“I thought I’d lost you,” Soman said, repeating the words Gemynd’s father had said after the earthquake.
Gemynd looked up and saw tears in Soman’s eyes. He understood the pain and wanted to take it from his friend. “I don’t know that you could make this more awkward if you tried,” he jested, hoping levity was the answer. “It’s humbling enough that you are carrying me as we fly through the sky, must you add tears and declarations of love to it as well?”
Soman forced a smile, but Gemynd felt the tension in his body. “The tears are not only for you, my brother,” he said. “There were many we did not save.”
A wave of fear surged through Gemynd’s body. “My father?” he asked. “And my mother?”
Soman nodded. “Archigadh saved them both,” he answered. “Had there been any warning, Numa could have stopped it from happening at all, but the flood took us all by surprise.”
Gemynd sighed as relief, then gratitude, replaced the fear. “Thank you, my brother,” he said. “I am indebted to your father as well.”
“Let there be no more debt,” Soman said. “Let us just remember that we are always better together.”
“Yes,” Gemynd agreed, and for the first time since he’d been sent off to training, he believed it.
Gemynd looked down and saw the Tolnick keep below. All other signs of the city were gone. The rubble was gone. The pyres were gone. The makeshift dais was gone. All of it swept away or lost beneath a thick coating of mud. Numa stood at the bottom of the keep, drawing the last of the water into her.
“It will be months before we recover all the dead,” Soman said as he landed not far from Numa. “There will probably be many we never find.”
Not far from where they stood, a new line of bodies was formed, Zobanites placing them in a row that seemed to stretch on forever. “Any familiar faces among the dead?” Gemynd asked as he gazed at them, wondering how many were Iturtian, how many were Terrene.
“Just one so far,” Soman said, his voice cracking with emotion.
“Who?” Gemynd demanded, alarmed by the pain on Soman’s face.
“Marta,” Soman replied and looked to the distance, trying his best to stop his tears. But there was no force in all of Todor strong enough to hold back his grief. He took a ragged breath then covered his face with his hands and wept.
Gemynd said nothing for several moments and simply stood by his friend. He knew Soman had a special relationship with Marta and there was no point in offering words of consolation. There was no comfort for the anguish of grief. “I am sorry, brother,” Gemynd said, putting his hand on Soman’s shoulder.
“I grieve for the unfamiliar faces, too,” Soman said, looking up. “These last weeks have brought entirely too much death.”
Gemynd’s chest tightened and a stabbing sensation of guilt filled his abdomen. He had been responsible for much of the death Soman had seen. He reached up and grabbed Soman’s face between his hands, pulling their foreheads together. “I am sorry, brother,” he said, wanting to absorb Soman’s pain into his own body the way Numa had the flood. “No more death, I swear to you. The time of pain and loss is over. This is the time for peace and we will have it together.”
Soman closed his eyes and let his head rest against Gemynd’s for a moment before standing upright. “Thank you, brother,” he said.
“My love!” Numa called, running to Gemynd and wrapping her arms around him, planting kisses all over his face. “First the earthquake, then the flood. How many times must I fear for your life?”
“I have no control over nature,” Gemynd said in his own defense. “But I promise to live as long as I am able.”
Numa scrunched her brows together. “You are bleeding,” she said and gently laid her hand on the side of Gemynd’s head. In an instant the pain there, as well as from the rest of his body, was gone.
“I am well, thank you,” Gemynd said and returned her kisses. “And thanks especially to Soman for saving my life.”
Numa turned away, stood up on her tiptoes and kissed Soman on the cheek. “Thank you,” she said in a whisper that held more power than any shout.
“You do not need to thank me,” Soman said to her. “I cannot live without him either.”
Gemynd looked around, wondering if they could ever salvage their capital city. “There is much work to be done,” he said. “Where do we begin?”
Soman wiped his cheeks and took a deep breath. “Numa, can you create wood for pyres?” he asked.
Numa nodded. “I can create the pyres themselves,” she answered.
