An uncomfortable grumbling sound in El-i-miir’s stomach drew her attention and she paused to take a swig of water. Her flask of gin had run out the day before. She wasn’t happy about that. She’d have to find more of both soon, for the sake of herself and her weary horse. The animal’s aura was becoming lethargic and its mind less focused. El-i-miir hadn’t been able to find or steal any food the day before and the little Elglair money she had was worthless in the border lands.
El-i-miir choked back a scream and affiliated her horse to an immediate stop when she spotted a large whisp wafting lazily through the air several strides ahead. She cursed the Ways--not for the first time--for their inability to reveal anything about whisp destiny. The dark mist reached out sluggishly, before dissipating anticlimactically as older whisps tended to do. El-i-miir surged onward.
She was being a fool. El-i-miir knew that. Here she was following a childish dream, in pursuit of an individual silt in a land containing millions. Ilgrin could have been anywhere and the likelihood of finding him seemed very slim. She regretted not having found where he’d left from to be able to follow his Way path.
Lights snaked down from the sky and surrounded El-i-miir. A moment later she heard beating wings and kicked her horse into a gallop. The lights became shorter and shorter, refusing to budge from their position surrounding El-i-miir, telling her that she would not be able to outrun what was coming. After stopping her horse and sliding from her saddle, she turned around in time to see several silts dipping toward her. El-i-miir drew on her aura and forced strings of it to mingle with the Ways as she sought out the auras of others. The tendrils whipped and lashed about El-i-miir like serpents threatening to lunge. As the silts approached they drew their weapons and El-i-miir readied hers.
A translucent cord of affiliation sliced into one of the creature’s auras, causing El-i-miir to feel the disorientation she’d come to expect from possession. She was standing beside her horse, but she was also beating her mighty wings. She was watching the silts descend, feet raking forward. She was a silt, raking his feet toward her prey. El-i-miir swished variously coloured tendrils into the silt’s aura and at once he became her puppet. El-i-miir spun around in the air and flared his wings, readying herself to attack his kin.
A second silt landed behind El-i-miir, just as she thrust out a second line of affiliation and made him step back several paces. She made him close his wings passively and screamed in fear as she fell through the sky. She flared her wings, but to no avail. She was already standing on the ground. She was getting her lines of possession confused. El-i-miir squeezed her human eyes shut and focused on what the others were seeing. She backed her grounded silt up another step and then flared her aerial silt’s wings to regain control of his flight.
For now El-i-miir controlled the situation, but affiliating any more than these two would become very difficult very quickly. She was already splitting her senses across three bodies. El-i-miir put a hand to her forehead and so too did the silts under her command. She held the grounded silt stationary and turned the majority of her concentration to her demon in the sky. A third silt landed and drew his weapon. El-i-miir moaned in frustration, releasing yet another cord to affirm yet another possession.
El-i-miir squeezed her sword and flared her wings in frustration as she stood staring penetratingly at the pale human woman with long black hair swishing in the breeze. Her eyes were squeezed shut so tight. She wanted to attack the human but couldn’t. She was the human. She flew about in dazed circles, half-heartedly attaching her kin. She stood behind herself, staring at the back of her head. She wanted to restrain the woman but couldn’t move. El-i-miir stood gritting her teeth as the number of silts increased. She took a deep breath and threw strands out wildly.
‘Enough,’ El-i-miir sobbed through the mouth of a silt several hundred strides away. ‘Please.’ The silt started spiralling toward the ground. ‘There are so many of them,’ El-i-miir whispered from fifteen different mouths. They watched the human from fourteen different angles as she fell to her knees.
She was dizzy. A particularly strong silt broke free and leapt forward. The tendril recoiled, slapping back into El-i-miir’s aura so forcefully that she fell onto her backside. ‘No!’ she cried, throwing up her hands to fling translucent strands in every direction, now just hoping that they’d catch.
