Ileethios shook his head so hard, Gemynd thought he could hear the sloshing of his brain. “I will do better, Warden,” he said and fell to his knees. “Please give me another chance.”
Gemynd took a step back, disgusted by what he saw. “Get up,” he growled. “You are not worthy of being an Iturtian, much less an Iturtian instructor. I will speak to the Director and recommend that you be stripped of your instructor status and returned to level one. Perhaps a second time through active training will remind you what it means to be Iturtian.”
Even in the dim light of the pit, Gemynd could see that Ileethios had turned a sickening shade of white. “No,” he gasped, his eyes looking like they might pop out of his skull. “Please, there must be another way.”
“There is only one way,” Gemynd answered cooly. “You must master your thoughts and depend on your mind.”
“I give you permission to make me believe,” Ileethios whimpered and placed his forehead against the toe of Gemynd’s boot. “You’re right, Warden. I have given in to my fears. But rather than put me through training again, you could simply implant in my mind whatever thoughts you deem appropriate. You could make me into whatever sort of instructor you wish by simply persuading my mind. Warden, my mind is yours to control.”
Gemynd reached down and grabbed Ileethios around the neck. He pinned him against a wall and held him there by his throat. “I should end your life right now,” he spat, baring his teeth. “You have just greatly offended the Deis and all Iturtians and, especially, me.”
Gemynd held Ileethios so tight, the man could not speak. Gemynd felt Ileethios’ urgent nudge in his mind over and over again, but he refused him. The runt would get no more chances to disgust Gemynd with his repulsive words. For an Iturtian to give away the power of his mind was to commit the greatest transgression in all of Todor. Golath had told Gemynd about the countless generations of Iturtians who had given their lives preventing outsiders from taking over their minds. And now Ileethios was willing to simply give his away.
As Gemynd watched Ileethios’ face turn from red to purple, he saw the man’s eyes suddenly widen as they looked over Gemynd’s shoulder. Without turning around, Gemynd knew his father had walked up behind him. Their bond had grown strong enough over the last three years that Gemynd could sense his presence.
“Father,” Gemynd said in psychspeak, never moving his gaze from Ileethios. “You honor me with your presence in the pit.”
“I have news to share with you, my son,” Golath replied. “And rather than summon you to me, I thought I would visit you here and watch you at work. It was a good decision, too. This is quite a show.”
Gemynd suppressed a smile. “This imbecile is unworthy of his post as instructor.”
“Deal with him as you must,” Golath said. “I stand in awe of your aptitude.”
It was easy for Gemynd to forget that this man who complimented him and jested with him was the Director of Iturtia. To Gemynd, he had become a respected leader and close friend. But as far as Ileethios was concerned, Golath was the King.
“Kneel before your Director,” Gemynd growled as he released his hold on Ileethios. The man fell to the ground like a pile of rocks.
“Director,” Ileethios squeaked as he pulled himself to a kneeling position.
“What are your transgressions here?” Golath demanded in his most authoritative voice.
“I...I have disappointed The Warden, your excellency,” Ileethios stammered.
Golath gave Gemynd a sly smile. “I can see that,” he said. “And what did you do to cause such disappointment?”
Ileethios was quiet for several moments then he tentatively lifted his head. “I am unsure,” he answered.
Without pause, Gemynd kicked Ileethios down flat on the ground. Using psychanimation, he shackled Ileethios’ wrists and ankles then pulled him to a standing position. He looked at the next station and saw Hildegaard working with a student there. “Hildegaard,” he called. “Please take this man to his cell and lock him in there until I say otherwise.
Hildegaard did as she was instructed without question. Then Gemynd followed Golath up the spiral staircase to the walkway that overlooked the pit. Golath stopped and gazed out across the pit for several moments.
“You have done well, son,” he said. “I have never seen the pit running so efficiently. I admire the way you handled that instructor.”
Gemynd shook his head as he recalled the encounter with Ileethios. “That instructor allowed his fear of harming the children get in the way of training them,” he explained.