“I will help search for survivors in the mud,” Gemynd said and gave Numa another kiss. “As soon as I find my father.”
Gemynd found Golath not far from where the dais had been set up. He was talking to Hildegaard and Tatparo, who held Toa tightly in his arms.
“Father,” Gemynd said as he approached.
“My son,” Golath said and closed his eyes, pulling Gemynd into a brief, but firm, embrace.
Gemynd looked at Hildegaard and Tatparo. “How many Iturtians have died today?” he asked.
Hildegaard shrugged. “We have one hundred ninety-three confirmed deaths,” she answered. “But over eight hundred Iturtians unaccounted for.”
Gemynd swallowed hard. “Let us find them,” he said, refusing to accept the possibility that he’d lost nearly one thousand of his people.
Gemynd and Golath walked towards the west, kicking at the mud as they went, looking for any irregularity in shape that could be a buried human body. It was soon evident, however, that the mud was far too deep. They would not find any survivors.
Gemynd stood in silence next to his father for several moments, both men struggling to accept such devastating loss, but knowing they must. They still had four thousand Iturtians to lead. Four thousand people who would look to them for comfort and strength.
“Look what is left of this valley. The face of Todor has been changed forever,” Golath said. “The river will carve a new path now. All the crops between Zoban mountain and Tolnick have been washed away, and a vast amount of the mountain was burned. Iturtia is gone, buried under a sea of sand now covered over by a lake of mud. Aerie was destroyed. Even the ruins of Tolnick have been swept out to the furthest reaches of Todor. All that remains is the keep.”
The air was heavy with the scent of mud. While it should have signaled death and destruction in Gemynd’s mind, it didn’t. Instead, the smell reminded him of Springtime in Aerie, when the dirt was dampened by the fluids of animal births; and of tiny plants emerging from their lives underground into the sunshine. “Perhaps it is good that the keep is all that is left of the old Todor,” he said. “Perhaps it will be good to rebuild everything else.”
“Regardless,” Golath said as though Gemynd was missing the point. “It still stands while nearly all of Todor has been laid to waste. That is surely not without meaning.”
“What do you think the meaning is?” Gemynd asked.
“I do not know if this is all proof of the Deis being on our side, but the desolation of Todor is so thorough it makes me wonder,” Golath said. “Although it began with Aerie, it seems the destruction of Todor was inevitable.”
“Perhaps,” Gemynd replied with a shrug, still unsure of his father’s meaning.
“It is time for you to release any guilt you still hold about Aerie,” Golath said, facing Gemynd. His eyes held a look of both insistence and apology.
Gemynd looked at the ground. There was a streak of mud across the toe of Golath’s boot. It seemed so out of place there, Gemynd had to hold himself back from bending down and cleaning it off. “We should not talk about this,” he said, grinding his teeth together. He remembered well the fight he’d had with Golath, and never wanted to experience that again. But deep inside, he still questioned how much of Aerie’s destruction had been because of his father. Any discussion on the matter was bound to fan the flames of Gemynd’s anger to life.
“You must let it go,” Golath persisted.<
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“Father, do not dredge this up now. This is a time for peace. We must focus only on peace now. Besides, you are not the one to talk to me of guilt about Aerie.”
“I am precisely the one,” Golath said and reached out, squeezing Gemynd’s arm. “I need you to forgive yourself so that you can then forgive me.”
“Perhaps you are the one who needs to let it go,” Gemynd said, shrugging from his father’s grasp. “Now, let us return to the others while we are still in good humor. We must finish the meeting of the peace council.”
“I want you to embrace your role in starting Todor down this path,” Golath said, ignoring Gemynd. “You destroyed Aerie and the series of events that followed created a Todor with no option but to rebuild completely. All that remains is the keep. All that is needed is a king to rule from it.”
