still did. Gemynd controlled situations while Soman was the one who was controlled.
As Soman continued to study the dead trees, he realized that Aerie should be directly across the road in front of them. Only weeks ago he would have been filled with Joy to be so close to home. But now he felt only dread, so much so that he could not bring himself to look forward.
“Halt!” Archigadh suddenly shouted, his voice so loud it shook the dirt beneath Soman’s feet.
Soman stopped marching, his senses on high alert. “Is there a threat?” he asked.
“I had thought we all might take a moment to say one final goodbye to Aerie,” Archigadh replied quietly. “But it appears we are far too late.”
Soman looked across the road then and felt a strange sensation of hot wind racing through his bones. This was where Aerie should have been, but it looked so entirely wrong that Soman wondered if, perhaps, he had fallen into a dream. Nothing was as they had left it.
When Aerie and the lake had collapsed into the mine tunnels underground, they left behind a swampy mud bog. Thick, slimy mud that Soman himself had trudged through, pulling up one body after another. But now the mud was gone and in its place was a fully-grown patch of blade vine as though nature itself wanted to ensure no one would set foot on the land again.
Even the rockwall that had been Aerie’s constant eastern boundary was different. It had cracked and shifted in three places so that its once smooth surface now resembled an enormous staircase. The water that flowed down its face no longer rushed powerfully down to the ground, rather it meandered in a steady stream from one step to the next.
“What has happened here?” Soman asked, dumbfounded.
The tight formation that had marched all the way from Zoban dissolved as one-by-one people crossed the road to have a closer look. Archigadh remained strangely silent, shouting no commands to keep the people in formation.
“One of my reasons for making this journey was to see the ruins of Aerie, to be near it one more time,” Marta said, leading a horse behind her as she walked up to Soman. “But no trace of what we knew is left. Even the fallen Baldaquin is gone.”
Soman gave her a sad smile and put his arm around her shoulder. “I didn’t know it was possible for it to look so unfamiliar,” he said.
Marta sighed and leaned against Soman. “There is not a place in all of Todor where I belong now,” she said. “I am Aerite, only Aerie is no more. My blood is Iturtian, but Iturtia was never my home. I fear I will live the rest of my life as a guest in someone else’s home.”
Soman squeezed her tighter. “You are not a guest in Zoban,” he said. “You are my family, my first mother.”
“Do you really still feel that way?” she asked, looking up at him. “Even knowing that I am Iturtian?”
Soman looked down at her scarred face. He had always loved her, and discovering that she was Iturtian had truly not changed his feelings for her. “That does not matter to me,” he said. “I will always feel that way.”
Marta gave Soman another squeeze then led her horse away to mingle in the crowd. As he watched her, Soman could not help but think about how much he’d always admired her. She had always been honest and kind and brave. He wondered if there might be other Iturtians like her. For all he knew, they were all like her. Soman had to admit that Gemynd and Marta were the only Iturtians he actually knew.
“The cracked rockwall is certainly peculiar,” Keeper Sam said as he walked up next to Soman. “I can think of no cause except, perhaps, an earthquake.”
“Surely we would have known of an earthquake,” Soman said, vaguely recalling a lesson on them in discipleship many years ago.
“Zoban is far enough away that it’s possible we would not have felt it,” Sam replied with a shrug. “I can think of no other explanation.”
“And the bladevine?” Soman asked.
“Perhaps Numa put it here,” Keeper Sam answered. “She did say that she visited this place before coming to Zoban.”
Soman nodded. “Perhaps,” he said. The explanation made sense except that it seemed more like Numa to cover the area with beautiful flowers and soft grass. Bladevine had been known to kill grown men unlucky enough to fall into it. Would she have intentionally created something that could cause the death of others?
“It is a strange feeling to realize that sometimes all you truly have left of something is a memory,” Keeper Sam said, his tone thoughtful. “It makes you question if it ever really existed in the first place. How much of what we think is real is only in our minds?”
Soman glanced at his friend. “That sounds like something Gemynd would have asked once upon a time,” he said. “But I know without question that Aerie was real; that the lives we lived here were real.”
Keeper Sam scratched the back of his head. “Soman, I must tell you something,” he said. “I tried to tell you earlier when Molly came to ask to be my second.”
“Yes, I remember,” Soman answered, but then something flittering within the bladevine patch caught his eye. He walked to the edge of the patch and bent over to see what it was, but when he did the sweat from his scalp ran down onto his face and trickled into his eyes. Foregoing all protocol, Soman yanked his helmet off.
Although the scent of fairytooth was gone, the air here was as fresh as he remembered and Soman inhaled it deeply. The sweat on his face and head cooled almost instantly, and, with its relief, he felt a bit of his old humor returning.
“The only thing better than having such a magnificent suit of armor is taking it off,” he said and smiled at his own wit just as the flittering movement within the bladevine patch caught his eye again.
