Revelation: The Todor Trilogy, Book One

by Jenna Newell Hiott

  “I had thought that Soman was a glinter--a Zobanite--because of his unnatural physical abilities, but he did not age at a slow rate. In fact, I’d say he aged much faster than Numa and I,” Gemynd said.

  “Yes, between birth and adulthood, a Zobanite will actually grow at an accelerated rate. It is once they are full grown that the aging process slows down,” Golath explained.

  Gemynd eyed his father carefully. “Do you really think Keeper Clary could have been present at the original drafting of The Book?”

  “Of course,” Golath replied. “I believe he was instrumental in the whole thing. In forming the Keepers and drafting The Book, all to maintain control in Todor. As I said before, it is the Keepers who are truly in charge. And it’s no accident that Keeper Clary chose Aerie as his home. He wanted to be sure he had full control of its wealth.”

  “The Keepers have been my friends, my family,” Gemynd said defensively, thinking of Keeper Stout in particular.

  “I am certain that most Keepers are in the dark about their true role and they believe in The Book as much as you seem to,” Golath said, his words causing Gemynd a slight sting. “But that is all part of what helps them maintain control.”

  “It’s not as though I have accepted the Truths as they were told to me without question,” Gemynd said, feeling a strange need to have this man’s approval. “I have driven myself nearly to the point of madness with questions about the Truths. There is so much about them that is not clear. They all have their shadows, which only lead me to more and more questions.”

  “That is because they are nonsense, my son,” Golath said with conviction. “As an Iturtian, one of your gifts is superior intelligence. For a Zobanite, or even Terrene, if something is confusing to them, it usually means they must take the time to figure it out. For an Iturtian, however, if something doesn’t make sense, it is because it is nonsense. It does not require any effort on our parts to figure something out. Either something makes sense or it is simply nonsense.”

  Gemynd propped his elbows on his knees. Something in his father’s words was appealing. To release the madness of perpetual questioning that came with studying The Book would be like stepping free of manacles that had bound him for years. “I believe you may be right,” he said.

  “What is even more nonsensical is that the Keepers didn’t even bother with having the pretense of believing their own Truths,” Golath said, his derision becoming more and more apparent.

  “In what way?” Gemynd asked.

  “For one, the fifth Truth. The Deis gifted all of Life with the power of Choice,” Golath said and snickered. “They made up this so-called Truth and yet they don’t allow anyone the power of choice. They didn’t give me a choice when I was banished. Do you feel that you had the power of choice to leave Aerie and come here?”

  Gemynd remembered clearly being grabbed and restrained, forced to leave his home on the day he was supposed to marry his beloved. And worse than that was being told he would not be allowed to return. “No,” he answered simply.

  “Enough of this bleak talk,” Golath said and walked to a table that stood along the far wall. A large wooden basin rested on the table and Golath dipped two cups into it. He walked back and handed one to Gemynd. “Tell me about your bride. What is Numa like?”

  Gemynd took the cup from his father and drank a small sip. Clean, cold water. It felt like soothing rain going down his dry throat. He hadn’t realized how thirsty he was. Then he rocked back in his chair and thought of Numa. “She’s exquisite,” he said and was glad the light was dim because he was certain he was blushing. “She’s beautiful in every way. I am Joyful when I’m with her. She is everything to me.”

  “To love,” Golath said, raising his cup. “May your marriage bring you Joy forever.”

  “Thank you, Father,” Gemynd said and felt a flush run up his spine as he said the word.

  Golath stood and pulled Gemynd to his feet. Then he wrapped his arms around him so fiercely it was as though he was trying to make up for all the embraces he had missed. “As they say in Aerie,” he said after several moments, “Joyous day indeed!”

  Gemynd smiled as his father held him, marveling at the bond he already felt for this man he just met. It was as though he always knew him and his love for him was only waiting for this moment to come to life. “I’m Joyful to be here,” he said.

