*
The demons surrounded her in a circular fashion. Nasty grins filled their faces. And they were naked like beasts. Seteal felt her throat closing, breaths coming in rapid bursts. ‘Please don’t hurt me,’ she begged them, but the circle of demons continued to tighten.
There was no escape. Seteal did not recognise the strange clearing in the centre of some foreign woodland. Fire burned atop lantern polls and the demons had strange symbols painted across their chests. All of them were men and she could see only evil in their eyes.
‘We’ve heard you’ve been a naughty girl,’ one of the creatures sneered, horns growing from the sides of his head.
‘No!’ Seteal cried out in desperation. ‘I haven’t done anything wrong.’
‘Neither have I.’ Ilgrin stepped forward. ‘I’ve never hurt you.’ Something was different about him. His pallid flesh had been filled with pink. His features had softened and his hair was a light brown colour, rather than the dark blue Seteal remembered. Ilgrin’s wings were gone and his feet fit comfortably into ordinary shoes. He was human, bearing only a vague resemblance of the creature he’d once been. ‘Let me help you.’ He extended his hand. It was only when Seteal took it that she realised he had no fingernails.
‘Ilgrin?’ Seteal gasped as she watched his face fade to white and his lips regain the colour of a dead man’s. He laughed at her and unfurled his wings with a sneer.
‘I’m afraid you’ve been misbehaving terribly.’ The silt snatched up a handful of Seteal’s hair and yanked her head backward before thrusting her into the crowd of hungrily awaiting demons. In the next moment she was buried beneath them, each taking it in turns to rape her as Ilgrin stood and laughed. Seteal screamed as his face twisted and transformed, becoming human again. Only this time the face was not Ilgrin’s, but Master Fasil’s.
‘No!’ Seteal screamed, sitting bolt upright in bed. She was drenched in sweat and panting for breath. She hit the floor in utter confusion where she wrestled desperately to escape her sheets. ‘Get off me! Get off me!’ She screamed as the door swung open with a bang.
‘Are you okay?’ El-i-miir asked in between hiccups where she stood silhouetted in the light from outside.
‘No, I’m not okay,’ Seteal snapped, finally escaping her sheets and tossing them against the wall in frustration. ‘You disgust me. You’re disgusting for what you’re doing. I hate you. You kissed him. I saw you do it!’
‘Torrid, Seteal.’ El-i-miir squinted around the room. ‘Are you on the floor?’ She giggled and hiccupped simultaneously, which resulted in a rather awkward sound. ‘I think you probably need this more than me.’ She sat down sloshing a large mug a handswidth from Seteal’s face.
‘You know what?’ Seteal narrowed her eyes, ‘For once I think you’re probably right.’ She took the mug and tipped it up at her lips, drinking deeply until she’d finished the entirety of the disgusting-tasting liquid.
‘Maker,’ El-i-miir exclaimed. ‘Someone’s thirsty.’ She leant against the blanket hanging from the bed. ‘Seriously, though,’ she barked, ‘you have got to let your hair down. You’re so uptight all the time.’
‘Oh, I’m uptight?’ Seteal half-smiled as she felt the brown liquid warming her belly and from there spreading to her limbs. ‘Well you’re a snob.’
‘A snob?’ El-i-miir feigned offense. ‘How am I snob?’
‘Exactly how drunk are you?’ Seteal raised her eyebrows.
‘Oh, you don’t even want to know.’ El-i-miir burst out laughing and was unable to stop until she was wheezing on the floor. ‘Here.’ She retrieved a bottle from beside her. ‘I brought this one with me. Her eyes brightened. 'See, you could learn a thing or two from me.’ She giggled and attempted to refill the mug. ‘That’s foresight right there.’
‘Yes,’ Seteal said sarcastically. ‘You’re brilliant. You’re also a snob.’
‘Well, you’re just plain old rude.’ El-i-miir waggled her finger in Seteal’s face, and then with immense concentration guided her finger forward until she poked the tip of her nose. ‘You!’
‘I think you should go to bed,’ Seteal said, batting El-i-miir’s hand away.
‘And I think you need another drink.’ El-i-miir hiccupped and then burped. ‘How you gonna solve that problem, Seteal?’
‘Give me the mug then.’
‘Gross.’ El-i-miir smacked her lips together distractedly. ‘Did I just burp?’
