Revelation: The Todor Trilogy, Book One

by Jenna Newell Hiott

  “All hail Chief Archigadh!” a smaller man called from the archway leading to the city.

  From behind him came an enormous man with hair the color of flames that hung down below his shoulders. He stood at least two hands taller than Soman and was as wide as a bull. He had a full beard the same fiery color as the hair on his head, and it hung in braids down to his chest.

  The crowd hushed and bowed at the man’s appearance, but the man didn’t notice for he had his gaze fixed on Soman. “I am Archigadh,” the man declared in a voice so thunderous the ground beneath Soman’s feet rumbled. “Chief of the Ancestor Clan of the great and powerful Zobanites.”

  “I am Soman,” Soman responded meekly, not even sure if his voice had traveled the distance between himself and the man. “I come from Aerie to be trained in the ways of Zoban.”

  Archigadh tipped his head back and laughed so loudly that it shook leaves from the trees near Soman. “Welcome!” he boomed. “Let us celebrate the return of Soman!”

  And with that, the band began playing its lively music again. As Soman continued up the road, the people who lined it showered him with flower petals then fell in step behind him. It was impossible to not feel Joyous while surrounded by so much merriment and Soman noticed he was skipping along to the music.

  He laughed and danced with the others, drinking in the sweet smell of the flower petals and the way they softly kissed his skin, until he realized he was now near enough to Archigadh to touch him. Soman suddenly felt awkward and ceased his dancing, giving Archigadh a slight bow. The giant man responded with a sweeping gesture of his arm, indicating that Soman was welcome to enter the city.

  Soman’s breath caught in his throat as he passed under the archway. The city before him was even more beautiful now than it had been at a distance. The sunlight danced off of the white stone walls in sparkles and shimmers that were accented by vibrantly colored flowers and vines hanging from the red roofs. A little man playing a set of woodpipes danced in front of Soman, beckoning him to follow. The dancing man led Soman, and the parade of people who followed, on a path between two buildings; one square, the other round. Both were made of the same brilliant white stone as all the other buildings Soman had seen. As they came around the circular building, Soman saw that it was an open-roofed theater, ringed all around with rows and rows of benches. From there, they ascended a white staircase and emerged in a breathtaking garden. Flowers of every size, shape and color cascaded down from support beams overhead. In every corner, shrubs had been trimmed to look like people and animals.

  As they reached the far side of the garden, the smell of roasting meat filled the air and Soman’s mouth watered. The dancing man continued to lead them through another glorious archway and into a sprawling square where the smell of meat mingled with that of freshly-baked bread and herbs and spices of every sort.

  The grand square was framed on all four sides by a covered arcade, which gave the feeling of being indoors, but the square itself was open to the marvelous blue sky. And all throughout the square were long, wooden furnishings that seemed like a cross between a chair and a bench, but they leaned at a strange angle. And they were all covered with what looked like brightly colored bedsacks.

  “Find your comfort,” the dancing man said, making a sweeping gesture with his arm. “The food will be brought to you.”

  Soman chose a yellow seat nearest him and sat down on the bedsack. But it wasn’t a bedsack at all. It was the softest, most comforting thing he’d ever touched. The covering was like baby bird feathers and there was not even a trace of stiff, scratchy straw inside. Instead, Soman felt like he was sitting on a cloud.

  The parade of people who had followed Soman mingled around finding seats of their own. Soman smiled at them, but felt a lonely ache in his gut. Gemynd and Numa should be here with him, experiencing all this wonder and delight.

  Just as the people were getting settled, the dancing man shouted, “All hail Chief Archigadh!” And everyone got to their feet at once and bowed politely. Soman followed suit and watched as Chief Archigadh made his way across the square to the empty seat next to Soman. After Archigadh was seated, the people began moving about again.

  Archigadh smiled broadly at Soman as he took his seat next to him. But instead of just sitting as Soman had, he leaned way back against the slanted part and brought his legs up on the flat part. Soman copied the man and couldn’t believe he was even more comfortable than he had been before.

