The Inner Circle: Holy Spirit

  ‘Correct.’ Seeol glared. ‘You knew what these bad men were doings and you didn’t do anything. Never return.’

  ‘But--’

  ‘Never,’ Seeol hissed. The trees surrounding him moaned as the wind picked up. Phil backed away as clouds gathered and the woods were bathed in darkness. A wolf howled somewhere nearby. Phil hurried in the opposite direction.

  ‘Seeol?’ El-i-miir asked wearily.

  ‘You are safe now, sweetie.’ Seeol pulled back her blindfold and rubbed his beak over her cheek. ‘You are so safety with me.’ Seeol parted his mandibles and micked the clicking sound of a human kiss.

  *

  Far-a-mael strutted through the streets of Veret with as much pomp as he could muster while limping. He wasn’t doing so because of pain. In fact, he didn’t even feel pain anymore. Rather, he limped for the simple fact that his left big toe had fallen off. Truth was, the whole affair had been rather unsettling. All the same, he’d never thought that the day would come he’d be strolling so freely through the heart of Jenjol’s capitol city.

  The faces of commoners were ones of disgust. They’d been ordered under threat of execution not to lay a finger on the visiting Elglair, but that didn’t stop them from cursing the cohort as they passed. Such awful people. Far-a-mael had only ever met one Jenjen whom as a child he’d called a friend, but that was a very long time ago.

  ‘There it is,’ Far-a-mael said to his cohort of gil’hadoans as they approached the palace walls and the buildings that lay beyond. They would test the Ways through various methods and see if anything was amiss. The gates had been opened in time for the Elglair’s arrival. Far-a-mael strode through the arching entrance and approached the guards.

  ‘Name?’ one of them enquired.

  ‘You know who I am,’ Far-a-mael retorted.

  ‘Of course, War Elder Far-a-mael,’ the guard sneered. ‘Follow me. King Harundor awaits your presence in the great hall.’

  The great hall was a bubble of noise. Officials and nobles danced with their wives . . . or other men’s wives. Young men roved about the floor casting devilish glances at young women’s cleavage none too subtly as they collected fresh glasses from platters. Music was played by several musicians, whilst hired dancers twirled and waved their arms to a traditional Jenjen rhythm. An exorbitant banquet had been provided in the centre of the room atop a long table at which the king was seated.

  As Far-a-mael entered, the music stopped and the king rose to his feet. The two stared each other down for a prolonged moment, during which not a word was spoken amongst the impressive crowd.

  ‘Well?’ The king turned to his people. ‘Let us make our guest, War Elder Far-a-mael of the Unified Cleffs, and his associates, welcome!’ He waved his goblet through the air and the frivolity reignited.

  ‘Spread out.’ Far-a-mael turned to his men. ‘Mingle, but maintain your senses. And for Maker’s sake, don’t drink.’

  ‘Come, Far-a-mael,’ Braihon Harundor waved him over like they were old comrades. ‘Sit.’ He patted the elaborate chair beside him. ‘Eat.’ This was a man of few syllables.

  ‘King Harundor.’ Far-a-mael nodded as he approached and took the seat indicated. ‘It is good to meet you in person.’

  ‘Indeed.’ Harundor took a bite out of a chicken leg. His hands and beard were wet with grease and his face was red from too much wine. ‘Have you thought any further of my proposition?’

  ‘I will agree to an alliance with you,’ Far-a-mael intoned. ‘But I do have some conditions.’

  ‘And those are?’ Harundor chuckled as a dancer passed by his vision shaking her rather rotund backside.

  ‘You will send every able-bodied man in the city and order Ignish to do the same,’ Far-a-mael replied. ‘And when I speak of men, I mean to say anyone up from the age of sixteen.’

  ‘You are as arrogant as they say.’ Harundor laughed. ‘I accept!’ He shook Far-a-mael’s hand. ‘Even I shall come along on this great and unparalleled adventure.’

  ‘Really?’ Far-a-mael could not help but show his surprise. Convincing the king to abandon his kingdom had been all too easy. Perhaps it was a trick.

  ‘Of course.’ The king laughed. ‘We have the Holy Spirit of Maker by our side. With His blessing, we cannot fail. He is here to protect us, guide us, and bring us salvation. The victory over Old World is already ours. We need only reach out and take it.’

  ‘I should very much like to meet this Holy Spirit of yours.’ Far-a-mael chuckled at the man’s foolishness, while he remained more than willing to benefit from it. ‘He sounds like an interesting fellow.’

