The Inner Circle: The Knowing (27 page)

Seteal twisted through existence,
bending what was until she came to drift above the outermost parts
of the Bairon Desert. The desert stretched away from her, farther
than she could hope to see . . . not that she was truly seeing,
considering she no longer had any eyes. But Seteal wanted to know
where the desert ended. She surged forward, but all too soon slowed
down due to a debilitating weakness. Her soul became vague and
uncertain. Seteal pushed a little farther, but soon found herself
drifting out of consciousness, which in the Ways was all she had.
Clearly there were limitations as to how far she could travel from
her body.

Pulling back, Seteal made her way
northeast. There she found what she was looking for--and, indeed,
the Frozen Lands were beautiful. Vast stretches of ice spread out
over hundreds of miles, only to rupture into the sky as towering
sculptures formed by wind and rain. The lofty cliffs looked like
great waves, reaching into the air where they’d been snap-frozen
before having the chance to crash back down into an ancient ocean.
The landscape was coloured by breathtaking whites and blues that
reflected the blazing sun.

As Seteal moved southward again, she
couldn’t help but reflect on the beauty of the things she’d seen.
As she sailed through the treetops, she began to slow down, but
much to her surprise, it wasn’t her that slowed. It was everything
else. A small white bird beat its wings in slow motion. A leaf fell
from a nearby tree, momentarily sat in the air, and finally began a
painfully slow downward decent. A snake launched into a death bite
whilst moving so slowly that Seteal could have read a book before
its strike was complete.

Laughing at the insanity of it all,
Seteal danced through the woods watching anything and everything
that moved. She focused her energy on the surroundings, squeezing
time and giggling inwardly when everything slowed even further. She
squeezed again, but was unable to quite get everything to stop
completely. She suddenly found herself imagining a ball of clay.
One could squash the ball until it was little more than a slither,
but the slither could never be flattened into nonexistence.

Seteal danced about the woods, feeding
her soul with the light of freedom in a place free of hatred and
regret. Only joy existed here. She plunged into the sky and sawed
among the clouds. She snatched at her imagined ball of clay and
pulled at both sides, stretching it out and speeding up
eternity.

The air began to vibrate and Seteal
watched as the sun sped by the clouds in its desperation to meet
the horizon. The moon glowed into existence and stars filled the
sky. As suddenly as night had come, again it vanished and floral
faces reached for a sun that raced over the horizon as if it were
running late for an appointment. This was impossible! Seteal wanted
to scream and clap her hands. Instead, lightning struck the earth
and the sky burped its throaty apology.

Again, the sun was gone. Night
returned. It rained for a split second. The sun returned. But
Seteal was no longer having fun. Something was wrong. Her breathing
became laboured, but she didn’t have lungs. Her heart rate felt
strange in a chest she no longer possessed. Her palms were sweating
and her lips were too dry. Her throat was parched.

Seteal plunged into a darkness that
swallowed her. She spiralled through the air, drawn from eternity
to a finite point. She felt pressure on every part of her being as
she was crushed and compacted into the confines of an
all-too-familiar vessel. The first thing she noticed was the biting
cold. The next thing she noticed was the pain in her stomach.
Seteal opened her eyes, which was painful. She opened her mouth.
That too was painful.

‘
Here.’ Far-a-mael’s
voice filled her ears as the old man loomed over her bed, a glass
of water in hand. ‘Drink this.’

After swallowing only a few mouthfuls
Seteal stopped, uncertain as to whether she’d be able to keep the
water down. ‘What happened?’ Seteal asked, surprised by the
weakness in her voice.

‘
I’m not terribly
sure.’ Far-a-mael gazed into her eyes, his own filled with concern.
‘We’ve been unable to wake you for more than two days. We found you
sleeping, but your aura was absent. It was as though you were
dead.’

‘
I feel terrible,’
Seteal moaned.

‘
I’d imagine so.’
Far-a-mael recoiled. ‘You’ve had nothing to eat or drink for days.
You must be more cautious when you’re playing about with the Ways,
Seteal. I dare say you need only practice under my direct
supervision from now on. Simply too little is known about Elglair
abilities in half-castes.’

