CHAPTER ELEVEN
STRANGER ON THE ROAD
To describe Sitnic as a mess would be to profoundly understate the truth. Far-a-mael felt regret for that which the people had been forced to endure, but contempt for their desperation in pretending the truth to be contrary. They were given away by solemn expressions and auras that oozed with anxiety. The seeol’s attack needn’t have turned out so badly. For a city of its size, too few people carried weapons. There were no pistols or even swords. A country obsessed with peaceable ways was a country bound for destruction.
Something glimmered against the road ahead. Far-a-mael narrowed his eyes to read the slender tendril of an aura. He yanked on the reins and drew his horse to a halt as a small boy raced across the road following a path already laid out by the Ways.
‘Fool,’ Far-a-mael barked at the child, his heart pounding.
Across the road, there was a familiar stain that lead further down the street. Far-a-mael followed it until he spotted Briel's unmistakeably bulky figure leaning against a bright red wagon. Beside him stood a portly woman who could’ve been none other than his wife.
‘Good morning, Mister Keaco,’ Far-a-mael announced when he was within earshot. ‘Mistess Keaco.’ He nodded at Fes.
‘Gil’rei.’ The dark woman wobbled as she curtsied. Atop her head sprung innumerable lengths of plaited hair from beneath a bonnet that’d once been white. Her clothing revealed the status of a commoner, just as Far-a-mael had expected from his meeting with her husband.
‘My name is Gil Far-a-mael of the Eighth Cleff,’ he stated grandly. ‘I thank you both for your kind hospitality in regards to this unfortunate matter. Rei El-i-miir is assisting the young woman of whom we spoke yesterday. It shouldn’t be too long before they join us. The girl’s name is Seteal Eltari, but at the moment I doubt she’ll answer to anything. And be careful of any abrupt movements. The child was skittish before all of this. Now she’s jumping at shadows.’
‘That be her?’ Briel nodded down the way, but Far-a-mael didn’t need to turn to recognise El-i-miir’s tenacious aura. Seteal on the other hand . . . had changed. She was still beneath it all, just a little more difficult to find amongst all that noise.
Far-a-mael nodded at Briel’s question before turning to welcome the girls with a forced smile. Displaying affection had always proven difficult for him.
‘Her poor face.’ Fes put a hand to her mouth when she noticed the bruising, scabbing, and purple welts marring Seteal’s features. ‘Ye poor dear,’ she cried as the young ladies approached.
Instead of responding favourably, Seteal hid behind El-i-miir and refused to raise her eyes. The rei took her hand and guided her away.
‘I warned you,’ Far-a-mael reprimanded, sparing a disdainful thought for Briel’s failure to control his wife.
‘Ye just rest now,’ Fes cooed, approaching Seteal more cautiously. ‘I’ve made ye up a nice cot in the back. Make yeself at home, dearie.’
Seteal nodded with downcast eyes, but otherwise failed to acknowledge the couple as she entered the wagon. ‘Is she quite comfortable?’ Far-a-mael asked when El-i-miir returned.
‘She’ll be okay,’ the rei replied sharply, her aura shimmering disapproval. Far-a-mael couldn’t think why.
‘Good, then. I think she’s had enough fussing over for now. We should be on our way. This whole debacle has been a terrible inconvenience,’ he murmured, flourishing his hand absent-mindedly. El-i-miir’s jaw dropped and she stormed away without rhyme or reason.
Far-a-mael waited impatiently for several minutes before at last El-i-miir and Seteal’s horses could be seen trotting toward them from down the street. The pair had no riders, which didn’t surprise Far-a-mael considering El-i-miir’s extraordinarily high achievements in affiliation.
A less-than-reputable-looking young man glanced about for the owners. His aura spoke of ill-intention and Far-a-mael had to suppress a laugh when he tried to lead the animals astray. The poor fellow had only to take hold of the reins before he too was affiliated and turned to sprint into the distance. If El-i-miir was in a particularly bad mood, he may have not stopped until his feet bled.
With a shaking head, El-i-miir approached from the other side of the wagon to mount her horse. Seteal’s animal would continue along beside her and be made useful as a packhorse. Far-a-mael released the reins and unfurled his fingers to watch a translucent strand of affiliation penetrate his horse’s aura. It was visible only by the way it warped all that was behind it in a manner not dissimilar to the effects seen through glass figurines.