Golath nodded. “Ah,” he said. “Then he clearly does not understand the purpose of the training and that is a detriment to us all.”
“But there’s more,” Gemynd said and took a deep breath. “When I told him he would need to repeat his training, he offered me complete control over his mind.”
Golath narrowed his eyes. “He is not fit to be an Iturtian,” he grumbled. “You did well to remove him.”
Gemynd nodded. “I expect only the best from my instructors.”
“Very wise, my son,” Golath said and then made a sweeping gesture with his arm. “Look out there. Those instructors, and many of the students too, are to be the fighting warriors of Iturtia if, indeed, war comes to Todor. And I fear it is inevitable. Every day I receive reports of skirmishes, especially along the wall between Tolnick and Iturtia. Terrenes and Zobanites are convinced that it was Iturtians who tampered with the bridge and caused the death of Queen Helen and Prince Maargden. I fear the fighting will only escalate.”
“Could we offer some sort of proof that Iturtia was not involved in the Queen’s death?” Gemynd asked.
Golath blinked once, but his gaze never moved from the pit. In the firelight that danced in light and shadow across Golath’s face, Gemynd saw his jaw clench. “Every day my people are being killed out there,” Golath said in a voice tinged with exhaustion. “Our people, for they are your people too. Iturtians all over Tolnick are being rounded up and beaten and humiliated and murdered. Many of them have lived there long enough that they have forgotten their glinting abilities to defend themselves. Their heads are paraded on pikes throughout the city. And I am their leader. It is my job to keep them safe. And if anything should happen to me, you are next in line to lead them. We must decide together what is truly the best course of action.”
Gemynd hung his head. “Except for my visits to Numa, my life has existed mainly in this pit. I was not aware of how badly the Terrenes and Zobanites are treating our people,” he said sadly.
“For thousands of years they have mistreated us simply because they fear us,” Golath continued. “Once upon a time it was decided that, because the Terrenes have no glinting abilities, they should be given rule over the land as though this somehow evened things out for them. The Empyreans couldn’t care less; they have nothing to do with Todor. And the Zobanites are just stupid enough to get roped into some kind of twisted servitude relationship with the Terrenes. And so the only threat left was us. They relegated us to the most desolate place in Todor. the red sands. There was only a small band of us at the time and even still we did not go without a fight. We made war and lost. Our ancestors were forced to find a way to survive in a place where not even a single plant can grow. If it hadn’t been for Iturtian mindpower, they would surely have perished. But they didn’t. They figured out to dig. And then they saved their enemies as well because they began writing down all that they knew. Soon the outsiders came looking to Iturtia for answers. How do we hunt? How do we make ale? How do we design a city? How do we build a fortress? How do we teach our children? They knew nothing on their own. Nothing. Every living being in Todor owes his life to our Iturtian ancestors.”
“They never taught us that in discipleship,” Gemynd said. “Terrene children are not made aware of even the existence of Iturtians. At least not in Aerie anyway.”
Golath chuckled and turned to face Gemynd. “Can you see the absurdity of it?” he asked.
>
“They hate us, but they need us,” Gemynd replied.
“And they are right to fear us,” Golath said, a strange far off look in his eyes. “For we should be the rulers of Todor. It exists because of us. Every stone in every structure. Every canal and field. All of it lives because of the power of our minds.”
Gemynd felt a heaviness settle in his gut. “Do we have anything regarding the Deis’ take on the matter? Surely there’s a book in our library that addresses the Deis’ stand on who should rule the land.”
“I believe the Deis want Iturtians to rule,” Golath said simply. “For we can rule without the help of anyone else. The Terrenes cannot. It seems clear to me that the Deis gifted us with the power to rule.”
The heaviness spread upward from Gemynd’s gut and seized his chest, his throat. “If we made war, could we ever win? Zobanites are nearly immortal. Can they be beaten?” he asked. “And let us not rule out peace. Perhaps if we give a declaration that Iturtians will not take the throne, our people will be left alone.”