Seteal disagreed inwardly, but was too
tired to fight. She was miserable, a prisoner within her own skin.
The flesh she was wrapped in served as a constant reminder of
everything that’d happened to her, what she’d lost and what she’d
become as a result, little better than a common whore.

‘
I want to be free,’
Seteal whispered as she closed her eyes.

How could she not have
anticipated what would happen when time sped up? Did she really
think she was Maker, able to play with the Ways as she pleased? She
hadn’t sped time up. She’d merely sped up her perception. Seteal
had abandoned her body to starve for two nights and almost three
days. She should’ve gone longer. Perhaps if she killed the body,
she’d be free forever.

‘
Seteal,’ El-i-miir
called and her eyes popped open. Apparently she’d fallen asleep.
‘Eat this.’ The woman handed her a bowl. Seteal took it between
shaking hands.

‘
What is it?’ She
asked.

‘
I don’t know.’
El-i-miir shrugged. ‘Fes made it for you. She says it’ll put
strength back into your bones . . . or something like
that.’

‘
Are you all right?’
Seteal narrowed her eyes as she lifted the spoon to her
mouth.

‘
All right?’
El-i-miir laughed nervously. ‘I’m fine!’

‘
You seem awfully
jittery,’ Seteal replied after swallowing a mouthful of Fes’s
broth, which tasted delightful if a little salty.

‘
I’m fine.’ El-i-miir
shrugged.

‘
Why’re you dressed
like that?’ Seteal frowned, running her eyes over El-i-miir’s fur
coat and animal skin boots.

‘
I don’t want you to
be alarmed,’ El-i-miir began slowly, ‘but you’ve been out for a few
days.’

‘
What of
it?’

‘
We’ve almost reached
the heart of Cold Wood,’ El-i-miir lowered her voice.

‘
I see.’ Seteal put
down the bowl.

‘
Far-a-mael and
Waxnah want everyone to be prepared, but to remain calm,’ El-i-miir
said steadily. ‘It would be advisable for you to slip into
something a little more appropriate.’

‘
Yes,’ Seteal
murmured as she felt her strength beginning to return. ‘That’s
probably for the best.’ She swung her feet out of the bed, only to
freeze as the riverboat moaned from its depths. Seteal snapped her
foot away as the floorboards warped and a shelf splintered from the
wall.

El-i-miir launched herself beneath the
covers with Seteal, in time for the temperature to plummet. ‘The
heart of Cold Wood,’ El-i-miir whispered, pulling the covers above
their heads.

‘
Well, we can’t just
lay here,’ Seteal replied. ‘What if they’re in trouble up on
deck?’

‘
Far-a-mael can take
care of it,’ El-i-miir cautioned. ‘You’re hardly well enough to be
walking about.’

‘
I feel fine,’ Seteal
replied dismissively. ‘Stay here if you’re too scared, but I’m
taking the blanket.’ She pulled hard on the cloth, rolled off the
bed, and shoved her feet into boots.

‘
All right!’
El-i-miir yelped, leaping off the bed and snatching up the blanket
from the top bunk. ‘I’m coming,’ she snapped. Just as suddenly as
the cold had struck, it vanished.

‘
What just happened?’
Seteal asked, hurrying over to the wardrobe to throw on a leather
coat.

‘
I’ve heard about
this.’ El-i-miir’s face filled with recognition. ‘They say that the
first sign of entry into the innermost parts of Cold Wood are the
pockets of frozen air. Eventually the temperature will become
consistent, but this far out it doesn’t quite mix
properly.’

‘
That doesn’t make
any sense.’ Seteal frowned.

‘
Not all things of
demonic origin do.’ El-i-miir shrugged. ‘Not that that makes me a
believer.’

‘
A
believer?’

‘
You’ve never read
the Holy Tome?’ El-i-miir cocked her head. ‘I thought your people
were all church-goers.’

‘
Not all of us,’
Seteal replied, without bothering to hide her contempt. ‘Followers
of the Tome do nothing but condemn others without pausing for a
moment to witness their own hypocrisy.’ Seteal took a deep, calming
breath.

Faith had never done anything for her.
She’d heard of people being touched, or inspired, or having felt
Maker’s presence. Seteal had never felt it. If he existed at all,
Maker had only ever shown her spite, his book openly condemning
people like her as abominable. Maker created her as the person she
was, only to turn around and call her that? That wasn’t love. That
wasn’t kindness. The Holy Tome spewed such hatred that Seteal
couldn’t even share the truth with her own father.

