The Inner Circle: The Knowing
Page 57
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The red slippers were thin-soled and yet her toes felt warm. El-i-miir rubbed her arms in an attempt to create as much warmth as possible while she still had the chance. Once outside, the blood-red robes draped around her shoulders would provide no more protection from the cold than the slippers on her feet. Unlike most worn in the Frozen Lands, these clothes had not been designed to keep the wearer comfortable. It was a simple gown designed to show El-i-miir for what she was: forsaken.
Raising her face as much as she dared, El-i-miir peered around the poorly lit cave. Having been carved from stone, the space lacked the crystalline beauty found throughout the rest of the cleff. It was the only place El-i-miir had ever seen in the Frozen Lands where yellow flames--as opposed to green--burned in the holders attached to the walls.
Light danced and flickered eerily as it bounced and reflected off crude surfaces, only just managing to illuminate the hunched-over old man standing in the corner where he chanted unceasingly. El-i-miir cringed at a middle-aged woman who circled her slowly, a stone bowl clasped tightly in hand. She dipped her fingers into the bowl and ceremonially flicked hot water at El-i-miir’s face. A voice boomed loudly from somewhere in the gloomy cavern, ‘Do you, El-i-miir of Sixth Cleff, understand what has brought you here today?’
El-i-miir winced as hot water was splattered into her eyes, but she dared not wipe it away. The Elglair were a people steeped in old traditions and writs and even though it would inevitably lead to her death, El-i-miir still felt the need to treat the ancient ceremony with respect. The idea behind the heat within the cavern and the hot water being thrown against her flesh, was that the soul warmed so as to be caught off-guard when the prisoner was released to Vish’el’Tei.
‘I do,’ El-i-miir squeaked. She was terrified beyond the point of indignity.
‘Do you understand that your gil has seen fit for you to be punished under the ancient law of the gil’rei?’ The voice echoed with notable regret.
‘I do,’ El-i-miir whimpered.
‘Then you are hereby condemned to Vish’el’Tei for gross sin and an abandonment of respect for Elglari law. You are stripped of name and title. Hence forth, we know of no such person as Rei El-i-miir of the Sixth Cleff,’ the voice said with finality. ‘Such a name shall never be spoken again, so help us, Maker.’ The words were repeated twice in unison by a circle of darkly clad figures standing around the circumference of the room.
Only a short time ago, El-i-miir had clothed herself in these robes, walked along the dark hallway and into this chamber. Soon the northern door would be opened and she’d step outside into the blistering cold. Thereafter she’d be escorted several miles from the cleff by a small group of armed gil’hadoans. At that point, she’d be left to carry on north, shunned and condemned. And yet somehow the final part of the ceremony seemed so much more difficult to withstand than any of that which was to come.
‘Arl-an-dor and Mil-i-que of the Sixth Cleff,’ droned the voice belonging to a figure hidden beneath a black mask and dark clothing. ‘You may step forward for your final moment. You have a short time.’
El-i-miir’s heart sank as her father and mother stepped out of the shadows, both qualified gils themselves. As they approached, a flash of euphoria rocked El-i-miir to her core. Her mother barely raised a hand or showed any outward sign as she infiltrated El-i-miir’s aura sending her persistent waves of well-being. The soft streams of golden yellow and pale blues poured into El-i-miir, making her gasp with relief in the knowledge that everything would be okay. Summoning up all her strength, El-i-miir formed a crude block to prevent her mother’s manipulation.
‘I’m so sorry, Mama,’ El-i-miir sobbed, her grief returning.
‘Shh,’ her father hushed. ‘It’s our fault. We never should’ve forced you down this path.’
‘Oh, Maker . . . El-i-miir, you foolish girl.’ Her mother burst into tears and wrapped her in a tight hug. ‘What will we tell your sisters? They won’t stop crying. Oh, Maker! I love you so much.’
‘Your time is up.’ The man in the black mask stepped forward. ‘The escort must leave.’
‘No, please, just another minute,’ Mil-i-que begged. ‘Please!’
‘My dear woman, the law is clear.’ The man’s voice softened as he stepped into the light. ‘Open the door.’
Stone grated on ice and every candle died as the temperature was diminished to a deathly chill. El-i-miir gasped as freezing wind tore through the room causing her robe to billow about her feet. The last tendrils of Mil-i-que’s Way vanished back into her aura. El-i-miir shook from shock, not having realised that any remained. The water on her face froze to beads of ice that bit her cheeks.
‘Move.’ There was a sharp jab to the middle of her back.
El-i-miir stepped out into the snow and her red slippers soaked through immediately. The cold burned her feet, but she continued onward as the group of eight gil’hidoans encircled her. By the time the gils came to a stop, El-i-miir was shaking so hard that she thought she might collapse. The only kindness she’d been granted was the fact that she could no longer feel her toes. The gil’hidoans didn’t look at her, or even acknowledge her, as all but one turned and headed back the way they’d come.
El-i-miir lifted her gaze at the heavily clad figure as he pulled back his hood to reveal himself. ‘High Elder Gez-reil,’ El-i-miir said through chattering teeth. He was the last person she’d expected as part of the escort. Instead of replying, the elder stood transfixed lost in thought. At last he removed a satchel hanging over his shoulder and pulled out a pair of thick mammoth-leather boots. He then took off his heavy fur coat and handed it to El-i-miir. Without a single word or sign of recognition, he turned and hurried back toward the cleff, leaving El-i-miir to stand alone in utter confusion.
What was this act of kindness? With such an extraordinary act of mercy, he’d disobeyed the very laws he’d vowed to uphold. El-i-miir forced swollen feet into the boots and wrapped herself inside the coat. She stood fixed in place, gazing regretfully at the great dome peeking out over the top of the bowl shaped valley in the distance.
Gez-reil had acted against something he’d worked to uphold his entire life, Elglair law. Did he want for El-i-miir to live? Did he disagree with her condemnation? Where did he expect her to go? Did he really think she’d move south and live among the outlanders as Seteal’s mother had? Jil-e-an was loathed by thousands for committing such an act. Surely Gez-reil didn’t expect El-i-miir to do something so shameful. El-i-miir had known that her life in the Frozen Lands was over the second she’d sought to free Ilgrin. It was Gez-reil’s motivation that confounded her. As the confusing thoughts raced through El-i-miir’s mind, she continued to stand bewildered, with absolutely no idea of what to do next.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
ETHEREAL LOATHING