The Inner Circle: Holy Spirit

  A loud bang caused Briel to jump momentarily before he realised that it was only one of the young princes kicking a ball outside. His cheeky little face blocked out the sun before he began heaping piles of mud up over the grill, giggling all the while. Soon Briel found himself sitting in utter darkness and couldn’t help but wonder if that was what death would be like.

   

  CHAPTER TWO

  TEARS

  El-i-miir cast her eyes over the silt’s pallid flesh where he sat on the edge of her bed. The flesh stretched tight over his bony wings was almost translucent in the bright light. His skin was like that of a dead man who’d frozen in the snow. It was white in colour, but for the bluish hue in his cheeks or wherever else a human might be flushed pink with blood. His dark hair boasted a mixture of blacks and bluish purples. Ilgrin’s cheekbones were higher than those of a human. His fingers lacked fingernails and they were more slender and elongated than those of an ordinary man. His toes and feet were incomparable to those of a human. Silt bones were slender, flexible and hollow according to a book El-i-miir had once read. The bones within his arms and legs were longer and thinner than those found in humans, but were packed with so much more muscle that any loss in size was more than made up for.

  It was at Ilgrin’s large, almond-shaped, purple eyes that El-i-miir’s gaze completed its travels. She swallowed hard, realising that he too had been inspecting her. His blue lips curled up into a shy smile.

  ‘So are we going to talk about this?’ Ilgrin asked. El-i-miir couldn’t help but focus on the blue tongue moving around inside of his mouth as he spoke.

  ‘I suppose we’ll have to,’ she replied distractedly, her veil of dark hair falling across her face as she hung her head in shame. ‘I care about you . . . more than I should.’

  ‘I know,’ Ilgrin whispered. ‘You came back for me.’

  ‘As you did for me.’ El-i-miir shuddered at the thought of how close she’d come to drowning in the Dome of the Sixth. She was only alive today due to the combined efforts of Seteal and Ilgrin. ‘There will never be a place for us in the world.’

  ‘I know.’ Ilgrin shrugged, stretching his wings ever so slightly. ‘It’d mean being alone forever.’

  ‘Are we being foolish?’ El-i-miir reached out tentatively to touch the warmth of Ilgrin’s cheek.

  ‘Probably.’ He sighed. ‘But I can’t imagine being without you.’

  ‘You know . . . you’re really beautiful in your own way,’ El-i-miir murmured as she sat down beside the demon, only to stare at the wall across the room.

  ‘In my own way?’ Ilgrin chuckled.

  ‘It’s a compliment,’ El-i-miir touched his hand. ‘In the books . . .’

  ‘We’re monsters,’ Ilgrin finished her sentence. ‘I know.’ He lifted El-i-miir’s hand, examining her nails before turning to make eye-contact. The silence was deafening as he leaned steadily toward her. El-i-miir’s heart raced, but she didn’t resist. When their lips touched a chill crawled steadily along her spine. It only lasted a moment, but the kiss had been a contract.

  ‘I think I might love you,’ Ilgrin whispered, pulling away.

  ‘I think I love you, too,’ El-i-miir choked through a mixture of hope and anxiety. ‘Tell me more about you.’

  ‘There’s not much to say.’ Ilgrin sighed. ‘I was raised on a farm by two loving parents and . . . oh, I see,’ he recoiled, having realised what El-i-miir was really asking. ‘You want to know if . . .’

  ‘You don’t have to tell me.’

  ‘No, I do.’ Ilgrin stared miserably at the floor. ‘I’ve done it before . . . before Far-a-mael, I mean. I cannot deny it.’

  ‘Oh.’ El-i-miir pulled away, clamped her hands together and placed them in her lap. ‘Perhaps I don’t want to know after all.’

  ‘I was six years old.’ Ilgrin kept his eyes levelled at the floor. ‘A tree fell during a storm. It killed my mother. I didn’t know what I was doing. I didn’t even know what resurrection was. I’m pretty sure I still thought I was human at the time.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ El-i-miir nodded with renewed interest in the story. ‘So what happened?’

  ‘I can’t remember it very well. I was so young. I remember the tree going down.’ Ilgrin’s voice caught. ‘Mother was dead but I refused to let her go and before I could make sense of what was happening, I’d already brought her back.’