‘Clearly I was wrong about the snob thing,’ Seteal grumbled and took a swallow.
‘I think a little something came up with it.’ El-i-miir wrinkled her nose. ‘Yuck!’
‘You know there’s something wrong with you, don’t you?’ Seteal chided as the alcohol began to grant its effect.
‘Well, you have a dirty aura,’ El-i-miir stabbed her finger at Seteal’s belly.
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ She grumbled.
‘A dirty little bit of Far-a-mael lives inside of you.’ El-i-miir collapsed into a fit of laughter. ‘Never mind me.’ She suddenly became very serious. ‘It’s the ale talking. Your aura is fine.’
‘No, I want to know what you meant.’ Seteal pushed for an answer.
‘Hey.’ El-i-miir suddenly bounced to her feet. ‘Let’s go dance!’
‘Dance?’
‘Dance.’ El-i-miir spun in a circle, allowing her arms to fly out around her. ‘Oh, this is a pretty dress,’ she gasped as if noticing it for the first time. ‘Look at it twirl. Swish, swish, swish. Do you see it swish? Seteal! Do you see it swishing?’
‘Yes!’ Seteal cried. ‘I see it swishing. Maker, El-i-miir, you have to give me a chance to reply.
‘Oh, I’m so sorry.’ El-i-miir pouted. ‘Seteal gets so grumpy, doesn’t she? Oh, yes, yes, she does get grumpy. She takes everything so seriously doesn’t she? And then she gets grumpy.’
‘What’re you . . . ?’ Seteal shook her head. ‘Who’re you talking to?’
‘She has the grumpy-pies,’ Seeol said, hopping across the floor. El-i-miir flushed red and became unintelligible, trying to squeeze out words whilst laughing uncontrollably.
‘I didn’t--’ El-i-miir gasped. ‘Okay, just breathe, El-i-miir. Breathe.’ She shook her hands. ‘Okay, I’m good. I was just trying to say--’ With a loud snort, she burst out laughing, forcing Seteal to wait yet again. ‘Okay, sorry. I was trying to say, I didn’t know he was here.’
‘I don’t think most people did.’ Seeol tilted his head sideways.
‘It talks.’ El-i-miir’s eyes started to water as she squirmed with renewed giggling. ‘What kind of owl talks?’
‘I do,’ Seeol replied very seriously.
‘Yes, you do,’ El-i-miir poked his beak with her finger. ‘You do!’
‘I do!’ Seeol screeched gleefully and started bouncing around in circles on the floor. ‘I do. I do. I do!’
‘Oh!’ El-i-miir clapped her hands together. ‘I know! Let’s go dance. Come on, Seteal, its fun up there. There’s music and dancing and . . . and more to drink. There’s a woman, too, you know,’ she said with a sneaky smile. ‘She asked about you.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Seteal pulled away blushing.
‘You know,’ El-i-miir poked her nose a second time.
‘Seriously,’ Seteal gritted her teeth, ‘if you poke me in the nose one more time I’m going to snap off your finger.’
‘You see,’ El-i-miir turned to Seeol, ‘this is what I have to put up with. Can you imagine? She’s no fun at all.’
‘I know all about Seteal.’ Seeol nodded solemnly. ‘So grumpy all the days long.’
‘I’m not grumpy,’ Seteal said defensively.
‘What a grumpy bum,’ Seeol twittered. ‘Grumpy bum. Grumpy bum.’ Without missing a beat El-i-miir joined the chorus and the two continued the chant together. ‘Grumpy bum! Grumpy bum! Grumpy bum!’
‘I’m not grumpy!’ Seteal shouted, leaping aggressively to her feet.
‘Fine.’ El-i-miir stumbled over until
their faces were milihandswidths apart. ‘Prove it by coming for a dance.’ She wriggled her finger through the air and tapped Seteal on the nose yet again.
‘I warned you.’ Seteal pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes, but a tiny smile betrayed her.
‘We better run, Seeol,’ El-i-miir giggled. ‘She’s going to break our fingers off!’
With that, El-i-miir dashed out of the room, Seteal hot on her heels. The two slammed one after the other into the corridor wall adjacent to their room and El-i-miir bolted for the ladder.
‘You know I really don’t like you,’ Seteal shouted, the mug of ale splashing her dress as she went.
