'I'm sorry,' Seteal whispered, squeezing her eyes tight.
CHAPTER Nineteen
desecration of the spirit
El-i-miir hit the pavement and the wind was knocked out of her lungs. The skin on her arm was grazed and her hip badly bruised. Ilgrin's head landed beside her and continued on rolling until she threw out a hand and grabbed a handful of his hair. She looked back in time to see his body hit the ground squirting rich blue blood.
'Not today,' El-i-miir wailed. 'You won't die for me today.'
She shuffled along the ground, dragging Ilgrin's head toward his body, affiliating a nearby silt as she went. 'Ilgrin,' she sobbed through the silt's mouth. 'Oh, Ilgrin,' the demon wept, falling over his decapitated body. El-i-miir passed herself Ilgrin's head and lined it up above his neck, but before she could take further action a second legion soldier swooped through the air and kicked Ilgrin's head so hard that it flew over the first row of houses.
'No,' the affiliated silt wailed. He dove into the air in pursuit of Ilgrin's head. El-i-miir spread his wings and landed on the other side of the houses, where they cast his eyes about, searching desperately. They found the head at the feet of a rather shocked-looking Seteal. The woman stared in silence at the head, her hair falling over her face and obscuring it from view.
'Seteal,' the affiliated silt called. 'Throw me his head.'
'Get away from me.' Seteal backed up fearfully.
'You don't understand!' El-i-miir shouted through his lips.
'El-i-miir!' Teah shouted as a demon swooped toward her in the town square.
She rolled out of the way. As she did so her affiliated silt twirled around in a circle. 'What're you doing?' Seteal said nervously.
'What're you doing?' Teah asked, dragging her away from Ilgrin's body. Glass shattered. Boarded-up doorways were kicked down as demons entered homes in their search for more humans.
'Get off me!' El-i-miir shouted from both of her mouths. 'Seteal, do something.'
'El-i-miir?' Seteal gaped, stepping back in recognition of who she was talking to. 'Go on.' She nodded at Ilgrin's head. 'Take it.'
El-i-miir threw his hands around Ilgrin's head before diving back into the air. She landed beside his body, dodging through the masses of silts as they spread out to stop anyone from escaping. 'What is he doing?' Teah gaped, after having halfway dragged El-i-miir across the square.
'I'm resurrecting him,' El-i-miir replied determinedly.
'Go.' She gently pushed El-i-miir toward him. 'I'll cover you.'
As though her words had called them into action, El-i-miir, Teah, and Ilgrin's dead body were then surrounded by soldiers. Teah turned in slow circles, hands thrust out as she unleashed her deadly power. There were too many for her to do any real damage, but at least she was able to slow them down and little white puffs started bursting free from their chests.
'Live,' El-i-miir begged through the affiliated silt's mouth. She'd done this once before, using Ilgrin to resurrect Far-a-mael, but couldn't be completely sure as to how she'd managed to do so. She snapped back his hand and scratched at an annoying itching sensation, only to then remember something similar when she'd affiliated Ilgrin. The silt sighed nervously as El-i-miir replaced his hands. The itching returned, soon to be replaced by a tingling that later became a burn. Ilgrin's neck writhed, reaching out toward his head, pulling it close as his spine refused. His arteries snacked back together and his purple eyes opened.
'Oh, Ilgrin.' The affiliated silt put his hand against his cheek and leaned down to kiss him. 'I thought I'd lost you.'
'Get off me!' Ilgrin shouted, dark mist leaking from his mouth as he threw the demon to the pavement.
'Torrid,' El-i-miir gasped, when she realised what she'd done in her confusion. 'It's me.' She crawled over and cupped his cheek even as the darkness spewed from his flesh and wafted into the sky. 'It's only me.'
Teah's scream stole El-i-miir's attention as she was swamped. She fell back into the mass as they dragged her down. Several reached for weapons, all too willing to kill an angel. 'Seteal!' El-i-miir cried, catching sight of the woman hiding beside a house with big teary eyes.