  ‘It’d be hard not to in such circumstances.’ El-i-miir shrugged. ‘It’s not like anyone can think rationally under such pressure, let alone a six-year-old boy.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter anymore.’ Ilgrin’s eyes became wet.

  ‘I remember you told me your family were gone.’ El-i-miir clutched his hand reassuringly.

  ‘Yes.’ Ilgrin pursed his lips. ‘She’s dead again. They killed her and my father when they discovered us in Sitnic.’ Ilgrin rubbed at his eyes. ‘I don’t know what I’d have done if I’d had the chance, but by the time I was able to return, they would’ve been too dead anyway.’

  ‘I’m so sorry.’ El-i-miir repeated her earlier sentiments. ‘It can’t have been easy.’

  ‘I’ve hardly had the time to think about it,’ Ilgrin said. ‘I’ve been in fear for my life so long that I haven’t even been able to process it.’

  ‘I’m sorry about that, too,’ El-i-miir apologised yet again.

  ‘It’s okay.’ Ilgrin touched her cheek. ‘I don’t blame you, El-i-miir. I was taught the same things you were. There’s no way you could’ve known there was a silt like me: someone not entirely evil.’

  ‘Say that again.’ El-i-miir smiled.

  ‘What?’

  ‘My name.’

  ‘El-i-miir.’ Ilgrin’s expression became one of curiosity.

  ‘I like the way it sounds when you say it.’ She smiled.

  Ilgrin placed a hand on El-i-miir’s knee. ‘I’m not going anywhere, so I guess you’ll be hearing it a lot,’ he whispered as they embraced.

  *

  Despite the frozen consistency of the walls surrounding her, the room was not cold in the slightest. Seteal turned over in the bed and put her fingertips against the wall. It felt cold to the touch, but the temperature travelled no farther than a milliwidth from the wall. El-i-miir had told her that the walls were painted annually with an oil that helped contain the cold.

  Seteal bit back on an audible sob and swallowed in an attempt to prevent any further tears. If wasn’t working. Her pillow was wet. She swung her legs over the side of the bed intending to get up, but instead gave in to the pain inside. Now everything stopped and the world became still; she really didn’t have any other choice but to face her fears.

  Giving up against the tightness in her chest, Seteal allowed the tears to cascade down her cheeks as she cried bitterly. Her face was hot and she began to sweat, but once she’d started she couldn’t stop. She put a hand to her stomach and gasped for air with renewed misery. How much longer could she hide her shame? A larger woman might’ve been able to get away with it, but Seteal was skinny at the best of times. She examined her belly through foggy eyes. Was she showing yet? Did she have long before people would notice? How long would it take before the world started sneering at her in disgust? She was a pregnant woman without a husband and with a bastard child on the way. The shame was unbearable. The self-loathing was worse.

  Soft laughter floated in from the next room. It was the sound of Ilgrin and El-i-miir courting, which made Seteal all the more bitter at her fate. Had she been willing to stoop so low as to seek out such a vile relationship, not even a demon would be interested in her anymore. Seteal had been used and discarded like a dirty old rag. She would never feel the embrace of love. She’d be alone with her bastard until she met her end.

  Seteal rolled over to face the wall, folding the pillow around her head as she went to muffle her screams of frustration. She squeezed away tears and closed her eyes, but felt as though she was being watched. When she opened them she gasped at the discovery of Seeol standing not a
handswidth from her nose.

  ‘What’re you doing?’

  Seeol bobbed his head excitedly. ‘You have a baby.’

  ‘How did you know?’ Seteal frowned. She hadn’t told anyone.

  ‘Because you’re pregnant,’ the bird responded simply.

  ‘Yes, but . . .’ Seteal trailed off as she pushed up to lean on her elbow. ‘Oh, never mind. Could you just keep it to yourself, please?’

  ‘I’m don’t understand.’ Seeol flicked his tail dismissively.

  ‘Just don’t tell anyone.’

  ‘Your secret is not safe with me.’ Seeol shrugged his wings, a very human gesture he’d picked up some time ago.

  Seteal gaped at him before realising that he’d probably confused his words. ‘You meant to say that my secret is safe with you, right?’

  ‘That is a yes.’ Seeol nodded thoughtfully, before transferring all weight to one leg so that he could give his neck a vigorous scratch.

  The room pulsed. Seteal was caught in the knowing. It invaded her being. Arl-an-dor raced along the street followed by a host of gils and an’hidoans.

  ‘Time to go.’ El-i-miir burst into the room with wild eyes.

