Seteal stumbled away from her horse and into a small clearing. Somehow she’d become lost in a forest of tree-like ice formations. Snow had begun to fall and flakes kept getting caught in her hair. Seteal tore off her protective black cloak and let it tumble to the snow, revealing a wispy white dress that immediately formed wet circles wherever the snow made contact.
In the middle of a clearing Seteal fell to her knees, acknowledging but not caring about the bite of the cold. ‘I can still hate them,’ she sobbed, looking about herself desperately. ‘Please, please, let me hate them.’ She slammed the palm of her hand into the snow. ‘Please.’ She gritted her teeth and broke down in tears.
She’d been raped again. Far-a-mael had gotten inside and changed her aura. He’d tinkered with her Way, manipulating her into respecting him and accepting her abduction. It was a lie. Even the hatred. That precious hatred was a lie and now Seteal was empty. She was as frozen as the structures that surrounded her.
‘Please,’ Seteal whispered, closing her eyes and lying down in the snow as the cold continued to sap her strength.
Master Fasil approached to kneel and smile over her. ‘You’ll never escape me,’ he whispered in her ear, trailing a finger over her shoulder. ‘You’ll carry me with you until we meet in the cold grave.’
‘No.’ Seteal reached out, grabbing a handful of snow and crushing it between her fingers. ‘Why won’t you get out of my head? Why won’t you leave me alone? I used to have hatred.’
‘Now you can better focus on me,’ Master Fasil said reassuringly, placing a soft kiss on Seteal’s cheek. ‘Now please . . . get up.’
‘No,’ Seteal murmured, her eyes having at sometime fallen shut.
‘Please get up.’ The elf owl rubbed his beak back and forth across her cheek. ‘You’re my friend. Don’t be dead.’
‘Seeol,’ Seteal wheezed, turning her head to face him. ‘It’s okay. I’m far from dead.’
‘Here we go, cutie.’ Seeol fluttered over to Seteal’s cloak, snagged it in his beak and tried in vain to drag it toward her.
‘I’ve got it,’ Seteal pushed to her feet and picked up the cloak. ‘Let’s go,’ she muttered wearily, head hanging so that her long brown hair would keep her face concealed from the world.
‘Can we find the bearded ones now?’
‘That’s exactly what we’re going to do.’ Seteal narrowed her eyes and clambered back onto her horse.
Moments later, she was manoeuvring through the ice trees as quickly as possible with Seeol leaping from branch to branch above her. The horse exploded back out onto icy plains and she was able to take him up to a hurried gallop. Seeol swooped down out of nowhere, dug his claws into Seteal’s shoulder and beat his wings furiously.
‘Shtop!’ he shrieked almost unintelligibly. Seteal gasped as she realised the illusion of the landscape before her, but it was too late to react. Where she’d thought the expanse was continuous, it was not.
And the ground vanished. The horse whinnied in terror and Seteal choked on a scream. Seeol’s wings continued to beat at her ear and together they plummeted. There was a moment of peace when Seteal realised she’d reached the Sixth Cleff--a place of domed towers and buildings built from bricks of ice--but then there was only pain. The ice beside them was a wall at first, but as Seteal fell it crept closer as its angle of degrees became increasingly less vertical. The cleff was positioned within an inverted dome, or basin.
The horse’s legs flailed fitfully and the animal bellowed as one of his legs cracked against the ice and broke. His other leg thrust out, missing Seteal’s face but forcing Seeol to release her or else be struck. The tiny bird rapidly became a speck in the distant sky.
The wall became increasingly diagonal, causing Seteal to hit the surface hard. Fiery pain raced along her arm as it was dragged across the ice. When she hit again the force expelled the air from her lungs. Seteal yelped as she slammed against the surface a few more times before remaining there as the ice began to level out.
The slope became increasingly horizontal, allowing for the slowing--although more painful--of Seteal’s decent. Her horse was dead, his limbs twisted and broken and his body rolling lifelessly down the basin below her. The ice became red and Seteal realised distantly that she was sliding through the animal’s blood. She lacked the strength to be disgusted.
