The Inner Circle: Holy Spirit

  ‘If they have any chance, we’ll need to act quickly.’ Teah straightened up and turned to face Ilgrin. Even through his madness he was startled by her appearance. The woman wore black lipstick and eye makeup. She had countless necklaces and chains hanging from her neck and equally as many bracelets around her arms. But all of that paled in comparison to what he saw next. When Teah tilted her head this way or that, for just a fraction of a second something would glisten above her head. It had no discernible shape, but whenever the light caught it at just the right angle it would appear bearing similar colours and patterns as one would see dancing across a soapy film.

  ‘Quickly,’ the male silt urged. ‘He’s past the madness. He’ll soon be dead.’

  ‘I’ve done all I can for Jakob,’ Teah said ominously. ‘We’ll just have to wait and see. Now, for you.’ She looked over at Ilgrin nervously. ‘Sa’Enoch.’ Teah retrieved a large flask and removed the cork. She moved her fingers above the container as though coaxing something out and sure enough a white mist drifted up to hover above her hand. Someone was screaming. Ilgrin jolted when he realised it was him. He was in agony. His heart beat too fast and his throat was closing up. His stomach twisted and cramped.

  ‘Hurry, Teah,’ the male silt said nervously. ‘It’s almost done.’

  Teah ignored the man, instead turning to the sieift that’d formed into a white ball between her hands. She whispered to it quietly and it plunged into Ilgrin’s chest. If he’d thought he was in agony before, it was nothing compared to this. Ilgrin writhed in excruciating pain as battle was waged within him. The darkness didn’t like the sieift. The whisp rain would put up a fight before giving up its home. And then the pain subsided.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  THE CLOUDS ARE CAVING IN

  ‘Knock, knock.’ Far-a-mael’s voice intruded on Seteal’s thoughts as it penetrated the canvas wall of her tent.

  ‘What?’ Seteal stood in anticipation of the man’s company.

  ‘I noticed that you rejected my invitation to come see me yesterday,’ Far-a-mael stated as his grotesque figure entered the tent. ‘I thought I’d come and see you instead.’

  ‘What do you want, Far-a-mael?’ Seteal stuck out her chin defiantly. ‘Haven’t you taken enough?’

  ‘I need a favour,’ Far-a-mael said, a thoughtful expression on his face.

  ‘You must be joking.’ Seteal laughed aloud.

  ‘Perhaps “favour” was the wrong word,’ Far-a-mael mused. ‘Perhaps what I’m suggesting is more of a proposition.’

  ‘A proposition?’ Seteal pursed her lips. ‘What kind of proposition?’

  ‘In the upcoming weeks, we’ll be engaging in battle with Old World.’ Far-a-mael tapped his chin through his beard. ‘But we really know very little about the enemy. I intend to attack no matter what, but it’d be nice to know what kind of odds we’re going up against.’

  ‘You want me to project to Old World,’ Seteal stated dispassionately. ‘You must be stupid. The last time I left my body, I couldn’t get back in. What makes you think it’ll be any different this time?’

  ‘I can serve as your anchor,’ Far-a-mael replied. ‘I can tie you to the Ways through the stability of my aura. Even if you begin to reject the Ways, my aura will remain firmly attached. I’ll easily be able to pull you back.’

  ‘Why didn’t you do that last time?’

  ‘Because you were already gone.’ Far-a-mael shrugged as though it were obvious. ‘The bond must be prepared before the projection.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Why what?’

  ‘Why would I help you?’ Seteal said indignantly. ‘You must know how much I hate you.’

  ‘Have you heard the happy news?’ The old man began pacing back and forth across the tent. ‘Due to the kindness of my heart, I’ve welcomed El-i-miir back into the fold. I’ve even promised her the Wil’ca trials.’

  ‘I’m so glad,’ Seteal murmured unenthusiastically.

  ‘The poor girl has nowhere else to go, especially since her pet demon disappeared.’ Far-a-mael sighed. ‘It would be a shame for me to have to change my mind.’

  ‘That’s it?’ Seteal raised her eyebrows. ‘That’s the deal? I help you get information about your enemy and you allow El-i-miir to return to the Frozen Lands? What do I get out of it?’

  ‘I know of your intentions, Seteal.’ Far-a-mael narrowed his eyes at her. ‘You wish to kill me.’

