*
The corridor was dimly lit. Most of the crew were still upstairs. Seteal couldn’t stand to be alone, so she tapped on the door and waited until Far-a-mael called for her to enter. ‘Gil’rei,’ she murmured once inside the cramped quarters. ‘Teach me something.’
‘To be honest, I didn’t expect to see you again today after your performance earlier.’ The old man raised an eyebrow. ‘What changed your mind?’
‘I’m sorry about that,’ Seteal said, pulling out the desk chair and taking a seat opposite Far-a-mael who was sitting on his bed. ‘I was upset about that poor crewman. I should’ve been better focused.’
‘We all make mistakes, my dear girl,’ Far-a-mael said warmly. He disassembled his pistol and started cleaning it.
‘Yes, but someone died.’
‘It’s not your fault.’ Far-a-mael stopped what he was doing to look her in the eye. ‘People will live and people will die. If there is anything my years have taught me, it’s that there’s nothing you can do to change that. If you keep blaming yourself, you’ll live in misery and doing so will not bring back the dead. That’s the way it is and the way it should be.’
‘Who did you lose?’ Seteal asked before she could stop the words from leaving her mouth.
‘I’ve seen a lot of death,’ Far-a-mael replied dismissively. ‘I’m one hundred and seventy-four years old.’
‘That’s not what I asked,’ Seteal insisted. ‘I asked who you have lost.’
‘Careful, girl.’ Far-a-mael picked up a brush and resumed cleaning his gun. ‘It’s not your place to enquire into my past and my tolerance is wearing thin. You must remember that I’m your gil, not your friend.’
‘Sorry.’
‘Anyway,’ Far-a-mael said cheerily, ‘we have more important things to discuss, do we not?’
‘I don’t understand,’ Seteal replied, her mind drifting back to the memory of helplessly watching the crewman die.
‘This ability of yours.’ Far-a-mael was hardly able to contain his excitement. ‘I intend on researching it properly when we get home, but I vaguely remember reading about projection when I was a boy.’
‘Projection?’
‘Yes,’ Far-a-mael mused. ‘The ability was only ever reported in ancient texts and many have disregarded it as myth. You don’t actually leave your body. That would be impossible. Certainly, no one living today would believe it possible. But here you are.’
‘Here I am.’ Seteal shook her head distractedly as she recalled El-i-miir’s embrace with the demon. That was the primary reason she’d come to see Far-a-mael, anything to get her mind off what she’d witnessed.
‘And you’re only half Elglair,’ Far-a-mael prattled on. ‘It really makes very little sense at all. Nevertheless, we must investigate your abilities more closely.’ He paused to take a breath. ‘Tell me, precisely how far can you project your mind?’
‘I moved halfway across the Bairon Desert once,’ Seteal replied, ‘but eventually I began to lose consciousness.’
‘Of course.’ Far-a-mael nodded. ‘The mind cannot exist without the body. Eventually the physical distance would become too much for the Ways to maintain your connection. It’s the same with affiliation. One can only affiliate others from a certain distance. We cannot--for example--affiliate from the other side of the world.’
‘I suppose,’ Seteal said, but didn’t really know what Far-a-mael was driving at and so said nothing further.
‘Could you . . . ’ Far-a-mael trailed off and licked his lips. ‘Do you think you could travel so far as Old World?’
‘Yes,’ Seteal said excitedly, coming alive for the first time in days. ‘I could go there and kill them.’ Pure hatred like that which she’d never experienced liberated Seteal’s mind from the burdens she carried.
‘All in good time, dear child,’ Far-a-mael rubbed his hands together. ‘Are you able to manipulate the environment in your projected state?’
‘Maybe.’ Seteal frowned. ‘I made the breeze pick up once.’
‘I need to know more.’ Far-a-mael scratched his chin through his beard. ‘Come lay down on the bed.’ Master Fasil rose to his feet and loomed over her. ‘Such a pretty little thing, but such a naughty girl. I’ll teach you some manners.’ The ugly man wrapped his hand around Seteal’s throat and threw her to the ground. She screamed and fought but he was too strong. He pushed into her, filling her with shame, agony, and blood. Her virginity was stolen. She’d kill him. She’d kill him!
‘What’s up?’ Far-a-mael asked in concern, standing several strides away.
‘Nothing.’ Seteal shook her head. ‘Sorry. I’m tired. I got distracted.’
‘That’s all right,’ Far-a-mael reassured her. ‘Now why don’t you lie down on the bed and project yourself.’
‘I’ll lie on the floor,’ Seteal said slowly, heart beating furiously. Could she leave her body so exposed with only Far-a-mael in the room for company? Did she really trust him that far? How could she know that he wouldn’t hurt her? ‘I’m not going to Old World,’ Seteal stated firmly. ‘I’m not leaving this room.’
‘I hope not,’ Far-a-mael agreed. ‘We won’t get much done if you can’t hear me.’
‘All right.’ Seteal put her head flat against the floor and stared up at the ceiling. ‘I’m going now.’ Doing so had become second nature to her. She needed dwell on it only for a second before she was expelled. In fact, it almost seemed harder to return now than it did to leave.