She slid to a stop, barely conscious and not entirely sure which of her limbs, if any, still worked. Her cloak was in tatters and blood was everywhere . . . she couldn’t be sure whose. Seteal gagged and coughed. That was definitely her blood. She fell back into the snow and stared into the blinding blue sky above. Her breathing sounded so loud. Her heart pounded in her chest. The sky became dark. Seteal was losing consciousness. But she couldn’t! Not Like this . . . she’d be too vulnerable.
Leaping through the darkness, Seteal made one desperate grab for the sky and as she did she plunged away from her beaten body lying in the snow. Her consciousness fully restored, Seteal took the opportunity to investigate her current situation. Her body was covered in cuts, scrapes, and grazes, but she’d expected that. None of her bones were broken and her heart was still doing its job.
A small group of Elglair had noticed Seteal’s descent and were hurrying over to see if she was still alive. They would do their best to look after her. Satisfied in the knowledge that her body was as safe as it could be under the circumstances, Seteal set off to find the others. Several hundred strides away, Far-a-mael was descending via a staircase while holding Ilgrin and El-i-miir at gunpoint.
In a second . . . less, Seteal’s spirit was with them. Far-a-mael clutched his pistol within a white-knuckled hand. Ilgrin and El-i-miir moved ahead of him, both faces decidedly miserable. Seteal smiled inwardly. El-i-miir must’ve tried to free the silt. Finally, she’d stood up for what she believed in. Seteal almost felt proud of her.
‘Who goes there?’ A young guard put his hand on the hilt of his sword as Far-a-mael stepped into the basin.
‘Gil’rei Far-a-mael of the Eighth Cleff,’ the old man sneered at the boy. ‘Who are you?’
‘Just your humble servant, Gil’rei.’ The boy bowed. As he did so his eyes widened and he stepped back in fearful submission. Although Ilgrin was well covered in his cloak, his toes were clearly visible beneath it. ‘That’s a . . . it’s a . . .’ the boy scurried away several steps, lips shaking. ‘That’s a . . .’
‘A silt.’ Far-a-mael raised his eyebrows, before becoming distracted, his eyes filling with the knowing. Far-a-mael spun toward Seteal’s body. ‘That stupid girl,’ he barked, having realised her mode of entry into the cleff.
‘I don’t have time for this,’ Far-a-mael grumbled. ‘You’ He pointed at El-i-miir. ‘Make him sleep. And be sure to do a good job of it.’
‘I’m sorry, Ilgrin,’ El-i-miir said, lifting her hand. Far-a-mael watched the weaving very closely. He’d know if El-i-miir tampered with it. Ilgrin responded only by falling first to his knees and then onto his face.
‘Thank you,’ Far-a-mael said sarcastically before lifting his pistol and clubbing El-i-miir over the back of the head so that she too crumpled unconsciously to the snow. ‘Arrange a cell for each of them.’ Far-a-mael jabbed a finger at the young guard. ‘If they get away, I will personally ensure you’re sent to Vish’el’Tei,’ he growled before setting off at a run.
When Seteal and Far-a-mael arrived at her body, the small group of Elglair had increased in size. Two men dressed entirely in white had placed her body on a small bench and were preparing to lift it.
‘Get out of my way.’ Far-a-mael barged through the crowd. ‘Move, you Maker-damned buffoons. Oh, Seteal,’ he finished, kneeling down beside her. ‘I almost came to like you.’ There was something in his eyes. It was a look Seteal had never seen in them before. Could it be affection? ‘Well? What’re you waiting for? Get her inside,’ Far-a-mael addressed the men in white.
The men lifted the thin wooden bench and headed off into the cleff with Far-a-mael at their heels. ‘You stay al
ive, you hear me?’ Far-a-mael put his lips close to Seteal’s ear. ‘I’m not done with you yet,’ he finished darkly before scurrying off, perhaps to find Ilgrin and El-i-miir.