  ‘I know,’ Seteal replied, shoving her feet into boots.

  ‘I don’t know what it is,’ El-i-miir murmured as the colour drained from her face, ‘but something terrible is about to happen.’

  ‘Your father contacted the authorities,’ Seteal pushed passed El-i-miir and out into the hallway. ‘They’re making their way up the street now. I thought you said he was telling the truth.’

  ‘He was at the time,’ El-i-miir replied defensively. ‘He must have changed his mind. I can’t know everything.’

  ‘Not that way.’ Mil-i-que burst into the house panting. She snatched at Seteal’s hand and spun her on the spot. ‘Out the back,’ she said, urgently stuffing a bag into her hands. ‘Go.’

  ‘Why are you helping us?’ El-i-miir asked, hurriedly embracing the older woman.

  ‘I won’t watch them kill you. Whatever you’ve gotten yourself into, you don’t deserve that.’ Mil-i-que sobbed. ‘Now go.’

  Needing no further encouragement, the women ducked out the back door, followed by Ilgrin, with Seeol clinging to the front of his cloak. ‘Keep your faces hidden and lose the silt if you can,’ Mil-i-que warned as she closed the door behind them.

  Seteal soon found herself in step with Ilgrin behind El-i-miir as she led them through disjointed alleyways and narrow streets. Although it wouldn’t be long before nightfall, the sun was still clearly visible and the Sixth Cleff was anything but safe for a gathering such as theirs. Whenever they made any progress, El-i-miir would detect an’hadoans approaching and they’d have to double back.

  ‘Could you carry me?’ Seteal turned to Ilgrin as they ducked across an empty street.

  ‘What?’ El-i-miir balked.

  ‘You needn’t get your knickers in a knot,’ Seteal reassured the woman. ‘I’m going to try and find a way out of here.’

  ‘Fine,’ El-i-miir grumbled. ‘I suppose it’s for the best.’

  ‘Well?’ Seteal slapped Ilgrin’s chest. ‘Hurry up.’

  As the silt picked her up, Seteal burst out of her body and sighed inwardly with relief. Freedom. She moved skyward to peer down upon the rooftops and alleyways below. The others looked about themselves fearfully as they awaited her direction. Seteal focused on her mouth and made it speak. As always, it responded weakly, but effectively.

  ‘I think I can make this work.’

  ‘Oh.’ Ilgrin gaped at Seteal’s unconscious face. ‘That’s disturbing.’

  ‘You’ll get used to it,’ El-i-miir replied.

  ‘They’re everywhere.’ Seteal gaped at the swarms of an’hadoans weaving throughout the area. ‘If you do exactly as I say, when I say it, we’ll be fine.’

  After taking another moment to assess the situation, Seteal started giving orders as to how they should proceed. A moment later, she watched as the others dashed down alleyways whilst empty, and around houses as the tenants turned away.

  ‘You’re almost there,’ she murmured. Turn right, she attempted to say, but her lips remained sealed.

  ‘Seteal,’ El-i-miir urged by her ear. ‘What now?’

  Focusing on her lips and tongue, Seteal tried to speak and failed yet again. A gathering of an’hadoans would soon turn the corner behind the others. If she couldn’t make herself speak they would most certainly get caught.

  ‘Turn right.’ At last the words squeezed their way along the thread between herself and her body.

  Flooded with relief, Seteal watched Ilgrin and El-i-miir hurry around the side of the building seconds before the an’hadoans came around the corner. She caught herself wondering what had happened to the connection, but as she continued giving directions thereafter everything went on working as it should. ‘You see the valley wall?’

  ‘What about it?’ El-i-miir’s face scrunched up in consternation.

  ‘You’ve got about three minutes to reach it without being seen,’ Seteal urged. ‘Run.’

  ‘I couldn’t,’ El-i-miir said through gritted teeth.

  ‘You have--’ Seteal failed to produce the final word, once again feeling the strange detachment from her body.

  ‘Come on,’ Ilgrin threw Seteal over his shoulder and grabbed El-i-miir’s hand to sprint across the open plane.

  Realising that her task was complete and she was only serving as a burden in slowing the others down, Seteal snatched at the strand of spirit attaching herself to her body but found that she couldn’t get a proper hold of it. Terrified by the detachment, she swooped over the body atop Ilgrin’s shoulder, begging it to accept her back, but it wouldn’t. She screamed inwardly for it to let her in and yet her body did not respond in the slightest.