Golath reached out and squeezed Gemynd’s shoulder. “Nothing is impossible,” he said and Gemynd saw a glimmer of something deep in the older man’s eyes. “After all, look at us. Father and son reunited. We needn’t make any decisions about war today. We will work it out in time.”
“Do we have much time?” Gemynd asked. “You said Iturtians are already being rounded up and killed. Isn’t that as good as a declaration of war? Perhaps the time to act is now.”
“Perhaps,” Golath said then pushed away from the railing and began walking. “But for now let us continue our talk in my chambers, for I have news to discuss with you.”
Gemynd followed behind his father as they began the long walk up the staircase to the common room. It was always during this climb that Gemynd wished he could transport his body across space the way Numa could. “If only Numa were here, she’d have us in your chambers already,” he said aloud to his father.
Golath chuckled. “I truly hope I am able to meet this daughter of mine one day,” he said.
“And I wish for nothing more than for her to meet you,” Gemynd answered. “But I have not yet been able to remain in that forest for more than a handful of moments before the fear overtakes me. I must master this before I can have her bring you as well.”
Gemynd had lost track of how many times he’d given Numa permission to summon him over the years, but each time ended exactly the same way: with Gemynd being certain the forest was trying to kill them. Despite his mastery in Iturtia, it seemed impossible for him to control his thoughts in that accursed forest.
But he would never stop trying. For with every attempt came at least a single moment to look into Numa’s eyes; to see her smile, to breathe her scent and feel her touch. He could always count on at least one kiss and sometimes much more, before his fears got the better of him. When he’d been forced to leave Aerie, he didn’t know for certain if he would ever see Numa again. So he was grateful for whatever time he got with her.
“And she does not wish to come here?” Golath asked.
Gemynd pressed his lips together. He’d been torn on this point since he’d first discovered Numa’s abilities. She could easily transport herself to Iturtia where they could have as many hours together as they’d like, for nowhere was Gemynd more in control of his thoughts than in Iturtia. But that was precisely the reason he felt conflicted about it. With nothing in their way, Numa would want to stay with him all the time. And he knew that every last ounce of Joy would be drained from her in Iturtia. A life underground was no life for an Empyrean. Numa needed sunshine and trees and rivers and flowers. She needed these things every bit as much as she needed Gemynd, if not more. Gemynd knew in his heart it would be unfair of him to ask Numa to come to Iturtia.
“I have not invited her,” he answered simply.
Golath looked back over his shoulder and gave Gemynd a small smile. “I understand, my boy. When the time is right, I will meet her.”
After what seemed like thousands of steps later, Golath and Gemynd finally arrived the Director’s office. Golath took a seat behind his desk while Gemynd, using psychanimation, poured two cups of water from the side table. He moved one of the cups across the room to Golath.
“You’ve crossed the summit,” Golath said as he wrapped his hand around the cup that seemed to float in midair.
“The summit?” Gemynd asked as he took a seat opposite his father.
“The point where you have more skill using your mind to move objects than you ever did with your hands,” he said and lifted the cup. “You poured two cups and didn’t spill a drop.”
Gemynd smiled. His Iturtian glinting skills had become as second nature as breathing. It was hard to remember a time when he didn’t use them. “What is your news, father?” he asked.
“I have just received word that Aerie is allowing members to return,” Golath said and leaned back in his chair.
“Pardon me?” Gemynd asked, unsure he had heard his father correctly.
Golath pressed his lips together. “The Keepers have decided to allow all members of Aerie to return,” he repeated.
A surge of warmth flooded Gemynd’s face and he felt an involuntary tug at the corners of his mouth. “Numa will be overjoyed,” he said, mostly to himself.
Golath looked Gemynd in the eye. “And you?” he asked. “Are you overjoyed?”
“Part of me wants to stay with you. I am pit warden here after all,” Gemynd explained. “But the day I left Aerie, I gave Numa my vow. I cannot break that.”