  Golath pulled back from the embrace and patted Gemynd on the back. “I am ready to burst with pride,” he said. “I can already sense you will have no trouble at all with your training.”

  “I am eager to begin,” Gemynd said, delighting in his father’s pride in him.

  “Then let us not waste another moment,” Golath said. “Please come to see me as often as you’d like. There are still many conversations we must have.”

  “I will,” Gemynd said and walked towards the door. As he did, a twinkle from the handle of the dagger caught his eye. “This belongs to you. I’ve had it with me since I was a seven and it always made me feel connected to you. But now I feel honored to give it back to its rightful owner.”

  Golath took the dagger and a wistful look came to his face. “Thank you, my son,” he said. “Believe it or not, I’ve missed this hunk of metal. Although I had it for only a matter of moments, it meant a great deal to me. It’s even lovelier than I’d remembered.”

  “It belongs in your hands,” Gemynd said, feeling glad to have kept it safe all these years so that he could return it to his father. Golath continued to to stare at the dagger and the moments of silence began to feel awkward. Not knowing what else to say, Gemynd stepped through the doorway. “I will begin my training now.”

  “Yes, Hildegaard awaits you in the pit,” Golath said, looking up from the dagger. “Good training, my son.”

  Gemynd traced his steps back to the common room and found Hildegaard waiting for him at the top of the stairs to the pit.

  “After you,” she said and Gemynd began his descent.

  As he climbed down the narrow stairs, he reviewed his conversation with his father and smiled. After all this time, he was with his father at last. He was just as he always imagined him to be. Wise but witty. Caring but firm. And he was the Director of Iturtia, which made Gemynd feel like a prince. He couldn’t wait to tell Numa all about him.

  “Hold the rail,” Hildegaard warned from behind him. “It can be slippery through here.”

  Since the light was negligible, Gemynd had to turn to find the rail, and that’s when he noticed the smell. At first it was faint and only seemed to assault him every now and again as though he walked through small clouds of it. It was a rank smell that reminded Gemynd of putrification and cinders and blood. As he continued his descent, however, the smell became stronger and more constant until Gemynd nearly choked from it.

  “What is that?” he asked, covering his nose with his hand.

  Hildegaard cackled. “Perhaps you aren’t as advanced as I’d thought,” she said and continued laughing. “Bothered by the smell!”

  Gemynd was mystified. How was this funny? It was enough to make him turn around and flee. He felt his eyes burning and now he could taste the stench in the back of his throat and he gagged. He could smell and taste the burning rot through his hands so he pulled his tunic up over his face, but it was no use. He could not get away from it. “I must leave!” he said, feeling panic welling inside him.

  He turned to retreat back up the stairs, but Hildegaard blocked his path. Instantly he felt a nudge in his mind. He felt himself gag again, but was somehow able to respond to the nudge with a nudge-back.

  “Put it from your mind,” Hildegaard said in mind speak. “It does not exist if your mind does not accept it. Your body does not have any power over you. Not even your nose.”

  “How?” Gemynd asked, wishing she would just get out of his way so he could leave.

  “Change your mind,” she answered. “Pay attention to your thoughts and then change them to what you’d like them to be.”

 
Gemynd inhaled quickly inside his tunic then held his breath. Pay attention to my thoughts? he mused and then a fascinating thing happened. In his mind, he saw himself float away from his brain and become a thought-watcher. He watched in amazement as his thoughts whizzed by, one after another, as though they were something separate from himself.

  He saw: It stinks in here! Smells worse than scitte! Only something truly horrible could cause such a stench! You must run! You must flee! You cannot bear this! You will have to smell this forever! You will become the stink!

  And then he decided to insert the thought: I can bear this. It’s not THAT bad.

  He waited until his lungs were ready to burst before taking another breath, but when he did, he realized with relief that the stench was faint again. It was still there, but it was tolerable.

  “Well done,” Hildegaard said. “Are you ready to move on?”

