*
‘That’s far enough,’ Seteal heard El-i-miir say as her eyes fluttered open. She was in someone’s arms. They were strong arms.
‘Let go of me.’ Seteal kicked wildly until Ilgrin released her to stumble across the ice. She put a hand to the back of her head where a large lump was forming. ‘Where are we?’
‘After the dome collapsed, we decided to get as far away as possible,’ El-i-miir replied. ‘The only problem is that the cleff is surrounded by an’hadoans. I don’t think Far-a-mael wants us to leave without him knowing.’
Seteal turned, the cold wind catching her hood and throwing it off her head. The rubble caused by the collapse of the Dome of the Sixth laid in the far distance across the immense basin. The occasional smaller building existed between them and what’d been the dome, but otherwise this part of the cleff seemed largely vacant.
‘Where is everybody?’ Seteal asked, rubbing the lump on the back of her head.
‘They’ve probably all gone to see what happened in the centre,’ El-i-miir suggested. ‘I chose this direction because I remembered that the easternmost part of the cleff is less populated and my parents live out here anyway. They might be able to help us.’ El-i-miir glanced at the silt standing tall beside her.
‘We thought it best to keep a low profile.’ Ilgrin pulled his cloak around himself in an effort to keep his wings hidden. He’d been badly beaten and dark blue lines of blood were visible wherever flesh could be seen.
‘I’ve been keeping you cosy.’ Seeol startled Seteal, having spoken from somewhere within her sleeve.
‘What now then?’ Seteal took in her surroundings, nervous of being so exposed.
‘We’re going to see if El-i-miir’s parents will let us rest at their place. We’ll decide what to do from there.’ Ilgrin glanced at El-i-miir uncertainly before going on. ‘I plan to go to Old World. I need to find out the truth about my people and perhaps warn them of Far-a-mael’s plans.’
‘And I’m going with him,’ El-i-miir said rather apologetically. ‘There’s no place for me here anymore.’ She turned to look into Ilgrin’s eyes. ‘And this is important. I can see that.’
‘I will go, too, then!’ Seeol wriggled free and flew onto El-i-miir’s shoulder. ‘You could get hurt without me.’
‘Well?’ Ilgrin raised his eyebrows at Seteal. ‘How about it?’
‘How about it?’ Seteal frowned and took a step back. ‘You must be idiots. We’re human.’ She turned to El-i-miir. ‘They’ll kill you before you get a foot over the border.’
‘We don’t know that, Seteal,’ El-i-miir grumbled. ‘From where I’m standing, it seems like most of the things we were taught were lies.’
‘Do you know what’s not a lie?’ Seteal grumbled. ‘Whisps, El-i-miir. Whisps exist. One of them killed my mother.’
‘Fine.’ El-i-miir raised her hands. ‘So where exactly do you intend on going?’
‘I’m going home.’ Seteal’s voice broke as she remembered her father’s face. ‘Good luck in Old World.’ She turned to Ilgrin. ‘I really mean that. I hope you find what you’re looking for, but I have to go home.’
‘Oh.’ El-i-miir lowered her eyes, perhaps finally having seen the situation from Seteal’s perspective. She’d been taken from her home by force, lied to, raped, suffered insidious affiliation, beaten and almost died on several occasions. But most of all, unlike the others, Seteal still had a home to go to. ‘At least let us help you escape the cleff.’
‘I’ll find my own way.’ Seteal raised her hood and secured it atop her head.
‘Well.’ El-i-miir reached out to hug her, but pulled back when Seteal showed no signs of reciprocation. ‘Goodbye, then.’
‘Bye.’ Seteal turned away but remained fixed in place as she heard the others’ footfall crunching over the ice. She closed her eyes and tried to remember her mother’s face. She tried to remember the nursery rhymes she’d once sung. When Seteal opened her eyes, she was sitting on the cold ground, her legs crossed beneath her.
‘There you are.’ Master Fasil made his way over and sat down beside her, placing a hand on Seteal’s leg and sliding it up her thigh until it rested near her crotch. ‘I’ve missed you, my dear.’
‘Why won’t you leave me alone?’ Seteal moaned, resting her head in her lap.
‘I’ll never leave you alone,’ Fasil replied reassuringly. ‘You’re my little slut. Every time you shut those precious little eyes, I’ll be here, with you. Oh, come now.’ He patted her on the back. ‘I know you can’t remember the rhymes your mother used to sing, but I assure you, you’ll never forget me.’
‘I can’t,’ Seteal sobbed. ‘I can never be free.’
‘You’ll never forget my face or the colour of my eyes.’ Master Fasil laughed. ‘You’ll never forget what it felt like as I drove myself into you over and over again. And most importantly, you’ll never forget what a little whore you are.’
‘I can’t,’ Seteal whimpered. It was almost impossible to get the words out. ‘I can’t . . . I can’t go home, can I?’
‘Oh, honey.’ Master Fasil made a shushing sound. ‘Did you ever really think you could? Your father wouldn’t lay eyes on a little slut like you, let alone welcome you back into his home. But, like I keep saying, if it’s any consolation, you’ll always have me.’ His hand slid back and forth over Seteal’s thigh. ‘You could get yourself into trouble if you don’t come with me.’ Fasil burst out laughing. ‘You stupid woman. How did you fall for that?’
Seteal leapt to her feet and started chasing after the others, who’d quickly become small figures in the distance.
‘Wait!’ she cried and was relieved to see the group turn around. ‘Wait for me,’ she panted as she approached them. ‘Don’t go.’
‘What is it?’ El-i-miir asked. ‘Are you okay?’
‘No,’ Seteal gasped for air, ignoring the chill of her sodden clothes. ‘I may never be okay and I don’t much care for visiting Old World, but I can tell you this much: I cannot rest until I stand over Far-a-mael’s cold, dead body.’
Dan-i-el 18
1. The prophet recorded all things seen in the vision granted by Maker.
17. And Maker said, Now they will go to war with one another. These foolish men seek to bring redemption unto the world that they themselves hath cursed since the beginning. But only Maker’s Holy Spirit hath been granted the gift of salvation.
24. In those days many would lie in the power of the Wicked One, and he would stretch out his hand as Maker, deciding the very fate of mortal men.
25. For a time this must go on. And not until the world is a ruin should it be redeemed.
Scriptures of the Holy Tome
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Cael McIntosh is the author of The Inner Circle trilogy and is currently working on several other projects. Having been born and raised as a Jehovah’s Witness, only to leave the faith in his early twenties, he has developed a unique perspective on religion and its implications. From that, along with other life experiences, he finds inspiration for his tales. It is his greatest hope that his works will inspire people to analyze and question their beliefs from an unbiased perspective.
caelmcintosh.com
The Inner Circle: The Knowing Page 67