Soman pushed his helmet back on and dove into the midst of the sharp plant, determined to find the source of the movement. He did not have to look for very long, as it moved again and Soman reached out and grabbed it.
It was a broad, heart-shaped leaf, silver on one side and dark green on the other. Soman recognized it immediately. Even through his armored fingers he could feel its ancient knowledge. The leaf had existed long before there was an Aerie. It knew Aerie’s birth, watched its life and witnessed its death.
“Look what I found!” Soman shouted at Keeper Sam and held the leaf aloft as he pushed back through the bladevine.
“A Baldaquin leaf,” Sam said once Soman had emerged.
“Do you think it’s from the tree that stood in Aerie? Or might there be another one growing somewhere?” Soman asked, his heartbeat picking up speed as he thought of the possibility of a second Baldaquin tree.
“I do not know of any other Baldaquins,” Sam answered. “Although I have never ventured into the Empyrean Forest of Mystery. It is
anyone’s guess what grows there.”
Soman smiled and lifted the leaf into the sunlight. It glistened and shimmered just the way he remembered. “It reminds me of my life here,” he said. “Of Keeper Stout and Gemynd and Numa. How I loved them all!”
“Yes,” Keeper Sam answered quietly.
Soman let his mind run wild with memories. Soman, Gemynd and Numa: the three inseparable Aerites. Suddenly, Soman’s breath caught in his throat. “I have not known Joy like that since we’ve been apart,” he said. “Many years ago, Keeper Stout showed us that the three of us are better together than we ever could be apart. Is it possible that still holds true? Even after all that has happened?”
“Of course it is possible,” Keeper Sam with a slight chuckle. “Only you must decide what you want more: vengeance or friendship? Security or forgiveness?”
“I want my brother back,” Soman said in a flash of certitude. “I want the Joy, the lives we once had in Aerie.”
“Aerie is gone,” Sam needlessly reminded him. “We must look forward now.”
“I want Numa’s vision to come true,” Soman said, only realizing it as he spoke the words. “I want all of Todor to be as Aerie once was. I want the three of us together again, even if it is on a castle wall. Even if it means supporting the peace council.”
“Don’t think I didn’t hear that,” Archigadh said, stepping up from behind Soman. “I knew you’d come around eventually, lad. In the future, try to remember that your father is always right. Now, we’ve dallied here enough. Form up! Onward to Tolnick!”
As the parade resumed, the celebration picked up where it had left off. Music, dancing and general merriment carried the formation as it had before, only this time Soman’s mood was aligned with the Joy. The closer they got to Tolnick, the giddier he felt about seeing his friends and resuming the lives they all deserved. For the first time since the destruction of Aerie, Soman was excited at the prospect of true peace. He realized that holding on to vengeance and the need to be in control had only made him very tired. At last, he was beginning to feel like his old self again.
“Do you think the illness I’ve had was because I was holding so tightly to the idea that Zobanites should rule?” Soman asked aloud, and then realized that Keeper Sam had moved to the back of the formation.
“I do not have the answer to that, lad,” Archigadh replied as he marched. “Your illness remains a great mystery to me.”
Soman looked out at the fields on either side of the road in front of them. Just as the fields through the Great Wide Valley, these were barren and dry as though Death had come and stolen the Lifeforce from every crop in Todor. Wanting only to focus on his renewed good feelings, Soman kept his gaze on what was directly in front of him.
Soon he saw an enormous white tower pushing up through the landscape in the distance. “The Tolnick keep,” he said when he saw it.
“Aye,” Archigadh agreed, but slowed his pace. “Where have the city walls gone? And the market towers? The sacred spires of the Grand Devotional? I recall the last time I came to Tolnick, it rivaled Zoban in its richness. Lad, I have a shifty feeling in my belly about this.”
Soman looked carefully at the horizon and noticed several columns of smoke in a wide circle around the keep. He sniffed the air and a chill ran up his spine. “I smell death, Chief,” he said.
“Aye,” Archigadh agreed and removed his own helmet. “A great deal of it.”
“Chief, I think it is time you move to the center of the formation. For your safety,” Soman suggested, though Archigadh merely glanced at him in response.
Suddenly, a strange-looking man stepped in the center of the road in front of them. He wore a hooded robe, like the dress of the Keepers of Aerie, only this one was violet and made of a shiny material. The man’s hair was the color of ashes and hung in ringed curls clear down to his knees. His beard looked exactly the same and made it impossible to tell where beard ended and hair began.
As the parade approached, the man bowed low, going down on one knee. “Chief Archigadh of the Zobanites, I am honored to be in your presence,” he said in the gravelly voice of someone who’d smoked a pipe every day of his life. “I am Keeper Fregman of Tolnick, here to welcome you to the capital and escort you into the city.”