  Almost immediately, the feast began. Plate after plate of delectable goodness was brought to Soman along with jugs of water and ale. The workers, who were notably smaller than everyone else, brought out roasted meat that was slightly crispy on the outside and juicy and tender on the inside. Breads and fruits of varying sizes and textures came one after another. Plates of vegetables steamed in drops of oil vanished almost as soon as they reached Soman. Just when he thought he’d reached the pinnacle of ecstasy, the workers began to bring him trays of sweets. Brown sweets, layered sweets, sweets with crunchy toppings, sweets in the shapes of fruits. Soman ate every last bite then rested his head back with a contented sigh.

  “In seventeen years, I’ve never known this kind of satisfaction,” he said.

  Archigadh laughed, sending a rumble through the square. “We’ve only just begun, lad,” he bellowed and laughed some more.

  “I couldn’t eat another bite,” Soman said with surprise, rubbing his hand over his belly.

  Archigadh clapped his hands together and the sound was nearly as loud as thunder. “Rollers!” he called.

  Four workers--two men and two women--walked into the square. Each pair carried a golden tray between them. The first pair walked to Archigadh and set the tray on the ground beside his seat. The second pair came to Soman and smiled at him.

  “If you thought the food was satisfying, you’re going to love this,” Archigadh said as he removed his garment with a single flick of his wrist.

  The workers nodded to Soman, indicating he should remove his clothing as well. Since he still wore the tunic, boots and breeches of Aerie, it took a bit more doing than Archigadh’s simple drape. While he stood to remove his clothes, the workers reached under his seat and removed a small section of wood that allowed the slanted part to lie completely flat.

  “Lie on your belly, lad, and let them do all the work,” Archigadh said.

  Soman did as he was told, not entirely sure what was about to happen to him. But if it was to bring him more satisfaction than the meal he just ate, he was eager to begin.

  One of the female workers picked up a golden pitcher from the tray and leaned over Soman, pouring a warm liquid all over his skin. The liquid smelled of flowers and herbs and Soman inhaled deeply, allowing the relaxing scent to penetrate him completely. Then the man took a wooden cylinder from the tray and began rolling it over Soman’s body. He rolled it in long strokes, from Soman’s neck all the way down to his toes and back again.

  Soman groaned with pleasure and he heard Archigadh chuckle.

  “First time for a rolling?” he asked.

  “I never even knew of such a thing,” Soman said with another groan.

  “I won’t disturb you further, then,” Archigadh replied. “When you’re done here, we’ll meet at the pool for a swim.”

  Soman lost all track of time as his rolling continued. He even fell asleep for a time and all the while, the workers continued covering him with oil and rolling his muscles into deep relaxation. He wondered briefly if the workers ever tired of it, but he was getting too much pleasure from it to ask.

  When he finally felt thoroughly rolled, Soman sat up and stretched. The female worker handed him an enormous cup filled with green liquid and told him to drink. Soman did as he was told and almost instantly felt invigorated.

  “Can someone please direct me to the pool?” he asked.

  Out of nowhere, the dancing man appeared and Soman stood to follow him, wondering if he should have put his clothes on first. Was the pool a far dist
ance? Was it acceptable to stroll through the city naked?

  The dancing man led him from the square to a path that wandered past more breathtaking buildings, fountains and gardens. The sun was now low in the western sky and the long shadows accentuated the perfect angles of everything around them. The path was perfectly straight, the corners perfectly square and the circular buildings were perfectly round. The rooftops of each level were exactly the same height.

  “The Deis must have built this place,” he mused aloud.

  The dancing man smiled, but made no reply.

  Soman continued following him and they went through an archway into what appeared to be another square. But this one was framed on only three sides, the fourth side was open to the south and overlooked the grand valley below. And in the middle of the square was an enormous, perfectly-rectangular body of water. It was bluer than the sky and was perpetually filled by a duct that came in from the south arcade.

  Archigadh was at the far end of the pool, leaning back against the side with his arms stretched out, a look of pure content on his face. Despite the size of the pool, Archigadh was the only person in the water. But seated all around the pool were dozens of beautiful, naked women.

