The Inner Circle: The Knowing

by Cael McIntosh

‘El-i-miisser.’ The unusual sound bounced off the walls of the underground confines. ‘Miish Miish. El-i-miish?’ Seeol bounced across the wet floor and rubbed his beak against the woman’s pale cheek. ‘It’s not sleepy times yet.’ He squeezed her nose softly between his toes. ‘Wake up, Miish Miish.’

  Water spilled underfoot, coming together to form small pools. The cave-in had left them trapped, surrounded by steadily melting, icy debris. ‘El-i-miish!’ Seeol bit her nose, but the woman’s eyes stayed shut.

  Bouncing back along the ice, Seeol found the water to have risen halfway up the length of his legs. By human standards, it was scarcely a puddle, but such was not the case for Seeol. Just a few moments earlier El-i-miir had been rushing through a trembling corridor. The ground gave way and the two fell to the level below. Now they were buried beneath precariously balanced sheets of ice, trapped in a space no longer than a stride in both height and width.

  Between the melting masses that composed the structure were gaps only large enough for an elf owl to pass through, but as anxious and confused as he was, Seeol refused to leave. A droplet splashed against his beak and he glanced up to see where it’d come from. But the droplets were raining down from every surface.

  ‘El-i-miish.’ Seeol alighted on El-i-miir’s chest. ‘We’ve got to find some happier place,’ he cried. Her face had never looked more peaceful. Her pale complexion had become the more permanent colour of those who took the journey into death. El-i-miir’s long wet hair clung miserably to her neck and clothing. ‘Pleases waked up,’ Seeol begged. ‘I’ll give you a lizard. We can get the green ones! They’re deliciousness,’ he said excitedly, noticing the hollow feeling in his crop. ‘For Making your sake,’ the bird cursed, ‘waked up!’ He bit her nose as hard as he could.

  ‘Ouch,’ El-i-miir moaned, her eyes opening to slits. ‘What happened?’ she gasped, giving in immediately to shuddering fits and rubbing her arms without any real hope of warming them.

  ‘We have fallen,’ Seeol replied, his heart having come alive with joy. ‘We is trapped but you’re a big girl so you can break us through this naughty trap.’

  ‘I’m not a big girl,’ El-i-miir uttered defensively as she sat up to examine the situation. ‘Torrid,’ she murmured, realising their predicament. Stumbling to her knees, El-i-miir put her weight against one of the walls, but it wouldn’t budge.

  ‘That’s silly,’ Seeol shook his head. ‘If you pushed that one into another way, then the other ones will crashing on top of the top of our heads.’

  ‘You’re right,’ El-i-miir replied through chattering teeth and she sat back, ‘I wasn’t thinking.’

  ‘I can go,’ Seeol said, puffing out his feathers. ‘I can find our friendlies.’

  ‘It’s the only way,’ El-i-miir murmured. With a deep rumbling sound, the building shuddered, emphasising the urgency of their plight. ‘Hurry, Seeol!’

  Seeol launched into the air and wove his way through the sheets of ice. Once free, he found himself in a small room. There was a broken desk supporting El-i-miir’s confines. She would be safe for now.

  After shooting along the length of the corridor, Seeol landed atop a small shelf. There he froze and tilted his head this way and that. He didn’t have the gifts of the Elglair and he was only very small. If he was to have any hope in finding the others, he’d have to use the gifts that came naturally to him.

  As Seeol rotated his head he was able to piece together an image in his mind. The northernmost parts of the dome were collapsing first, with the majority of the commotion coming from that direction. If Ilgrin and Seteal were up that way they’d be dead by now and seeing as though Seeol wasn’t willing to entertain that outcome as a possibility, he set off toward the south.

  Every now and then he stopped to listen, intent on picking up any signs of life, but Seeol found it difficult to pinpoint the exact direction of the sounds he heard due to the echoes bouncing about in the steadily collapsing structure. Continuing south, he came upon a cavern whose immense proportions disregarded him as little more than a speck of dust. Across the great expanse, few of the corridors resumed their original paths, having crumbled in on themselves. Finding an opening, Seeol shot through, retracted his wings and landed softly.

  He’d heard something. There were voices . . . back the way he’d come. Seeol flew out into the cavern and landed on a lump of ice protruding from one of the walls. There it was again. He flew a little higher.