A demon grabbed El-i-miir's ankle and dragged her away from Ilgrin. Another drew a sword tipped with silver and placed it against his chest. 'Farewell, Mister Geld,' he sneered. 'A human death for a human life.'
'Seteal!' El-i-miir screamed as the Ways wrapped Ilgrin up in a threatening web of red. 'Do something.' Seteal covered her mouth and stumbled against the side of the house sobbing. 'To torrid with it,' El-i-miir cried as a demon put his pistol to her head.
She'd never wanted it to come to this. She'd always hoped to remain a true friend. Seteal had been violated too many times: by Master Fasil, by southern whisp clouds, by Far-a-mael and his anchor. Seteal didn't deserve it, but El-i-miir would become another in the long line to do so. She threw out her hand and translucent strands spilled from her fingertips. They coiled through the air, dodging demons and twisting around swinging scythes. The strands hesitated, reluctant about their destination, before piercing Seteal's filmy, repugnant aura.
El-i-miir howled through both mouths, overcome by Her almighty power. Seteal's arms blew open and she rose up into the air. El-i-miir whimpered. She couldn't control it. She couldn't think. Her flesh burned. Fire erupted from Seteal's hands. Lightning struck the earth throughout Elmsville. Seteal's body shook violently and El-i-miir lost all control. A shockwave blasted away from her in a circular fashion.
The house beside which Seteal had been standing shattered into a thousand pieces and was blasted into the one next door. The people hiding within were incinerated, their flesh boiling before they'd even known what was happening. Any silts unfortunate enough to have been in flight were sent spiralling and thrashing, their bones breaking, their wings torn to shreds.
El-i-miir felt Seteal's neck snap back. Every tree in town burst into flames and the houses pulled away from their foundations. Now more fearful of Seteal than they were of the silt invasion, the locals leapt out of their homes to run in any direction they could find escape.
In a distant place, El-i-miir felt her body lying flat on the ground. She was convulsing violently. Ilgrin had one of his wings stretched out over her protectively as he too stayed low to the earth beside Teah. That was all El-i-miir was able to take in of her past existence before drowning in the entirety of Seteal, both unable to break the line that tethered them and also unable to control it.
The thick strand of affiliation rippled. Seteal shuddered, her body unable to cope with the raw energy channelling through the Ways. She jolted and the translucent cord backfired, a wave speeding along its length and reaching El-i-miir's hand. Her arm snapped back and the line was severed.
*
Confusion was all about Seteal's mind, or was she El-i-miir? The whisp sky shuddered, enamoured by her power in its struggle to embrace her. The hollow mind remaining after affiliation sought freedom from its grasp, or perhaps it was only she who sought freedom from this reality. Seteal was wracked by a spasm and a burst of raw energy tore toward her friend, severing the link. She fell ten strides to the earth, but not a bone was broken. The fires of Elmsville vanished and the remaining legion soldiers not too maimed to do so, fled in terror.
Moaning at the realisation of what had happened, Seteal closed her eyes and fell away from her body into the canvas of the Ways. She'd had enough. It was more than she could take. She'd become more damaging to the world than any silt invasion could hope to be. That rotten body, the one she could never make clean, disappeared behind her as she embraced the Ways. Seteal drank in the nonexistence and banished that frail human corpse. She swirled and danced fading from the world.
Pain gouged into her soul. The baby rotted so permanently in the ground. Gifn's bones ached for justice. He'd been cheated into giving up, into killing himself. Every sorrow filled Seteal, the infant killer. She received the death, felt the broken strands and wept for her son. She slithered
through the canvas. What she'd done in Elmsville wasn't something that could be forgotten or forgiven.
Elmsville. Cindi slid out from beneath her bed just moments after their home had hit the ground. She held her brother's hand and urged him to run. Dimain and Mel were in the next room searching for their children. Mistress Green was running north without looking back. Tessa had thought herself safest in a tree house her father had built when she was young, whilst Mister Button searched his shed for weapons. Despite their unacceptance of Seteal, these people had helped raise her, the poor girl with a vacant father and an absent mother.