Although his strength of affiliation paled by comparison to El-i-miir, animals offered little resistance and a moment later Far-a-mael felt a saddle on his back and the road beneath his hooves. The horse was filled with alarm as it lost control, but Far-a-mael soothed it by manipulating the colours drifting about its aura. He didn’t always bother to do so, but found affiliation was more easily maintained when the animal was congenial to its presence.
Far-a-mael glanced along the road and got a fright when his vision altered to observe fewer colours. He realised his mistake immediately, that he’d been looking through his horse’s eyes instead of his own. This was followed by embarrassment. He hoped El-i-miir hadn’t noticed the blunder. It was one not typically seen in reis above their third year of university.
As the group made their way out of the city, stone-paved streets gave way to dirt roads. The crowds diminished and then vanished. The final farm houses fell away and suddenly they were quite alone . . . well, almost. There was a solitary rider on the horizon and he remained there the entire day, a constant, unescapable black shadow in the distance. When Far-a-mael and the others increased their speed, so too did the rider. The same was true when they slowed their pace. Naturally suspicious, as he was of all things, Far-a-mael started wondering at what the stranger had to hide.
As the day wore on, Far-a-mael began to notice the limitations of his aging body. This would be his final mission away from home. His age and experience made him more than worthy of eldership. They couldn’t possibly refuse him. He might even offer to lecture a couple of days a week at the university, thereby being able to keep a closer eye on El-i-miir’s progress. Seteal, too, for that matter. Yes . . . most importantly of all, he was delivering her into the arms of the Elglair. And if all that wasn’t enough, he still had Gez-reil to vouch for him.
After years of fighting and scheming against an endless stream of obstacles, Far-a-mael’s plans would at last come to fruition. His name would echo through the pages of history, the man single-handedly responsible for the total destruction of Old World. At last he’d have his peace. At last, he could rest the memory of sweet Sar-ni. A rare, sincere smile graced Far-a-mael’s lips.
‘We’ll stop here for the night,’ he called up to Briel, who obediently slowed his horses. The sun was halfway vanished and he was exhausted. ‘Set up the tents,’ Far-a-mael ordered El-i-miir as he slid off his horse. He released the affiliation, allowing the animal to wander over to a roadside stream.
In unison with their small party, the distant rider likewise stopped for the night, furthering Far-a-mael’s suspicions that he was up to something. Soft footfall revealed Seteal’s presence as she exited the wagon without shoes and sat in the dirt beside the road. Sad eyes made a prisoner of the young woman’s features. She slid her finger through the dirt, making squiggly patterns. She tucked her knees up beneath her chin and wrapped her arms around them. Far-a-mael shook his head worriedly. She was terribly upset by the whole affair, even to the point of having become an entirely different person.
‘How long do you think it’ll take for her to recover?’ Far-a-mael asked El-i-miir. She hadn’t been trained as a jilt’lesit, but he was aware of her indulgence in personal study.
‘I’m not sure, Gil’rei,’ El-i-miir muttered, dropping the tent pole she’d been working with and straightening to face him. ‘I’m not a jilt’lesit,’ she said bitterly. She sighed and looked away be
fore answering. ‘Some women take months or even years before gaining any sense of normality. Some may never fully recover, but Seteal is a fighter, Gil’rei Far-a-mael.’ El-i-miir looked at the woman sitting in the dirt, her forehead creasing in concern. ‘She’ll be able to resume her training soon enough. It’s not like there’s any real urgency, is there?’
‘You keep your mouth shut,’ Far-a-mael hissed irritably, casting a glance in Seteal’s direction. ‘My reason for training her is by far more important than the one we provided.’
‘Fear not, Gil’rei,’ El-i-miir whispered resentfully, ‘your secret is safe.’
‘Oh, I know it is.’ Far-a-mael frowned. ‘This mission is not only more important than her life, but it’s more important than yours. You’d do well to remember that.’
‘I don’t know how you sleep at night.’ El-i-miir narrowed her eyes and waved in Seteal’s general direction. ‘What happened to her is our fault. Don’t you get that? Do you really have so little compassion?’
Far-a-mael gaped at El-i-miir in utter disbelief. She’d never spoken to him so audaciously before. He worked his jaw, but was quite lost for words.
‘Just think about that.’ The fight fled El-i-miir’s eyes and she hurried away. Just as well, too. If she’d remained another minute, Far-a-mael might’ve backhanded her across the cheek for such disrespect. Not only was he her Gil’rei, but he was also easily more than eight times her age.
Far-a-mael affiliated Seteal’s horse to approach before rummaging through his bag to find his diary and a map. He flicked through the pages until he came to the day’s date. There he made a note on El-i-miir’s behaviour. He’d have to keep a stern eye on her. He closed the little book and unfolded the map.
