The Inner Circle: Holy Spirit (35 page)

‘
Come on, honey, you
have to push.’ Mistress Daorey squeezed Seteal’s hand.
‘Push!’

Squeezing her eyes and clenching her
teeth, Seteal pushed, but once again only felt the hot splash of
blood. She was dizzy. She couldn’t stand to lose much more.

‘
Push!’

‘
I am pushing!’
Seteal screamed.

‘
Push!’

An alien cry ripped into
existence. At first, Seteal didn’t recognise the sound, but knew
her baby had been born, as the nausea that had plagued her so long
vanished. Seteal turned her head, both fearful and reluctant to
meet the child. She reached out and took the boy into her arms. A
sob broke free of her chest and Seteal burst into tears. There was
nothing wrong with him. He was an ordinary little boy. He had four
limbs and pink skin, the slightest bit of hair atop his head. She’d
so feared a monster. Her soul had writhed at the prospect. Now she
wept freely and gripped her son close, celebrating his
normalcy.

‘
Parrowun,’ she
whispered in his ear. ‘Mommy loves you.’

Parrowun opened his tiny eyes and
stared into Seteal’s. Her stomach leapt to her throat as his eyes
penetrated in her.

‘
Familiar aren’t
they?’ Master Fasil put his hand on Seteal’s shoulder before
leaning down to kiss Parrowun on the cheek.

Seteal lay in the mud, beyond
screaming. Her face was bloody and beaten. She squinted through
swollen black eyes and looked into her attacker’s. Fasil pushed
himself into her, tearing her, his eyes filled with pleasure and
not the slightest bit of remorse. Those dark eyes, almost
black.

‘
Ye all right,
Seteal?’ Fes removed her hand from Seteal’s shoulder.

‘
Yes . . . I’m fine.’
She swallowed, unable to tear her eyes from Parrowun’s. ‘I’m just
tired.’

‘
I’ll take the baby,’
El-i-miir offered. ‘I’ll get him cleaned up while you
rest.’

‘
Thank you.’ Seteal
closed her eyes.

‘
Ye be restin’ for a
few minutes, lovey,’ Fes said softly. ‘I’ll come back ta clean ye
up in a bit.’

‘
Okay,’ Seteal said
almost inaudibly. Fes had already done a good preliminary job
tiding her up, having wiped away most of the blood and cleaned up
the afterbirth. As far as Seteal was concerned, the woman was
amazing. As she drifted off to sleep she couldn’t help but worry.
If Parrowun was perfectly healthy and Seteal could no longer feel
the whisp within her, where exactly had it gone? Perhaps it’d
simply dissipated, as some had been known to do.

*

El-i-miir rocked back and forth in the
chair with Seteal’s son sleeping in a brown blanket in her arms.
She squinted at him long and hard in the hopes of finding some
vague glimmer of an aura, but there was nothing. She sighed, her
heart in turmoil as to whether she should tell Seteal. Should she
really say something that would only serve to upset the fragile
woman? Other than his lack of a visible aura, the boy seemed quite
normal.

‘
Is like me.’ Seeol
scrabbled across the room and peered up at El-i-miir through
narrowed eyes. ‘Is is is.’

El-i-miir ignored the bird until he’d
scurried off again. She smiled at the baby boy and kissed his
cheek, before moving her hand to stroke his soft hair. ‘You’ll be
fine,’ she whispered warmly as Fes waddled into the room. ‘How is
she?’ El-i-miir asked.

‘
I got her ta have a
bath so she be more properly cleaned up.' Fes smiled. 'She be
restin’ again now. How be the ben?’

‘
He’s just perfect,’
El-i-miir lied, as the little boy’s eyes fluttered open and he
stared into hers. His face scrunched up and became red. ‘What’s
wrong?’ El-i-miir said in distress as the child became
tearful.

‘
Give him here.’ Fes
took the baby and rocked him expertly until he’d settled down.
‘El-i-miir,’ she gasped. ‘Your nose.’

‘
What?’ El-i-miir put
a hand to her face and when she pulled it away found blood on her
fingers. ‘Oh, my,’ she uttered, hurrying off to get a
towel.

