‘Stop!’ Far-a-mael boomed commandingly, both arms stretched out toward the beast. It didn’t listen. Instead, it propelled itself toward the old man on two sharply taloned, scaly legs. The legs reminded Seteal of something, but in that moment she couldn’t pick what. It was something about the toes. They were unusual, with two in the front and two out the back.
Far-a-mael held his ground as long as he dared, before having to leap out of the way as the beast jumped up onto the table. The old timber moaned under the heavy weight, but Seteal wasn’t left too much time to wonder whether it might collapse. The dark yellow beak was before her, the bird-like head upside-down, snapping at her feet.
‘Get away,’ she cried, kicking at its feathery face.
The beast roared and leapt off the table in its renewed efforts of getting underneath. Seteal threw herself out the other side and ran. She could hear the creature struggling to turn around in the confined space and a moment later felt its breath on her neck. She hit the floor and the beak snapped shut.
‘Stop,’ Far-a-mael commanded, his brow covered in sweat. Utter silence filled the room. The man stood over Seteal his hands stretched out toward the beast. ‘You’ll stop this now.’
His tone was more reminiscent of a plea than a command. All the same, the beast stood transfixed, snapping its beak dispassionately. The creature released a sound of irritation and--much to Seteal’s astonishment--began to shrink. Its limbs shrivelled up toward its body and its feathers became less dishevelled. The beast’s eyes became a more dazzling orange and its talons became less menacing. Before long, Seteal found herself staring at a bird no larger than her clenched fist.
‘Oh,’ Seteal gasped in surprise, recognising the bird as an elf owl, a native to the area. The tiny animal stared at her through large eyes. It somehow seemed desperately sad and lingered only long enough to share a strangely mutual look of disbelief, before opening its wings and vanishing amongst trees.
‘El-i-miir,’ Far-a-mael panted as he hurried toward his fallen accomplice. ‘Are you all right?’
‘I’ll be fine,’ El-i-miir replied, shocked but otherwise unharmed.
‘Where did it come from?’ Far-a-mael asked. ‘Weren’t you watching?’
‘It didn’t have an aura,’ El-i-miir sobbed. ‘Why wouldn’t it have an aura?’
‘I’ve heard of this, although seldom come across it.’ Far-a-mael’s expression was one of fear and disbelief.
‘How can it exist?’ El-i-miir winced as she rose to her feet. ‘I couldn’t see it. It just appeared. It was like being as blind as . . . as one of them.’ She pointed at Seteal.
‘It was seeol,’ Far-a-mael replied, his eyes fixed on some distant memory.
‘Seeol,’ El-i-miir murmured through shaking lips.
‘Is someone going to tell me what “seeol” means?’ Seteal put a hand on her hip. ‘Or are you going to keep me guessing all night?’
‘A seeol is something that shouldn’t exist,’ El-i-miir turned to Seteal. ‘That thing has no meaning, no aura, no Way. It is the offspring of a whisp and its very existence is a violation of reality.’
‘Gather the horses,’ Far-a-mael ordered, dusting off his robe and throwing a cloak over his shoulders. ‘We cannot stay here any longer.’
‘It’s too dark to ride,’ El-i-miir replied.
‘Then we’ll lead the horses until morning,’ Far-a-mael insisted. ‘We cannot risk that creature’s return. I don’t think I’ll be able to fight it off a second time and to be perfectly honest, I’m not sure I did this time. Without an aura, I’ve got no idea whether it responded to me or it transformed according to its own will.’
‘We’re in Narvon Wood,’ Seteal stated, glancing through the foreboding trees.
‘What of it?’ Far-a-mael barked.
‘If we’re going to the Frozen Lands, we’ll have to pass back by Elmsville,’ she said. ‘We can stop and let Father know what’s happening.’
‘Fine,’ Far-a-mael replied, much to Seteal’s and apparently El-i-miir’s surprise.
‘But Gil’rei--’ El-i-miir began to caution, only to be cut off before she could proceed.
‘Shut up and get the horses,’ Far-a-mael snapped. ‘I took the liberty of collecting yours for you,’ he directed at Seteal.
‘You have Darra?’ she asked incredulously. ‘Whatever. When can I see my father?’
‘We should be east of Elmsville by the early hours of the morning,’ Far-a-mael grumbled. ‘If by then you still wish to stop by, I’ll be happy to oblige.’
‘Good.’ Seteal smiled to show her satisfaction, despite feeling a little uneasy about what the old man had said. Why wouldn’t she still want to stop in the morning? What did Far-a-mael think would change her mind in the meantime? And more importantly, why did he want her to?
The Inner Circle: The Knowing Page 7