‘That’s fine with me,’ El-i-miir called over her shoulder as she clambered up the ladder. ‘I really don’t like you either.’
‘And I hate you both,’ Seeol screamed playfully as he buzzed above their heads and out through the hatch.
With a desperate leap, Seteal clamped a hand around El-i-miir’s ankle, causing the woman to hit the deck with a thud. ‘Ouch!’ El-i-miir pulled her ankle free. ‘You grazed my knee.’
‘Maker, I’m so sorry,’ Seteal gasped as she clambered up the ladder and sat on the deck next to El-i-miir. ‘Show it to me.’
‘You didn’t really.’ El-i-miir giggled and ran off into the crowd.
Just as El-i-miir had promised, the deck was full of life. A couple of the crew played instruments. Others sang and danced. And, of course, everyone was drinking.
‘What a fuss.’ Seteal shook her head and swallowed what was left in her mug.
‘They’re excited,’ Seeol spoke into her ear, having landed on her shoulder. ‘We survived the chilly wood.’
‘That we did.’ Seteal smiled broadly. Whether it was the fact that for once she’d been a victor in her own life, or whether it was simply the alcoholic illusion that relieved her pain was irrelevant. She was . . . happy.
‘There you are.’ El-i-miir galloped over to Seteal and snatched up her hand. ‘Let’s go.’ She dragged Seteal along, forcing Seeol to dig in his claws to hold on for dear life.
Before long the two were dancing like fools. Seteal had no real experience with dancing and by the look of it, neither had El-i-miir, but the pair kept moving until their feet were aching and Seteal’s vision was blurred.
‘Where’s my drink?’ she demanded, turning back to where she’d left it. ‘Seeol!’ The bird was perched on the side of the cup, his eyes half-closed. ‘You haven’t been drinking that, have you?’
‘Fun,’ Seeol lifted one of his feet and fell to the deck where he proceeded to wobble about. ‘This funny water.’
‘Give me that.’ Seteal snatched up the mug. ‘That’s not for birds.’
‘That brew shouldn’t even be for humans,’ a smooth voice spoke up to Seteal’s right. She turned to discover the female crewmember watching her intently. ‘That’s the strongest we’ve had in a while. I hope your pet will be okay.’
‘He’s survived worse.’ Seteal blushed. She must’ve looked like an idiot talking to an owl. ‘I’m Seteal and this is . . . ’ She turned to introduce El-i-miir, but instead only caught a glimpse of her smiling cheekily as she danced back into the crowd. ‘That was El-i-miir.’
‘Eris.’ The woman took Seteal’s hand and shook it. ‘Nice to finally meet you, Seteal. I like your name.’
Seteal gasped as wings fluttered against her face and Seeol landed so clumsily on the rim of her mug that he nearly fell in. ‘Mine! Give it.’
‘Not now, Seeol.’ Seteal shook the mug back and forth, but the little bird held on.
‘I want it!’ Seeol shouted. ‘Give it!’
‘Seeol,’ Seteal snapped. ‘Stop it!’ She flung the mug sideways and watched the bird sail off into the night from the force of her gesture. She also watched her ale splash into the back of a crewman’s head. ‘Torrid,’ Seteal squeaked. ‘Sorry.’
‘Watch what you’re doing,’ the man grumbled, wiping at the back of his head. It was then that Seteal realised Eris was laughing.
‘Well,’ Seteal straightened out her dress, ‘I’m glad you found that amusing.’
‘I’m sorry.’ Eris stifled her laugh and regained composure. ‘You’re cute. And I like your bird, too. You’ve taught it to mimic really well. It’s a shame it doesn’t obey your commands, too. I had a dog like that once, except he couldn’t talk--I mean, obviously.’
‘Um . . . thanks.’ Seteal felt her face growing hot and knew she was blushing.
‘Forgive me,’ Eris apologised. ‘We don’t get women on here very often and it’s good to have a bit of feminine company once in a while. You know what I mean, don’t you?’
‘Of course I do.’ Seteal nodded with awkward enthusiasm. ‘I mean . . . any woman would go out of her mind without a bit of female friendship.’
‘Friendship?’ Eris’s expression suddenly became very bored.
‘We should get to know each other,’ Seteal said, hoping to salvage the conversation.