  “My women,” Archigadh said as Soman looked around. “A lovely lot, aren’t they?”

  Soman nodded, but was afraid to say more than that. The women were certainly exquisite, but it could be considered inappropriate to tell Archigadh that he thought so. “May I swim?” he asked instead.

  “Of course,” Archigadh bellowed. “Swim all you desire.”

  Soman jumped into the water at the end furthest from where Archigadh reclined. The water was only slightly cooler than Soman’s body temperature and felt both invigorating and relaxing at the same time. The oils from the rolling came off of his body and floated in a circle around him, making rainbows in the light. Without wasting another moment, Soman plunged forward, moving his arms and legs in a perfect rhythm that propelled him through the water. He swam to the end of the pool and back again. And then did it again and again until his body was fulfilled. Then he leaned back against one of the smooth stone walls, stretching his arms out just as he’d seen Archigadh do. As he reclined, one of the women brought him a wooden cup with a light brown liquid in it. Soman first took a small sip, then drained the cup in two swallows. It was a slightly bitter drink, but refreshing all the same.

  “For hydration,” the woman said as she walked away. She was tall and muscular, just as all Zobanite women appeared to be, and she had shiny black hair that hung down her back all the way to where the curve of her rump began. Soman found it impossible not to watch her as she walked away.

  “She’s a fine one,” Archigadh said, once again noticing where Soman looked. “She’s my fourth and has given me five children. Two sons, three daughters.”

  “All of these women are your wives?” Soman asked, scanning the area and trying to count them. There must have been at least twenty five.

  Archigadh laughed, a sound Soman was already becoming accustomed to. “Zobanites don’t have wives,” he explained. “At least not in the way they do in Aerie. These are my women, but they are free to be with other men as well if they desire. Of course, since I am The Chief, they cannot bear another man’s children, so certain precautions must be taken. But all Zobanites are free to love whomever they choose. We do not make a commitment to just one person as they do in Aerie. That sort of limitation is better suited for Terrenes and Iturtians than Zobanites.”

  Soman nodded, thinking that it made perfect sense to him. He’d never had the desire to be with just one woman his whole life. He recognized that Numa and Gemynd were suited for it, but he preferred variety. “You must have a great many children,” Soman said.

  “I do,” Archigadh replied. “Sixty-three at last count.”

  Soman’s eyes widened. Sixty-three children? That was enough to populate a small village! “You’ve been busy,” he said, not knowing what else to say.

  “And you, Soman, are my eldest.”

  Soman blinked. “Pardon me?” he asked.

  “You are my eldest son, Soman,” Archigadh repeated. “I am your father. You were born right here in Zoban before you were taken to be raised in Aerie. But this is your first home.”

  Soman studied the giant man across the pool from him, noting his fire-colored hair and green eyes. With his coloring, he would be more suited as Numa’s father than his own. But he was a strong, powerful man who had already earned Soman’s respect simply with his enormous presence. Soman felt proud to be this man’s son. After all, he was the The Chief of the Zobanites. “I was raised in a Wishing Hut full of fathers,” Soman said with a smile. “I’m honored to welcome one more into my life.”

  “And I am honored to call you my son. My eldest. My heir,” Archigadh said, pressing his lips together. “I look forward to getting to know you.”

  “Likewise,” Soman muttered, but his mind was still on Archigadh’s words. His heir? Did that mean Soman was expected to be Chief of Zoban some day?

  Suddenly one of Archigadh’s women approached the pool, carrying a tray of fruit. She was a yellow-haired girl that looked to be about Soman’s age.

  Archigadh took the tray from her, set it on the floor and grabbed hold of the girl’s hand. “And this brood mare is my first,” he said with a grin. “She is your ma.”

  The woman picked an apple from the tray and threw it at Archigadh’s head. “I am not a horse,” she said, though Soman could see that she stifled a smile.

  “Aye,” Archigadh said and pulled her into the water. “My flaxen-haired filly.”