‘
Ye be all right?’
Fes asked.

‘
It’s just a nose
bleed,’ El-i-miir mumbled. ‘It’s probably stress. I think I’ll have
a lie down.’

*

Far-a-mael pulled his horse to an
abrupt stop to gaze up at the looming mountains of the Fourth
Cleff. He tried to feel for the general destination of the fourth
high elder, but the Ways were failing him increasingly with every
passing day. He lifted his swollen green hands and counted a total
of seven remaining fingers and four fingernails. There was a lump
in his right hand which tended to move about, giving Far-a-mael the
distinct impression that a critter of some kind had made itself at
home beneath the surface. He shuddered in disgust and kicked his
horse forward.

As Far-a-mael approached a cliff-face
of pure ice that erupted almost vertically out of the ground and
continued several miles into the sky, he slowed his horse in search
of the main entrance. Two elaborately carved doors standing three
times the height of a man seemed a fitting enough portal for entry.
Sliding from his horse’s back, Far-a-mael made his way over to the
an’hadoans guarding the entrance. They opened the doors for him
without question and backed away.

‘
Has Gez-reil come?’
Far-a-mael asked one of the young men.

‘
I’m not
certain.
’ The an’hadoan’s lip quivered.
‘But I’m sure he has come if you summoned him, War
Elder.’

Simply grunting in response, Far-a-mael
made his way into the belly of the cliff that served as the Fourth
Cleff’s most important structure and residence to the local high
elder.

‘
War Elder
Far-a-mael.’ High Elder Til-im-ra approached, perhaps having felt
Far-a-mael’s presence on the Ways. ‘As always, your company is an
honour.’ Til-im-ra smiled behind his long white beard as he
approached, grey robes swishing behind him. ‘To what do I owe the
pleasure?’

‘
I need your hadoan,’
Far-a-mael said plainly. ‘The hadoans of the Sixth and Seventh
Cleffs were insufficient and I’ve come to gather
reinforcements.’

‘
Let us speak in
private.’ Til-im-ra’s face became gloomy as he ushered Far-a-mael
into a small side room. ‘Did you not gather the outlanders’
armies?’ the high elder asked once he’d sat at a large table and
indicated Far-a-mael to do the same.

‘
Of course I did,’ he
grumbled, ‘but they were not enough. That’s why I need every
an’hadoan that the other six cleffs have to offer. Maker knows the
Brinnians, Abnatians and those fools from Egsean will be utterly
useless in battle, but I may yet be able to gather assistance from
Gordin, Shinteleran, and Gor Narvon, too.’

‘
Tell me of your
success thus far.’

‘
I can taste the
victory.’ Far-a-mael smiled proudly. ‘We’re almost there. The
angels proved to be invaluable. Hel’s legion didn’t know what’d hit
them. I ordered the armies of New World to take Hel and I have no
doubt that by now they’ve done so. With Hel secured, the
destruction of whatever other minor legions exist should be easily
accomplished.’

‘
I’m not so sure,
Far-a-mael.’ Til-im-ra rubbed his chin. ‘Gez-reil will be here
tomorrow. We should wait to discuss it with him.’

‘
No.’

‘
I’m
sorry?’

‘
No,’ Far-a-mael
repeated.

‘
I am the high elder
of the Fourth Cleff,’ Til-im-ra raised his voice and stood. ‘I will
decide if and when to release my hadoan into your
hands.’

‘
I am the War Elder
of the Unified Cleffs,’ Far-a-mael stated. ‘You and the others gave
it your approval last Gis-el-yadorn. Now you must bear the
consequences of your decision. In times of war, there is one
authority. That authority is mine. I am giving the order that every
hadoan from the First through to Fifth Cleff are to assemble north
of Esp in Egsean. From there, we will make our way south, gathering
as many New World allies as we’re able.’

‘
Have you lost your
mind?’ Til-im-ra gasped. ‘If you take everyone, you’ll be leaving
the Frozen Lands utterly defenceless.’

‘
That’s not true,’
Far-a-mael replied. ‘The Eighth Cleff has not yet been touched.
I’ll order their hadoan to divide into equal parts to be split
among the cleffs.

