‘Miss Eltari.’ Gez-reil straightened out his gowns and released Ilgrin’s aura. ‘And Mister . . .’ He trailed off, blushing. ‘I’m sorry, it would seem we haven’t been properly introduced.’ Gez-reil smiled at Ilgrin and offered his hand.
‘I’m a silt,’ Ilgrin said slowly, his expression one of distrust.
‘I know what you are, my boy.’ Gez-reil frowned. ‘My question was as to who you are.’
‘Ilgrin. Ilgrin Geld.’ The silt took a step back, staring suspiciously.
‘Well, Mister Geld.’ Gez-reil twittered as he looked over the innumerable cuts and scrapes on Ilgrin’s arms. ‘I can see our dear Far-a-mael has introduced you to the somewhat unique levels hospitality all too frequently demonstrated by the Elglair. On behalf of him, I must apologise for your terrible misfortune. Now, I must ask the pair of you, what have you done to our sweet El-i-miir?’
‘She was struck on the head.’ Seteal knelt to push aside El-i-miir’s hair.
‘I’ll check nothing has been too badly damaged, shall I?' Gez-reil strode over to stare into El-i-miir’s aura. ‘She’ll be fine,’ he chuckled. ‘In fact, she’s going to wake up around about . . . now.’
‘You found him,’ El-i-miir said softly, her eyes opening. ‘How?’
‘Never mind that,’ Gez-reil said warmly. ‘We have matters of much greater importance to discuss.’
‘High Elder Gez-reil.’ El-i-miir became very flustered and tried to get up.
‘Don’t be a fool, child.’ Gez-reil put his wrinkly old hand on her shoulder and pushed her back to the ground. ‘Just lie still for a bit.’
‘If I may.’ Ilgrin stepped forward. ‘I’m a little confused.’
‘About what?’ Gez-reil raised his eyebrows.
‘Your reaction to my presence isn’t like that with which I’m accustomed.’
‘What reaction is that exactly?’ Gez-reil scratched at his beard.
‘Well . . . fear.’ Ilgrin frowned.
‘Fear?’ Gez-reil chuckled. ‘My boy, I’m a little shy of two hundred years old. I was a trained gil before your grandparents were born. I needn’t fear you. I could snap you like a twig.’ He chuckled and gave a little wink. ‘But rest assured, Mister Geld, you needn’t be concerned. I’m not all twisted up with hatred like a certain other gil with whom you’ve spent much time. Some of us are able to see reason.’
‘What do you mean?’ Ilgrin asked suspiciously.
‘You were raised by outlanders in Abnatol, correct?’
‘Yes.’ Ilgrin’s face lit up. ‘You believe me.’
‘I know how ruthless the inquisitors can be.’ Gez-reil shrugged. ‘You’d have caved had you actually known anything. Far-a-mael . . . is a changed man. He’s no longer the compassionate boy I knew in my youth. Anyone not completely blinded by hatred can see that you’re a simple farmer’s boy. And that brings me to the reason I’ve asked you all to come here.’
‘And why is that?’ Seteal asked with renewed interest.
‘This is for you,’ he answered, handing Seteal a thick black book.
‘The Holy Tome?’ She recoiled. ‘My father already has one of these.’
‘It was your mother’s,’ Gez-reil stated.
‘Thank you.’ Seteal clung to the old book, it having instantly become precious.
‘Read it,’ Gez-reil advised. ‘It may be of more use to you than you think.’
‘I doubt that.’ Seteal frowned. She didn’t appreciate the sermon.
‘Seteal doesn’t believe in the Tome,’ El-i-miir explained apologetically, her eyes averted.
‘How ironic.’ The elder chuckled more to himself than anyone else. ‘Well . . . keep it all the same.’
‘I will,’ Seteal replied. ‘How did you come to find it?’
‘Your mother used to stay at my house on the odd occasion when Far-a-mael was away on business,’ Gez-reil intoned.
‘How peculiar.’ Seteal frowned, unable to make out the connection between her mother and the old man standing before her.
‘You ought to know the truth,’ Gez-reil murmured. ‘Far-a-mael married my sister, Sar-ni, who is sadly no longer with us.’ Gez-reil rubbed his eyes tiredly. ‘The truth is, had she been alive today, Sar-ni would’ve been your grandmother.’
‘That doesn’t make any sense.’ Seteal felt sick. ‘That would mean Far-a-mael is my grandfather.’