  ‘How could you possibly . . .’ She trailed off.

  ‘Elglair, remember?’ Far-a-mael tapped his head. ‘We have our ways of finding things out. How could you want to kill your own grandfather?’ He finished with a flourish, as though he felt the information would catch Seteal off guard.

  ‘I know who you are,’ she said coolly.

  ‘And you still want me dead?’ Far-a-mael chuckled in astonishment. ‘My dear, you are a girl after my own heart.’

  ‘I’m nothing like you,’ Seteal snapped, taking an unconscious step back.

  ‘Nevertheless.’ Far-a-mael shrugged. ‘You have none of the platitudes of your mother and you did just admit to wanting me dead. Well, congratulations, you’ve got what you wanted.’

  ‘You’re dying.’

  ‘Of course.’ Far-a-mael nodded. ‘Look at me. At best, I’ve got little over a month. So, how about it? Let your friend return home, have the satisfaction of knowing I’m dead, and . . . you can return to Elmsville with the peace of mind that the Elglair will never bother you or your family again,’ Far-a-mael looked pointedly at Seteal’s enlarged belly.

  ‘I’ll think about it.’ She exhaled slowly.

  ‘Very well.’ Far-a-mael nodded graciously. ‘But don’t ponder your options too long. I won’t live forever, you know.’

  *

  El-i-miir rested atop her black horse and waited just outside the camp. She didn’t know what for. She could easily return the horse and nobody would be any the wiser. She could back out and return to the Frozen Lands just as Far-a-mael had promised she could. But oddly enough, Seeol had taught El-i-miir something about love--and sending Ilgrin away had been a mistake.

  The Ways could not be altered. Who was she to think she could change them? Ilgrin would die. She’d just been too cowardly to be willing to face it when he did. El-i-miir realised now that what little time they had was precious. Everyone died sooner or later, and even putting Seteal’s prophecy aside, Ilgrin would not have had even half her life expectancy anyway. El-i-miir needed to touch him again, to feel his embrace. If only one more time. She would not let Ilgrin die alone and without love.

  With tears in her eyes, El-i-miir cast a forlorn glance back toward the camp. She was throwing away the only chance she’d ever get to go home. She knew that. But El-i-miir didn’t belong in the Frozen Lands anymore. She belonged with Ilgrin. With tendrils of light already dancing away from her fingertips, El-i-miir affiliated her horse and headed south at a gallop.

  *

  ‘War Elder Far-a-mael.’ Sy’hadoan Tim-a-nie entered the tent. ‘Seteal is on her way to see you, but El-i-miir is still missing.’

  ‘Does she know?’ Far-a-mael couldn’t keep the frustration from his voice.

  ‘Not yet,’ Tim-a-nie replied reassuringly.

  ‘Good. Keep it that way.’

  ‘Far-a-mael.’ Seteal entered with a hand on her belly. Tim-a-nie took his cue to leave. ‘I’ve considered your proposition.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘I’ll do it,’ Seteal stated. ‘You get to die. El-i-miir gets to go home. And I get left alone. The Elglair will never come near me or my family.’

  Far-a-mael smiled. ‘That’s the deal.’

  ‘All right.’ Seteal nodded. ‘So how should we do this?’

  ‘Make yourself comfortable.’ Far-a-mael threw some pillows and a blanket on the floor. ‘Focus on the Ways as I’ve taught you, but don’t become too lost in them. You must remain within your body long enough that I have sufficient time to create the anchor.’

  ‘There,’
Far-a-mael murmured to himself when the edges of Seteal’s aura became fuzzy. She’d lowered her defences, making penetration that much easier. Refusing to allow the opportunity to pass him by, Far-a-mael threw tendrils of light into the girl’s aura and knotted them tight. He made sure to leave plenty of slack for fear she’d discover just how tightly he’d bound her. It was Far-a-mael’s intention to make the anchor permanent. He didn’t trust the girl not to use her abilities against him and needed to be certain of his power over her. He’d be able to yank her back into her body whenever he chose.

  ‘Done.’ He smiled, securing the final tie.

  ‘Now what?’ Seteal turned to face him.

  ‘Now you do what you do best, knowing that I’ll pull you back should something go wrong.’ Far-a-mael smiled as warmly as he could. ‘Just call out to me and I’ll be right by your side.’