There was a ringing sound in her ears . . . in someone’s ears anyway. The El-i-miirs all watched as El-i-miir got to her feet. She swallowed and watched herself turn in a circle. She had them all. The silts were squirming irritably, wrestling against the foreign entity within. She couldn’t move . . . couldn’t escape. There were too many, leaving El-i-miir stretched too thin to do anything but squirm along with them. She kept forgetting who the real her was. Was she the woman or one of the silts under her control? Her perspective snapped and writhed between her victims, continually dancing and flashing. El-i-miir tried to take a step away from the group, but instead one of the silts took a step forward.
‘Just breathe.’ A silt spoke words that’d had their inception in El-i-miir’s mind.
‘No . . . please no.’ A tear trickled down another of the silt’s cheeks as El-i-miir caught a glimpse of something in the sky. There approached another of the creatures. She couldn’t control another. But what was this? A horse was galloping toward them. There was an old man mounted on top. He rode below the silt and yet it paid him no attention.
When the old man got closer El-i-miir was able to make out his face, or somewhat more importantly, his eyes. With bright white pupils, there was no mistaking the stranger for anything other than Elglair.
El-i-miir’s heart leapt with relief, as she and each of the silts surrounding her smiled broadly. The old man threw a hand into the air. As if in response to his gesture the silt above dove, threw out her arms and snatched El-i-miir up into the sky.
Fourteen tendrils snapped. The silts snarled furiously, but the Elglair man shouted at them to remain where they were and remarkably they did. El-i-miir breathed a sigh of relief, once again alone in her own head. Her captor landed and stepped back as the old man approached.
‘What is this?’ El-i-miir choked out. ‘Who are you?’ She glared at the silt, only to gape in surprise when a disk of light flashed momentarily into existence above her head. ‘What is the meaning of this?’ She turned back to the Elglair man. ‘You’re an affiliate.’
‘You didn’t think you were the only one, did you?’ The man opened his arms and laughed. Upon doing so his sleeve fell open to reveal a demon wing tattoo on his forearm.
‘You’re a Sa’Tanist,’ El-i-miir whispered, taking a step back. ‘But you’re Elglair.’
‘What a naïve thing to say,’ the man replied with a sneer. ‘You really do think too highly of our people, my dear.’
El-i-miir thrust every bit of power she had at the Elglair, but he moved too quickly and blocked her. ‘Child,’ the man shook his head, ‘you are no match for me.’ He turned to his affiliated silt. ‘Take her to the tree.’
*
‘Father.’ Noah knelt before the old silt and kissed the sickly man’s forehead where he stood hunched tiredly on his golden-gilded perch. ‘How are you today?’
‘I’m quite well you snivelling brat,’ Korah snapped. ‘Quit drooling over my perch. The kingdom will be yours soon enough.’
‘My apologies, Father.’ Noah took a step back. ‘Has there been any news of the progress of New World’s army?’
‘The general tells me they’re less than a week away.’ The old silt shuddered, his legs almost giving way beneath him. ‘Oh, what I would give to be strong enough to face them in battle,’ Korah lamented, before turning to cough raucously.
‘I could go,’ Noah whispered, his voice filled with mock sacrifice. Experience had given him cause to predict his father’s response.
‘Never,’ Korah snapped. ‘You’re too important. I will not allow the throne to be lost to this family. You have no idea what I had to do to get
it. Of course you don’t. You’re a disgrace. You’ve had everything you ever wanted served up to you on a platter. Not a day’s hard work. Not a single callous.’
‘What about Sa’Enoch?’ Noah redirected the flow of conversation. ‘Has there been any news on him?’
‘Mister Geld,’ Korah barked. ‘That is his name. The line of Sa’Tan is dead.’
‘Of course, Father.’ Noah bowed.
‘The boy was reportedly seen passing through one of the smaller towns up north.’ The devil frowned. ‘He was last seen caught in a whisp storm headed straight for the mountains.’
‘Surely he’s dead,’ Noah said with false enthusiasm.
‘Perhaps.’ Korah sighed. ‘But I don’t like loose ends. We assumed he was dead once before and now look what’s happened. What a disaster.’
‘Shall I order out search parties?’
‘No.’ Korah narrowed his eyes. ‘The boy has come this far already and we needn’t waste resources this close to war. Double the guard around Hel and we’ll wait for him to come to us.’