‘
That’s not nearly
enough,’ Til-im-ra cringed. ‘It’s an insult. I promise you now,
Far-a-mael, if you haven’t utterly destroyed us by the time this
war is done, I will personally condemn you to
Vish’el’Tei.’

Far-a-mael smiled with smug
conviction. ‘By the time this war is done, I promise you will have
changed your mind.’

*

It’d been weeks since the attack
on Hel, more than half of which was a charred ruin. The other half
had become a glorified refugee camp, with far too many silts per
tree. It’d taken a great deal of time to resurrect everyone who
wasn’t too dead, and even longer to bury those who were Especialy
as it was silt tradition to bury the body in a box filled with soil
and seed so that they too may become a part of the forest that
provided for them. Then parents and lost children had to be
reunited. Troops had to be gathered. Food and shelter had to be
found for the homeless and an army had to be reformed. But after
many countless hours of work from Ilgrin’s most loyal associates,
all these things had been accomplished.

Noah felt it was fitting to refer
to him as Ilgrin, rather than Sa’Enoch. To think of him as
Sa’anything was to assign an honour to him that he didn’t deserve.
Noah peered out over Ilgrin’s gathering legion army from his home
in the caves in the cliffs. He narrowed his eyes furiously and
fantasized impaling Ilgrin on one of his horns.

The imposter had taken his legion. Noah
was meant to be the true Devil. He could see that now more than
ever. After all, why else would Maker have blessed him with horns
so similar to those on Sa’Tan’s crown? Why would Maker have given
him such a strong, powerful body? Noah saw it all so clearly now.
He was Sa’Tan reincarnated. In these troubled times, Maker had
resurrected the true Devil to lead his people out of the hands of
the current rebellious demon king.

‘
I will not let you
down, Father,’ Noah’s deep voice rumbled up from the depths of his
chest.

Glancing down at the torn rags
that clothed him, Noah sneered in contempt. He shouldn’t have to
live in a cave. He was Sa’Tan, for Maker’s sake. The beast
shuddered in sorrow as he thought of his beautiful May. She, too,
had been held prisoner in a dungeon much like his beneath the great
tree. Noah looked over the charred legion, without confusion as to
her fate. Did Ilgrin care about the loss of May’s life? No. He
probably hadn’t even thought about her since he’d locked her
up.

Noah roared furiously, slamming a
grey fist into the cave wall so that chunks of rock rained down
around him.

Hose-a

2-3. Rebuke your mother, rebuke her:
for she is not my wife, neither am I her husband. Therefore put
away her whoredoms out of sight, and her adulteries from her
breasts lest I strip her naked and make her as bare as on the day
she was born, and make her as a desert, and turn her into a parched
land, and slay her with thirst.

4. And I will not have mercy on her
child, for he is the child of whoredoms.

5. For his mother hath played the
harlot.

Scriptures of the Holy Tome

CHAPTER
Twenty-Seven

A Formidable Foe

Seteal closed the wooden door and
leaned against it, exhaling slowly. She took a step away from
Mistress Daorey’s house. Then she took another. It was the first
time she’d been away from Parrowun since giving birth to him a week
earlier. Her hesitation in leaving him was silly. Seteal knew that.
Parrowun was in the very capable hands of Fes and Mistress Daorey,
both having had children of their own. Especially Fes. She’d had
heaps.

Once outside the gate, Seteal turned
back to wave at Briel, who was working in the yard.

‘
Go on Seteal,’ the
Merry Islander encouraged. ‘Ye ought ta be gettin’ out for some
fresh air.’

‘
Well, I’ll see you
in a bit,’ Seteal replied awkwardly.

The streets of Kintor were mostly
empty. The same could not be said for the city centre, where people
bustled about their daily affairs. The post office door was in
constant motion. A young boy raced on his bicycle selling
newspapers. An old man played the fiddle, all the while keeping a
careful eye on the upturned hat at his feet. Seteal smiled at the
excitement. She’d have never come across such activity in humble
little Elmsville. Still, she knew it was time to go home, and very
much looked forward to seeing her friends and father.