The Inner Circle: The Knowing

  *

  The beast of Seeol saw where the tiny creatures had run. Soon now he would kill them. He stood atop the great ledge that overlooked the frozen city. He would go down and destroy it. So much to break. So many to kill . . . yes, he needed to kill. He needed to grate their flesh and tear off their skin, squeeze the children until they popped. The joy, the pleasure, the sweet pain. The pain. The death.

  The beast spread his wings and launched into the air over the slope of the valley with only one thought in mind. Death . . . but not El-i-miir. The voice, a meaningless whisper that pleaded in an unrecognisable language.

  The slope levelled out into a great valley. Seeol landed heavily, cracking the ice beneath him. People drew their swords, but he battered them away as though they were nothing. Blood . . . but not El-i-miir.

  Seeol’s great wings thudded through the air. He raked his talons forward and smashed a great hole in the side of a dome before landing, flaring his wings and shrieking in the face of a woman who answered his call with a scream of her own. It was a delicious sound. The woman huddled against the building in fear for her life. She was right to be fearful. Seeol opened his mandibles excitedly. If he could just burst her head and see the blood flow from her arteries. The woman made several strange gestures before she began to shake uncontrollably.

  ‘A seeol,’ she whispered.

  Everything was blinding white. The ground exploded underfoot and Seeol found himself being blasted sideways through hot air. Giant shards of ice erupted as he hit the ground and slid along its cold surface. He regained his balance and scrabbled over the broken ice. Utter confusion raced through Seeol’s mutilated intelligence.

  Thunder clapped loudly, causing Seeol’s ears to ring. The deepest recesses of his mind noticed that the sky was dense with clouds and lightning struck angrily through the air. The lightning hit the ice repeatedly, causing a string of explosions throughout the cleff. Another flashed across Seeol’s vision and struck the ground just six strides away. He beat his wings to avoid the worst of the explosion and landed on his feet snarling.

  People raced about in every conceivable direction. Children screamed. He would devour them. He forgot the storm and charged. He would break them, tear them into little pieces. Seeol snapped at the nearest human’s heels. Lightning struck as people screamed and died while great thunderclaps drowned out their pitiful cries. Seeol revelled in the slaughter that ensued and danced at the sound of human suffering as they howled their sweet melody of death.

  A man ran with a child clutched tight in his arms. Thunder exploded and shards of ice as large as horses flew in every direction. One crushed the man and sent his child sprawling across the ground. It was ecstasy. Seeol snatched at a woman as she ran toward the child and thrust her into the air. She screamed as she continued to ascend, only to be cut off when a blast of lightning burnt her to a cinder. It was death so beautiful . . . but not El-i-miir.

  Seeol hunted. He wanted to find someone. There was a woman he wanted kill. No . . . not kill. He’d never kill El-i-miir. Yes . . . yes, that was it. He had to find and kill El-i-miir.