  Once Ilgrin and El-i-miir reached the side of the basin, they found the stairway that Seteal had spotted earlier and rested her at the base. ‘You enjoy your free ride?’ Ilgrin panted.

  Seteal snatched at the canvas and felt feverishly along its surface until she found her Way. She found the strand she’d been looking for just as it attempted to weave itself back into reality without her. Seteal snatched it up before it could escape and spiralled down its length to plunge back into her body.

  ‘Yes, thank you,’ she replied to Ilgrin without giving further explanation.

  ‘It would’ve been easier if you’d carry your own weight,’ the silt grumbled.

  ‘Are you okay?’ El-i-miir narrowed her eyes.

  ‘I’m fine.’ Seteal rose to her feet and dusted off her dress. ‘It doesn’t look like you were fast enough,’ she said, putting a hand against her brow so that she could gaze across the plane where a mass of an’hadoans had taken up chase.

  ‘That’s impossible,’ Ilgrin moaned. ‘Nobody saw us. I was certain of it.’

  ‘You go.’ Seeol puffed out his feathers and flicked his wings at the others. ‘I’ll take care of this.’ The bird narrowed his eyes and marched several handswidths across the ice to face their pursuers.

  ‘I’ll come back,’ Ilgrin assured Seteal as he tore off his cloak, wrapped El-i-miir in his arms and leapt into the sky.

  ‘I’m getting really sick of you doing that,’ Seteal barked after the pair. ‘Torrid,’ she cursed, turning to run up the stairs.

  ‘Stop following us,’ Seeol’s feeble challenge floated up as the an’hadoans came within a few strides of the basin wall. Seteal shook her head, already panting as she took the steps two at a time. Moments later the elf owl zipped through the air and landed unsteadily on her shoulder. ‘They didn’t listen.’

  ‘Stop,’ a man shouted. Seteal didn’t stop. ‘I said stop.’ The an’hadoan leapt at Seteal’s foot but tripped and fell backward into the upcoming throng of his comrades.

  Daring a glance into the sky to search for Ilgrin proved to be a mistake as Seteal’s toe clipped the next stair and she fell to hands and knees. Expecting a rather unpleasant fate to befall her, she
spun around to find her attackers were falling all over themselves in their attempt to get up the stairs. ‘What in Maker’s name,’ Seteal murmured as she watched a small number of men beginning to topple from the sides of the stairway and scream to their deaths as the ones at the back continued to push forward.

  ‘These is scary men.’ Seeol’s eyes widened in dismay at the crowd of sinister faces. ‘They’re wanting to do hurting things to me.’ It was typical of Seeol that his linguistics should suffer when he was scared. ‘They’re mean.’

  Unable to believe her eyes at the lack of discipline before her, Seteal seized the opportunity to continue her journey up the stairs. Oddly enough, as soon as she did so the mayhem behind her came under control and the men continued their pursuit as professionally as they’d done before.

  Seteal thrust her leg up toward the next step, but her foot never made contact. Instead, she was snatched into the sky as Ilgrin passed her from his feet up into his arms.

  ‘About time,’ Seteal gasped. The silt beat his great wings and the Elglair an’hadoans soon became a spec in the distance.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Ilgrin replied. ‘I had to make sure El-i-miir was far enough away that they wouldn’t come after her.’

  At first, Seteal tried not to look at the ground. It was disconcerting seeing her feet dangling a hundred strides above the earth, but she soon came to appreciate the beauty of the view. Ordinarily, she’d only be able to see such a sight had she left her body behind, but there was something nice about feeling the wind on her face.

  Beneath her feet, the massive expanse of ice became less pure, interrupted by rocks, dirt and patches of vegetation. Once the scenery changed, Ilgrin began to descend, and soon enough Seteal spotted El-i-miir waiting nervously beneath a tree.

  ‘My Maker, I was getting tired of ice.’ Seteal smiled as she and Ilgrin came to a landing. She headed over to the tree and touched one of its small brown leaves. It was dead, but still a sign of life. El-i-miir strode away from the others and stared out toward the north, her hair blowing in the gentle breeze. Ilgrin raised his eyebrows expectantly at Seteal.

  ‘She’s not my responsibility.’ She shrugged nonchalantly. ‘Her people are nuts. She should be glad to be shot of them.’