‘Sure.’ Eris smiled warmly. ‘Here.’ She wandered over to a bottle that’d been left open on a makeshift table and poured herself and Seteal a drink. ‘So what’re you really doing on board?’
‘I don’t know,’ Seteal sighed. ‘The whole thing has been one big mess. For longer than I’d like to admit, I thought I was going to die unless I got help from the Elglair.’
‘Help with what?’
‘I’m half Elglair.’ Seteal shrugged. ‘I was tricked into thinking I’d die if they didn’t help me to control my abilities.’
‘Why would you die from leaving your body?’ Eris’s face creased with confusion.
‘It’s not just that.’ Seteal rubbed her forehead. ‘Sometimes I see the future . . . or the past. I don’t know. It’s all getting so confusing. I’m not sure what to believe anymore.’
‘What about the silt?’ Eris enquired.
‘What about it?’
‘How’d you capture it?’
‘It was nothing glamorous, I assure you.’ Seteal frowned. ‘He was wounded and El-i-miir possessed him and then he fell unconscious so Far-a-mael tied him up. Even then we only captured him because of Seeol . . . oh, never mind. I’d really rather not talk about all I’ve been through lately.’
‘That’s okay.’ Eris smiled and ran her fingers along the back of Seteal’s hand. ‘Would you like to dance?’
‘I’d like that very much.’
Throughout the evening, Seteal continued to dance with Eris, occasionally stopping to have a drink or talk about life and what the future might hold. Eris was a breath of fresh air for Seteal. She seemed hopeful about the future and Seteal was able to pretend, if only for the moment, that hers wasn’t destined to be filled with death and warfare. From time to time, El-i-miir caught up with them and danced for a while, only to be dragged back into the fray of moving bodies, leaving Seteal and Eris with relative privacy.
‘I think I have to go to bed,’ Seteal panted finally at the end of another 'one last dance' Eris had begged for.
‘How about one last dance?’ Eris enquired.
‘No, really,’ Seteal objected. ‘I must get to sleep.’
‘Fine then.’ Eris pouted. ‘I’ll walk you back to your room.’
‘That would be lovely.’ Seteal nodded graciously. ‘Especially considering I can barely stand at the moment.’
‘Right this way,’ Eris whispered by Seteal’s ear, wrapping an arm around her waist to guide her below. Together they made their way along the corridor until they were standing before Seteal’s door.
‘Well, I guess this is goodnight.’ Seteal smiled at Eris, realising in the light of the lanterns just how pretty she was.
‘Good night, Seteal,’ Eris said softly, turning to face her.
‘Yes,’ Seteal breathed. ‘Goodnight.’
A moment passed and then another in which the pair just stared at each other. Seteal couldn’t be certain, but she felt that their faces had been farther apart a moment earlier. Soft lips touched hers. Seteal co
uldn’t breathe. How should she respond? Did she really have a choice? Seteal relaxed her mouth and allowed Eris to lead the way, her soft hand sliding down Seteal’s side until it rested on her hip.
Eris put her other arm around Seteal, supporting her as she leaned up against her, pressing her against the wall, their bodies coming together. Her hand moved up to the back of Seteal’s head and pulled at her hair, yanking her head back violently. Seteal wanted to scream as the old man’s hands touched her body, squeezing her breasts and forcing her legs apart. Her face was driven into the dirt until she was choking and could taste blood in her mouth.
‘Get off me,’ Seteal yelped, shoving Eris back so that she fell against the adjacent wall.
‘What is it?’ Eris’s eyes were wide with fear. ‘Did I do something wrong?’
‘No,’ Seteal tried to calm herself. ‘I’m sorry. It’s just me. I can’t do this.’ She looked down at her dress. Everything was as it should’ve been. Eris had barely even touched her.
‘I don’t understand,’ Eris said dejectedly. ‘I thought you were like me.’
‘What?’ Seteal recoiled. ‘I mean, I am, very much so. You’re beautiful.’
‘Then what’s wrong?’
‘I’m sorry.’ Seteal felt her throat tightening and her eyes watering. ‘I just can’t.’ She fumbled with the door until it opened. She slipped inside, slammed it shut, and slid down its length until she hit the floor sobbing.
‘Well,’ Eris said through the door, ‘goodnight then, Seteal.’ Footsteps moved away, leaving her alone to weep in the dark.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
THE SOULLESS
The Inner Circle: The Knowing Page 50