  ‘Seteal?’ Seeol called.

  ‘Was that Seeol?’ Ilgrin’s muffled voice enquired.

  The voices came from within one of the caved-in tunnels. Seeol flew up to the entrance. Large bricks filled the opening, allowing only the sound of voices to travel through the gaps in between. ‘Seteal? Ilgrin?’

  ‘It is you,’ Seteal replied. ‘Are you with El-i-miir?’

  ‘She’s in troubled,’ Seeol cried. ‘We have to be helping her.’

  ‘Stay there,’ Ilgrin called. ‘We’ll find a way around.’

  ‘Okay.’ Seeol’s wings twitched nervously. ‘Just hurry.’

  Harried footfall faded to silence as the dull rumblings continued to vocalise their ever-present threat. Seeol waited. And waited. He switched feet on the ice, the one he’d been standing on having become too cold. He waited. ‘Coming on,’ he urged silently.

  ‘Seeol,’ Ilgrin’s voice called from somewhere below. ‘Are you there?’

  ‘Yeses!’ Seeol pumped his claw victoriously. He’d once witnessed a human perform a similar gesture and thought that he might at last understand its significance. Ilgrin and Seteal exited one of the corridors below. ‘Flap your wings,’ Seeol urged. ‘She is in another place.’

  ‘Great,’ Seteal grumbled, a forlorn expression dominating her face as the silt wrapped his arms around her, flared his wings and the two fell into the air to follow Seeol across the cavern. It’d changed since he’d last crossed its intimidating girth. Previously the depth had seemed almost bottomless. Now it was halfway filled by freezing cold water.

  Ignoring the impending danger, Seeol dove toward the water and into the corridor where he’d left El-i-miir. Upon realising that the others were no longer behind him, he landed atop the shelf on which he’d found refuge earlier. It occurred to him then that Ilgrin couldn’t fly in such close quarters. And that was the least of their problems.

  ‘Hold on, Seeol,’ Ilgrin called, as Seteal and he waded along the tunnel through waist-high water against a current that threatened to push them back the way they’d come.

  ‘Quickly,’ Seeol urged. ‘Quickly!’ He leapt onto Ilgrin’s shoulder. ‘Go into the room up here. Hurriedly.’

  ‘Seeol.’ El-i-miir’s voice echoed from within. ‘Is that you? Did you find them?’

  ‘We’re here,’ Seteal called as she ran toward the large slabs of fallen brickwork.

  ‘There’s not much room left,’ El-i-miir spluttered weakly from within her frozen prison.

  ‘Seeol . . .’ Ilgrin began hesitantly as his eyes passed over the mess in front of him. ‘How much room does El-i-miir have under all that?’

  ‘Littler than your chest,’ Seeol said hysterically.

  ‘That means . . .’ Ilgrin didn’t bother to finish his sentence, instead running over to the pile to start throwing bricks out of the way. ‘Talk to me, El-i-miir. Talk to me. El-i-miir?’ No reply came from within.

  ‘Stop it, Ilgrin.’ Seteal waded over, her lips having turned blue. ‘It’ll collapse. We have to blow it up from the inside.’

  ‘I don’t understand,’ Ilgrin wailed.

  ‘I do,’ Seeol barked determinedly.

  ‘You do?’ Seteal said in surprise.

  ‘I have to get ugly.’ Seeol leapt off Ilgrin’s shoulder and zipped through the labyrinth of small gaps in the rubble. He nuzzled and wriggled over melting bits of ice until finally popping out into El-i-miir’s chamber. Her mouth was already beneath the water, her head pressed up against the ice, her eyes wide with terror.

  Seeol was a deser
t bird and immediately began to panic as he bobbed uncomfortably atop the water. His face kept dipping forward and he had to beat his wings to keep it dry, but his feathers were quickly becoming waterlogged. His heart raced as the horror of what was happening properly sank in. He might drown. Oh, Maker, he was going to drown. Seeol shrieked as his face dipped beneath the surface for steadily lengthening periods of time. His wings screamed for mercy as he splashed them in the water. His legs and body were numb. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think.

  El-i-miir’s nose went under and her eyes started to close. No they couldn’t close. They couldn’t! Seeol would miss an opportunity to pluck them out of their sockets. No. He wouldn’t stand for it. He would pull them free and cut them out. He would suck the blood right from her throat.