Old World was marked out by charcoal shading that Far-a-mael had added himself, but every time he travelled south, he’d return having to add a little more. Where their territory began was irrefutably marked out by the black clouds that blocked the sun and bathed the land in eternal darkness. As Old World spread its ugly wings, countries such as Shinteleran and Olgarnda came ever closer to losing the precarious grip they had on their southern homes. Slowly, they were swallowed up.
Far-a-mael slid his finger down the path they’d be taking along the river. He hesitated before jabbing his nail at the border of Jenjol. The country had reportedly assembled an army of fearful proportions, rumoured to be purposed for the annihilation of the Elglair.
When Far-a-mael’s tent was set up, he turned to Seteal and invited her inside. Reluctant though she was, the girl soon appeared in the entryway, her face twisted by fear.
‘Do you know why I’ve asked you to join me?’ Far-a-mael said as he sat on his rolled-up blanket.
‘I can’t.’ Seteal’s eyes remained focused on the floor. ‘I’m so tired. I don’t want to practise.’
‘Of course not, you silly girl!’ Far-a-mael exclaimed. ‘We won’t rush back into that just yet. I thought we might have a little chat instead.’ He gestured toward a cushion. ‘Sit.’
Seteal lowered herself tentatively and winced, having to readjust her position several times before attaining any level of comfort. Far-a-mael felt a pang of guilt. This was Jil-e-an’s daughter, after all. He looked into Seteal’s hazel-coloured eyes, if only to avoid the purple bruising on her face. The poor child. Some silly little part of him wanted desperately to hold her in his arms and tell her everything would be okay. Some small selfless part of him desired so entirely to protect the child from what she would inevitably have to face, but he pushed the thought aside.
Far-a-mael buried his feelings beneath cold logic and intellect. He did not know Seteal. He never had. He was pursuing goals for those he’d lost . . . those he’d loved. He was doing this for dear Sar-ni, not the insolent child sitting before him. Seteal would fulfil her usefulness and then have her peace, but not before Far-a-mael was done with her. And it was likely she’d see horrors greater than rape before her days were done.
‘Listen to my voice,’ Far-a-mael whispered, surprising even himself by the roar emotion contained therein. He hurried to suppress the sound and was grateful to see the girl’s lack of reaction. ‘Tell me, how do you feel about silts today?’ Far-a-mael embraced the Ways and expertly wove tendrils of colour into Seteal’s murky aura in such a way as to allude her suspicions.
‘I hate him,’ Seteal snarled as Far-a-mael spun deep red loathing into oozing green waters.
‘Him, you say? Not all of them?’
‘I don’t know all of them.’ Seteal slumped. ‘But I know him. I feel his hold around my arms. I hate the colour of his skin. I hate those ugly toes without nails. His eyes aren’t shaped right and his blood should be spilled.’
‘Indeed.’ Far-a-mael smiled encouragingly. ‘Can you tell me the colour of silt blood?’
‘No.’ Seteal recoiled. ‘Is it black? It’s black like their souls.’
‘Worse.’ Far-a-mael moved his finger discreetly, flicking whips of brown and red into Seteal’s aura. ‘It’s blue, the very opposite to our own. They are our true and mortal enemies. Between us, there can be no peace.’
‘Yes.’ Seteal clapped her hands together, her eyes widening joyously. ‘We should invade their land. We should kill their children.’ She giggled malevolently.
‘Perhaps someday we shall,’ Far-a-mael agreed, even as he began to severe the tie. He’d done enough for one session. Overwhelming a subject could lead to their recognition of the foreignism of their thoughts. Far-a-mael could not afford such a setback. ‘What do you intend to do with the rest of your evening?’
‘I’m hungry,’ Seteal muttered, her eyes squinting and foot tapping. She was anxious, but didn’t know why. Far-a-mael had pushed her too hard. He’d better go easier the next time. She was fragile. ‘I’ll probably go to sleep soon.’
‘We have a long day tomorrow.’ Far-a-mael nodded in agreement as he retrieved the final translucent weaving of affiliation. ‘You’d best be off.’
‘Yes.’ Seteal straightened her dress and stood, confusion muddling her features. This was a good thing, but her attempted recollection gave Far-a-mael cause for concern. She was one of the more suspicious people he’d ever worked with. ‘Good evening, Gil’rei.’ Seteal nodded respectfully before departing the tent.
The Inner Circle: The Knowing Page 25