  Gemynd nodded, feeling awestruck by the power of what had happened. It was as though he had changed the very nature of reality just by changing his thoughts.

  “Be proud, Gemynd,” Hildegaard said. “Very few have willingly gone beyond this point.”

  Gemynd wondered briefly what Hildegaard meant by ‘willingly.’ Had others been forced to move on? He continued down the stairs for what felt like hours until at last he reached a narrow landing. It was another dimly lit hallway. Gemynd followed it down, noticing that the air grew warmer with every step. As he approached the end of the hallway, he started to see what looked like the reflection of firelight flickering off the dark walls. The hallway took a sharp right and then again, turning back on itself and becoming a walkway that overlooked the vast open pit below.

  Now Gemynd could see that the light came from an enormous fire raging in the floor of the pit; its flames reaching nearly one hundred hands up to the walkway. The roar of the fire echoed off the cavernous walls, drowning out all other sound and playing tricks with Gemynd’s ears for he was certain he heard what sounded like screams and cries of agony.

  The walkway ended at yet another staircase. This one spiraled round and round and ended on the pit floor. Gemynd began the descent, going around the first full turn of the stairs then looked out across the pit, seeing it fully for the first time.

  And his heart was seized with horror.

  Everywhere he looked, children were tortured in numerous, unspeakable ways. All around the fire, boys and girls were naked and strapped to wooden supports while red-hot brands of varying shapes and sizes burned designs into their flesh. Along one wall, a row of coffin-shaped boxes stood on end, their doors opening and closing over and over again. When the doors were open, Gemynd saw young boys standing inside them with bloody holes covering their bodies. He realized with shock that the coffin doors were covered with sharp spikes.

  In another section, roughly twenty children were buried to their necks in dirt, their heads covered with something slick and shiny while dozens of rats bit and clawed and chewed on their faces. Along the opposite wall, older girls were suspended in the air, held up only by vicious-looking metal claws that tore through their breasts.

  Suspended directly over the fire, Gemynd saw a massive bronze bull. As he watched, the side of the bull opened and three young boys came tumbling out, landing in the flames below. Their skin blistered and all the hair burned from their heads. Not far from there, he saw a row of teens with their ankles tethered to their shoulders as they were lowered by ropes onto oiled pikes.

  Gemynd’s eyes darted around the room. Everywhere he looked, he saw bodies being whipped and burned and cut and stabbed. The floor was completely drenched in blood.

  “Shall we begin?” Hildegaard asked from behind him. Before he could reply, metal shackles appeared from thin air and bound Gemynd’s hands and feet.

  Soman

  “I believe this is the boundary,” Keeper Stout said as he walked off the side of the road to inspect a rock.

  “How can you tell?” Soman asked, looking around. He and Keeper Stout had walked for two days, traversing the entire Great Wide Valley, and the landscape had changed little. Their walk had even taken them through Carenvale, which made Soman quite nervous. Thankfully, they hadn’t seen a single person there. Then they paid the ferryman and were boated across the Laxus River. The road continued on the other side and led towards a great mountain range.

  “The markings on this rock,” Keeper Stout explained and showed Soman where someone had carved an ‘X’ on the rock.

  Soman walked a few paces beyond the rock. “So I am now in Zoban?” he asked.

  Keeper Stout nodded. “I believe so, yes.”

  Since they had left Aerie two days ago, Keeper Stout had explained to Soman about the different types of glinters. He had told him that Soman was a Zobanite and possessed the powers of great physical strength. Soman had known he had superior strength all of his life, he had just never realized it was a form of glinting. Before he left Aerie, he had become furious at the thought of being separated from Gemynd and Numa. But his anger had diminished once his own adventure had begun. And because Keeper Stout had volunteered to escort him, he hadn’t felt afraid.

  “I rather thought there might be a wall dividing the regions,” Soman said. “If the Terrenes do not allow glinters in their region, shouldn’t they have a more effective way of keeping them out?”