  ‘Oh, He is,’ the king said mysteriously. ‘You’ll see that for yourself. He’s been caught up with some unpleasant business, but shouldn’t be too much longer.’

  ‘Very well.’ Far-a-mael analysed the delicious foods before him, but resisted filling a plate. He hadn’t had a bowel movement in two weeks and suspected that if he partook, the food might remain in him forever.

  ‘Are you all right?’ Harundor leaned in close to sniff the air surrounding Far-a-mael.

  ‘Get a hold of yourself,’ Far-a-mael snapped, but the king had already leapt excitedly to his feet.

  ‘Here He is.’ Harundor clapped his hands together, causing the grease coating his hands to flick into Far-a-mael’s beard.

  ‘The child?’ Far-a-mael squinted through blurred vision as a red-headed girl entered regally. She was holding something, but Far-a-mael couldn’t make out what.

  ‘Of course not the child,’ the king replied distractedly. ‘Holy Spirit.’ The old man waved his hand about like an excited school boy. ‘I’ve arranged you a place beside mine.’

  ‘Beside yours?’ Far-a-mael muttered. There were no other chairs available. The table beside the king was decorated only by a goblet of red wine and a covered platter. ‘Where’s he supposed to sit--on the table?’ Far-a-mael enquired.

  ‘Of course,’ Harundor replied as Far-a-mael turned to find the girl standing before them. His eyes travelled down the length of her arm and over a golden glove on which a very familiar figure was perched.

  ‘You must be joking.’ Far-a-mael couldn’t help but chuckle. ‘This is your Holy Spirit?’

  ‘Yes.’ Seeol bobbed his head. ‘I’m this Holy Spirit.’

  ‘I can see that,’ Far-a-mael wheezed out before bursting into a fit of laughter. He paused momentarily upon the sound of something snapping in his chest, but then continued as before.

  ‘Is something the matter?’ Harundor narrowed his eyes at Far-a-mael’s soggy green flesh.

  ‘No,’ Far-a-mael wheezed out, his laughter escaping in uncontrollable bursts. ‘I’m fine,’ he choked out, wiping brown tears from his eyes.

  ‘What’s happened to yours face?’ Seeol tilted his head in curiosity, before shaking it in frustration and changing the topic before Far-a-mael could even open his mouth. ‘There’s no time,’ Seeol urged. ‘Seteal won’t wake up.’

  ‘Seteal’s here?’ Far-a-mael stood up from the table.

  ‘Following me.’ Seeol fluttered across the room.

  *

  ‘What happened?’ Far-a-mael burst into the dark chamber and located El-i-miir immediately. ‘You! What have you done this time, you stupid child?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ El-i-miir gaped disbelievingly. ‘We were attacked in the woods. I was blindfolded, which made it near impossible to see what I was doing. I tried sending out affiliation several times, but I couldn’t properly link to the men’s auras. I think Seteal must have projected.’

  ‘And she hasn’t returned,’ Far-a-mael stated gloomily.

  ‘No,’ El-i-miir said. ‘Her aura’s gone, so I know she’s not just unconsciousness. Gil’rei Far-a-mael,’ El-i-miir bit her lip, recognising her mistake in addressing him as such. ‘She can sever people from the Ways.’

  ‘Maker only knows what her limits might be.’ Far-a-mael shook his head.

  El-i-miir peered through the dark. ‘What happened to you?’
>
  ‘It’s not important.’ Far-a-mael waved his hand dismissively, his thumbnail flying off as he did so. ‘We have to focus on drawing Seteal back into her body before she is permanently lost.’

  ‘Please help her.’ Seeol paced anxiously back and forth across the carpet.

  ‘What a lovely little reunion,’ Far-a-mael murmured as he delved into the Ways. ‘Since we’re having a party, where’s the demon?’

  ‘It’s gone.’ El-i-miir felt a lump forming in her throat. ‘I came to my senses and killed it.’

  ‘You really must take me for a fool, child,’ Far-a-mael chuckled. ‘It doesn’t matter what lies you concoct. You will never be allowed back home, especially since you’ve disgraced your parents for failing to die honourably in Vish’el’Tei.’

  ‘Please,’ El-i-miir said shakily. ‘I have nothing left. Ilgrin will never come back, not after what I said to him.’

  ‘That’s not my problem,’ Far-a-mael snorted. ‘Now shut up and let me focus on one silly little girl at a time. What have you done, Seteal?’ His voice became strangely empathetic. It was a tone El-i-miir hadn’t been used to hearing from Far-a-mael. ‘Where is it?’