  The two splashed and frolicked in the water for several moments while Soman simply stared. He knew his mouth was open, but he was powerless to close it. His mother. He’d had more than his share of fathers in his life, but always wondered what it would be like to have the love of a mother.

  After freeing herself of Archigadh’s grasp, the woman crossed the water to Soman. “I am Maireen,” she said with a smile. “I am the one who bore you.”

  Soman tried to find even one word to make a reply, but nothing came. So he tried to smile, but found he was unable to move his lips.

  “You’ve rendered him speechless, woman,” Archigadh said in his now-familiar teasing tone. “It’s your ma, lad, give her a kiss.”

  Soman bent his head to place a kiss on her cheek and noticed her eyes; deep blue and round. They were just like Soman’s eyes. And somehow he managed to lift one side of his mouth, giving her a crooked smile.

  “He’s rather small, isn’t he?” Maireen said to Archigadh as she appeared to inspect Soman closely.

  Archigadh laughed. “Leave the lad alone,” he said. “What did you expect? He’s spent his whole life in Aerie. He’ll grow. Just as I did.”

  This caught Soman’s attention. “You were raised in Aerie too?” he asked in surprise.

  “Aye,” Archigadh replied. “Come, let us sit in comfort and I’ll tell you all about where you come from.”

  As soon as they had emerged from the pool, a group of small workers appeared, each holding a square of cloth in his hand. With efficient speed, they rubbed their cloths all over Soman’s body, drying off every bit of water from his skin. Then they directed him to a bedsack-seat near the edge of the pool that overlooked the stunning valley below. As though they could read his mind, the workers handed him a cup of hot drink and a loaf of bread soaked in sweetfly nectar. And Maireen gave Soman a wink as she took the seat across the way.

  Archigadh’s seat creaked and groaned as he lowered himself onto it. “I was raised in Aerie just as you were,” he began without preamble. “For we are of the Ancestor Clan and it is tradition that the eldest son of each new generation is sent to Aerie to be raised by the Ancestor himself. And one day, you will send your own son to be raised there.”

  “I never saw another Zobanite there,” Soman said, feeling confused. “Who is the Ancestor?”

  “He is Progon, the oldest known Ances
tor of the great and wonderful Zobanites, the first Chief, the creator of us all,” Archigadh said with much fanfare. “And you probably knew him as Keeper Clary.”

  Soman shook his head. He pictured Keeper Clary in his mind and could not reconcile that image with these large, muscled people all around him. “You must be mistaken,” he said. “Keeper Clary is too small to be a Zobanite. Nor is he strong. He is an old man.”

  Archigadh nodded. “A very old man,” he agreed. “He is The Ancestor, I assure you.”

  “But he is a Keeper,” Soman continued to protest. “He made a Vow of Abstaining. It would be impossible for him to have descendants.”

  Archigadh gave him a patient smile. “He wasn’t always a Keeper,” he explained. “Long before he took the vows of a Keeper, he was the first Chief of the Zobanites and he had many, many children. I speak only the truth to you, lad.”

  “I don’t doubt you,” Soman said quickly. “It’s just that I’ve known Keeper Clary my entire life and he doesn’t fit what I now know to be a Zobanite.”

  “If you were to compare him to another glinter or a Terrene of the same age, I promise you would recognize him to be a Zobanite. For the others would be nothing but dust and bones.”

  Soman shuddered. “How old is he?”

  “As my father told me, he is double the age of Todor,” Archigadh said. “He was already old when he created The Compact with the first King of Todor.”

  Soman knitted his brows. “I’ve never heard of The Compact.”

  “It is an agreement between the Zobanites and the Terrenes,” Archigadh explained. “Briefly, The Compact states that the Terrenes pay tribute to Zobanites in exchange for protection.”

  Soman looked at the workers who stood under the arcade, just waiting for any of the Zobanites to need anything. “The workers,” he said, finally put ting together why they were all so small. “They’re all Terrenes.”

  “Aye,” Archigadh said and swallowed a bite of bread. “They built all of this splendor. They grow and prepare our food. They keep us happy and alive. We want for nothing because of them.”