  *

  Seteal squeezed out of her body. The additional weight of Far-a-mael’s anchor was surprisingly noticeable. If projection usually felt like floating, now it was more comparable to swimming holding lead weights. She had to work to move free of her body and felt like she might snap back at the slightest provocation. Seteal moved through the roof of the tent and pushed into the sky. Despite the additional weight, it felt good to be free again, away from her wrecked body and the tumour that grew in her womb. Seteal giggled inwardly, feeling the elation that came from existing in her spiritual form.

  The camp, so immense from the ground, soon became an insignificant speck. Seteal danced through the mountaintops and amongst the clouds. She sailed over rushing streams and plunged along the length of thunderous waterfalls. She sped south faster and faster, the world becoming a blurry mass, until finally she came to a stop before heavy black clouds that filled the distant horizon.

  Seteal caught herself feeling apprehensive and proceeded with caution, despite the fact that nothing could hurt her while projecting. She was quite safe, many hundreds of miles away in the northern parts of Kilk Antet. In the distance, strange trees that bulged in various places stretched up from the ground. The structures were too small to be anything of great importance, so Seteal surged on until the woodlands became thicker and the trees more numerous.

  Silts darted this way and that, catching Seteal off-guard by how mundane their lives appeared. An elderly woman hung out clothes to dry on a slender branch protruding from her tree. A group of boys played some sort of ball game in the air above the house. A young couple embraced each other on the earth below, where they were less likely to be interrupted. Seteal had clearly entered a city of sorts, but she had not yet reached its centre. She moved on.

  At the centre of the city stood a great tree that rose out of the ground to tower over the others. Its enormity was breathtaking, its peak scraping the whisp clouds above. Its girth was such that surely it’d take several hours just to walk its circumference. The great tree was punctured with countless window and doorways through which nobles and servants rushed about their various duties.

  Curious for a closer look, Seteal surged toward the sky and headed for the treetop. Few silts were found at such heights and a look at the sky told Seteal the reason for it. The whisp clouds rushed this way and that, feverishly churning about each other, all seeking out a secret destination of their own. Something bit into Seteal’s soul and the ice cold sensation burned her spirit. The breath vanished from her body’s chest hundreds of miles away. Seteal’s spirit shuddered and she turned in time to see a tendril of the great whisp reaching out to prod her. Immediately it recoiled--a kitten playing with a lizard, not quite sure of what to do with it.

  How could this be possible? She was in her spiritual form. It occurred to Seteal then that whisps, too, were of spiritual origin. Turning to flee, Seteal was struck a second time by the outstretched length of whisp, but this time it did not let go, instead latching deep into her soul. Seteal’s body screamed in horror, but she immediately realised her mistake. Far-a-mael yanked on the anchor while the whisp was still embedded.

  ‘No!’ she howled as the anchor dragged her through the sky.

  As one, the clouds caved in, millions of whisps tempted by the strangeness of what they’d discovered pulled along with Seteal as one deadly force.

  Far-a-mael, stop! she tried to cry, but her body had ceased responding, instead screaming endlessly as it flailed her limbs in every direction. The great whisp pulled back on Seteal’s spirit, refusing to let her go, but Far-a-mael’s anchor was stronger and the whisps lost their grip. But it was too late. It knew where she was now. It’d felt her destination through the anchor. And simultaneously thousands of whisps surged north as one.

  Seteal screamed in her being as she raced the cloud across the world. Miles away her heart beat quickened, her chest raising and falling in panic. Seteal plunged through the whisps again and again as it surged through her and over her, the two of them locked in a deadly race in and around each other. Each refusing to take a less direct route, the pair crashed through mountaintops, causing large shards of rock to break off and tumble in every direction. With a desperate howl, Seteal stretched out to the Ways and did everything, anything she could think of to the canvas. Lightning struck through the darkness, only to reach the trees below it. The earth cracked open with a deep shuddering moan and lava sprayed into the sky, but again that which was physical took no toll on the mass of whisps.

  In a flash, Seteal passed over a town, taking with her split-second images of grim-faced men and women as they witnessed the darkness passing over. Throwing herself at the whisp, Seteal pleaded with it, but it only engulfed her, read her, stained the canvas and wrapped around her as they passed over an unfamiliar city. People cast their eyes skyward to find the shape of an invisible woman shrouded at the forefront of black mist.