  El-i-miir remained silent, but she knew what Far-a-mael was looking for. She too had searched for it. Seteal’s aura was gone. That much was obvious, but there should have been a slight residue remaining, something by which she could be dragged back. El-i-miir had found nothing, which made no sense as long as Seteal continued to breathe.

  ‘There,’ Far-a-mael whispered. El-i-miir admired the old man’s skill when he quickly located a slender strand of Seteal’s being. It was buried in shadow, but still there. ‘My Maker,’ Far-a-mael gasped.

  Seeol looked up. ‘What is it, my child?’

  ‘Not you,’ Far-a-mael grumbled, his eyes focused on the slithering strands of energy that flowed confusingly about the room. ‘She’s frayed worse than anything I’ve seen before … and there’s two of her. No . . . I mean she’s . . . did you know about this?’ Far-a-mael turned sharply toward El-i-miir. ‘She’s pregnant.’

  ‘I know.’ El-i-miir squirmed beneath his glare. ‘But that doesn’t explain why she’s so badly frayed?’

  ‘What a mess,’ Far-a-mael grumbled, leaning over Seteal. ‘She no longer wishes to be here. Whether she acknowledges it or not, Seteal herself is the only reason she cannot return. She has lost the will to live. She is rejecting the Ways and as a result the Ways are releasing her.’

  ‘But plenty of people lose their will to live.’ El-i-miir frowned. ‘They don’t just die.’

  ‘That’s different,’ Far-a-mael lectured. ‘Regular people are bound here by their bodies. Without one, Seteal’s only connection to the Ways is her will to remain amongst them.’

  ‘What can we do?’ El-i-miir put a hand to her mouth, refusing to accept that Seteal might be lost forever.

  ‘I’ve knotted what remains as tightly as I dare,’ Far-a-mael said grimly. ‘That should slow the process, but unless Seteal can find a reason to fight, it will not keep her here for long. Tell me, is she here now?’

  ‘No.’ El-i-miir shook her head. ‘I mean to say, I cannot feel her presence.’

  ‘If you do,’ Far-a-mael replied. ‘I advise you to remind her of her reasons to live. Other than that, I’m afraid there is little we can do.’

  *

  Silt corpses decorated in dark blue uniforms hung from the trees or were sprawled out in the dirt. The moon was high and the night was black. A bird pecked at one of the corpse’s flesh, enjoying the freely available feast.

  She had murdered them all. Her body was somewhere. It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter. Cold white memories plunged her into insanity. Seteal had been a child . . . just a child. Torn across the world, her innocence had been stolen, her confidence shattered. She’d tried for some time to re-enter the body. It’d been impossible. She no longer felt her own heartbeat. The body belonged to someone else, somewhere else, far away waiting to die. What was that? Something touched the cheek.

  Twisting sideways, Seteal vanished through space, coming to exist within a dark chamber. Lanterns cast eerie shadows across the walls. It was late and the chamber was empty, but for the silently breathing body that’d once belonged to her with an elf owl perched atop its pillow. Again Seeol touched the woman’s cheek as he replicated a sound resembling a kiss.

  ‘Is my friend,’ the little bird whispered in her ear. ‘Is my best friendly and I love you because you are fun and played with me and cuddled me. Is going to live and have fun days with lots of friends. Yes, you is going to have a little baby and I will help you be friends with it. I will help teach that silly baby to read and to talk with you. Oh, we’ll have such fun.’ The bird’s eyes remained expressionless, but his overall demeanour revealed deep concern. ‘I need you, Seteal.’ Seeol’s voice softened. ‘This one needs you too.’ He glanced at her swollen belly. ‘Is always reasons to stay. Please . . . please don’t die. If there’s nothing else, I will always be your bestest friend.’

  Seteal’s soul quivered with emotion. Of course, Seeol didn’t know what he was saying. He was only a little bird. He couldn’t possibly feel such depth of emotion. Nevertheless, what he’d said about Seteal’s unborn child formed a solid lump of will within.

  She cringed as she watched the Ways’ warm golden meshwork wriggling invitingly. Frayed strands that hung partially detached snaked toward the canvas to bury themselves like worms into wet soil. They knotted themselves together, reattaching Seteal to reality. She opened her eyes, bitter with regret as she basked beneath the suffocating stench of a poisoned body that she hated.

  ‘Seteal!’ Seeol’s exited voice filled her ears.

  She sat up. When had she started crying? ‘Seeol,’ she replied. ‘Thank you.’