‘He is,’ Gez-reil replied apologetically. ‘Don’t let it bother you. He was a good man once. Life dealt him an unfair hand and he’s never quite recovered.’
‘That’s why he hates silts so much?’ Seteal murmured. ‘Because of the way my mother died?’
‘Oh, dear, no,’ Gez-reil said gravely. ‘The story goes back much further than that. Much like Jil-e-an, Sar-ni, too, was killed by a whisp. And many years earlier, when Far-a-mael was just a boy, his parents were murdered at a negotiation for peace talks in Old World.’
‘That explains a lot.’ Seteal moved toward the only chair in the room and sat down unsteadily. ‘He’s lost everything.’
‘As for you, El-i-miir,’ Gez-reil began solemnly, ‘I’m afraid that for now not much can be done. Maker knows I didn’t want to see you meet a fate such as condemnation to Vish’el’Tei, but considering the accusations rallied against you, there was very little I could do. Standing here now, I can see that the accusations were based in truth.’ He looked at Ilgrin very seriously. ‘You are in love with him.’
‘I am.’ El-i-miir looked at the ground.
‘And you think you love her?’ Gez-reil asked Ilgrin.
‘Yes,’ the silt said proudly.
‘Well, then . . . this is going to be a great deal more difficult for the pair of you than I’d first anticipated. You will destroy each other,’ Gez-reil murmured. ‘There is no peaceful hiding place for you to cohabitate. There is nowhere for you in New World, nor Old World. You,’ he turned to El-i-miir, ‘must settle down in a small town somewhere far away from the Frozen Lands like Seteal’s mother once did. And you.’ He turned to Ilgrin. ‘You’re long overdue to go home, don’t you think?’
‘I can’t go back,’ Ilgrin replied. ‘My parents are dead.’
‘That’s not the home I was referring to.’ Gez-reil stared at Ilgrin beneath a furrowed brow. ‘You need to return to your true home.’
‘I intend to.’ Ilgrin shrugged. ‘El-i-miir has agreed to come with me.’
‘Enough talk of you and El-i-miir,’ Gez-reil snapped. ‘You’re thinking with the naïveté of a child. Do you really expect your kind will be any more congenial towards El-i-miir than ours have been toward you?’
‘But . . .’ Ilgrin trailed off, unable to come up with a suitable counterargument.
‘But nothing,’ Gez-reil grumbled. ‘You will travel to Old World alone, but I will send you armed with a secret. You see, Ilgrin, I suspect that I know who you really are. Would you like to learn of it?’
‘Of course.’
‘Very well.’ Gez-reil nodded. ‘But first you must tell me your story. I have to be certain.’
‘I was raised on a farm--’
‘Stop, stop,’ Gez-reil cut him off. ‘You’ve mistaken my meaning. I don’t care about your life after your parents took you in. I’m interested in how you came to be so very far from Old World to begin with.’
‘I don’t know much.’ Ilgrin frowned. ‘Mother and father found me on their doorstep in the arms of a dead silt. An arrow had been shot through her back and pierced her heart.’
‘A silt arrow?’
‘My parents thought so,’ Ilgrin said. ‘It was tipped with silver and unlike any they’d seen before.’
‘Fascinating.’ Gez-reil’s eyes darted off to some distant time. ‘And how old are you?’
‘I’m about twenty-three or four.’
‘Then the timing is right.’ Gez-reil nodded in satisfaction, only to pause and freeze. A moment later El-i-miir gasped and shot an anxious look at Seteal.
‘They’re here,’ Gez-reil hissed.
‘You must leave.’
‘Far-a-mael?’ Seteal leapt to her feet.
‘He’s not far west of here, but a good portion of his hadoan have already entered Setbrana,’ Gez-reil replied. He took Ilgrin by the shoulders. ‘Get yourself to Old World as quickly as you can, but be cautious about when and in which fashion you reveal yourself. They’ll kill you if they find out who you really are.’
‘Who am I?’ Ilgrin asked hurriedly, but the old man had already turned to El-i-miir.
‘Do as I’ve told you, my dear girl, and you’ll never want for anything.’ Gez-reil paused to hug her. ‘Reach me by letter as soon as you’ve found a place to live. I’ll send you as much money as I can.’
‘Thank you,’ El-i-miir’s eyes reflected bewilderment at the elder’s generosity.
