The Inner Circle: The Knowing

by Cael McIntosh

Ilgrin’s head felt like it was about to explode from the pain. He’d never known suffering such as the Elglair could deliver. Ilgrin bit his teeth together to stifle a scream as the whip snapped across his back, splitting his flesh. How long had he been there? Time didn’t matter anymore. It was a blur of agony. Ilgrin braced himself as the whip stung again, this time cutting across his wings.

  His hands were bound by thick rope, which was also tied to a bar that ran along the ceiling. His feet were chained to an iron loop protruding from the frozen floor, which had since been painted blue with blood. The torture chamber was small and musty, leading Ilgrin to believe it hadn’t been used in some time. His persecutor had a weak stomach. Ilgrin knew this because although there were more elaborate machines surrounding them, he chose only to use the whip. For that, Ilgrin was grateful.

  The blows came to a stop and Ilgrin’s head fell forward. He panted heavily and his heart raced, knowing what was to come. A single droplet of bright blue blood trickled down his face and fell from the tip of his nose. He watched its descent. He watched it splash upon his toe. Ilgrin swallowed and squeezed his eyes shut, pleading Maker for mercy.

  Hel-i-yun did most of the physical part. He was the strongest in that regard and knew how to work a whip to his advantage. For now, that man so covered in Ilgrin’s blood, took a seat by the door so that Jer-in could take over. Ilgrin shook uncontrollably as the man approached, his white pupils glinting maliciously.

  ‘Please,’ Ilgrin sobbed. ‘I don’t know anything. I was raised by--’

  ‘By humans,’ Jer-in cut him off. ‘By Abnatians, no less. The most peaceable folk in the world.’ He backhanded Ilgrin across the face. ‘Do you take us for fools?’

  ‘I’m telling the truth,’ Ilgrin replied.

  ‘Let’s begin, then, shall we?’ Jer-in replied, eyes full of hatred.

  Ilgrin inhaled sharply as the man reached into his aura and started twisting it. He couldn’t see what the man was doing, but the agony it caused was unlike anything he’d ever known. Ilgrin almost found himself looking forward to Hel-i-yun’s return. What really caught him off-guard was the screaming. At first, he’d thought they were torturing someone else in another room, but then realised the howls were coming from him. His entire body convulsed as the man tormented him in ways that Far-a-mael hadn’t dreamt of. The sum of all the pain he’d ever suffered was drawn to the surface to be relived anew.

  When it stopped Ilgrin continued moaning for some time, not having realised the man had walked away. Hel-i-yun returned, put a finger under Ilgrin’s chin and lifted his face to look him in the eye.

  ‘All we need to know is what you’re doing here in New World,’ the man said with a quiet, reassuring tone. ‘It’s that simple. All of this could be over, if you’d just tell us.’

  ‘You’re going to kill me, aren’t you?’ Ilgrin’s voice was surprisingly steady.

  ‘Of course we are.’ Hel-i-yun smiled. ‘The only question is, how long do you wish to suffer before that happens?’

  ‘Fine,’ Ilgrin said in frustration. ‘I’m a scout for the silt city. We wanted to find some humans for slaves.’

  Hel-i-yun stared into Ilgrin’s eyes unnervingly before turning to speak over his shoulder to Jer-in. ‘It might be time to try out some of the other gadgets around here.’ He gestured at some of the rather inventive-looking contraptions filling the room.

  ‘What a brilliant idea,’ Jer-in replied, raising his hand and sending Ilgrin into fits of paralysing fear while Hel-i-yun untied him. ‘Let’s stretch it out on the rack.’ Jer-in laughed shrilly as Hel-i-yun dragged him over to a table with a great wheel and straps for hands and feet at either end. ‘Put it face down so its wings don’t get in the way.’

  ‘Perhaps we should cut them off,’ Hel-i-yun suggested.

  ‘We’ll do that next,’ Jer-in agreed.

  Ilgrin was too beaten to resist as the men threw him over the rack and strapped his ankles and wrists into place. The men moved over to the wheel and put their backs into turning it. Ilgrin felt his muscles stretch uncomfortably, complaining as his feet were kept in place and his hands were stretched incrementally above his head. How many people had been killed on this machine throughout the centuries? How many humans? But Ilgrin wasn’t human.

  Ilgrin threw his remaining strength into resisting the machine. At first the wooden surface moaned, but it soon splintered, admitting defeat to Ilgrin’s inhuman strength. His hand having snapped free, Ilgrin thrust it out and hit Jar-in so forcefully that the man stumbled back, toppled over a chair and hit the floor with a thud.

  Not wasting another second, Ilgrin tensed his muscles and tore free of the strap that bound his other arm. Hel-i-yun leapt forward dutifully with a knife in hand, but adrenalin had Ilgrin moving with too much strength to be stopped. Tearing his feet free of the restraints, Ilgrin stood atop the rack, panting feverishly with a racing heart. Ignoring the knife in the man’s hand, he leapt off the table and punched Hel-i-yun square in the nose. There was a cracking sound, but it wasn’t enough.

  Caught up in the moment, his blood running hot, Ilgrin crouched over the man and continued to beat him until his head was little more than a red lump of mush and broken bone. Eyes wide with madness, Ilgrin turned to the sound of Jer-in racing across the room. He snatched up Hel-i-yun’s knife, leapt forward and drove it into Jer-in’s stomach. The man’s eyes glazed over as he stumbled and fell to the floor in death.

  Horrified by the realisation of what he’d done, Ilgrin tried feverishly to wipe the blood from his hands. ‘Why did you make me do this?’ he howled at the dead men. ‘Now you’re dead,’ he cried, stumbling away from the bodies in an attempt to distance himself from the crime.

  Ilgrin found himself rattling the doorhandle, but of course it was locked. He turned around, his eyes coming to rest on the Elglair bodies across the room. He gagged and put his shirt over his nose, but knew too well what needed to be done. One of them had to have the key.