  Seeol’s golden eyes bored into Seteal’s. ‘You stay forever.’ His voice was flat, but purposeful. ‘Don’t leave me all alone.’

  ‘I won’t.’ Seteal rested a hand on her stomach. ‘I won’t leave you,’ she whispered to the child within.

  El-i-miir burst into the room. ‘You’re back! Oh, thank Maker.’ She raced over to hug Seteal. ‘Oh . . . Seeol. I need to talk to Seteal for a minute.’

  ‘Okay.’ Seeol nodded, but didn’t move.

  ‘Alone.’ El-i-miir raised her eyebrows.

  ‘Yes.’ Seeol bobbed his head, but again remained in place.

  ‘She’s asking you to leave,’ Seteal said gently.

  ‘Oh,’ Seeol replied dejectedly before buzzing out of the room.

  ‘Sit down.’ Seteal patted the bed spread invitingly, but once she had done so she simply stared at the wall. ‘I know what you did.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Ilgrin.’

  ‘Oh that,’ El-i-miir stifled a sob. ‘I don’t want to talk about it. I’m just glad you’re okay.’

  ‘I’m just a little confused.’ Seteal shrugged. ‘I thought you said that making him hate you wouldn’t work.’

  ‘I don’t know anymore.’ El-i-miir sighed. ‘I had to try something, didn’t I? If he’s going to die for me, the best thing I can do for him is to keep him as far away from me as possible.’

  ‘I guess.’ Seteal frowned.

  ‘Far-a-mael is here,’ El-i-miir said after a moment’s hesitation.

  ‘I know,’ Seteal murmured. ‘I saw him while projecting.’

  ‘We should get out of here.’

  ‘No,’ Seteal said, barely above a whisper. ‘I’ve been given a chance. I’m going to take it.’

  ‘Surely you weren’t serious when you said you were going to kill Far-a-mael,’ El-i-miir stated with wide eyes. ‘There’s been enough killing, Seteal.’

  ‘He did this to me,’ she hissed. ‘All of this is because of him.’

  ‘I hope you’ll reconsider.’ El-i-miir sniffed. ‘What you’re suggesting isn’t killing in the heat of battle. It’s planned. It’s murder.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘Seteal!’ El-i-miir snapped. ‘He’s
too strong. You cannot defeat him.’

  ‘I’ll wait,’ Seteal replied. ‘Sooner or later, he’ll let his guard down and I’ll strike.’

  ‘Stop it!’ El-i-miir cried. ‘Just stop it! You’re not a murderer.’

  ‘You don’t know what I’m capable of.’ Seteal’s voice was eerily calm.

  ‘Far-a-mael doesn’t want to hurt you, Seteal,’ El-i-miir pleaded. ‘He lied to get you to the Frozen Lands and he’s done plenty of horrible things, but that’s only to accomplish his goals. He never meant you any deliberate harm. If you need someone to blame, blame life and circumstance. Blame Master Fasil--but wait, you can’t blame him because he’s dead. Far-a-mael killed him for you. Remember?’

  ‘Get out,’ Seteal said coldly. ‘I will not have that name spoken in my presence.’

  ‘Look.’ El-i-miir sighed. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Get out.’

  ‘Seteal. I’m sorry.’

  ‘Get out!’ Seteal shouted. Thunder rumbled outside, the room vibrated and the candles went out. The bed slid several handswidths toward the door, books flew from a shelf, and a chair sailed across the room to splinter against the far wall. El-i-miir left the room in a rush.

  ‘Thank Maker for that.’ Master Fasil smiled from his place beside Seteal. ‘I was beginning to think she would never leave.’

   

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  YOUR PEOPLE

  Seeol entered his private dining room riding on Ieane’s golden-gloved hand. Seteal and El-i-miir sat at a splendidly carved table with Briel and Fes placed opposite. Seeol had invited all of his closest friends, feeling that he owed them an explanation as to the events that had recently transpired. It was equally as important that he got some answers of his own.

  ‘Please join us, Ieane,’ Seeol said as the girl entered and placed Seeol at the head of the table.

  ‘It wouldn’t be appropriate.’

  ‘Sit, Ieane.’ Seeol gestured toward an empty seat at the other end of the table.

  ‘I couldn’t.’ The girl flushed red. ‘I’m your humble servant. It’s not my place to dine with you.’

  ‘You is are my friend.’ Seeol repeated the gesture with his toe. ‘Join us pleasingly.’

  ‘I’m . . . your friend? Thank you, Holy Spirit,’ Ieane sat down and immediately started fidgeting.