“I fear your ambition has overruled your wisdom, father,” Gemynd said. “A Zobanite saved my life today. Another Zobanite saved yours. How many more lives would have been lost without their help? You can’t truly still believe that the best thing for Todor is to have an Iturtian king. The flood has proved to me that we need the Zobanites every bit as much as they need us. When I was but a seven, a simple Keeper of Aerie gave me a bit of wisdom that I never should have forgotten: we are better together. All of us.”
“Your sentiments are nothing but an obstacle now,” Golath replied. “The throne is meant for Iturtia and I will see that it is so.”
“Then you will do it alone,” Gemynd said and turned away. “I am for the peace council.”
“You would be foolish to think the council will succeed,” Golath said.
“It has already succeeded,” Gemynd insisted. “We all came together today for the good of everyone. Yes, there was loss, but think of what would have happened had there been no council. All that would remain in Todor would be Zobanites and Empyreans. Surely you must see that as a success.”
“The peace council will fail,” Golath replied. “It only appears to be working because the people are desperate and mostly fools. Did it escape your notice that the Terrenes agreed to put an Iturtian on the council as their representative?”
“Of course I noticed,” Gemynd said. “But they did not agree to it blindly. They trust him.”
“Then they will have no one to blame but themselves when he betrays them,” Golath replied without hesitation.
Gemynd blinked at his father. “Will he betray them?” he asked. “Is he working for you?”
“Everyone betrays someone at some time,” Golath answered. “Everyone is capable of it.”
“If Keeper Sam is working for you, I must tell Numa,” Gemynd said. “She needs to know that her vision of Todor is being sabotaged.”
A wry smile came to Golath’s lips. “Sam is not working for me. At least not directly,” he said. “Nor is he working for the Terrenes. Keeper Sam is working for no one but Keeper Sam, I promise you. And it is time that both you and Numa let go of the idea that any of this is about her vision. The council is quite clearly creating the Todor of Sam’s vision.”
“Numa understands that the peace council is not exactly what she saw in her vision, but she believes it is a step in that direction,” Gemynd said. “She knows that the peace council was Sam’s idea and, still, she wants it to succeed. As do I.”
“You are far too wise, my son, to truly believe the council will succeed,” Golath said. “It will fail, I promise you. It will crumble in upon its weak foundation of idealistic nonsense. Do not forget that it is in the very nature of man to do what must be done to thrive. There cannot be a council of equals because we are not equal. No other race of man is equal to the mind of an Iturtian. We will rule. Numa’s vision was doomed from the start.”
“If what you say is right, then the council will fail in its own time,” Gemynd reasoned. “I ask you to please give it your best until then. Will you at least try to make it work?”
Golath looked away and was quiet for several moments. A look of longing came to his face. “Ruling Todor is your destiny,” he said.
“That is what you want. Perhaps it is your destiny,” Gemynd replied. “But all I ever wanted was a simple life with Numa.”
“That is not all you want,” Golath said. “You have had more than one opportunity to make that your life, but you proved that you want more. Your destiny is to be king. You will rule with Numa at your side.”
Gemynd could not deny feeling a swelling of excitement at the thought of ruling over Todor with Numa as his queen. The idea of that kind of power was delectable. But he did not want it if it meant war. He would rather share power on a council than ever destroy life again. “I am for the council,” he repeated simply.
Golath was, again, quiet for several moments. Gemynd shifted his weight, feeling his anxiety grow as he wondered if he had angered his father. Finally, Golath spoke. “I am stepping down as Director of Iturtia,” he said. “You are now the Director.”
“You are the Director,” Gemynd replied quickly, shaking his head. “I am the Pit Warden.”
“We will have an official ceremony,” Golath replied. “At which point you will be the Director.”
Sudden darkness encroached at the edges of Gemynd’s vision and he could only see a bright point of light in front of him. He legs felt suddenly too weak to hold the weight of his body and they began to fold into the mud. Gemynd put his hands out in front of him to break his fall, but Golath grabbed him under the arm and pulled him back to his feet.
“Stand up, son,” Golath grunted. “The Director of Iturtia does not faint.”