‘Yes, Father.’ Noah bowed before abandoning the room. He strolled through a corridor in the great tree. There were several doorways to either side of him, each leading to the Devil’s various personal rooms. The end of the tunnel opened out into an immense hollow midsection: the centre of the tree. Glancing down its length, Noah recognised not for the first time that it seemed bottomless. Long, smooth branches criss-crossed the large chasm, providing pathways from one side to another. Some of the branches were thick enough that they too had been hollowed out to serve as small offices or quarters for the royal staff presently flying about their daily duties.
‘Prince Noah,’ a familiar voice called just as he’d flared his wings in preparation to drop over the edge.
‘James?’ Noah turned to face his father’s favoured manservant.
‘I have some unsettling news.’ James cast a worrisome glance over his shoulder. ‘I wasn’t sure whether to bother the Devil about it, so I came to check with you first.’
‘Go on.’
‘A human woman was found in the northernmost parts of Hades,’ James said softly.
‘And?’ Noah shook his head disinterestedly. ‘I hope you didn’t bring her here. A whisp will take care of her soon enough.’
‘Prince Noah,’ the man swallowed. ‘She’s Elglair.’
*
Far-a-mael had chosen his tent’s location well. It stood at the top of a rise in the landscape, allowing him to keep a watchful eye on the multitudes of soldiers below. Oddly enough, both Kilk and Kilk Antet had agreed to lend their soldiers to the mix. Gordin had offered some, but not as many as one would expect from a country so large and with an economy so rich. Nevertheless, Far-a-mael was grateful for any offer of assistance.
‘Well?’ Far-a-mael turned to King Harundor as he gazed out over the landscape. ‘Impressive, is it not?’
‘It is indeed,’ Braihon replied in awe. ‘Holy Spirit.’ He turned around. ‘You have blessed us beyond our greatest imaginings.’
‘Have I?’ Seeol headed over unsteadily, the stones beneath his naked feet undoubtedly causing him discomfort. Despite the passing of several weeks since his miraculous transformation, Seeol refused to put on a pair of shoes. ‘That is so many people. This will be one marvellous obliterate.’
‘It will be.’ Far-a-mael smiled. He’d worked out some time ago, with Seeol’s repeated use of the word 'obliterate,' that the bird-man had absolutely no idea what it meant. And Far-a-mael didn’t feel any motivation to reveal its meaning. Seeol was serving his purpose and Far-a-mael refused to risk losing the Jenjen army. It was for that very reason that he’d been doing his utmost to keep Harundor and Seeol apart, while spending increasingly large amounts of time with both of them. It was imperative that Seeol go on believing that they were merely approaching Old World so that everyone could become good friends.
‘Will we find El-i-miir?’ Seeol asked rather fluently.
‘I have a mind to think we will,’ Far-a-mael replied. He still couldn’t believe the stupid girl had run away right after being offered the opportunity to come home. She’d clearly lost all sense and Far-a-mael would not be making such a generous offer twice.
‘It’s a bit scary.’ Seeol peered off toward the south.
‘Not at all,’ Far-a-mael said encouragingly as he too stared into the daunting mass of black clouds and the purple lightning that writhed about therein. ‘You’re the Holy Spirit, remember? You needn’t fear anything.’
‘Yes.’ Seeol pushed out his chest and flared his golden eyes. ‘Whisps is nothing to be afraid of.’
‘Now you’ve got it.’ Far-a-mael clapped the young man on the back and watched in horror as one of his own fingers was hurtled off into the distance. He pulled back his hand to find it weeping a gunky brown liquid.
Far-a-mael hurried back to his tent, wrapped his hand in a bandage and waited until he’d calmed himself. When he removed the bandage he watched on distastefully as a worm wriggled out of the hole from which his finger had flung. Far-a-mael pulled the creature out, threw it to the floor, and squashed it beneath his boot.
‘I needed that finger! How am I supposed to work my pistol now?’ he shouted at the dead worm. ‘How am I supposed to grip my sword?’