‘
Why? What words of
inspiration does the great and Holy Tome have to share with us
today?’ she asked bitterly.

‘
According to the
Tome, Cold Wood is where the first silts punctured the barrier
between Hae'Evun and our world,’ El-i-miir said slowly, taken aback
by Seteal’s aggressive tone. ‘But, of course, that’s just nonsense.
For all we know, silts have shared this world with us since the
dawn of time. They’re probably more similar to us than we’d like to
admit.’

‘
They’re monsters.’
Seteal stared at El-i-miir. ‘Never let anyone convince you
otherwise. Now, if you’re done sympathising with demons, I’m going
to look for something productive to do.’ Seteal headed for the
door, feeling disturbed by El-i-miir’s tolerance.

Seteal wrapped her hand around the
doorhandle, but snapped it back as the cold bit into her
fingertips. A second later, it felt as though she’d been plunged
into some dark recess of the ocean that had never seen the light of
day. The cold was crushing, crawling along the surface of her body
until once again warmth touched her face. Rubbing herself
vigorously, Seteal barged through the door and raced outside.

Men hurried about on deck, pulling
lines in between rubbing their arms and wrapping their jackets
tight. Seteal headed back downstairs to look for Fes and eventually
found the Merry Islander in a small room that functioned as a
kitchen. She was busy keeping a fire stoked and the water
boiling.

‘
Fes,’ Seteal called
out as she entered the room. ‘Could I borrow some of the blankets
from your wagon?’

‘
Do what ye want,’
Fes muttered sulkily without even looking up.

‘
Fes?’ Seteal said
slowly, confused by the ordinarily cheery woman’s demeanour. ‘Are
you all right?’

‘
Nah, I’m nah all
right.’ Fes spun around. ‘That gil be beatin’ the silt too much. It
nah be fair. He ain’t done nothin’.’

‘
Fes!’ Seteal’s jaw
dropped. ‘It’s a demon.’

‘
And nah let me
get started on ye, young lady,’ Fes shook her head, her shoulders
slumping as she turned back to the boiling pot. ‘Even El-i-miir be
havin’ more compassion than ye and she be one of
them
. I
know ye been through a hard lot, but ye be losin’ yeself,
Seteal.’

‘
I’m not losing
myself,’ Seteal growled. ‘Demons are enemies of the
Elglair.’

‘
And ye are nah
Elglair!’ Fes snapped. ‘Best ye remember where ye came from. Now ye
listen ta me.’ She came very close and lowered her voice warningly.
‘I be knowin’ men like Far-a-mael in my time and they seldom mean
well. Ye be careful ta remember what ye believe in.’

‘
I’m going to get
those blankets,’ Seteal muttered stonily as she left the room. She
began to head back toward the deck, but it suddenly seemed more
important to go down to the hold. Perhaps the silt had died from
the cold. When Seteal reached the bottom of the spiralling
staircase, she noticed how dark it was. No lanterns had been lit
and not one crewman stood guard at the brig. Perhaps they’d needed
additional hands on deck. Still, Far-a-mael would not be pleased
when she reported this to him. Seteal smiled at the idea of telling
Far-a-mael what she’d seen. He’d be very pleased with her. He was
her rock, her stability in all this madness. The old man who she’d
once so readily doubted was rapidly becoming a second father to
her.

Seteal made her way over to the metal
door embedded in the wall and placed a hand flat against the cold
surface. ‘Are you there?’ she whispered.

‘
Who is it?’ the
demon responded, its voice sending shivers of repulsion throughout
Seteal’s body.

‘
I wish I could be
there,’ Seteal heard herself saying as she rested her face against
the door and allowed the images to tumble through her mind. ‘I wish
I could see your face when they burn you at the stake or cut off
your wings, if only to spit on you.’

‘
You’re that woman,’
the demon stated. ‘Seteal? Listen, I’m sorry about what happened to
you. It wasn’t fair to leave you alone in that field, but people
were trying to kill me and I’d never heard of that happening in
Abnatol before. Our people are ordinarily very kind.’