Seteal watched her head flop to the side, her body becoming an empty vessel. She felt none of the concerns that’d plagued her previously. Far-a-mael could do whatever he wanted to that pathetic body. It wasn’t her anymore. She existed separate from it: pure, free, unadulterated.
‘I’m out,’ the body whispered.
‘Here.’ Far-a-mael retrieved a small grey feather from between the pages of a book and placed it at the centre of his desk. ‘Can you move that?’
Seteal laughed internally. He was asking her to move a feather? She reached out and the feather slid from the surface onto the floor.
‘What else can you do?’ Far-a-mael asked, his jaw dropping and his eyes reflecting hope.
‘I don’t think I can do much more than that,’ Seteal’s body replied.
‘Wait.’ Far-a-mael waggled a finger in the air. ‘I think . . .’ He pulled open a drawer and riffled through it to retrieve a small, leather-bound book. He flicked through the pages, finally stopping to trace a finger along the cursive text. ‘The canvas. That’s it! Seteal, I need you to focus carefully on any one of the objects surrounding us. You should see, or more properly put, you should know a weaving.’
A weaving? Seteal wondered what that could mean. She drifted close to the wall and stared at the timber until she had trouble differentiating herself from the polished surface. Disguised in the wood, tiny strands of energy squirmed about one another.
‘I see it,’ Seteal heard herself reply.
‘I want you to pull out one of the threads,’ Far-a-mael said eagerly.
‘Are you sure that’s a good idea?’
‘Just do it,’ he snapped impatiently.
Seteal focused on a miniscule thread. At first it resisted as she pulled, but soon enough the string snapped. She moved away at the sound of a loud thud that gave Far-a-mael cause to jump. A long crack slithered down the length of the wall. The old man stared at the timber for a long time.
‘You can come back now.’ Seteal turned her attention to the gil’rei, to observe the buzzing weaving that constructed his flesh. She wondered fleetingly what would happen if she broke one of his strands.
The room became comparatively dull when Seteal opened her eyes and stood up. She was again conscious of what was between her legs and felt repulsed by what’d been in there. She felt abundant hatred and sorrow, felt fear and regret. She was weak, encased by a disgusting shell.
The mysterious weaving had vanished, but the crack in the wall remained. Seteal slid her hand along t
he surface, examining the damage in disbelief. ‘What were those lines?’
‘The most ancient texts referred to the Ways as a canvas,’ Far-a-mael said. ‘It hasn’t been described as such for thousands of years as presumably one can only truly see the canvas when projecting, a skill thought long extinct. I believe you, Seteal, are able to communicate directly with the Ways. You didn’t just cause the wall to crack, you destroyed that fragment of reality. The wall is broken because that part of itself no longer exists.’
‘This is all very fascinating,’ Seteal sighed, ‘but I really don’t care.’
‘Excuse me?’
‘I don’t want to make pieces of reality stop existing.’
‘Is that so?’ Far-a-mael raised his eyebrows. ‘What if you’re able to pluck the weaving out of a demon? What if you’re able to kill them all?’
Seteal’s eyes widened with understanding. She smiled. ‘Perhaps I would like to learn a little more, but first we’ll have to ensure I’m able to prevent my powers from killing me.’
‘Killing you?’ Far-a-mael’s expression became one of confusion that was followed quickly by one of realisation. ‘Oh, I think we’re very close now,' Far-a-mael murmured. 'We’ll need to get you properly checked over in the Sixth Cleff, but I’m certain you’ll be fine.’
‘I’m going to bed,’ Seteal said sadly.
‘Yes.’ Far-a-mael waved her away. ‘I have much research to do. Go get some rest.’
Seteal turned the doorhandle, but stopped and spun around. ‘I know you’ve been lying to me,’ she said softly.
‘What?’ Far-a-mael gasped. ‘Nonsense, you silly girl.’
‘It’s okay. You’ve been very kind to me otherwise. I even understand why you did it.’
‘Dear girl,’ Far-a-mael’s jaw worked, ‘I don’t know what to say.’
‘Then say nothing.’ Seteal shrugged. ‘You knew I’d never come with you, safely nestled away in Elmsville, detached from the rest of the world. I see the truth now. My mother was killed by a whisp and that means she was killed by a demon.’ Seteal approached Far-a-mael slowly, staring into his eyes. ‘I will follow you to the end of Old World and together we will destroy every last one of those wretched murderers.’
Far-a-mael swallowed loudly. ‘Indeed.’
‘Goodnight, Far-a-mael.’ Seteal slid out the door and down the corridor, tracing her hand along the wall as she went.
She could never go home. She was not Gifn’s little girl anymore. There would be no place in Elmsville for her. She belonged with Far-a-mael now. Together they would destroy Old World and cleanse the earth of its demons. Seteal took a moment to try and remember her mother’s face, but she failed miserably. Soon enough no child would ever again have to lose their mother due to the selfishness of demons.
Matt-hew 24
24. For there shall arise false teachers and false prophets and shall show great signs and wisdom, insomuch that, if it were possible, they shall deceive even the very elect.
Scriptures of the Holy Tome
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
DRINK
The Inner Circle: The Knowing Page 47