With a snarl of contempt, Far-a-mael stormed outside. King Harundor and Seeol were gone. Inhaling as deeply as his crumbling lungs would allow, Far-a-mael turned back to the army below. The number was impossible to count, but there had to be tens of thousands: an ocean of men stretching across the landscape. They’d be a formidable force, even to a foe so mighty as Old World. Food rations were becoming a problem. One that would have to be dealt with before any battles could commence.
Turning his attention south, Far-a-mael acknowledged the distance between himself and the black whisp sky. The army would march beneath those clouds by late the following day. How long it would take for the silt legion to respond thereafter was a mystery.
*
Seteal sat on the floor of her tent. Ieane had brought her food, but she couldn’t eat much. Her thoughts were clouded. She couldn’t think straight. One small mercy was that as her stomach expanded, the constant nausea lessened. Of course, Seteal wasn’t a fool and realised that this was very likely a result of the whisp becoming increasingly one with Parrowun as he developed and grew. Seteal wondered what kind of monster he would be.
The bleeding hadn’t stopped, but it wasn’t continuous either, usually taking place when Parrowun moved about inside. Occasionally blood trickled from her nose or eyes, but such episodes were manageable.
Seteal considered abandoning the army to find her way home, but couldn’t bring herself to do so. As weak as she was, she doubted she’d make it and even if she did, what good would it do her? She would be shunned by her old friends. They’d suspect her pregnancy due to loose conduct and promiscuity. If she told them the truth, they’d likely call her a liar or disparage her all the more for it.
Seteal sat humming a familiar childhood tune. She rocked back and forth. The motion was oddly soothing.
Far-a-mael’s anchor was a heavy burden. Seteal was a prisoner: bound to a body that she’d never before wanted to abandon so entirely as she did in that moment. She couldn’t have cared less if it died. All she could think of was how it would feel to release her soul forever. Parrowun would die, too, but he was a creature of evil so perhaps it didn’t matter. All she had left was to hope that Far-a-mael would be killed in battle and that his death would release her.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
THE DEVIL’S CROWN
‘It’s time,’ Noah announced. He rushed into the cave without bothering to retract his wings. ‘New World’s army have crossed the border into Hades and Father has taken half the legion to meet them.’
‘Let’s go.’ Ilgrin stood up enthusiastically, but his heart skipped a beat for nerves. ‘Where’s May?’
‘She’ll meet us by the treasury,’ Noah replied. ‘I??
?ve given her the key.’
‘Are you sure that was wise?’ Teah narrowed her eyes.
‘Don’t question me, Teah,’ Noah said stuffily. ‘As my fiancée and your future She-Devil, she is able to go anywhere throughout the entirety of Hel and no one will dare to ask why.’
‘But she’s not the future She-Devil,’ Jakob said slowly as he entered the main chamber.
‘Well, of course,’ Noah spluttered. ‘We know that, but nobody else does.’
‘Come on,’ Ilgrin urged. ‘We’re wasting time.’
‘He’s right,’ Noah agreed. ‘It will not take long to defeat New World’s forces. We must leave immediately.’
The three silts raced for the exit and one after the other leapt away from the cliff-face and into the darkness of Old World.
Ilgrin’s attention was drawn west by a low clapping sound not unlike thunder. There, in the distance, he saw thousands of silts flying north as a single mass. He took a moment to lament over El-i-miir and Seteal’s safety before doubling his efforts in keeping up with the others.
Ilgrin had long perceived his abilities in flight to be nothing short of remarkable and accounted this to his continued disobedience in exercising regularly over the farmland behind his parents’ house. As he pursued the other two, he came to realise just how badly he was lacking in both strength and agility. Noah and Teah moved their wings smoothly and caught the wind with such efficiency that they needed only beat them with half the frequency of Ilgrin. They were much faster than him and he got the distinct impression that he was slowing them down. By the time the three reached the centre of Hel, Ilgrin found himself to be quite exhausted.
‘We’ll go around the back,’ Noah called as he made his way around an immense tree that towered above all the others. They flew higher and higher until the rest of the forest was a green smudge seen through a misty haze. Nothing came close to the heights of the great tree whose upper braches almost scraped the whisp clouds above. At last they landed near the top on a thick branch protruding from the side.