As the men carried Seteal’s body through the cleff, they came to be surrounded by stunning domed buildings of ice that curved up from the ground. But none of what Seteal saw on the outskirts of the cleff compared to the immense dome at the city centre.
The central structure was surrounded by smaller domes, which housed tunnels and bridges of ice, connecting them in a vast web-like network. Rather than doors or gates, the entrance of the building sported a tall archway leading into an immense chamber. Once inside, the men turned sharply to continue up a wide staircase. Seteal arrived in a small room that was surprisingly warm. The walls were lined with metal rods from which lanterns hung to light the room. The green flames that danced within didn’t melt the ice walls as one would have expected. If anything, they were strengthening the ice, as frost leapt away from the flames and drifted up against the ceiling.
Once the men had put down the bench on which Seteal was carried, they silently left the room. She didn’t have to wait long before a stout woman with stunning green eyes entered from a separate doorway.
‘Oh . . . poor dear.’ She frowned, her white pupils flashing with irritation. ‘You must be Jil-e-an’s little one.’
Surprised that the stranger had known her mother, Seteal’s spirit recoiled and her eyelids fluttered for just a moment. Wanting very much to speak with the lady, Seteal wondered if she should return to her body. Doing so, she’d likely be greeted by a great deal of pain and that was if she even managed to wake up at all. Deciding to take the risk, Seteal followed the cord of spirit that kept her connected to the body that was stretched out on the bench below.
She coughed and tried to move but everything seemed to be throbbing. ‘Don’t move, dearie.’ The woman put her warm, plump hand against Seteal’s forehead. ‘It’ll do you more harm than good. My name is Am-in-da and I’ll be your jilt’lesit today.’
‘You knew my mother?’ Seteal asked, fighting through the pain in her head.
‘I did. Here, drink this,’ Am-in-da put a small bottle to Seteal’s lips. ‘You’ll feel much better.’
‘What is it?’
‘It’s just a little spun root juice,’ Am-in-da pushed the bottle firmly over Seteal’s lips. ‘It’s been proven to have marvellous healing properties.’
Tentatively sipping the liquid and finding it not to be terribly unpleasant, Seteal drank it quickly and was shocked by the almost immediate pain relief.
‘Now I’d like to give your aura a once over to see if there’s any damage to your internal organs.’
‘You can do that?’ Seteal raised her eyebrows.
‘One would hope so after seven years of study and a further ninety years’ experience as a general practitioner,’ Am-in-da chuckled.
‘Um . . . sure,’ Seteal replied, once again finding it hard to comprehend Elglair lifespans. ‘Just don’t change anything without letting me know.’
‘That would be highly unethical, dearie.’ The woman stared directly at her, an expression of concentration on her face. Occasionally she looked a little flustered and made small hand gestures as though she were pushing some invisible object out of the way. ‘All right,’ she tapped her chin, ‘I’d like to give you some positive energy to help along the healing.’
‘No. The last thing I need is more people fooling about with my aura.’ Seteal sat up and put a hand to the side of her head. Spots danced across her vision and a wave of nausea washed over her. ‘I need to speak with the elders before Far-a-mael does. And people should be warned about Seeol.’
‘You’ve discovered a seeol?’ Am-in-da said in puzzlement. ‘Perhaps you’ve hit your head.’
‘His name is Seeol,’ Seteal corrected the jilt’lesit.
‘What an awful name.’ Am-in-da scowled. ‘But I’m afraid your friend will have to wait. You need to get some rest.’
‘He’s not my friend,’ Seteal barked, ‘and I really must speak with the elders.’
‘Sorry, dearie.’ Am-in-da put a hand on Seteal’s shoulder. ‘I didn’t want it to come to this.’ Seteal felt herself being overwhelmed by waves of drowsiness. Her head was heavy and her eyelids began to droop. ‘You’re not going anywhere. Far-a-mael would have my head,’ were the last words Seteal heard before falling to her pillow and drifting into a deep sleep.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
THEN THERE WAS WAR
The Inner Circle: The Knowing Page 54