Archigadh nodded. “What has happened here?” he asked.
“It has been a dire time for Tolnick, indeed,” Keeper Fregman answered as he stood. “Since the death of Queen Helen three years ago, the people of our city have suffered greatly. Famine, disease, bandits have all taken their toll. Most recently, however, the earthquakes have devastated nearly all that was left.”
“We did not know of any earthquakes,” Archigadh said.
Keeper Fregman looked hard into Archigadh’s eyes. “You mean, you did not feel them in Zoban?”
Archigadh shook his head. “Nor were we informed.”
“Ah, well, as I understand it The Compact between Terrenes and Zobanites exists no more, so you would not have been summoned for aid,” Keeper Fregman said, his tone tight.
“Compact or no, we would have helped in such circumstances,” Archigadh said. “What was the extent of the damage?”
Keeper Fregman sighed. “We are still sifting through it, Chief,” he replied. “Every wall in Tolnick, every building, every structure except for the keep, has been utterly destroyed. We have only piles of rock and rubble now. And the lives lost number in the thousands. We cannot build enough pyres to keep up with the corpses. The dead far outnumber the survivors.”
Soman felt his stomach churn and he was once again confronted with the fact that his great strength had been useless. If only they had known of the earthquakes, surely the Zobanites could have saved at least some lives before it was too late.
“I wish we had known,” Archigadh said, echoing Soman’s thoughts.
“In any case, it is done,” Keeper Fregman said. “Now, the survivors of Tolnick, myself included, are Joyful at the prospect of a peace council and eager for it to get underway. We look forward to turning our thoughts from mourning.”
“We are here now,” Archigadh said. “What can we do to help?”
“We can always use help building more pyres,” Keeper Fregman answered. “Bodies are stacked around the outside of the city, waiting entirely too long to begin their journey to the Deis.”
Half of the Zobanites went to build pyres, while Soman and the other half set up camp in the barren fields outside of the city as the sun was beginning to set. Soman had hoped to lodge in the grand Tolnick accommodations he’d heard about since he was a boy, but it was not to be. With the help of the talented Terrene workers, however, the camp went up quickly and became a thing of beauty. Nearly a hundred thousand silken tents filled the fields, lined up in perfect rows. The flowers that had been used for their petals in the parade now adorned the exterior walls of the tents bringing much needed color and scent to the valley.
Soman released a long, slow breath when he stepped inside his own tent. He was now truly looking forward to seeing his friends, but this moment of solitude was like stepping into a cool bath: refreshing and cleansing all at once. He removed his armor and felt as though he was levitating without the weight of it.
With the sun so low on the horizon, Archigadh made the decision that they would wait until morning to continue into Tolnick. Keeper Sam gave Soman a wineskin filled with fairytooth tea to last the night and for the first time in ages, Soman was alone. He closed his eyes and felt the cool, evening air dry the sweat from his naked body and before he knew it, he was asleep.
“Form up to finish the march into the city!” Archigadh bellowed from outside the tent.
Soman opened his eyes, his tent now filled with the sunlight of morning. He drank down a generous amount of fairytooth tea, then stood and stretched, still relishing his solitude. When he felt ready, Soman draped his traditional Zobanite garment around his body and tied it at the shoulder, realizing it may have been the first time he had dressed himself since
he left Aerie.
“Your father is waiting,” Keeper Sam said, peeking his head into Soman’s tent.
“I’m ready,” Soman said, and followed Sam to the formation.
Soman took a large step over a pile of stone, only to feel his foot land on another. What had once been the walkways of Tolnick were now entirely covered with rolling dunes of rubble. He glanced back over his shoulder to see that the formation had disbanded as Zobanites and Terrenes alike tried to pick their way through the mess.
Keeper Fregman had not been exaggerating when he said that the dead outnumbered the survivors. Soman was in the midst of what had once been the city square and had yet to see a single living person. But then, in the shadows of a large pile of stones, a filthy looking man on his hands and knees caught Soman’s eye.
The man was frightfully thin. His face was completely sunken, and looked like nothing more than a skull covered by shiny, dirty skin. He was nearly naked, with only some shredded remnants of breeches covering him. His feet were bare and covered with scabs so large that Soman could see them clearly even from some distance away. And the smell coming from the man was wretched. It was as though his body had already begun to decompose despite appearing to be alive. It was the scent of death and rot and feces; and it was so strong that Soman could taste it in the back of his mouth.
Suddenly the man sat back on his bare heels, holding a wriggling rat between his hands. A look of pure Joy lit his face as he looked at the rat. Without warning, or a moment of hesitation, the man bit hard into the side of the rat as though it were nothing more than a cob of corn. Soman shuddered, unsure if he was more disturbed by the condition of the man or the screeching of a rat being eaten alive.
Disintegration: The Todor Trilogy, Book Two Page 20