  After plunging through another mountain, Seteal saw a speck in the distance. It was the camp. She tried to make her mouth speak, to beg that Far-a-mael release the anchor, but her lips wouldn’t respond. The camp rose up before Seteal with her company of whisps. Far-a-mael’s tent flew toward her as she fell through the top. The old man’s face was filled with concern, and then horror.

  Seteal crashed into her body. Her eyes burst open. She opened her mouth to scream, but her throat was already raw. The tent shook with black wind and the whisps forced themselves down Seteal’s throat. They squeezed into her lungs and into her blood. Their fetid core emptied into her body and pushed through her skin. Still, the whisps came. The darkness filled her. There was more. It wouldn’t stop. There was still more. Seteal’s mind shattered. Her head burned with agony. The whisps kept coming. Seteal’s bones began to break and her heart beat lost consistency. Her nerves burned on fire. Her arteries froze to ice. But suddenly the whisps changed their minds, burrowing deeper.They’d found something more delicious then the spent whore who they’d been about to feast on.

  ‘No!’ Seteal cried bitterly. The damage to her bones was reversed and her heartbeat was restored, the whisps focused on a deeper part of her. The darkness was pumped through her blood and into her womb where it formed an attachment to her unborn child.

  ‘Not him!’ Seteal begged as the physical pain subsided and she felt her son’s mind begging for relief. He cried out to his mother, but she could do nothing. And then something ugly, and only darkness.

  It was done. Seteal’s vision cleared. She put a hand over her stomach, rolled over and vomited. She gagged at the bitter taste and balked at the stringy black fluid that sprayed across the floor.

  ‘You!’ She glared up at Far-a-mael. ‘I’ll kill you!’ Seteal shrieked. She readied herself to leap free of her body. But she couldn’t. She tried a second time, but it was as though the Ways had ceased to exist. It was then that through the putridness within she felt something else: the anchor. ‘What have you done to me?’

  ‘Tim-a-nie!’ Far-a-mael shouted, his eyes wide with fear. ‘Tim-a-nie, get in here!’

  ‘Yes, War Elder,’ Tim-a-nie burst into the tent. ‘Get this cleaned up.’ H
e pointed at Seteal’s vomit. ‘Remove my belongings and burn the tent.’

  ‘What . . . have . . . you . . . done?’ Seteal crawled toward Far-a-mael, spreading the black vomit across the floor as she went. ‘What--’ She attempted a second time, but only succeeded in throwing-up more of the gunk. ‘You’ve killed me,’ Seteal wailed. ‘Let me out! Let me out!’ She clawed at her face, leaving bloody gashes with her nails. ‘I can’t stay in here!’ she screamed, gauging at her arms and legs. ‘Please . . . please!’ She crawled over to Far-a-mael and reached out for him, but the old man turned away. ‘Release me. Let me go.’

  ‘I can’t,’ Far-a-mael said, dodging his way toward the exit. ‘I can’t imagine what you’re going through, but there is simply too much at stake to risk you ruining it all.’

  ‘I won’t.’ Seteal reached out to him, only to tumble off balance back into her own vomit. ‘Please,’ she begged. ‘I won’t touch you. Just let me out. Let me out! Don’t leave me in here with it!’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Far-a-mael shook his head, his eyes expressing true horror. ‘I’m so sorry, Seteal.’ He put a hand over his mouth and backed out of the tent.

  Seteal’s flesh was cold. The unborn child growing inside her had been changed and all she could feel was putrid darkness. Waves of nausea washed over her continuously. The light in the room was too bright. Seteal coughed, this time spraying blood into her hand. She slithered across the tent and leaned against the wall panting. She couldn’t get enough air. She felt like she was on the edge of suffocating.

  ‘Sweetheart,’ Fes raced fearlessly into the tent. ‘Come with me. Ye’ll be all right,’ the big woman wrapped Seteal in her arms and dragged her to her feet. ‘Let’s get ye cleaned up.’ She practically held Seteal up as she stumbled out of the tent.

  ‘Where’s . . .’ Seteal swallowed, blinking in the sunlight, paralysed by all the faces staring at hers. ‘Where’s El-i-miir? Get me El-i-miir?’

  ‘I be sorry, lovey,’ Fes replied. ‘She gave me a note ta give ta ye. Given the circumstances I be readin’ it. She be gone. But ye nah be worryin’ about that right now. Come on, dearie.’