‘And, Seteal . . . oh, my dear Seteal.’ Gez-reil’s eyes were filled with remorse as they came to rest on her. ‘You have to put away that pride of yours--do as I have said and read the Scriptures.’ He tapped at the Tome in Seteal’s hands. ‘These are not just ancient ramblings. They’re accurate prophesies written by Elglair more powerful than anyone alive today. They will show you the way, the truth, and the light.’
Loud shouting throughout the city told Seteal and the others that the enemy was close. Unwilling to wait a second longer, she raced for the doorway with the others at her heels.
‘And get rid of that seeol,’ Gez-reil barked after them as Seteal charged out of the room. ‘There is evil in him unlike anything this world has ever known!’
CHAPTER FIVE
DISTANT HORIZON
‘What do you make of what Gez-reil said?’ Ilgrin asked Seteal several days after their escape from Setbrana. He’d been irritating El-i-miir with the same question for days and had clearly exhausted any chance of further conversation with her.
‘What part of it?’ Seteal felt the rectangular protuberance of the Holy Tome in her bag.
‘About me,’ Ilgrin said in bewilderment. ‘The more I stew on it, the less sense I’m able to make of it. Why would my own kind want to kill me?’
‘I don’t know,’ Seteal sighed. ‘I wouldn’t worry about it. The old man believes in the Tome, for Maker’s sake. To be perfectly honest, I’m not sure how much of what he says we can actually trust.’
‘What is this?’ El-i-miir called from a little way ahead.
‘It looks like . . .’ Seteal trailed off as she squinted into the distance.
‘Get down!’ Seeol shrieked as he landed with a thud in the leaf litter by the road.
‘Oh, you found us,’ El-i-miir said without the slightest bit of relief in her voice. Seteal understood her disappointment. Since having lost Seeol in Setbrana, their journey had been without danger or confrontation.
‘Yes.’ Seeol bobbed his head. ‘I got lost but did find Far-a-mael. I’ve been following him to see if he’s doing naughty things and then I saw you on this road, too. See! He’s up to no good.’
Squinting at the distant horizon, Seteal realised that what she was seeing up ahead was a massive throng of an’hadoans traveling away from them along the same road. ‘What’re they up to?’
‘War,’ El-i-miir said softly.
‘But why would they take this road?’ Ilgrin asked in consternation. ‘It leads straight to Veret.’
‘I think that’s the point.’ El-i-miir’s fingers twitched as she stopped to face the others. ‘The Jenjen have hated our kind for as long as anyone can remember and their conviction in doing so only ever gets stronger. Far-a-mael is going to war, first with them and then with Old World. I remember him saying once that New World only stood a chance against Old World if we were united. He plans to eliminate the Jenjen threat.’
‘That’s not the only one.’ Seeol stared worriedly into the distance. ‘I followed those men in Setbanana . . . Set--Setbrana! They wasn’t there for you all. They was there to have chats with the king.’
‘What did they want?’ Seteal asked.
‘I couldn’t know.’ Seeol looked at the ground and pecked at a passing beetle. ‘But lots of scary men with swords and guns left and followed Far-a-mael’s friends.’
‘He’s formed an alliance with Garrishnell.’ El-i-miir put a hand to her mouth. ‘I can’t say I’m surprised. Garrishnell is the only country with which the Elglair have maintained good relations throughout the centuries.’
Ilgrin whistled. ‘Veret will be conquered.’
‘Not necessarily,’ El-i-miir replied. ‘There have been rumours for some time of the development of a mighty Jenjen army, much larger than anything the Elglair have managed to form.’
‘The Elglair have their abilities.’ Ilgrin didn’t sound convinced.
‘Even so . . .’ El-i-miir trailed off. ‘I have little concern either way. The Jenjen are a horrid people. They hate everyone not living in harmony with their precious Holy Tome. And that pretty much includes all of us.’
‘What do you know of their industry?’ Seteal enquired.
‘Not much.’ El-i-miir shrugged. ‘I hear they’ve developed some kind of explosive. They have pistols and guns, too.’
‘There are more coming,’ Seeol informed. ‘They is travelled behind you.’
‘We’re sandwiched between two armies?’ Seteal raised her eyebrows. ‘We’d best keep our distance from the road.’
‘Agreed.’ Ilgrin nodded.
At some point in the days that followed, they crossed the border into Jenjol, always making sure to keep as far from the road as possible, while still being able to keep tabs on Far-a-mael’s progress. When farmland and small towns began to crop up to the left and right, Seteal decided that it was too dangerous to travel any farther by day and that they should continue into the night, hoping to find somewhere to rest the following morning.