It was a cruel reality. At Gifn's funeral the people of Elmsville had found solace in the belief that he was joining Maker and becoming one with the Ways. But Seteal knew better. There was no becoming one with the Ways for them. There was no joining Maker or continuing to live in some mysterious, magical place. There wasn't even a torrid. All they had was this life, which only made what she'd done that much more deplorable.
Seteal had had enough. The rest could work itself out. She'd given enough. She'd lost enough. And she'd taken too much. Into the darkness, toward the sorrow Seteal plunged. She fell infinitely away from the body until it was scarcely a memory. Let it finish itself, she pleaded.
'Not yet.' The two little words thundered through her, tearing Seteal into a thousand pieces before reassembling her and tearing her apart again. The words had been more of a sound than a voice and within them had been the unmistakable tone of palpable malice.
Falling back up to the Ways, Seteal became increasingly whole again. Her thoughts were confined to a smaller space and reality felt increasingly cramped. Writhing in agony, she begged and pleaded that she not again be imprisoned. She pleaded only for her freedom. She needed not to be plagued by the misery of who she was: a coward, a whore, and a murderer. But the voice of malice laughed at her puny attempt for freedom.
Seteal inhaled sharply, her vision once again fixed on El-i-miir's horrified gaze. She cast her eyes toward Narvon Wood, where she was able to hear something for the first time. There, in the dark, a beat not dissimilar to that of a throbbing heart called out to her. Entranced by the sound, Seteal stumbled toward it. She ignored the purple lightning that streaked and coiled, pushing herself onward through the trees. Into the gloom she persisted, until happening upon a large clearing where everything was dead and the surrounding trees leaned away from its centre. Some had even uprooted themselves in their efforts to escape.
In the middle of the clearing stood a foreboding tree, its trunk and leaves so black that Seteal couldn't quite tell where the tree ended and where shadow began. Ignoring the dull ache in her head, she stepped into the clearing and immediately the temperature dropped. The dirt became increasingly dark as she approached, before finally matching the colourlessness of the tree itself. Gnarled roots gouged into the earth before disappearing at Seteal's feet. Compelled by forces unknown to her, she raised her hand and placed it against the cold surface.
The sensation could not be differentiated from pain as the cold stabbed through Seteal's arm and burned into her mind. Having been so preoccupied with reaching the tree, Seteal hadn't recognised the throbbing flowing throughout her body to match with the tree itself. She hadn't noticed when she'd started to cry. If she could've just pulled her hand away, all of this would cease. But she couldn't. Or perhaps she wouldn't. Lost in delirium, Seteal fell into a world of images, the tree revealing its memories to her. It hadn't always been this way. Once, it'd been like any other.
The elf owl tumbled through the air, landing between the roots to lay a perfect black egg before flying away to die. The egg remained in place for many years, pouring forth its misery into the tree and slowly corrupting everything that'd once been good about it. The tree became a thing of darkness, which the animals of Narvon Wood strayed far to avoid. By the time the hatchling had revealed itself, the clearing had been affected to such a degree that not even the passage of a thousand years could remove the stain.
The monster swooped low over the woods. It shredded and sliced and killed its victims. It destroyed indiscriminately, having only evil in its heart. It never returned to the tree . . . until it did. For a time, Narvon Wood knew peace, the monster having abandoned it. But it returned. It had returned to the tree and hated the tree for what it'd become even though the monster itself was responsible for its desecration. The elf owl destroyed anything that remained too close for too long.
Seteal's eyes burst open and she was propelled away from the tree. She stumbled back along the cold earth. Her throat was raw and her vision was fogged with tears. She was pinned to the ground by a heavy weight and it took all of her strength to drag herself to the edge of the clearing where the vegetation thrashed violently as it sought to flee.
The wind was unrelenting and thunder echoed as purple lightning flashed. Seteal snatched at a handful of vegetation and used it to drag herself to her feet. She stumbled back through the woods as the rain began to fall.