“Say no more, I understand,” Golath said. “I would have returned for your mother a thousand times over if she had loved me the way Numa seems to love you.”
“If it does come to war, I will return to fight for you,” Gemynd said quickly, wanting to demonstrate his loyalty to his father.
Golath bowed his head. “I am grateful for that,” he said. “But before you make such a promise to me, there is more that you need to know.”
Gemynd narrowed his eyes. Why was there always something more? “Is it about Aerie?” he asked.
Golath nodded. “The Keepers are allowing members to return only upon the condition that they swear an oath of loyalty to Aerie.”
Gemynd closed his eyes and felt a whirring in his head that he had not felt in years. “An oath of loyalty to Aerie would mean an oath of loyalty to Terrenes,” he said through gritted teeth.
“Yes,” Golath replied.
Gemynd jumped to his feet and threw his cup at the wall. It was not nearly satisfying enough so he picked up his chair and slammed it in into the ground, splintering it into several pieces. “This cannot be!” he shouted. “They dangle my desires in front of my face only to pull them away from me again. You were right, father, the Keepers have no interest in the power of choice.”
“They would undoubtedly argue that they have given you a choice. A choice to go home,” Golath said, looking strangely calm sitting behind his desk.
“No,” Gemynd hissed. “It is a choice between betraying Numa, my heart, or betraying my people.”
“An impossible choice,” Golath muttered.
Gemynd leaned over his father’s desk. “Let us use our minds to figure a way around their oath. What exactly does an oath of loyalty entail?”
Golath shrugged. “Every oath is different, but a true oath exists across all time, so you will be bound to it for all eternity. In this case, you will likely be bound to follow all the rules of Aerie and do what the Keepers tell you,” he said. “It might not be very different from when you lived there before.”
“Except that I’d be bound for all eternity to be the enemy of my own people,” Gemynd said, feeling his ire rising. “Is there any way to get out of an oath once it is made?”
Golath shook his head. “The only way is to break it,” he said.
“And what are the repercussions of breaking an oath?” Gemynd asked, trying to remember if he’d learned about oaths in any of his studies, but he coul
d recall nothing.
Golath sighed. “I suppose that would be for the Deis to decide,” he said. “If we are going to think this through, we must ask ourselves why they are allowing this now. What has happened that would make Aerie’s Keepers want the return of its members?”
A thousand possibilities ran through Gemynd’s mind. Did they need more labor force? More protection? Could it be they were preparing for war? Or maybe they truly wanted to bring their members home. Maybe they wanted the best for all Aerites. “It’s impossible to determine for sure,” Gemynd said.
“And why the oath?” Golath mused aloud.
Gemynd recalled the strict rules against glinting that existed in Aerie. And he remembered the day the Keepers had ruled that Brighton would not be allowed to return home. “Is it possible that Terrenes are moving away from the idea of war? That the time of Aerie’s isolation is drawing to a close?” Gemynd asked. “And perhaps the oath is a way of ensuring that those of us who have been outside of Aerie for so long don’t return with ulterior motives.”
“Perhaps,” Golath said, but Gemynd could see in his eyes that he didn’t agree with this assessment at all.
Gemynd turned and paced back and forth across the small room. “I should remain here,” he said. “I can continue working on thought control in the forest. I can be with Numa there.”
“My son, you gave your bride your vow,” Golath reminded him and Gemynd clenched his jaw so tight he thought his teeth might break.
“Father, I do not know what to do,” Gemynd said, his breath now coming in shallow bursts.
“I do,” Golath said. “Please, sit, son. You’re stirring up all the dust in here.”
Golath stayed as he was, seated behind the desk with his hands resting lightly on the desk top. A sheet of parchment floated down between his hands. The reedstick next to him dipped itself in the inkwell and began scratching words on the parchment.
“What are you doing?” Gemynd asked and peered over the desk to see what his father wrote.
Revelation: The Todor Trilogy, Book One Page 22