At around about midnight, Seeol’s claws dug uncomfortably into Seteal’s shoulder. ‘Is a big owl!’ He exclaimed.
‘What?’ Seteal asked. A tall dark shape loomed up before them.
The object stood at least twenty strides high. It was painted and carved after the fashion of a colourful bird that bore a striking resemblance to a horned owl. ‘What is it?’ Seteal asked, turning to El-i-miir.
‘It looks like a totem,’ she replied.
‘Obviously.’ Seteal rolled her eyes. ‘But what’s it for?’
‘How should I know?’ El-i-miir shrugged.
‘It’s an idol,’ Ilgrin answered from behind them, before heading passed and putting his hand flat against the object. ‘The Jenjen worship owls. They believe that they’re messengers from Maker.’
‘That’s ridiculous,’ Seteal sighed.
‘Of course!’ El-i-miir exclaimed. ‘I remember now. They take the Scriptures literally in believing that Maker’s Holy Spirit will come to them in the body of an owl.’
‘Why an owl?’
‘I don’t know,’ El-i-miir shrugged. ‘Probably because of the anointed.’
‘The what?’ Seteal probed, feeling no less confused by El-i-miir’s explanation.
‘You really don’t know anything about the Scriptures do you?’
‘No.’
‘The story goes that when Maker anointed the first Elglair, they had a vision of the Holy Spirit descending in the body an owl.’ El-i-miir’s voice revealed how much stock she placed in the story.
‘If Maker chose to anoint your people, why do the Jenjen hate you so much?’
‘They believe that we’ve strayed from the path of righteousness,’ El-i-miir replied sarcastically, ‘and will face Maker’s wrath on Judgement Day.’
‘Maybe Seeol is Maker’s Holy Spirit,’ Seteal murmured with a wry smile that caused the others to laugh. The only exception was Seeol, who probably didn’t understand what they were talking about.
‘There is a big building to sleep in for the daytime,’ the bird said solemnly.
‘Over there?’ El-i-miir squinted through the dark. ‘It’s Sunday. That’s the day of rest, so I suppose it should
be safe enough.’
The group headed over to Seeol’s 'big building,' which turned out to be a very small tool shed. ‘It’ll have to do,’ Seteal muttered, cautioned by the steadily increasing levels of daylight. ‘I’m too tired to find anything else and the sun will soon be up.’
‘Allow me.’ Ilgrin stepped forward to break open the locked door with a well-placed kick.
Once inside, the tool shed seemed even smaller than it had before they’d entered, but there was room enough to find a small corner in which to sleep.
Seteal pulled her legs up beneath her chin and did exactly that. Hours later she awoke. She was drowsy and not at all startled, even though she’d been shaken by El-i-miir. Seteal felt unable to properly construct thoughts and soon felt her body moving without her approval. El-i-miir was affiliating her.
She moved slowly, as though she was trying to stay quiet. Opening the door, Seteal slipped outside without even breathing for fear of the noise it might make. She walked several strides before coming to a stop in front of Ilgrin and El-i-miir, where the woman released her aura and Seteal’s regular consciousness returned. It was broad daylight.
‘What’re you doing?’ Seteal hissed, fearing that they might be seen.
‘I’m sorry,’ El-i-miir murmured almost inaudibly as she headed away from the tool shed. ‘We couldn’t risk waking Seeol.’
‘Who cares about Seeol?’ Seteal spat grumpily. ‘Does he need his beauty sleep or something?’
‘No.’ El-i-miir gently prodded Seteal along, as Ilgrin moved quietly by her side. ‘We need to get out of here without him knowing we’re gone.’
‘You’re abandoning him?’ Seteal frowned, casting a glance back toward the shed. ‘Why?’
‘He’s too dangerous,’ El-i-miir replied. ‘I don’t know what you did to him, but whatever it was, I’m certain he’s responsible for everything that’s been going wrong.’
‘Don’t you think I know that?’ Seteal grumbled. ‘I changed him. The darkness used to well up and explode out. Now it just leaks continuously.’
Ilgrin raised his eyebrows. ‘You already knew?’
‘I figured it out.’ Seteal sighed. ‘I just didn’t have the heart to abandon him. I know it’s silly, but I was the one who invited him along to begin with.’
‘Well, now the stakes are too high,’ El-i-miir persisted. ‘We cannot be far from Veret and if he’s with us, we’ll most certainly get caught.’
The Inner Circle: Holy Spirit Page 6