“I am not ready for this,” Gemynd said, trying desperately to understand why this was happening. “You are the leader of our people. They need you. I need you.”
Golath smiled then. “I am not going anywhere, son,” he said reassuringly. “I will always be right at your side, guiding you, advising you. If there is to be a peace council, it must be your signature on the Agreement, and if it is to be war, you must lead the Iturtians. In either case, there can be no question who is to be King of Todor when the time comes.”
Now it was Gemynd’s turn to silently look out across the valley of mud. If he was Director, he would likely be the one who was the representative to the council and could help ensure its success. But could he be the Director?
Gemynd glanced back at his father. “The first time my mother told me anything about you was the day she showed me this knife,” he said, reaching for his dagger and only then realizing the flood had not taken it from him. “Golath, hero of Aerie. That’s what is inscribed on this blade. My very first idea of you was as a hero. You saved the people of Aerie from raiders and you kept them safe atop a cliff for the next twenty years. Every moment that I have known you since then, you have proven to be a hero in my eyes. Father, I do not measure up. I cannot fill your boots as Director.”
“My son, you have both the wisdom and the power within you to rule Todor better than it has ever been ruled before,” Golath said, squeezing Gemynd’s shoulders. “You will outshine me in every way. There is not a doubt in my mind that is true.”
“I do not want to choose between you and the potential for peace, but, if forced to, I would choose you, Father,” Gemynd said. “I need you to know that. If your reason for stepping down as Director is because we are at odds regarding the peace council, I swear to you that I will stand behind whatever decision you make.”
“Then stand behind my decision to step down,” Golath said, smiling slightly and patting Gemynd gently on the cheek.
“What is your reason for doing this?” Gemynd demanded.
“My reasons are many,” Golath said and chuckled, a rare thing to behold. “However there is one reason that has brought me to this decision now, at this moment. When I saw your mother walk onto the dais this morning, I was instantly a twenty again. In all this time, my feelings for her have never changed. Now that I’ve seen her, I know that I will never walk away from her again. I know, too, that she will never give up her
Terrene way of life, whatever that may be in this time of upheaval. I have lived the last two decades preparing the way for you, my son. It is time now for me to be with my love.”
Gemynd smiled and felt his eyes burn with tears. If he did not accept the Directorship now, he would be standing in the way of his father’s happiness. “I will be Director,” he said, a quiver in his voice. “I will always do what I believe to be best for Iturtians and Todor.”
“I know you will, son,” Golath said and pulled Gemynd into a tight embrace.
“Joy to you and mother,” Gemynd said, his heart overflowing with emotion.
As he held his father for another moment, Gemynd felt Numa nudge his mind. “I have recreated the city square and the dais. The pyres are burning and we are ready to reconvene the council,” she said in psychspeak.
“Numa is ready for us to return,” Gemynd said aloud to Golath so that he, too, would grant his permission for Numa to bring them back to the dais.
Golath pulled back from the embrace and nodded. “I will continue to sit on the council until I have the opportunity to make the announcement,” he said. “Then you will take my place.”
Gemynd was suddenly standing on the dais again. Soman, Archigadh and Keeper Sam were absent, but otherwise it looked as though the flood had never happened. The city square below the dais was just as it had been before: ruins and piles of rubble. All of the mud was gone. Beyond the rubble, a row of large pyres burned and Gemynd could feel the heat from their flames. The crowd of people below the dais faced the pyres, silently saying farewell to the dead.
At that moment, Soman and Archigadh came down from the sky above them and landed on the dais. Soman’s demeanor had changed drastically and he now had a wide grin on his face. Gemynd couldn’t help from teasing him about it. “Did you bag the top-heavy girl while we were away?” he asked.
Soman chuckled and shook his head. “I wish,” he said. “I would have much preferred that, but I was too busy moving every surviving man, woman and child to safety.”
“She said ‘no’, didn’t she?” Gemynd asked, laughing.
Disintegration: The Todor Trilogy, Book Two Page 23