  Keeper Stout chuckled. “Terrenes have a unique relationship with Zobanites as you will learn, I’m sure. There is no need for a wall.”

  When they came to a crest of a hill, Soman looked out upon a lovely little valley. It was lush and green with creeks snaking through it. But, unlike the valleys he had seen before, this one appeared to be without any cultivated farmland. There were no signs of crops growing in squares upon the land. It seemed to exist in its raw splendor. And on the other side of the valley rose a great purple mountain whose peaks were so high, they disappeared above the clouds. “Zoban,” he whispered, feeling a stirring deep in his belly. He knew he would always long for Aerie, but over the last two days, he had grown increasingly excited about learning what it meant to be a Zobanite.

  “Look there,” Keeper Stout said, pointing at the foot of the mountain. “Do you see that bowl-shaped hollow in the mountain?”

  Soman nodded. “Yes, it looks as though a piece of the mountain was carved away.”

  “In that hollow is a grand city. That is where you are going. They are expecting you,” Keeper Stout said. “There is a footpath just there. Follow it and it will take you to your new home.”

  Soman looked at Keeper Stout and a lump formed in his throat. “I will miss you,” he said to his teacher, his friend.

  “And I will miss you. But I know you will thrive here,” Keeper Stout said with assurance. “And I will figure out a way to bring you and Gemynd and Numa back to Aerie.”

  Soman embraced the Keeper. “I know you will,” he said. “Until then, I will do my best to make you proud.”

  Keeper Stout gave him a smile, then nodded to indicate he should go.

  Soman gave his favorite Keeper one more squeeze, then turned down the footpath and didn’t look back. He looked eagerly ahead at the mountain that loomed like a colossal fortress in the distance. It seemed to beckon to him, drawing him towards it. As he walked, he tried to absorb everything about this new place: the sights and sounds and smells. Zoban had an earthy fragrance that seemed to suit him better than the sweet smell of fairy-tooth in Aerie. There was much more open space than in Aerie and he could hear the birds and the breeze so clearly without the constant sound of the waterfall in the background.

  As he listened, he realized that he heard music. It was far off and he could barely make it out, but it was there. He closed his eyes and decided to let the music lead him to where he needed to go. He followed the lilting sounds, and as he got closer he recognized it as the low whistle of a woodpipe. And it played a Joyful song of celebration.

  Hearing the music made Soman’s legs want to run and leap, so he did. As he carried on, he noticed a large
white structure coming in to view. The closer he got, however, he realized it was a collection of several buildings. There were too many to count. Soman marveled at the massive, sprawling compound. He’d never seen anything like it.

  It was the most strikingly beautiful structure he’d ever seen. Each of the buildings was made of a gleaming white stone that seemed to sparkle in the sunlight. Some were round, some were square and two even had pools of water within their walls that were big enough for him to see at this distance. The roofs of the buildings were a deep red that made the brilliant white of the walls stand out even more. And interspersed throughout the buildings, Soman could see manicured gardens and orchards. Everything about it was spectacular.

  The path he was on began to make its ascent up the base of the mountain, winding its way between moss-covered rocks and under low-hanging trees. It continued this way until suddenly the path widened and was covered with gravel, obviously well-maintained. The music grew louder and now Soman could hear voices too. He rounded a bend in the trail and stopped at the sight that lay before him.

  The path had tripled in width, becoming the size of a respectable road, and led straight to the gate of the beautiful, white city. People lined both sides of the road, men and women and children of every age. Soman recognized them as Zobanites immediately, for they were very tall and muscular, much like Soman himself. All of them were dressed in white. As Soman looked closer, he saw that their clothing consisted of a simple white cloth that each person had twisted and draped upon their own body to create a unique piece of clothing.

  A band of five men, each playing a different instrument, frolicked and danced before him in time to their music. Soman took a step towards them and they abruptly stopped their playing.