'Oh, take me home,' she moaned. The Ways snapped her up and sent her hurtling above the trees. A moment later she stood at the front door where she entered, her mind buzzing. When she'd taken Seeol in, what exactly had she chosen to sacrifice? Was he the reason she couldn't find joy? Was he not only the cause of Parrowun's death . . . or her rape, but also of the general degradation of her soul? It'd been Seeol all along. Just as he'd poisoned the tree. he'd also been poisoning her.
CHAPTER Twenty
bird cage
The seven-headed monster had been sliced open down the length of its torso. Jenjen soldiers with cringing expressions had fished through its innards for the better part of an hour, gagging at the foul stench and seeking to avoid being splashed by black blood.
Seeol watched through a haze of pain that just wouldn't go away. He clung to a small branch that crossed the width of the cage with his good foot while sliding in and out of consciousness. No matter how he arranged his feathers, he was unable to properly regulate his body temperature. One moment he was freezing and the next he was burning up.
'I've got it,' a soldier cried victoriously, thrusting his clenched fist into the air. Seeol's eyes burst open. He'd been anticipating this moment for some time. He of all people knew the strength of the Devil's Stone and feared how it might be used in the wrong hands. It only had one use left, which needed to be reserved for reopening the gates to Hae'Evun.
'Show me.' Phil sauntered over, took the stone, and washed it with water from his flask. A smile crawled across his features and he made his way over to Seeol's cage, which hung by a leather strap from the side of a soldier's horse. 'You see.' He pinched the black pebble between finger and thumb. 'Now we have the stone and the false prophet who lost it. King Harundor will be most pleased.'
Seeol stared at the stone with a heavy heart, but said nothing. Words were useless in such a situation. Phil grunted and headed for his tent. 'We set off at first light. I suggest you all get some rest. There are very few hours remaining.'
Seeol felt his eyes become heavy as he watched the men make their way to their tents. 'Seteal will come,' he whispered to himself. 'She will know and she will come.'
*
Seeol woke with a start. It was afternoon and the sun was unrelenting. He'd been breathing with his beak open to compensate for the heat without realising it. He raised his wounded leg to find crusty blood that occasionally oozed puss. With every step the horse made Seeol was jolted hard. He lost his grip on the perch and fell into his own faeces littering the cage floor.
'Admiral Yas,' called the soldier on whose horse Seeol's cage was attached. 'He don't look too well. We ought to give it something to eat.'
'When we stop for supper, you can find it something,' Phil replied from some distance away. Seeol lifted his head against the sun in time to see Phil turning away. 'It's a long way to Veret. We cannot afford to stop.'
'What if it dies?'
'Then it dies,' Phil shrugged, without turning around.
&nb
sp; 'Not to die,' Seeol wheezed. He took a hold of the bars with his beak and good toes, climbing slowly back up to the perch. 'Has to help,' he murmured almost inaudibly. 'Helping my friends.'
It was dark when Seeol next awoke. There was a small black snake in the bottom of his cage. Its head and half of its body had been squashed beneath a boot or something. Beside it was a small cup of water. Seeol hopped down and winced when he landed on his stump. He didn't ordinarily drink a lot of water, extracting most of the moisture he required from his food, but Seeol's head was aching and he thought it might help. He filled his beak and tipped back his head to let the dirty liquid run down his throat. He nibbled on the snake for a while, but it was bitter and cold. He'd never particularly liked snakes anyway.
Unable to tolerate the dry, cracking saliva in his feathers any longer, Seeol took a final swallow of water and used the rest to bathe. He leapt in and out of the cup, taking special care to clean his leg, before flying up to his perch to preen for a good half hour. Pushing his face against the bars, Seeol gazed out across the camp to find the men singing drunkenly around a small fire. Phil was flashing the black pebble about boastfully. Seeol cringed at the thought of him losing it. Seeol tucked his head behind his wing and went to sleep. Seteal would come.